Ain't I a woman, speech

Sojourner Truth (1797-1883): Ain't I A Woman?
Delivered 1851
Women's Convention, Akron, Ohio

Well, children, where there is so much racket there must be something out of kilter. I think that 'twixt the negroes of the South and the women at the North, all talking about rights, the white men will be in a fix pretty soon. But what's all this here talking about?

That man over there says that women need to be helped into carriages, and lifted over ditches, and to have the best place everywhere. Nobody ever helps me into carriages, or over mud-puddles, or gives me any best place! And ain't I a woman? Look at me! Look at my arm! I have ploughed and planted, and gathered into barns, and no man could head me! And ain't I a woman? I could work as much and eat as much as a man - when I could get it - and bear the lash as well! And ain't I a woman? I have borne thirteen children, and seen most all sold off to slavery, and when I cried out with my mother's grief, none but Jesus heard me! And ain't I a woman?

Then they talk about this thing in the head; what's this they call it? [member of audience whispers, "intellect"] That's it, honey. What's that got to do with women's rights or negroes' rights? If my cup won't hold but a pint, and yours holds a quart, wouldn't you be mean not to let me have my little half measure full?

Then that little man in black there, he says women can't have as much rights as men, 'cause Christ wasn't a woman! Where did your Christ come from? Where did your Christ come from? From God and a woman! Man had nothing to do with Him.

If the first woman God ever made was strong enough to turn the world upside down all alone, these women together ought to be able to turn it back , and get it right side up again! And now they is asking to do it, the men better let them.

Obliged to you for hearing me, and now old Sojourner ain't got nothing more to say.

Ain't I a woman, poem

Ain't I a Woman

That man over there say
a woman needs to be helped into carriages
and lifted over ditches
and to have the best place everywhere.
Nobody ever helped me into carriages
or over mud puddles
or gives me a best place...

And ain't I a woman?
Look at me
Look at my arm!
I have plowed and planted
and gathered into barns
and no man could head me...
And ain't I a woman?
I could work as much
and eat as much as a man---
when I could get to it---
and bear the lash as well
and ain't I a woman?
I have born 13 children
and seen most all sold into slavery
and when I cried out a mother's grief
none but Jesus heard me...
and ain't I a woman?
that little man in black there say
a woman can't have as much rights as a man
cause Christ wasn't a woman
Where did your Christ come from?
From God and a woman!
Man had nothing to do with him!
If the first woman God ever made
was strong enough to turn the world
upside down, all alone
together women ought to be able to turn it
rightside up again.

- Sojourner Truth, 1797-1883

Ain't I a woman.

I've just reached home, after a 3 hour session of a literature class. I never did like literature. "Too much talk" and "Too much English" were the main reasons I cited. Today, however was like a turning point to me. I was made to discuss a poem, entitled Ain't I a woman. In my first reading, my reaction surprises me. I felt that the speaker of the poem (unnecessarily the poet) was very rude in venting out her frustration. The class then proceed to discuss the poems, in terms of forms (free verse), tone (anger), who the speaker was (a female black slave) and in respect to feminism, what were the main points that were brought out. Understanding the poem a little bit more made me appreciate how powerful it was.
On the way home, however, I couldn't thinking as to why I felt that the speaker in that poem was rude. Could it be of the values that I was brought up in? Could it be that I was taught that one should not be angry in public, one should control one's anger? Or could it be, I resent this woman? I felt that it was the latter. Why would I resent the woman? Its has been one and a half hour since the lesson end and I still don't know whereupon the resentment are from. I resent her, for she dares to state her mind. I resent her for not being a slave, but for being wasting her time. A speech is only just as powerful as the actions that comes after it. Otherwise, it was just blowing hot air. Thankfully, it was not. But still, I resent her, perhaps for doing what I could not, for being brave to speak in front of other men and women, of other men and women. How much must one feel and how much must be affected before one can be blessed enough to speak out against injustice. Still I resent her, for doing what I could not, and in that respect, I am thankful for without her doing what she did, or me coming across that poem, I know one less that is possible.

Ain't I a woman.

Ain't I a woman.

I've just reached home, after a 3 hour session of a literature class. I never did like literature. "Too much talk" and "Too much English" were the main reasons I cited. Today, however was like a turning point to me. I was made to discuss a poem, entitled Ain't I a woman. In my first reading, my reaction surprises me. I felt that the speaker of the poem (unnecessarily the poet) was very rude in venting out her frustration. The class then proceed to discuss the poems, in terms of forms (free verse), tone (anger), who the speaker was (a female black slave) and in respect to feminism, what were the main points that were brought out. Understanding the poem a little bit more made me appreciate how powerful it was.
On the way home, however, I couldn't thinking as to why I felt that the speaker in that poem was rude. Could it be of the values that I was brought up in? Could it be that I was taught that one should not be angry in public, one should control one's anger? Or could it be, I resent this woman? I felt that it was the latter. Why would I resent the woman? Its has been one and a half hour since the lesson end and I still don't know whereupon the resentment are from. I resent her, for she dares to state her mind. I resent her for not being a slave, but for being wasting her time. A speech is only just as powerful as the actions that comes after it. Otherwise, it was just blowing hot air. Thankfully, it was not. But still, I resent her, perhaps for doing what I could not, for being brave to speak in front of other men and women, of other men and women. How much must one feel and how much must be affected before one can be blessed enough to speak out against injustice. Still I resent her, for doing what I could not, and in that respect, I am thankful for without her doing what she did, or me coming across that poem, I know one less that is possible.

The speech.

Ain't I a woman, speech

Sojourner Truth (1797-1883): Ain't I A Woman?
Delivered 1851
Women's Convention, Akron, Ohio

Well, children, where there is so much racket there must be something out of kilter. I think that 'twixt the negroes of the South and the women at the North, all talking about rights, the white men will be in a fix pretty soon. But what's all this here talking about?

That man over there says that women need to be helped into carriages, and lifted over ditches, and to have the best place everywhere. Nobody ever helps me into carriages, or over mud-puddles, or gives me any best place! And ain't I a woman? Look at me! Look at my arm! I have ploughed and planted, and gathered into barns, and no man could head me! And ain't I a woman? I could work as much and eat as much as a man - when I could get it - and bear the lash as well! And ain't I a woman? I have borne thirteen children, and seen most all sold off to slavery, and when I cried out with my mother's grief, none but Jesus heard me! And ain't I a woman?

Then they talk about this thing in the head; what's this they call it? [member of audience whispers, "intellect"] That's it, honey. What's that got to do with women's rights or negroes' rights? If my cup won't hold but a pint, and yours holds a quart, wouldn't you be mean not to let me have my little half measure full?

Then that little man in black there, he says women can't have as much rights as men, 'cause Christ wasn't a woman! Where did your Christ come from? Where did your Christ come from? From God and a woman! Man had nothing to do with Him.

If the first woman God ever made was strong enough to turn the world upside down all alone, these women together ought to be able to turn it back , and get it right side up again! And now they is asking to do it, the men better let them.

Obliged to you for hearing me, and now old Sojourner ain't got nothing more to say.

The poem.

Ain't I a woman, poem

Ain't I a Woman

That man over there say
a woman needs to be helped into carriages
and lifted over ditches
and to have the best place everywhere.
Nobody ever helped me into carriages
or over mud puddles
or gives me a best place...

And ain't I a woman?
Look at me
Look at my arm!
I have plowed and planted
and gathered into barns
and no man could head me...
And ain't I a woman?
I could work as much
and eat as much as a man---
when I could get to it---
and bear the lash as well
and ain't I a woman?
I have born 13 children
and seen most all sold into slavery
and when I cried out a mother's grief
none but Jesus heard me...
and ain't I a woman?
that little man in black there say
a woman can't have as much rights as a man
cause Christ wasn't a woman
Where did your Christ come from?
From God and a woman!
Man had nothing to do with him!
If the first woman God ever made
was strong enough to turn the world
upside down, all alone
together women ought to be able to turn it
rightside up again.

- Sojourner Truth, 1797-1883

Erlene Stetson

Recipe for pizza dough.

Recipe for pizza dough.
300gm flour
1tsp salt
2 tsp sugar
1tsp yeast
175ml water
Add oil approx 3/4 table spoon.
Leave about an hour. Until it double the size.

Slim.
Send instant messages to your online friends http://asia.messenger.yahoo.com