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"The eldest of my six brothers followed in Father's footsteps, the second studied pharmacy, and the third, who died young, would have earned a doctorate in philosophy. The other three pursued military careers, much against my parents' wishes. One of them had even trained as an architect when he decided to become an officer. Of the five sisters, the eldest married a doctor at the age of nineteen, after briefly training to be a teacher. The second, Charlotte, was destined to become the first woman pharmacist in the Netherlands. I studied medicine, and Frederika, my youngest sister, was the first woman to obtain her teaching certificate in mathematics and accounting. She was then immediately offered a position at the girls' college in The Hague. Just one of the eleven children -- a girl -- proved totally unsuited to any form of education. All attempts to prepare her for the outside world failed, more through her lack of ability than for want of our trying." p. 2
The fact that I have always opposed the existence of private school is based on my experience at the village school. I simply cannot understand the need to categorize small children. Mixed schools automatically confront the sons and daughters of the well-to-do with the hardships endured by working-class families. Conversely, if children from poorer backgrounds are left free to study alongside their wealthier friends, they learn much that will benefit them in later life. As an adult, in my own small way I have always actively supported the abolition of private schools.
I was thirteen when I left the village school, where I had generally been at the top of the class despite the attacks of malaria and the nosebleeds that had often forced me to stay home for anything from a few days to several weeks. During my last year at grade school, I also attended a crafts school where, every evening between five and seven, I learned knitting, crocheting, sewing, and other similar skills. Knitting was my favorite activity because I could read at the same time.
Once she left lower school, the only opportunity for a village girl to continue her education was at the local ladies' school. A high school had just recently opened but it was only for boys. The daughters of gentlemen farmers and prominent families inevitably attended the ladies' school, where they were taught handicrafts and a bit of French, but, above all, the learned "good manners."
I survived just two weeks of life at that fashionable school. They tried to teach me how to enter a room when visiting and I discovered that there was a difference between the way men shook hands with men and the way the shook hands with ladies. I had to learn how to curtsy properly, and, to my eternal discredit, I must admit that I was a less than able pupil. We learned to replace perfectly good Dutch words and expressions with their French equivalents, "because," as our teacher said, "it's mo0re refined to use a little French not and then."
I found all this completely idiotic. "Isn't there something terribly wrong," I wondered, "with wasting your time on this kind of drivel?" "p. 7
Discussing how she got the additional education she need to enter the university, Jacobs writes, "Many of the subjects were taught at the local high school, but that was only for boys. The headmaster, Mr. Renssen, however, had no objections to my attending. The school was allowed to admit only boy pupils, but there was no ban on girls sitting in on classes. With Thorbecke as minister, he decided it was worth taking the risk. And so it was that I became the first girls to attend a boys' high school. I had known most of the boys from grade school and I got on fine with the teachers as well." p. 11
"Despite the fact that the opposite is suggested by various articles about me, I will now set the record straight by stating that when I went to Groningen I had virtually no idea of the consequences of what I was doing. How could I? I had been brought up in a village and knew little of the world at large. It is true that ours was a liberal household, but the newspaper was all that kept us in touch with outside events. I should also point out that one copy was shared with three other families and that the younger children never got a chance to read it at all. Combine that with the fact that the Dutch women's movement was still in its infancy and I think the reader will by now appreciate that this seventeen-year-old village girl was completely ignorant of the objectives later attributed to her. My sole ambition was to complete my education and to go into practice with either Julius or my father.
When I first became a student I was little more than a child. I was frail and sexually undeveloped. The only difference between me and other children was a matter of willpower and the thirst for knowledge. It was only after graduation that I became involved in the struggle for female emancipation.
To conclude this chapter, I would like to draw attention to one aspect of this story that was to have important consequences for Sappemeer. My youngest sister, Frederika, was just fourteen when I left for Groningen. She had completed grade school and wanted to continue her education, although she had yet to decide about a future career. Again we encountered the complete absence of academic opportunity for the girls of our village. However, Fredericka followed my example and was allowed to sit in on classes at the high school for boys, but this time at great expense. Both my youngest brothers were also sent there because the fees were considerably lower for additional children from the same family. Nonetheless, Father still resented having to pay out large sums of money when the boys were accepted as regular pupils but Frederika was not.
Minister Thorbecke somehow discovered what was going on, with the result that Father's request was granted and, in 1871, the high school opened its gates to girl pupils under exactly the same conditional that applied to boys. Things remained that way until 1901, when this provision, which pertained only to the village of Sappemeer, was withdrawn by Minister Abraham Kuyper. Girls wanting to attend the local high school encountered the same restrictions that applied to their counterparts elsewhere. But finally, in 1905. Minister Rink reinstated the privileges that Thorbecke first bestowed on Sappemeer." p. 13-14
And my brother Johan, who had by then become a petty officer at the military school at Kampen, wrote that my ridiculous actions had made his life completely unbearable. His fellow soldiers had invented all kinds of insulting nicknames for men and, merely because I was his sister, everyone automatically assumed he shared my views. The situation got so bad that he finally announced to his class that he would have nothing more to do with me.
He kept this up for a year and a half. He never mentioned me in his letters, and when he was at home on leave he acted as I simply did not exist. How often in those days I seemed to be surrounded by men saying, "Fortunately my daughters, or sisters, aren't like that."
Mine was no easy life. I got up at half-past five each morning because if I wanted to be on time for lectures I had to catch the six-thirty train from Sappemeer, The walk to the station was always windy and dusty, but it became virtually impassable when the weather was bad, particularly if it had snowed.
If I walked fast, it took only fifteen minutes to get to the station. Sometimes I saw the train approaching while I was still on my way, but the stationmaster always made sure that it didn't leave without me. And, thanks to the benevolence of the stationmaster and the ticket collectors, I was usually ushered into a first-class compartment although I had only a third-class season ticket." pp. 16-17
Two days after Thorbecke's death, on June 5, 1872, I received the permission, complete with a funereal black border. It was dated May 30, 1872, and an accompanying letter informed me that the granting of this request had been one of the minister's last official acts." p. 18
"It was during this exam that I first encountered professors who openly opposed the idea of women doctors. Two gentlemen treated me in a way that was simply unfair. Fortunately, several other Utrecht professors as well as my teachers from Amsterdam actively protected me from these two examiners' remarks and behavior. Indeed, it was only because of this protection that I was able to complete the exam at all." p. 27-28
"The next morning I was against greeted by a pleasant surprise. I was eating breakfast when two young ladies came to pay their respects. They told me that they were medical students and friends of C. V. Gerritsen, from Amersoort, who had sent them an elaborate telegram asking them to look after me. And so they had come to offer their help. We soon became firm friends and left a few hours later for the women's medical school on Henrietta Street where they introduced me to the male professors and more of the female students. During that first visit, I was repeatedly invited to attend classes at the school After Henrietta Street, we went to visit Dr. Drysdale, who, although I saw relatively little of him in London. was to be a great influence on my later life. It was through him that I first met Annie Besant, who was at that time collaborating with Charles Bradlaugh on speeches and articles promoting freethinking. I was also to meet Bradlaugh and his daughters.
For those unfamiliar with the prominent personalities of the day, Charles Bradlaugh (1833-1891) had embarked on his crusade against Christianity when he was just seventeen, with a pamphlet called "A Few Words on the Christian Creed" (1850). While I was in London, he, like Dr. Drysdale, was an active supporter of Malthusian theory. And it was through these individuals that I came to meet other men and women whose campaign for "motherhood by choice" and whose theories concerning the 'voluntary limiting of families" had caused an uproar in the sanctimonious England of the day.
So, before I had a chance to explain myself or decide what I actually thought, I found myself surrounded by radicals of the scientific, political, and ethical worlds whose sole aim was to counter conservatism and hypocrisy. I attended meetings where Bradlaugh and his small group of followers discussed contemporary politics. On Sundays I went to the Fabian Society, which was still in its infancy, and I also followed the meetings of various working-class groups." pp. 33-34
"When I was a student, and particularly when I worked at Amsterdam Hospital, I was haunted by the suffering caused by frequent pregnancies, which, for various reasons, can have a disastrous effect on a woman's life.
In my long conversations with a variety of women in the delivery room, they explained to me that they found it impossible to prevent pregnancy when sexual abstinence was the only method available. Women who produced sickly babies or stillbirths, for whom birth meant yet another brush with death, kept on returning to the delivery room. Families that were already large enough considering the mother's physical condition and the parents' circumstances, simply continued to expand. I spent hours wrestling with this problem without any solution in sight. Sometimes I discussed the issue with my fellow students. "Yes," they would coolly reply, "that's what called a woman's destiny" or "Thank God, there's no way of preventing pregnancy. If there were, then the whole world would soon collapse through underpopulation." p. 46
"The availability of contraception would prevent immeasurable suffering. I had learned that much from the pregnant women I had met in Amsterdam Hospital and from all the newborn babies whose births were greeted by anything but joy and whose very existence was a burden both to their families and to society in general. There remained only the question of which contraceptives were effective in preventing unwanted pregnancy. I felt unable to come up with any definitive answer. Doubting that the existing means were reliable or even suitable for u se, I was uncertain as to whether they could damage users' health. In the end, I was forced to admit that I had reached an impasse. My contact was with groups that included the book's author and with others who described themselves as Neo-Malthusians because they followed Malthus's ideas yet chose to employ their own means to combat this social ill. Although they had provided me with much theoretical knowledge, I had no way of transforming theory into practice." p. 47
"During my search for a remedy for this state of affairs, I chanced upon an article in early 1882 in a German medical journal that had been written by Dr. Mensinga from Flensburg. He recommended the use of a pessary for the kinds of cases I was dealing with. This purely scientific article made such an impression on me that I immediately wrote to its author. A lengthy exchange of letters followed, in which Dr. Mensinga informed me fully about the way in which pessaries should be used. He also sent me a number of specimens. Although Dr. Mensinga had assured me that they were effective and in no way jeopardized users' health, I decided that I had to have them tested before I could provide any personal recommendation.
For social, moral, and medical reasons, women from different social classes had often asked me for some form of contraception. I had always had to fend off these requests without providing adequate explanation or advice. Eventually I sent letters to a number of women whose need was greatest. I told them that I believed I had found a means to help them, but before I could fully recommend it, they would have to agree to regular examinations during the first months of its use. Some of these women eventually agreed to the experiment, and the results were such that, some months later, I was able to announce that I could provide a safe and effective contraceptive.
Although I deemed it unnecessary to advertise my wares, I felt duty-bound to announce that I was now able to prescribe contraception for those women wishing to avoid pregnancy on social, moral, or medical grounds.
Not for one moment did I delude myself that I would be supported by many of my fellow doctors. I knew that they were deeply conventional and also that they were ignorant of society and social issues. Hence, I expected very little cooperation. On the other hand, I had never imagined that I would create such a furor. But in fact I incurred the wrath of the entire medical establishment. Even those who privately agreed with me carefully kept it to themselves for fear that they would receive the same treatment. These were difficult times for me, and I sorely missed the one man in whom I had always been able to confide. Sadly, my father was gone, and the few friends I trusted simply lacked the medical and sociological knowledge to be able to understand the importance of my work for humanity. I discussed this so often with them that they finally suggested, with the best of intentions, that I should publicly admit I had made a mistake and state that I would no longer provide this treatment. Fortunately I had never doubted my actions; otherwise I might indeed have followed their advice. But I was too deeply influenced by what I had seen and by my belief that this work would benefit humanity.
As the only woman doctor in Holland, I often found it difficult and painful to row against the tide of lies and slander spread by my male counterparts. However, the absolute conviction that I was doing the right thing, and the awareness that this whole situation concerned not only individual suffering but also the interests of society at large, gave me the strength to stand by my point of view. But, even so, I was sometimes assailed by doubts. I would wander aimlessly around the Vondelpark, oblivious to my surroundings and wrestling with the dreadful thought that maybe, despite everything, I had made a mistake. Could the availability of contraception ultimately lead to a world without children? Would it cause adultery? And, if the birth rate fell, would the country's economic position be threatened? I was obsessed by these questions and wanted to find answers, though I was a layman as far as economics was concerned. But I kept thinking that the longing to have a child is so strong in most normal women that only for the most serious reasons would they choose to avoid motherhood. Of course, I thought, contraception would certainly lower the number of unwanted pregnancies and hence should be welcomed for many social, sociological, and individual reasons. If there were fewer unwanted babies, the race would advance, which in turn would lead to greater social well-being and human happiness. Studying this subject in great depth finally convinced me that I had taken the right course of action. I already felt what Nietszche later so eloquently wrote: not propagating the race, but raising the level of humanity, must be the aim of existence.
These experiences thoroughly undermined my trust in other people. I knew in advance that those narrow minded in outlook and suspicious of all innovation were bound to disagree with my way of thinking. I also reasoned that my opponents would include both those whose religious beliefs were directly contradicted by my opinions and those who were quite simply ignorant of social problems. But this did not bother me. In fact, through what I said and wrote, I even hoped to convert a few of them. But not for a single moment did I expect the level of hostility and obstructiveness I encountered from my fellow doctors (and particularly from the obstetricians and gynecologists whose livelihood I apparently threatened). Had they cast doubt on the contraceptive's reliability, they would have at least been forced to confront its social implications. I, in turn, could have defended my views, and an honest discussion would have ensued based on differences of opinion and experience. The issue of contraception was also latter occasionally broached by the Geneeskundig Tijdschrift (Medical Journal). And whenever this happened I joined in the debate, with the result that I eventually emerged victorious. However at first my opponents were quite willing to resort to spreading stories that were entirely untrue. The accused me of promoting abortion and of leading an immoral life. How I wished I could refute these lies in public! But I never got the chance. These tales were never related to me directly. On the very few occasions that I managed to unearth the original source, the culprit was invariably either an obstetrician or a gynecologist. I would always confront him and demand an explanation for his behavior, but usually he would shrug it all off with some remark about contraception being the same as abortion. Of course, such reasoning was totally illogical because, as everyone knows, while the former is legal, the latter is a criminal act. For the rest, the people who opposed me in this manner were generally careful not to air their questionable opinions in public.
The more my practice expanded, the more I was viewed as a formidable competitor, which meant that ever-increasing numbers of my colleagues were siding with my opponents. Unable to defend myself, I simply continued to live my life and tried to perform my work openly and as honestly as possible.
It was an age steeped in hypocrisy! I am particularly thinking of those clergymen who would denounce contraception from the pulpit and then pack their wives off to my office. I also remember women who were only too pleased to use the means I prescribed for them yet never lost a chance to condemn me at every tea party and sewing circle. and, while publicly denouncing my work, some doctors would still expect me to instruct them in the practical application of birth control! Fortunately these irritating experiences were more than made up for by the gratitude of a great many women and the warmth and friendship of a number of people in high places." pp. 48-50
My words provoked a storm of protest. Everyone wanted to join in the discussion. Although I no longer remember how many people were involved, I do recall that Victor Adler, an extremely progressive member of parliament and a friend to women, put in a few strong words on my behalf. He came and sat next to men at the supper that concluded the meeting so that he could continue the discussion with me. Not only the men but also many of the Austrian women seemed to disagree with me. They repeatedly assured me that the men in their country would be an exception to the rule and would keep their promises.
In the end history proved me right. After may invitations from the Austrian Committee for Woman Suffrage, I eventually returned to Vienna in 1913 for a speaking engagement where I made a point of mentioning my prediction of 1906. Universal male enfranchisement had been introduced some seven years earlier, while women were still forbidden to organize themselves politically and were banned from attending political meetings. Some of the audience responded to my words with thunderous applause while others, including most of the men present, reacted with indignation. Both sides were heard in the morning papers; some who supported by views strongly criticized the men for their disloyalty, while others described me as a foreigner making a seditious speech." p. 64
Each time I encountered these cases, which could so easily have been prevented but would now entail a lifetime of suffering, I resolved to do whatever I could to improve the girls' working conditions. I was naive enough to believe that shopkeepers and department store owners prevented their staff from sitting simply because they were ignorant of the risks involved in standing for a protracted period of time. I felt that it was up to me to enlighten these employers and I never for one moment doubted that I would succeed. How wrong I was!" p. 66 (It would take Jacobs 20 years to get a law passed requiring stores to provide a stool for sales clerks to sit on when the store was empty.)
Although both of us opposed the suffragettes' methods, this trip once again demonstrated that their actions had made women all over the world aware of their own disadvantaged position as and of the need for organized campaigns. Even in the most remote corners of Africa and Asia, we were confronted again and again by the influence of the suffragettes, mainly because newspapers eagerly seized on such sensational stories while ignoring more moderate efforts to achieve reforms. We were frequently forced to admit that radical action certainly makes the world sit up and take notice. On the other hand, our visit also influenced the women of China to adopt a calmer and better organized approach." p. 161
From the essay: Aletta Jacobs in Historical Perspective by Harriet Pass Freidenreich
Jacobs defied many of the conventions of her day and refused to live the life of a typical Victorian woman. Middle-class girls in the mid-nineteenth century were expected to remain within the domestic sphere as wives and mothers, but Jacobs rebelled against following in her mother's footsteps as a homemaker. Education for girls was segregated, except at the elementary level; Jacobs strongly advocated coeducation. Girls' high schools, often known as "finishing schools," taught modern languages, music, art, and handicrafts to prepare "young ladies" for marriage, but did not offer mathematics, physics, Greek, or Latin, which were prerequisites for admission to the all-male universities. Jacobs, however, hated attending a private school for girls and was not at all interested in learning etiquette and housekeeping skills; she decided to study medicine instead. The only acceptable career for a middle-class, single woman was teaching, whether as a governess or in a girls' school. Married women teachers had to relinquish their employment. Jacobs helped pave the way for women to become doctors, and she continued to practice medicine after her marriage, despite the fact that it was not regarded as proper for a middle-class married woman to work outside the home except as an unpaid volunteer.
Aletta Jacobs was by no means a revolutionary by temperament, and she certainly did not wish to scandalize her neighbors, but her views and personal behavior were clearly ahead of her time. In late nineteenth-century Amsterdam, respectable women were not supposed to skate on the canals in winter or walk down certain thoroughfares in the afternoon, let alone appear in public unescorted or walk alone after dark. A "streetwalker" was assumed to be a prostitute, since a proper young woman would surely have a chaperone. Jacobs, however, enjoyed skating and insisted upon visiting her patients and her family, day or night, on foot. She also attended the theater by herself and participated in political meetings, often as the only woman. Before the turn of the century when sex and sexuality were absolutely taboo subjects for discussion in middle-class circles, and birth control and prostitution were not mentionable in polite company, especially by a woman, Jacobs provided contraceptive information and devices and delivered speeches on prostitution and women 's rights.
Married Dutch and other European women lost their legal status as individuals and their right to own property, becoming the property of their husbands instead. Jacobs strongly objected to marriage as an institution that demeaned women. She desperately wanted to bear a child, but feared the stigma of illegitimacy. At the age of thirty-eight, after more than a decade of an intimate relationship, Jacobs decided to marry Carel Victor Gerritsen, but she retained her name, her bank account, and her own living quarters within their shared home, a highly unusual arrangement in the 1890s. As her reminiscences show, their friendship and marriage represented a genuine intellectual partnership based on equality and mutual respect. They particularly enjoyed traveling together and writing collaboratively." pp. 180-181
Jacobs wanted to enable women to space their children and avoid having large families they could not afford. " p. 184
Although many patients requested contraceptive advice from the female physicians, most early women doctors, unlike Jacobs, were unwilling to provide such help in the nineteenth century because they feared jeopardizing their professional reputations. Jacob's insistence that medical doctors should be in charge of the dissemination of birth control brought her into conflict with her colleague Catherine van Tussenbroek, who objected to such a policy on the basis of medical ethics and reluctance to give husbands and doctors the right to control women's bodies. This situation began to change by the interwar years, when many women doctors, especially young socialists, supported the sex reform movement and helped establish family counseling clinics in Germany, England, and the United States. Abortion, however, remained illegal and beyond respectability in the medical world. The French physician Madeleine Pelletier (1874-1939), a woman who dressed in mannish clothing, had short hair, and associated with anarchists, was a rare example of a medical doctor who publicly supported and performed abortions in the early twentieth century. Aleta Jacobs was by no means as radical as Pelletier either politically or personally, but she too demonstrated considerable courage and the strength of her convictions by openly advocating and supplying birth control at the outset of hr career.
Once she had relinquished her medical practice, Jacobs played down her association with contraception and became more actively involved with other feminist causes instead, but long after she retired in 1940, she was still consulted as a respected authority in the field." p. 185
Most medical doctors in Holland, as well as elsewhere in Europe, supported state regulation of prostitution as a means of curtailing the spread of sexually transmitted diseases. Jacobs, however, viewed the existing regulations, which were directed against prostitutes but not their patrons, as completely ineffective, since they stigmatized women but did not solve the rampant medical problems that resulted from prostitution. Seeking to get rid of prostitution as a legal institution through a process of education, Jacobs spoke publicly and published articles on this subject both at home and abroad. As was the case elsewhere in Europe, although prostitution was never abolished in the Netherlands, official brothels eventually disappeared and mandatory medical examinations ceased at least temporarily. In part due to the efforts of Aletta Jacobs and other Dutch feminists, Holland served as a European model for the declining incidence of venereal diseases in the early twentieth century." pp. 186-187
Once woman suffrage had been achieved in Holland in 1919, Jacobs continued her efforts on behalf of lasting world peace. She was very concerned about the dire economic situation in postwar Germany and the long-term negative effects of the Treaty of Versailles. By this time, however, Jacobs was approaching seventy years of age and in poor health; her financial situation had also deteriorated. Although she still attended international conferences as often as possible, she lacked the strength to embark on yet another personal crusade." p. 190
"As a physician Jacobs was very much concerned with raising the level of nursing care both by recruiting able candidates and by professionalizing their training. She was involved in founding a Dutch organization, Nosokomos (Greek for 'hospital"), devoted to these purposes, and wrote articles for their journal of the same name about nursing in Switzerland, Maderia, Egypt, South Africa, and the Philppines.]
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