Inspirational Rug-Beater
circa 1900
Imagine life at the turn of the 20th century. Society considered a woman's only role as a wife and mother, subservient to her husband's wishes and desires. If her status or choice in life did not drop her in the lap of luxury she would be slave not only to her husband, but also to the daily needs of her children and home. Unless a woman chose to be a school marm, spinster, domestic servant, or join a convent, there was little else a respectable woman could choose or aspire to be. It was a man's world! Women , like children, were to be seen not heard, without opinion, possessing quiet demeaner and proper manner and appearance.
Women, unlike men, as a whole were not free to come and go as they pleased. She was to remain occupied in the "comfort" of the home. Her husband departed his castle each morning , bravely facing the harsh world, in order to provide for his family. Perhaps he was assured in knowing the scope of his world encompassed a much greater realm of important decisions, social contacts and knowledge than the thimble-like existence of his wife. Perhaps his confidence soared as he told himself he had perfect control and order of all people and events within the confines of his own home. Could he even fathom the abilty and organizational skills of a mind who endured the pain of childbirth, tolerated and endured the illogical illusion of a male ego, referreed whining screaming children, and managed to cook, clean, sew and keep his castle.
When a husband in this century can look at a stay at home mother and, with wagging finger and tongue demand that she is to abandon an interest, in this particular instance " houses" and architecture, by doggidly ordering "I don't want you drawing them, looking at them or even thinking about them!" It gives one pause to wonder the extreme ludicrosity of the males need to control. Were women aware of how menial and mindless they were considered to be by some men? If they did, how did they deal with the emotional and maddening frustration?
The cleaning of the household rugs may have become a daily event during some weeks. Walking through a neighborhood it may have been simple to derive the level of female frustration in each household by the frequency of carpets hanging over clotheslines. An inpirational and theraputic device the rug-beater. While some men engaged in drinking, carrousing and fighting, the women were at home beating the crap out of their carpets. Oh, to be a fly on the clothesline and hear how many of those carpets, symbolic of mounting volcanic female emotions, actually bore the name of a husband who fueled and fathered them.
My grandmother occassionally voiced disdain and aggravation over my grandfather who, at that time, had been dead for twenty plus years. "We'd get home from town and he would get out of the car and go on in the house. Here I was carrying a baby and trying to get all the groceries in, too. I just wanted to get a 2-by-4 and hit him in the head." That incident occured in the late 1920's and she still spit a considerable amount of venom from the memory some sixty years later.
A board, a metal or wicker rug-beater.....all the same outcome in the end.... Therapy 101. Good excuse to get outside, beat the carpet, work off some frustration and visit with the neighbor over the backyard fence.
