The Girl Who Is Selfish

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Review and Herald Publishing Association · Takoma Park Station, Washington, D. C. · Apr 1, 1915

FromReview and Herald, Vol. 92, No. 16.

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The Girl Who Is Selfish

THE selfishness of a girl has not the physical or brute force of that of a boy. It is more mental in its characteristics, and therefore extremely cruel in its tendencies; for it is my belief that the suffering caused by a blow in the face is nothing compared with that caused by a stab from a thoughtless or vicious tongue.
At one time during my pedagogical career I held a position of authority in connection with the late Dr. Harper, in which between thirty and forty girls daily came under my observation. Their ages ranged from fifteen to eighteen; they were of many different nationalities, and of varying social standing; but in the classroom they were supposed to meet on a common level.
My study of the natures of these young girls—these future teachers, or mothers, or whatever their ambitions might lead them to be—was made doubly interesting through the fact that I had entrance to the homes of a number of them. There I might silently observe the characteristics of my pupils, and observe how little conduct in the home varied from conduct in the school.
Through these observations and many others, I have arrived at the conclusion that two fundamental wrongs lie at the bottom of all manifested selfishness on the part of a girl.
Learning from elders to gossip, slander, and backbite; to have at the tongue's end trivial remarks; and to view life and human beings through a pinhole and not in the bright truthfulness of God's sun, is the first.
The belief that there is a special sex privilege; that the old hackneyed cry, "Because I am a woman," exempts the sex from a hundred and one obligations put upon a man; that woman was made to idle and be adored, not to act, to create, to carry out her purpose in life, and to do her sweet share in toil which aids another, is the second.
These, in my judgment, are the two basic reasons for cruel predominant selfishness in any girl's heart.
In one of the homes to which I have referred and where I was received more as a member of the family than a guest, I was much interested in observing how the mother educated her two daughters to keep little, petty things out of their minds and away from the ends of their tongues.
There was no neighborhood tittle-tattle there. If other people happened to be spoken of, it was impersonally or with praise. The atmosphere of that home breathed the spirit of endeavoring to see the good in all things and to ignore the evil.
As I have analyzed the characters of schoolgirls about me, given to peddling gossip, I have found them not only extremely selfish, but unmerciful. The companion of unselfishness is mercy. So it becomes an imperative duty of a parent in guiding the feminine mind under its control, to inspire bigness of thought.
Bigness of thought is seeing more than one side to any individual or subject. Bigness of thought realizes that there is more good in this world than evil, and therefore constantly seeks to increase the proportion of good. And bigness of thought is always merciful because it goes after the inwardness of things and cares little for outward trappings.
It is wholly possible for the home conversation and demeanor of the parent to impress upon the sensitive mind of the girl this viewpoint. I do not believe it sufficient to say to a girl that she must not gossip, and that passing slander between her and her playmates must cease. Nor is the world so small that a parent can prevent a daughter from meeting and knowing some objectionable characters.
A girl's notion that she has special privileges, due to sex, and is exempt from obligations, may be observed any time in watching a group of girls upon a walk, in a street car, or any other public place. I grant that there are exceptions, but the average girl in public is selfish in her conduct to the people surging about her.
That she should take the right of the walk; be careful in turning out for others; give up her seat to elderly or overburdened persons; that her voice should be modulated to well-bred softness; that family affairs and those of others should not be discussed; that doors should be closed after she enters any place; and that "Thank you" and "If you please," with a courteous bow, should always be at her command never apparently occur to her.
A very observing and gentle young man said to me not long ago: "I have reached the point where, if I can possibly help it, I will not show a girl or woman a courtesy in public. The effrontery with which most of them accept a courtesy without polite recognition, the utter disregard they manifest for the feelings or rights of others, has driven me into my shell.
"I know I ought to do these things simply because they are right, and without thought of the rudeness of another, but I confess I have grown weary of it. The humblest day laborer, begrimed with his toil, will show more courtesy to others in a public place than the average girl or woman. And the woman who won't be thoughtful when she is in public will not be so in her own home. She is the essence of selfishness."
Perhaps he spoke a trifle severely, but from my own experiences I am satisfied that much of the old-time gallantry displayed by men toward women is disappearing, owing to the selfish attitude with which women have received it.
If this attitude is to be taken out of a girl, one of the first things to teach her in the home is that she is not a "specially privileged" creature. She must understand that being a part of life's work is as much her allotment as it is that of her brother. She must be taught the full meaning of the words "industry" and "productiveness." The courtesies she exacts from boys and men she must be prepared to return to them and to others in full measure.
It is the soul of the daughter the mother needs to bring to the eye of the world about her—not her dress, not mincing manners, not position or wealth. But that soul cannot be brought out of its recesses where it may be starving to death, by permitting a girl to be indifferent to the rights of others or to feel for one moment that she is here for any other purpose than to work, to work hard, to share with boys and men their joys and sorrows, to prepare herself through graciousness and honestly for such reward as eternity holds for those who are faithful to each duty of the passing hour.—Prof. A. L. Larkin.