90 Books Like The Myth of Seneca Falls

I haven’t recovered yet from the way Hartman recovers the lives of young Black women through historical photographs. The images were made to rob these women of their individuality, make them fit “types,” letting them say Nothing about themselves.

But Hartman writes like she’s talking to them, and they’re wonderful. She messes with categories used by authorities who thought they “knew” these women by their transgressions. I was utterly transfixed by how she imagined these women’s lives and loves in the ordinary stairways and back alleys they called home.

The photos are gorgeous. You could talk about them for days and still have more to think about—like how when it comes to women being framed for doing something wrong, maybe Nothing has changed.

We live in a time when personal convenience seems to trump everything else. So how is it that virtually the entire Black community of Montgomery, Alabama, stayed off the city buses for over a year in the mid-1950s?

The first three chapters of this book answer that question in a completely new way that made the realities of the Jim Crow South and the dangers of the struggle for racial justice snap into focus for me. The boycott was tangentially about segregation on buses, but really, argues McGuire, it was a fight for bodily integrity, safety, and self-respect.

Because it deals with rape and sexual assault, this can be a hard book to read, but it literally gave me a different understanding of what “equality” means.

On one level, this is a book about housework in the pre-Civil War northern United States. Much more profoundly, it shatters ideas about unpaid labor in early industrial capitalism. It completely changed my—and many readers’—ideas of what constitutes “work,” what it means to contribute to a household economy, and how ideas about wages (and, especially, work done by men outside the home) obscured early capitalists’ dependence on women’s unwaged work. After reading this, you’ll never refer to “women who worked” and “women who didn’t” again.  It should be essential reading not only for women’s historians, but for anyone interested in ideologies of labor, capitalism, and the history of work.

[Full disclosure: I met Jeanne Boydston on my second day of graduate school and we collaborated closely on our dissertations (later books). She was my best friend and best teacher until her much-too-early death in 2008.]

When I read this book as a young lawyer in reproductive rights in the 1990s, it resonated deeply with the daily bias that I witnessed against my clients. Decades later, a highlight of my book tour was being invited to do a talk with Professor Roberts at the Free Library of Philadelphia. Dorothy Roberts’ exploration of “race, reproduction and the meaning of liberty” is powerful.

Her writing clearly lays out how restrictions on abortion, parenting, and access to basic health care are shaped by and also perpetuate American racism. This book inspired me to work for equity and reproductive freedom for all, and hopefully, it will continue to do so for others, too. 

With all the research skills of a historian, McMillen pulled together fascinating information to show that Lucy Stone deserves recognition as a founder of the women’s rights movement right along with Susan B. Anthony and Elizabeth Cady Stanton. Stone risked her reputation to become a public speaker on the topics of slavery and abolition and women’s rights (it wasn’t considered appropriate for a woman to talk in front of audiences). Her dedication to securing rights for the newly freed enslaved people after the Civil War caused a break with Anthony and Stanton, which resulted in her near-erasure from the history of the postwar women’s suffrage movement.

Ernestine Rose, a Polish-Jewish immigrant who was one of the first women to speak out for women’s rights in the United States, was well-known in her time but is little remembered today.

This book, which includes most of her published speeches and some of her letters, made her come alive for me. With lines like “It is time to consider whether what is wrong in one sex, can be right in the other” (referring to the double standard of sexual morality for men and women), it still holds relevance for us today. I’ll never get to hear Ernestine Rose speak in person, so this is the next best thing.

I found a quote from my father written in 1982 in my tattered copy of Stanton’s biography when I was appointed the first superintendent of the new park. He asked, “How do you know all this?” A perfect question from a well-educated and well-read father who was then 70. He surely never studied women’s history.

I, a graduate of the Arts College at Cornell University just 40 miles away from Seneca Falls, had never heard of Stanton or Seneca Falls until 20 years after my graduation. It’s remarkable how little awareness there was, even in such close proximity, about these historical figures and events that would become so central to my work. My personal knowledge of women’s history was practically non-existent at the time.

I began as superintendent in 1982, and of the very fine books here recommended, only one had been published in 1982: Stanton’s autobiography. Stanton’s descriptions, supplemented… show more.

I have ancestors who were involved in the early Women’s Rights Movement as part of the Seneca Falls Convention of 1848, so I know that history. But I did not know that others, such as Elizabeth Cady Stanton, saw her as a competitor.

Stone has been largely forgotten—except by women who do not take their husband’s last name. She was an early voice crying out against male oppression. 

I love this book and so wish it had been available to me, park planners, and the public in 1982. But it was published in 2011. I received it as a gift and did not immediately realize it was intended for young adults. But how significant is it to reach girls and boys while still young and unbiased so they could better understand their lives as they unfolded?

I loved that it was accessible in its words, and very much in its design. Lots of space, largish print, clearly written, all make it also very appropriate for women, and men, of my age, which is 82. Weakened eyesight, shorter attention spans, no base of information to build on, this book is perfect also for seniors who probably had no formal education in women’s history and women’s rights.

Who knew the bicycle helped advance the cause of women’s suffrage? I loved how this book took a seemingly modest technological invention and showed how it contributed to wide-ranging social, cultural, and, ultimately, political change. Though notable figures make appearances, what appealed to me was Macy’s focus on the everyday woman. Frances Willard may have spoken for these women when she wrote, “I began to feel that myself plus the bicycle equaled myself plus the world.” 

The book is richly illustrated with an abundance of sidebar features, including facsimiles of contemporary newspaper clippings. Wheels of Change shows how political change goes hand-in-hand with more mundane socio-cultural shifts. The bicycle gave women the fact of personal independence and a sense of new possibility.