And I, for one, were I a woman and had but the two choices, should prefer being a squaw.

The men are economically dependent on their masters, and the women are economically dependent on the men.

The result is, the woman gets the beating the man should give his master, and she can do nothing.

There are the kiddies, and he is the bread-winner, and she dare not send him to jail and leave herself and children to starve.

Evidence to convict can rarely be obtained when such cases come into the courts; as a rule, the trampled wife and mother is weeping and hysterically beseeching the magistrate to let her husband off for the kiddies' sakes.
The wives become screaming harridans or, broken-spirited and doglike, lose what little decency and self-respect they have remaining over from their maiden days, and all sink together, unheeding, in their degradation and dirt.
Sometimes I become afraid of my own generalizations upon the massed misery of this Ghetto life, and feel that my impressions are exaggerated, that I am too close to the picture and lack perspective.