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Professions for Women
When your secretary invited me to come here, she told me that your Society is concerned with
the employment of women and she suggested that I might tell you something about my own
professional experiences. It is true I am a woman; it is true I am employed; but what professional
experiences have I had? It is difficult to say. My profession is literature; and in that profession
there are fewer experiences for women than in any other, with the exception of the stage — fewer,
I mean, that are peculiar to women. For the road was cut many years ago — by Fanny Burney, by
Aphra Behn, by Harriet Martineau, by Jane Austen, by George Eliot[1] — many famous women,
and many more unknown and forgotten, have been before me, making the path smooth, and
regulating my steps. Thus, when I came to write, there were very few material obstacles in my
way. Writing was a reputable and harmless occupation. The family peace was not broken by the
scratching of a pen. No demand was made upon the family purse. For ten and sixpence one can
buy paper enough to write all the plays of Shakespeare — if one has a mind that way. Pianos and
models, Paris, Vienna and Berlin, masters and mistresses, are not needed by a writer. The
cheapness of writing paper is, of course, the reason why women have succeeded as writers before
they have succeeded in the other professions.
But to tell you my story — it is a simple one. You have only got to figure to yourselves a girl in a
bedroom with a pen in her hand. She had only to move that pen from left to right — from ten
o’clock to one. Then it occurred to her to do what is simple and cheap enough after all — to slip a
few of those pages into an envelope, fix a penny stamp in the corner, and drop the envelope into
the red box at the corner. It was thus that I became a journalist; and my effort was rewarded on
the first day of the following month — a very glorious day it was for me — by a letter from an
editor containing a cheque for one pound ten shillings and sixpence. But to show you how little I
deserve to be called a professional woman, how little I know of the struggles and difficulties of
such lives, I have to admit that instead of spending that sum upon bread and butter, rent, shoes
and stockings, or butcher’s bills, I went out and bought a cat — a beautiful cat, a Persian cat, which
very soon involved me in bitter disputes with my neighbours.
What could be easier than to write articles and to buy Persian cats with the profits? But wait a
moment. Articles have to be about something. Mine, I seem to remember, was about a novel by
a famous man. And while I was writing this review, I discovered that if I were going to review books
I should need to do battle with a certain phantom. And the phantom was a woman, and when I
came to know her better I called her after the heroine of a famous poem, The Angel in the
House.[2] It was she who used to come between me and my paper when I was writing reviews. It
was she who bothered me and wasted my time and so tormented me that at last I killed her. You
who come of a younger and happier generation may not have heard of her — you may not know
what I mean by the Angel in the House. I will describe her as shortly as I can. She was intensely
sympathetic. She was immensely charming. She was utterly unselfish. She excelled in the difficult
arts of family life. She sacrificed herself daily. If there was chicken, she took the leg; if there was a
draught she sat in it — in short she was so constituted that she never had a mind or a wish of her
own, but preferred to sympathize always with the minds and wishes of others. Above all — I need
not say it —-she was pure. Her purity was supposed to be her chief beauty — her blushes, her
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great grace. In those days — the last of Queen Victoria — every house had its Angel. And when I
came to write I encountered her with the very first words. The shadow of her wings fell on my
page; I heard the rustling of her skirts in the room. Directly, that is to say, I took my pen in my hand
to review that novel by a famous man, she slipped behind me and whispered: “My dear, you are
a young woman. You are writing about a book that has been written by a man. Be sympathetic;
be tender; flatter; deceive; use all the arts and wiles of our sex. Never let anybody guess that you
have a mind of your own. Above all, be pure.” And she made as if to guide my pen. I now record
the one act for which I take some credit to myself, though the credit rightly belongs to some
excellent ancestors of mine who left me a certain sum of money — shall we say five hundred
pounds a year? — so that it was not necessary for me to depend solely on charm for my living. I
turned upon her and caught her by the throat. I did my best to kill her. My excuse, if I were to be
had up in a court of law, would be that I acted in self-defence. Had I not killed her she would have
killed me. She would have plucked the heart out of my writing. For, as I found, directly I put pen
to paper, you cannot review even a novel without having a mind of your own, without expressing
what you think to be the truth about human relations, morality, sex. And all these questions,
according to the Angel of the House, cannot be dealt with freely and openly by women; they must
charm, they must conciliate, they must — to put it bluntly — tell lies if they are to succeed. Thus,
whenever I felt the shadow of her wing or the radiance of her halo upon my page, I took up the
inkpot and flung it at her. She died hard. Her fictitious nature was of great assistance to her. It is
far harder to kill a phantom than a reality. She was always creeping back when I thought I had
despatched her. Though I flatter myself that I killed her in the end, the struggle was severe; it took
much time that had better have been spent upon learning Greek grammar; or in roaming the
world in search of adventures. But it was a real experience; it was an experience that was bound
to befall all women writers at that time. Killing the Angel in the House was part of the occupation
of a woman writer.
But to continue my story. The Angel was dead; what then remained? You may say that what
remained was a simple and common object — a young woman in a bedroom with an inkpot. In
other words, now that she had rid herself of falsehood, that young woman had only to be herself.
Ah, but what is “herself”? I mean, what is a woman? I assure you, I do not know. I do not believe
that you know. I do not believe that anybody can know until she has expressed herself in all the
arts and professions open to human skill. That indeed is one of the reasons why I have come here
out of respect for you, who are in process of showing us by your experiments what a woman is,
who are in process Of providing us, by your failures and successes, with that extremely important
piece of information.
However, to continue the story of my professional experiences. I made one pound ten and six by
my first review; and I bought a Persian cat with the proceeds. Then I grew ambitious. A Persian cat
is all very well, I said; but a Persian cat is not enough. I must have a motor car. And it was thus that
I became a novelist — for it is a very strange thing that people will give you a motor car if you will
tell them a story. It is a still stranger thing that there is nothing so delightful in the world as telling
stories. It is far pleasanter than writing reviews of famous novels. And yet, if I am to obey your
secretary and tell you my professional experiences as a novelist, I must tell you about a very
strange experience that befell me as a novelist. And to understand it you must try first to imagine
a novelist’s state of mind. I hope I am not giving away professional secrets if I say that a novelist’s
chief desire is to be as unconscious as possible. He has to induce in himself a state of perpetual
lethargy. He wants life to proceed with the utmost quiet and regularity. He wants to see the same
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faces, to read the same books, to do the same things day after day, month after month, while he
is writing, so that nothing may break the illusion in which he is living — so that nothing may disturb
or disquiet the mysterious nosings about, feelings round, darts, dashes and sudden discoveries of
that very shy and illusive spirit, the imagination. I suspect that this state is the same both for men
and women. Be that as it may, I want you to imagine me writing a novel in a state of trance. I want
you to figure to yourselves a girl sitting with a pen in her hand, which for minutes, and indeed for
hours, she never dips into the inkpot. The image that comes to my mind when I think of this girl is
the image of a fisherman lying sunk in dreams on the verge of a deep lake with a rod held out over
the water. She was letting her imagination sweep unchecked round every rock and cranny of the
world that lies submerged in the depths of our unconscious being. Now came the experience, the
experience that I believe to be far commoner with women writers than with men. The line raced
through the girl’s fingers. Her imagination had rushed away. It had sought the pools, the depths,
the dark places where the largest fish slumber. And then there was a smash. There was an
explosion. There was foam and confusion. The imagination had dashed itself against something
hard. The girl was roused from her dream. She was indeed in a state of the most acute and difficult
distress. To speak without figure she had thought of something, something about the body, about
the passions which it was unfitting for her as a woman to say. Men, her reason told her, would be
shocked. The consciousness of — what men will say of a woman who speaks the truth about her
passions had roused her from her artist’s state of unconsciousness. She could write no more. The
trance was over. Her imagination could work no longer. This I believe to be a very common
experience with women writers — they are impeded by the extreme conventionality of the other
sex. For though men sensibly allow themselves great freedom in these respects, I doubt that they
realize or can control the extreme severity with which they condemn such freedom in women.
These then were two very genuine experiences of my own. These were two of the adventures of
my professional life. The first — killing the Angel in the House — I think I solved. She died. But the
second, telling the truth about my own experiences as a body, I do not think I solved. I doubt that
any woman has solved it yet. The obstacles against her are still immensely powerful — and yet
they are very difficult to define. Outwardly, what is simpler than to write books? Outwardly, what
obstacles are there for a woman rather than for a man? Inwardly, I think, the case is very different;
she has still many ghosts to fight, many prejudices to overcome. Indeed it will be a long time still,
I think, before a woman can sit down to write a book without finding a phantom to be slain, a
rock to be dashed against. And if this is so in literature, the freest of all professions for women,
how is it in the new professions which you are now for the first time entering?
Those are the questions that I should like, had I time, to ask you. And indeed, if I have laid stress
upon these professional experiences of mine, it is because I believe that they are, though in
different forms, yours also. Even when the path is nominally open — when there is nothing to
prevent a woman from being a doctor, a lawyer, a civil servant — there are many phantoms and
obstacles, as I believe, looming in her way. To discuss and define them is I think of great value and
importance; for thus only can the labour be shared, the difficulties be solved. But besides this, it
is necessary also to discuss the ends and the aims for which we are fighting, for which we are
doing battle with these formidable obstacles. Those aims cannot be taken for granted; they must
be perpetually questioned and examined. The whole position, as I see it — here in this hall
surrounded by women practising for the first time in history I know not how many different
professions — is one of extraordinary interest and importance. You have won rooms of your
own[3] in the house hitherto exclusively owned by men. You are able, though not without great
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labour and effort, to pay the rent. You are earning your five hundred pounds a year. But this
freedom is only a beginning — the room is your own, but it is still bare. It has to be furnished; it
has to be decorated; it has to be shared. How are you going to furnish it, how are you going to
decorate it? With whom are you going to share it, and upon what terms? These, I think are
questions of the utmost importance and interest. For the first time in history you are able to ask
them; for the first time you are able to decide for yourselves what the answers should be. Willingly
would I stay and discuss those questions and answers — but not to-night. My time is up; and I
must cease.
Summary
Virginia Woolf is addressing a group of women seeking employment in a workforce predominated
by men. She speaks of the struggle present for all women writers, and that is to break out of the
conventions society has for women- being pure, and conservative, and sycophantic towards men
without a mind of their own. This is a mental barrier that she was able to break, with great
difficulty, in order to incorporate her own voice into her writing. She was able to do so thanks to
her financial independence, which allowed her to not depend on writing for a livelihood and
allowed her to break conventions. Now that women will join the workforce, Woolf says that it is
important to ask questions regarding what all of this implies, and how women are to behave once
they are professionals, and to explore the individual voice that women will need to bring to their
jobs.
The ghost of gender discrimination will never leave the society. It is still hard for some people to
acknowledge that women are capable of the same work that man, though, these days, those who
keep to this idea prefer remaining silent. The woman of the 21st century is strong, confident, and,
what is the most important, independent. The transition to this independence cost women much;
now, every day they are forced to prove that they are no less strong (both physically and morally),
intelligent, purposeful, persistent, convincing, and successful than men. Virginia Woolf’s
Professions for Women reflects the beginning of this transition. This story is about a female writer
who tried to suppress her subconscious desire to do what the society expects from her. In Woolf’s
Professions for Women, the Angel in the House symbolizes the expectations of the society from
what a woman should be; this Angel in the House got in the way of Woolf’s writing and should
have been killed for her to become successful.
What should be mentioned above all is that the Angel in the House in Woolf’s story is the view of
the society on women. In those times when the story was written, the gender discrimination was
still present in the society, though the first attempts to fight with it have been already occasionally
made. This Angel in the House constantly bothered the writer and wasted her time. This angel is
a symbol of a woman, a housewife, a mother of her children who got used to oppression and
limitation of rights: “She was utterly unselfish. She excelled in the difficult arts of family life. She
sacrificed herself daily.” (Woolf 327). This is an image of a woman perfect for those times when
most of the women did not work and the sense of their lives was pleasing their husbands and
families with clean apartment, tasty dinner, washed dishes, ironed clothes, etc. This is what
Woolf’s Angel in the House was like.
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After discovering what the Angel in the House was all about, another question arises. If this image
of a woman is so ideal, why did Woolf wanted and managed to kill it then? Woolf was a writer,
and it is practically impossible to forbid these creative people to express what they really think in
their works. The Angel in the House attempted to do this: “She slipped behind me and whispered:
‘My dear, you are a young woman. You are writing about a book … written by a man. Be
sympathetic; be tender; flatter; deceive; use all the arts and wiles of our sex’” (Woolf 327). She
dictated Wolf what to do, she stood in her way, and she did not let her be what she was. However,
the most important, she limited her as a writer, the only profession in which there were not many
obstacles for women. Therefore, the primary reason why Woolf wanted to kill the Angel in the
House was that it stood between her and her writing talent.
Finally, the Angel in the House just had to be killed because otherwise it would have killed the
writer. This is an allusion to the real-life situation. Fighting with gender discrimination was vital; if
women did not stand up for their rights and demanded equality, the society would hardly be as
developed as it is now. There would have still been limitations for women everywhere: work,
education, public places, etc. Woolf mentions, “… I acted in self-defence. Had I not killed her she
would have killed me. She would have plucked the heart out of my writing …” (Woolf 327). Woolf
did not want to be oppressed; she did not want to be limited by the rules that the society imposed
on her; and she expressed her utmost desire to be freed from these rules. This was her obligation
as a woman and as a writer because “Killing the Angel in the House was part of the occupation of
a woman writer” (Woolf 327). Only one of them could have stayed and Woolf turned out to be
stronger in this fight. This was her personal contribution into the fight of women for their rights
and independence.
Taking this all into consideration, it can be concluded, that Woolf’s Professions for Women is
more than symbolistic. Her introducing the Angel in the House into her story gave meaning to
her writing. Thus, the Angel in the House is an image of a woman as the then society saw her;
this was an image of a perfect wife and mother who was unable to fight for her rights and who
did what the society expected her to do. Woolf tried to fight with this image this is why she
simply had to kill this Angel in the House. This was necessary for her as a woman in order to
become free and independent, and as a writer, to be able to write what she considers necessary,
rather than what the society tells her to write.
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The Road Not Taken - Robert Frost
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;
Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,
And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.
THE ROAD NOT TAKEN: A POEM BY ROBERT FROST!
Robert Frost is a towering figure in modern poetry .His poetry is simple as simple it can be. His
poetry is intricate as intricate it can be. True! He takes his subjects from common everyday life.
His language is that of everyday use. He infuses a deeper meaning into his apparently simple
poetry.
'The Road Not Taken' is one of his most popular poems often recommended at school level. This
poem is an anecdote. The speaker represents a common theme that almost everyone encounters
in one's life: the theme of decision-making. Here the speaker is on his way and comes across a
fork where two roads are seen passing through a jungle .He stops for a while as he appears
confused as which road he should choose for his further journey. He looks at each of them: one
has little grass over it and the other is grassy .He is in dilemma. He thinks the less grassy road
suggests that people prefer it more often whereas the grassier one suggests few people dare to
tread on it. The speaker does some soul searching, becomes able to listen to his inner voice, and
chooses the grassy path. A bold decision he makes. In addition, a sort of risk he takes, as he does
not go by the common formula. He becomes successful in life. In addition, this happens due to his
decision: the voice of his inner self. He says his choice makes the cut.
One should be clear regarding one's dream and attentive towards one's inner calling and if these
two things are at hand one attains one's desire.
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Stanza One - The poet has come to a point on his walk where the path he is on has forked into two paths. It is
likely autumn when he is on his walk, as the leaves on the trees are turning yellow. He is only one person, and
therefore can only take one of the two paths. He stands for a long time, trying to see down one of the two
paths, but the foliage blocks his view.
Stanza two - He decides the two paths are equal - "as just as fair" - and chooses the second path. The second
path seems to have been used less, as it has more grass than the first. He looks at the fork in the path and
realizes how many people have come before and chose the other path.
Stanza Three - The poet states that it is morning, and no one has yet walked the path he is on, as there are no
footsteps on it. He decides that maybe he will come back another day to try the path that he did not choose,
but does not believe he will.
Stanza Four- The poet discusses the fact that he will talk about this event sometime in future. He took the
path that was not used as much, and made it a difference.
Write a letter to the bank manager of SBI requesting to open a savings bank account
Name
Address
4th November 2023
The Bank Manager
SBI bank
Bengaluru
Respected Sir,
Sub: Request to open a savings account.
With reference to the above mentioned subject I….. resident of……, request you to open a
Savings account for me as, I do not hold any bank account. I have enclosed my Aadhar and pan
for your reference
Kindly do the needful.
Thank you
Yours sincerely
(Signature)
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Articles: Used to identify any noun or particular noun.
Articles is divided into two types
1. Indefinite (A & An)
2. Definite (The)
Rule #1 - Specific identity not known: Use the indefinite article a or an only with a
singular count noun whose specific identity is not known to the reader. Use a before
nouns that begin with a consonant sound, and use an before nouns that begin with a
vowel sound.
Use the article a or an to indicate any non-specified member of a group or category.
I think an animal is in the garage
That man is a scoundrel.
We are looking for an apartment.
Use the article a or an to indicate one in number (as opposed to more than one).
I own a cat and two dogs.
Use the article a before a consonant sound, and use an before a vowel sound.
a boy, an apple
◊ Sometimes an adjective comes between the article and noun:
an unhappy boy, a red apple
The plural form of a or an is some. Use some to indicate an unspecified, limited
amount (but more than one).
an apple, some apples
Rule #2 - Specific identity known: Use the definite article the with any noun
(whether singular or plural, count or noncount) when the specific identity of
the noun is known to the reader, as in the following situations:
Use the article the when a particular noun has already been mentioned previously.
I ate an apple yesterday. The apple was juicy and delicious.
Use the article the when an adjective, phrase, or clause describing the noun clarifies
or restricts its identity.
The boy sitting next to me raised his hand.
Thank you for the advice you gave me.
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Use the article the when the noun refers to something or someone that is unique.
the theory of relativity
the 2003 federal budget
Rule #3 - All things or things in general: Use no article with plural count
nouns or any noncount nouns used to mean all or in general.
Trees are beautiful in the fall. (All trees are beautiful in the fall.)
He was asking for advice. (He was asking for advice in general.)
I do not like coffee. (I do not like all coffee in general.)
Additional Information Regarding the Use of Articles
When indicating an unspecified, limited amount of a count or noncount noun,
use some.
My cousin was seeking some advice from a counselor (not advice in general or advice
about everything, but a limited amount of advice).
I would love some coffee right now (not coffee in general, but a limited amount of
coffee).
We might get rain tomorrow. Some rain would be good for the crops (a certain amount
of rain, as opposed to rain in general).
There are some drops of water on the table (a limited number, but more than one
drop).
Noncount nouns are those which usually cannot be counted. Following are some
common examples:
◊ Certain food and drink items: bacon, beef, bread, broccoli, butter, cabbage,
candy, cauliflower, celery, cereal, cheese, chicken, chocolate, coffee, corn, cream, fish,
flour, fruit, ice cream, lettuce, meat, milk, oil, pasta, rice, salt, spinach, sugar, tea,
water, wine, yogurt
◊ Certain nonfood substances: air, cement, coal, dirt, gasoline, gold, paper,
petroleum, plastic, rain, silver, snow, soap, steel, wood, wool
◊ Most abstract nouns: advice, anger, beauty, confidence, courage, employment,
fun, happiness, health, honesty, information, intelligence, knowledge, love, poverty,
satisfaction, truth, wealth
◊ Areas of study: history, math, biology, etc.
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◊ Sports: soccer, football, baseball, hockey, etc.
◊ Languages: Chinese, Spanish, Russian, English, etc.
◊ Other: clothing, equipment, furniture, homework, jewelry, luggage, lumber,
machinery, mail, money, news, poetry, pollution, research, scenery, traffic,
transportation, violence, weather, work
Geographical names are confusing because some require the and some do not.
◊ Use the with: united countries, large regions, deserts, peninsulas, oceans, seas,
gulfs, canals, rivers, mountain ranges, groups of islands
the Gobi Desert
the United Arab Emirates
the Sacramento River
the Aleutians
◊ Do not use the with: streets, parks, cities, states, counties, most countries,
continents, bays, single lakes, single mountains, islands
Japan
Chico
Mt. Everest
San Francisco Bay
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Examples of the Use of Articles
I do not want a gun in my house (any gun).
The gun is in his closet (implies there is a specific gun).
I am afraid of guns (all guns in general).
She sent me a postcard from Italy (an unspecific postcard - not a letter, not an e-mail).
It's the postcard that I have in my office (one specific postcard).
Getting postcards makes me want to travel (any postcard in general).
I have a dog (one dog).
The dog is very friendly (the dog that I have already mentioned).
Dogs make great pets (dogs in general).
Greta needs furniture in her apartment (furniture is a noncount noun).
She is going to select the furniture that she needs (the specific furniture that she
needs).
She hopes to find some furniture this weekend (an unspecified, limited amount of
furniture).
We are going to see the Statue of Liberty this weekend (the only Statue of Liberty).
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