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pixelofthepast · 2 years

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By the time the girls were left to settle into the dormitory, Edith’s mood had seemed to sour. She didn’t appreciate the little frown that had sat upon her sister’s face for the better part of the day, this was supposed to be a momentous occasion for Edith!

“Oh Louisa, must you mope about all day? You’re going to get frown lines from that expression on your face. Are you really so jealous of how partial Miss Tillman is to me?” Edith questions her elder sister.

“I am not jealous of you Edith, I’m glad you have found a mentor in Miss Tillman,” Louisa assures, but she can’t help but be frustrated by her little sister’s naivety. Though she still hadn’t told her younger sister of her turning down Edward’s proposal. “But you are a young lady now, when are you going to realize that the universe does not revolve around you?”

“This is supposed to be a special day for me, but you’ve managed to make it about you!” Edith fumes. “Oh poor shy Lou, so meek and quiet... like a mouse. The perfectly behaved girl,” She mocks.

Louisa could not believe what she was hearing, how could Edith believe this when she had been such a devoted sister to her?

“I have spent the whole of my life at your whim,” Lou cries. “I have wiped every one of your tears, I have given ear to all of your gripes and complaints, been a constant companion and hoped for nothing in return. How can you be so thoughtless?”

The two March sisters fall into tense silence, neither sure how to proceed. Sure, they had squabbled before, but they had never been so coarse with each other. When it became clear Edith wasn’t going to speak, Louisa bowed her head and quietly wished her younger sister well before leaving the dormitory.

#The March Family #the march legacy 1900s #edith march #louisa march #sims 4 1900s #sims 4 decades #sims 4 decades challenge #ts4 decades challenge #decades challenge 1900s #I'm so sorry for the long wait!

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pemberlaey · 2 years

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things in 19th century novels that bring me an immense amount of joy

a passive aggressive pianoforte moment

any country dance scene

flower symbolism

the love interest telling the heroine he loves her mid panic attack

a women rejecting a marriage proposal from a man she hates

hands

when lore gets dropped via letter

and, most importantly, the First Name Drop™

#trust me I’m an expert I’m getting my MA in lit #tales from an english major #jane austen #p&p #victorian literature #charlotte bronte #jane eyre #north and south #elizabeth gaskell #charles dickens #henry james #edith wharton #emily brontë #wuthering heights #little women #louisa may alcott #jo march #dylan.txt

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winterrrnight · 29 days

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march '24 recs <3

let's all ignore the fact that the last time I posted fic recs was back in july 😭😭 anyways, I'll try to be more regular w them now! <3 these are some of the fics i loved reading this month 🫶🏼🫶🏼 please heed the warnings if they have any so that you aren't reading you aren't comfortable with!! 🩷 check out the tag 'edith's fic recs! 🪄' for more stuff that I liked reading! <3

RAFE CAMERON

date me to scare them by @diqldrunks

the blind date by @obaex

kildare split by @ghostofwriting

unfold by @totalswag

bookstore dates by @gh0stsp1d3r

the compound by @rafeandonlyrafe

at her beck and call by @cameronspecial

BONUS

@ipetite69 & @rafeinterlude have lovely moodboards! <3

@boysssofthemonth and their whole blog basically! lots of lovely smaus! <3

@viawritesstuff has such a funny poguelandia group chat fic! <3

@runningfrom2am has absolutely wonderful and breathtaking fics for coryo so if you're into him please please check out my bae's blog! <3

@sadfury's entire blog!! lots of gif imagines which I adore sooo much! <3

i haven't read any drew or zach this month, plus I know these aren't a lot but this month was quite busy for me :( + I spent more time exploring my own writing this month :) if you read these fics, make sure to reblog and support the creators!! 💗💗

fic recs library!

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chicinsilk · 4 months

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Grace Kelly in a Edith Head dress at the 27th Academy Awards on March 30, 1955 where she had just won the Oscar for best actress for her role in George Seaton's film, "The Country Girl".

Grace Kelly dans une robe d'Edith Head lors de la 27e cérémonie des Oscars le 30 mars 1955 où elle vient de décrocher l'Oscar de la meilleur actrice pour son rôle dans le film de George Seaton, "Une fille de la province".

#grace kelly #academy awards #march 1955 #george seaton #the country girl #oscars #fashion 50s #haute couture #edith head

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laz-kay · 2 months

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MIB 4🖤😎

Happy Monday, kids! I hope you all enjoyed new Bob’s last night. I certainly did! I’m absolutely exhausted today, and it’s my own damn fault. I was up ‘til all hours rewatching Hazbin, reading fanfics and editing TikToks, and before I knew it, my alarm went off at 6am! Fuming. I’ve trudged through my shift with heavy eyes and now I’m finally ready to get some sleep!

#calendar #daily calendar #march #march 11 #march 2024 #2024 #2024 calendar #edith bob’s burgers #harold bob’s burgers #bobs burgers calendar #monday

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lycorogue · 26 days

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Latest Writing Blog Post is Live: March 2024

Kept me about two weeks to write the darn thing, but my "March" blog update is officially live. Here's hoping you have a beverage, some food, and you're comfortable, because this one is a doozy!

Wait. I Wrote Something?!?

Est. Read Time: 65min! 🤯

What could I POSSIBLY talk about for an HOUR'S worth of reading!?

Well, for one, I ACTUALLY WROTE SOME NARRATIVE PROSE! First time in, like, 10 months!

All thanks to getting back into reading, via Comikey and Webtoon.

I take up a LOOOOOT of time recapping the MULTITUDE of isekai manhwas I started reading in March.

I recap 5 different Webtoon Originals, 1 Webtoon Canvas, and 1 manga I'm reading on Comikey.

It's a LOT, but I hope it gets you as excited as I am about these stories. (Does include spoilers for the start of each of the recapped stories)

Finally, I of course talk about the actual writing I've been working on. I'm super excited to keep going and maybe actually have a nice handful of new stories for you fine folks throughout this year! 😁

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perfettamentechic · 9 months

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11 agosto … ricordiamo …

11 agosto … ricordiamo … #semprevivineiricordi #nomidaricordare #personaggiimportanti #perfettamentechic

2022: Manuel Ojeda, Manuel Salvador Ojeda Armenta, attore messicano. Iniziò la sua carriera in teatro, per poi divenire tra i più attivi protagonisti della televisione e del cinema in Messico. Interpretò il ruolo del malvagio Zolo nel film hollywoodiano All’inseguimento della pietra verde (1984). (n.1940) 2022: Hanae Mori, stilista giapponese. Una delle due sole stiliste giapponesi ad avere…

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immortalsapphics · 9 months

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11 months of the year, no matter how bad i feel, i at least know that it isn't march

#march #fuck march #mental health #edith has thoughts about things

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tlmtwelve · 1 year

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March 15, 2023: Edith

#edith #names #march 2023 #butterfly #riches #sketch

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keatsonthebeach · 2 months

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March

turn down your white duvet

reveal thy glories within

from fields

from sky

from slumber

arise

artist -Edith Holden

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she-is-ovarit · 2 months

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By EDITH M. LEDERER Updated 9:11 PM PST, March 8, 2024 UNITED NATIONS (AP) — Legal equality for women could take centuries as the fight for gender equality is becoming an uphill struggle against widespread discrimination and gross human human rights abuses, the United Nations chief said on International Women’s Day. Secretary-General Antonio Guterres told a packed U.N. commemoration Friday that “a global backlash against women’s rights is threatening, and in some cases reversing, progress in developing and developed countries alike.” The most egregious example is in Afghanistan, he said, where the ruling Taliban have barred girls from education beyond sixth grade, from employment outside the home, and from most public spaces, including parks and hair salons. At the current rate of change, legal equality for women could take 300 years to achieve and so could ending child marriage, he said. Guterres pointed to “a persistent epidemic of gender-based violence,” a gender pay gap of at least 20%, and the underrepresentation of women in politics. He cited September’s annual gathering of world leaders at the U.N. General Assembly, where just 12% of the speakers were women. “And the global crises we face are hitting women and girls hardest — from poverty and hunger to climate disasters, war and terror,” the secretary-general said. In the past year, Guterres said, there have been testimonies of rape and trafficking in Sudan, and in Gaza women women and children account for a majority of the more than 30,000 Palestinians reported killed in the Israeli-Hamas conflict, according to the Gaza Ministry of Health. He cited a report Monday by the U.N. envoy focusing on sexual violence in conflict that concluded there are “reasonable grounds” to believe Hamas committed rape, “sexualized torture” and other cruel and inhumane treatment of women during its surprise attack in southern Israel on Oct. 7. He also pointed to reports of sexual violence against Palestinians detained by Israel. International Women’s Day grew out of labor movements in North America and across Europe at the turn of the 20th century and was officially recognized by the United Nations in 1977. This year’s theme is investing in women and girls to accelerate progress toward equality. Roza Otunbayeva, the head of the U.N. political mission in Afghanistan, told the Security Council on Wednesday that what is happening in that country “is precisely the opposite” of investing in women and girls. There is “a deliberate disinvestment that is both harsh and unsustainable,” she said, saying the Taliban’s crackdown on women and girls has caused “immense harm to mental and physical health, and livelihoods.” Recent detentions of women and girls for alleged violations of the Islamic dress code “were a further violation of human rights, and carry enormous stigma for women and girls,” she said. It has had “a chilling effect among the wider female population, many of whom are now afraid to move in public,” she said. Otunbayeva again called on the Taliban to reverse the restrictions, warning that the longer they remain, “the more damage will be done.” Sima Bahous, the head of UN Women, the agency promoting gender equality and women’s rights, told the commemoration that International Women’s Day “sees a world hobbled by confrontation, fragmentation, fear and most of all inequality.” “Poverty has a female face,” she said. “One in every 10 women in the world lives in extreme poverty.” Men not only dominate the halls of power but they “own $105 trillion more wealth than women,” she said. Bahous said well-resourced and powerful opponents of gender equality are pushing back against progress. The opposition is being fueled by anti-gender movements, foes of democracy, restricted civic space and “a breakdown of trust between people and state, and regressive policies and legislation,” she said. [Click on the link to continue reading]

#women's rights #femicide #taliban #women's oppression #international women's day #global feminism #feminism

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thyme-in-a-bubble · 6 months

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the shed

lilac, chapter ten

a/n: the drama is here, folks. it has arrived. welcome.

summary: “he’s here,” you shuttered, your words barely above a whisper.

warnings: lumberjack!frank castle x reader, lumberjack AU, past domestic violence, crazy ex trope, kinda mob!ex-boyfriend vibes, angst, crying, violence

word count: 2358

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

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“Hey, Otto,” you smiled warmly as the small town’s sheriff untangled his scarf from around his neck and marched up to where you were wiping a small table down with a damp cloth, “Donna should be here soon if you wanna sit with her during lunch.”

“Oh, I’d love to,” the seasoned man sighed longingly, “but unfortunately the stack of paperwork I left at my desk won’t allow me to hear the latest gossip. She’ll just have to fill me in tomorrow.”

“So, to go then?” the rag in your grasp finished up its cleanly dance across the smooth woodgrain.

“Yeah,” he nodded, thinking out loud as he glanced down to stuff as much of the scarf into his left pocket as it could bear, “right now I’m thinking a sandwich, unless, what’s your special today?”

“Uh, it’s a dahl,” you informed him, carefully folding up the wipe as you stepped closer towards the kitchen door, the sheriff shadowing the short journey, “got lots of spinach and stuff in it.”

“Oh, it’s dahl day? Well, then forget about the sandwich, I’ll have some of that with rice, just rice, and maybe if you could also fill up my thermos with some fresh coffee, that would be great,” he opened up his coat and conjured the nifty decanter from a roomy inner pocket.

“You got,” you uttered before he handed the flagon off to you and your feet carried you the rest of the way into the kitchen, “hey, dad?” you gently patted his shoulder as you walked past his stance by the stove to get to the coffee maker.

“Yeah, sweetie?” he halted his stirring and tapped the turmeric-stained spoon on the edge of one of the simmering pots before resting it back down on a little plate to the side.

Unscrewing the top off of the pastel yellow thermos, you gingerly streamed in some of the requested brew, “can you pack up a portion of dahl with rice for Otto?”

“Yep, yep,” he fished out a spatula from one of the jugs on the counter that simply overflowed with various utensils, “tell him it’ll be one second.”

Entering the dining space once more, you handed off the filled thermos to sheriff Nilsen, “here,” who now sat on one of the chairs, “he says it’ll just be a moment.”

“Thanks, kid,” he flashed you a warm smile just before you turned on your heel, “you have a great rest of your day, yeah?”

“You too!” you glanced back over your shoulder with a small wave.

As you strode towards the lobby and the thick stack of mail you still hadn’t sorted through, a voice began to catch your ear.

“Fiancé?” old lady Edith’s shrill tone cut through from around the corner, “well, I had absolutely no idea she was engaged,” as you entered the lobby from behind the front desk, your gaze seized to take in the individual the elder was conversing with as your fingers were too busy scooping up the stack of letters, “and to a fella as handsome as you? Well, isn’t she lucky.”

“Well, she just likes to be modest. One of the many qualities I adore about her.”

Your body instantly froze as the man’s low timbre filled the inn. The shuffling of mail halted as terror shot down your spine.

Slowly raising your panicked eyes, they only seized to grow wider as they glazed over the back-turned individual standing opposite Edith. Shifting his stance, he uncrossed his arms and lowered them to his sides, the crisply up-twisted black button-down sleeves framed in and nearly made it impossible for you not to take in the sight of the recognisable ink that slithered out from under the hem, curled around the honied skin of his forearm and ended right on the back of his ring adorned hand.

As the letters fell from your grip and casketed over the desk and onto the floor like a fallen jenga tower, the dull commotion managed to catch the pair’s attention as Edith’s hooded eyes trained upon your frozen frame and to your horror, the very reason for you being back here in the first place, turned around as well to spot you.

“Oh,” a chillingly perfect smile spread across Preston’s lips, “hey, doll,” his tone ever casual as if he’d just talked to you two minutes ago, “there you are.”

With your heart nearly bursting out of your chest, you didn’t even register that your feet had begun to move before you reached the backdoor out through the sunroom.

Ripping it open, you sprinted out and over the porch, your speed only increasing as the dewy grass stained your shoes.

Your eyes were wild, raking across the terrain, franticly attempting to come up with a plan as you went, but swiftly they locked upon where the thick forest began to bloom just beyond the patchy field that stretched between it and the inn’s garden.

But as you glanced back over your shoulder, the panicked plan of escape withered and died as you spotted your ex marching through the sunroom, his visage clear through the latticed glass of the door.

Whipping your head around, you spotted the small decrepit tool shed just a few paces to your left. Rushing to the rickety structure, you sucked in a sharp breath as your desperate push to one of the tattered double doors caused the faintest of clangs to reverberate from the rusty dinner bell that decorated the outside as an echo of the past.

Gingerly shutting the door after you slipped inside, careful as to not evoke any more alarms and ruin your hiding spot, the lack of a lock on the simple doors had completely slipped your memory as your blurry vision stared down at the rudimentary pull handles and nothing else.

Hyperventilating and nearly feeling like you’d faint, you instead pulled over a dust-covered table and pushed it up against the exit, a few screws rattling and rolling off it as it settled in its new place.

Eyes transfixed on the doors, your feet began to back up, not halting till the rough wood of the far side wall stopped you. Reaching into your pocket, you blindly fished out your phone and dialled up the only number you could think of.

“Hey, I was just about to call you,” Frank’s contrasting tone flowed out from the receiver, “thought I’d maybe swing by when I'm done here in town–…” although his genuine words abruptly ceased as a shuttering cry trembled from your lips, “…Y/n? What’s wrong?”

Your body shook so fiercely that keeping a hold of your phone proved to be a daunting task.

“F-Frank,” you sobbed.

“What, what is it?”

“…he’s here. He’s here,” you uttered shakily through your tears, “I walked into the lobby and there he was, I–, fuck…” you squeezed your eyes shut a moment, “Frank, what do I do?”

“Alright, listen to me,” his tone changed in an instant, “did he see you?”

“Y-yes,” you tried your best to keep your voice hushed.

“Where are you?”

“I hid in the old shed out back, but, shit, I'm not sure if–”

Your fear then came to fruition as the doors suddenly rustled, bumping against the makeshift blockade before the attempt was dropped and a low knock instead found your ears.

“He’s here,” you shuttered, your words barely above a whisper.

“Doll?” Preston’s voice seeped through the rotten wood, “I know that you’re in there,” he tried to shove the doors open once more, the whole world seeming to quake at his attempt.

Eyes darting around the dim space, you spotted a small broken window to your left. Raising up your elbow, all of the adrenaline that pumped throughout your veins didn’t even let you register the pain as you slammed it against the remaining bits of jagged glass that were stuck to the window, as well as when the remaining short shards stabbed your palms and scratched up the screen of your phone as you desperately began to crawl out.

“Come on, just open up the door, I don’t have time for any childish games.”

The sudden sound of the door crashing open and the table scraping across the floor shot straight into your bones.

Already halfway out, your knee bent up to hoist the remaining half of your shaky form out of the narrow opening, but just as you twisted to do so, a bruising grip grabbed hold of the leg and tugged you back inside, sending you crashing down upon the concrete floor.

Motes of dust seemed suspended in the air as you coughed on the cold ground. Steadying yourself with your bloodied palms, your hazy vision found your phone by your side, shattered and completely dark.

Seizing the crown of your locks, he yanked you back up to your feet.

“Now why would you do something like that, huh?” he uttered in such a mundane tone that you’d almost rather have him yell. Dragging you with him towards the doors and still hung agape on the rusty hinges, he grabbed a petite shovel that rested on the messy table and jammed the wooden shaft through the loops of the two handles. Gliding his dominant hand up your frame as he backed you up, the long fingers swiftly enveloped your throat as your back slammed against a wall, “I just wanna have a little conversation with you,” like splintery sandpaper, the rough wood scraped against your spine, and your eyes squeezed shut, “uh uh,” the stinging grip he had on your hair loosened, drifting his knuckles down your cheek in a cruel caress as he demanded, “look at me when I’m talking to you,” your whole frame jerked as you felt him land a harsh slap across your cheek, “show me those pretty eyes,” and your bloodshot glare blinked open, “there,” he wiped the tears that trickled down your face, “that wasn’t so hard, was it?” your gaze flickered down to the ominous ink that glazed the appendage clasped around your airway. The head of the snake that decorated the back of his palm nearly looked like it was about to come alive and bite into your jugular vein, “you know, if you wanted to go on a little trip back home, all you had to do was say so, we could have figured something out.”

Soon, your hands fluttered up to warily drift on either side of his, a shift that caused his jaw to clench.

“Doll,” he glared down at your lacking jewel, “where’s your ring? Did you misplace it again? If you keep doing that, then I’m just gonna think you don’t like it,” his head tilted to the side in an almost sombre manner, “what, was the diamond not big enough? If you want something more showy, you know all you have to do is ask, money’s just money. Maybe a sapphire? You could look like Princess Diana. Hell, if you want the real thing, I know a guy,” his face slowly inched closer to yours, “I would do anything for you, you know that right?” he proclaimed with an eerie smile upon his lips, “anything, that’s how much I love you. Even if you can’t always wrap your simple little head around the reasoning in the moment,” his free fingers moved to brush some of your dishevelled hair into place, “it’s always because I love you.”

“Preston, please,” your voice was low as you gasped, fretful fingers lightly tapping against his unyielding grip, “you’re hurting me.”

“Don’t tell me what to do,” he warned softly, rage crackling in his fiery gaze, “you don’t do that,” ignoring your struggling, he went back to wistfully fixing your hair, “you just stand there, like the pretty doll you are and be perfect for me.”

“C-can’t breathe–”

“Oh, you can’t?” his brows furrowed mockingly, “is this better?” he asked as his ring-adorned fingers tightened around your throat and squeezed so taut that no air could reach your lungs, “you are mine,” he pressed his lips to your cheek as your eyes fluttered and your limbs fought against the inevitable fate of shortly passing out, “you will always be fucking mine.”

But just as the world began to slip out from under you, a loud crash found your ears. Forcing your eyes to open, you witnessed as the door got kicked in, the improvised lock shattering into shards from the blow and scattering across the dirty ground.

Glaring over his shoulder, Preston exclaimed, “who the fuck are you?”

Only looming in the doorway for a fragment of a second, Frank didn’t give him the satisfaction of an answer as he rushed to rip Preston off of you.

As you crumbled to the ground, painful coughs escaped your frame. The shed still felt like it spun beneath you as your hazy gaze fluttered up to see Frank pin Preston against the wall. As if you were underwater, their voices seemed miles away as you watched Frank’s callused fist repeatedly collide with the side of your ex’s face.

This wasn’t how you wanted it to happen. Every thunderous crack prompted a dreadful pit to dig itself within your gut. You weren’t doubting that Preston didn’t deserve this, but you had also come to learn a fragment of the truth of just how few of those punches it took for Frank to have an individual no longer breathing.

Frantically casting your gaze everywhere and anywhere, past the garden, out in the driveway, the faint sight of the sheriff, lunch in hand, tossing his scarf around his neck and strolling back to his car, found your fuzzy vision.

Stumbling, you crawled out the door and weakly pulled yourself up enough to reach the short rope that hung from the old bell, the looming unconsciousness steadily catching up to you as you strained to do so.

Ringing the bell once, twice, and on the third time, just as you saw Otto whip his head around in your direction, your vision finally faded to complete darkness as you crumbled to the ground.

#lea’s writing #lilac series #lumberjack!frank castle #frank castle x reader #frank castle imagine #frank castle series #frank castle x fem!reader #frank castle angst #frank castle hurt/comfort #frank castle x you #frank castle x y/n #frank castle x female reader #frank castle x f!reader #frank castle fic #the punisher fic #frank castle fanfiction #the punisher x reader #lumberjack au

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city-of-ladies · 18 days

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Edith Garrud - The suffragette that knew martial arts

The first British female teacher of jujutsu, Edith Garrud (1872-1971) taught the suffragettes to protect themselves.

A passion for martial arts

Edith Margaret Williams was born in Bath in 1872 and started her career as a physical instructor for girls. She shared this passion for physical culture with her husband, William Garrud, a wrestling and boxing instructor.

They came in contact with Edward Barton-Wright who had spent three years in Japan, and studied judo and jujutsu. He elaborated his self-defense techniques known as “bartitsu” and opened his club in London in 1899.

The Bartitsu Club was notably opened to women. Edith was thus able to train alongside her husband. By 1908, Edith and William became jujutsu instructors themselves with William in charge of the men’s class and Edith teaching the women and children.

Jujutsu specializes in speed, precision and the use of soft, flowing movements to deal with aggression rather than using just brute strength. The couple showcased their skills through demonstrations. In one of them, Edith defeated a male aggressor played by her husband. The sight of this 4ft-11inch (150cm) woman effortlessly throwing a much taller man greatly impressed the audience.

In 1907, Edith starred in a short film Jujutsu down the footpads in which an innocent lady overpowers two ruffians.

Vote for women

Edith took an interest in the cause of women’s suffrage. In 1909, she was invited by the Women's Social and Political Union (WSPU) to give a demonstration in the presence of Emeline Pankhurst and other leading figures of the movement. As William was ill, Edith demonstrated alone and invited members of the audience to test her skills. This included subjecting a skeptical police officer to a powerful shoulder throw.

In 1910, Edith also wrote a series of essays, advocating for the growing community of female martial artists and how self-defense could free women by giving them the means to protect themselves:

“You constantly read in the papers reports of dastardly attacks on helpless women by thieves and ruffians. A woman who knows jujutsu, even though she may not be physically strong, even though she may not have even an umbrella or parasol, is not helpless. I know many women personally who have tried the tricks I shall explain to you and come out on top. They have brought great burly cowards nearly twice their size to their feet and made them howl for mercy.”

The bodyguards

The suffragettes faced dangerous and violent situations. This was especially the case on Friday 18th November 1910. 300 WSPU members marched on the House of Parliament and faced police officers armed with batons. Women were subjected to six hours of beatings and arrests and there were widespread reports of sexual abuses.

Emeline Pankhurst thus asked Edith to train a group of women that would be known within the WSPU as the Bodyguard. Led by Gertrude Harding, they acted as agitators, disruptors and decoys.

Edith trained them in hand-to-hand combat and the use of homemade concealed weapons such as wooden India clubs and the fashioning of cardboard body armor. The suffragettes took advantage of their opponent's surprise and exploited their weaknesses.

They for instance struck directly at a police officer’s helmet to knock it from his head. Policemen were held accountable for the loss of uniform items and had to pay for their replacement. They cut the suspenders so that the policeman had to hold back his pants, blinded the police with a charge of umbrellas etc.

When told by a policeman that she was making an “obstruction” during a demonstration near the House of Commons, Edith pretended to drop her handkerchief, threw the policeman over her shoulder and disappeared into the crowd.

In prison, suffragettes went on hunger strikes and were subjected to force-feeding. The “Cat and Mouse Act” of 1913 allowed hunger-striking prisoners to be released and then re-incarcerated as soon as they had recovered their health. The Bodyguard thus protected and hid those women.

Edith for instance hid militant suffragettes in her dojo, telling the police not to disturb her lessons and leave her property.

A quiet retirement

Edith’s contributions to the suffragist movement ended with the beginning of the First World War. Little is known of her life afterward.

She and her husband would run the Golden Square dojo until their retirement in 1925 and retired to a quieter life. William passed away in 1960. In an interview in 1965, Edith said that her recipe for a long, happy and healthy life was:

“Self-discipline. Of course, I had to be extremely disciplined to succeed at jujutsu and hold my own with men […] but it is the mind which really has control, not only of your muscles and your limbs and how you use them, but also your thoughts, your whole attitude to life and other people.”

She died in 1971. A plaque on the building that had been her home can be seen today: “Edith Garrud 1872–1971. The suffragette who knew jiu-jitsu lived here”.