What I am defending is the real rights of women. A woman should

“What I am defending is the real rights of women. A woman should have the right to be in the home as a wife and mother.” Thus spoke Phyllis Schlafly, a woman both revered and reviled, a figure of iron conviction who stood against the tides of her age. To some, her words seemed a retreat from progress; to others, they were a defense of dignity, of choice, and of the sacred hearth that has sustained civilizations for millennia. Beneath her declaration lies a truth that transcends politics—the truth that freedom means not the denial of tradition, but the right to choose one’s path, whether in the halls of power or within the humble sanctum of the home.

To understand Schlafly’s words, one must understand her time. The twentieth century was an age of transformation, when the women’s movement sought to break the chains of inequality and open doors long barred. Yet in that fervor, some voices called not merely for equality, but for sameness—that women must abandon the home to find worth in the world beyond. Schlafly, herself a lawyer, scholar, and mother of six, rose to remind the world that not all liberation lies outside the walls of the household. She argued that the “real rights of women” include not only the right to enter the workforce or the university but also the right to remain at home without shame—to find fulfillment in nurturing life, in shaping the hearts of children, in building the unseen foundations upon which society stands.

To her, the home was not a prison, but a fortress—a place where love and civilization are born. She saw the wife and mother not as a subordinate, but as a guardian of values, a creator of culture. In her eyes, the domestic sphere was not lesser than the public one, but equal in sacred importance. Just as a kingdom cannot stand without soldiers to guard its walls, neither can humanity endure without mothers who guard its soul. Thus, she sought to preserve not submission, but sovereignty—the sovereignty of women to define their own purpose, free from the judgment of both patriarchs and reformers.

Throughout history, we find this reverence for the home repeated in many forms. The ancient Romans honored the goddess Vesta, keeper of the sacred flame that represented the heart of Rome itself. Her priestesses, the Vestal Virgins, tended this eternal fire, for if it went out, the city was said to fall. So too is the mother the modern Vestal—she tends the light of continuity, the flame of compassion, the warmth that makes existence bearable. In defending the right of women to keep that flame, Schlafly was not rejecting progress, but seeking balance—warning that a society that forgets the value of home becomes cold and hollow, rich in ambition but poor in tenderness.

Her stance, though controversial, invites reflection upon the nature of choice. True equality, she believed, is not achieved when women are told they must all follow one path, but when every path is open to them. To force a woman into the workplace against her will is as unjust as to force her into the home. Freedom must include the freedom to embrace the ancient callings—to be a wife, a mother, a homemaker—not as obligation, but as vocation. And in this, Schlafly’s words carry a timeless reminder: that the value of any life’s work is not determined by where it is done, but by the love and intention with which it is carried out.

There is also in her words a defiance of modern arrogance—the notion that what is old must be discarded, that what is traditional must be oppressive. History teaches otherwise. Consider Eleanor Roosevelt, who once said that the strength of any nation begins in the home. Though she was a woman of public life and global influence, she never ceased to cherish her role as mother and matriarch. She saw, as Schlafly did, that the home is not the end of a woman’s power but its beginning—the forge where character, compassion, and courage are first formed.

So, my children of the future, take this teaching not as a call to retreat, but as a call to reverence. Whatever path you walk—whether you build empires in the world or build souls within your home—do it with pride, for both are sacred labor. Honor the women who choose the hearth as much as those who choose the field. Defend not one vision of womanhood, but the right of each woman to live her own truth.

For in the end, Phyllis Schlafly’s words are not a cry against change, but a plea for balance—a reminder that progress without remembrance becomes destruction. Let every generation remember that the real rights of women, and of all people, are born not from force, but from freedom—the freedom to choose, the courage to love, and the wisdom to know that the greatest power is not always found in conquest, but in the quiet endurance of those who keep the world’s flame burning.