1918 and 1928 are landmark years in histories of women’s involvement in British parliamentary politics. In December 1918, following the passage of the Representation of the People Act in February, some women voted for the first time in a UK General Election. In July 1928, the Representation of the People (Equal Franchise) Act made all British women eligible to vote on the same terms as men. Years of hard campaigning by organisations such as the Women’s Social and Political Union and the National Union of Women’s Suffrage Societies had finally paid off.
Domestic magazine Woman’s Weekly seems distinctly nonplussed by both events, however. It refers to the December 1918 election only once, in a brief editorial reminding readers who didn’t vote that, in order to vote next time, they must register. The 1928 Act receives even less attention – a brief suggestion, made in a feature about overcoming social shyness, that the so-called “flapper vote” would be a good conversation topic to introduce if you are struggling to make small talk at a party.
Today’s reader may find it remarkable that a women’s magazine should pay such scant attention to its readers’ enfranchisement – I certainly did, when I flipped through these magazines for the first time. But having come to know Woman’s Weekly extremely well during the past nearly four years of PhD research, I think its reluctance to discuss politics reflects three key aspects of its identity: its desire to attract a broad readership, its domestic focus, and its desire to elevate its readers socially.
To begin with, Woman’s Weekly generally avoids engaging directly with current affairs. My research surveys the magazine between 1918 and 1958, and it is notable, for instance, that during the year leading up the Second World War it barely mentions the political situation in Europe or Britain’s preparations for possible conflict. Whereas during 1939 this avoidance of current affairs probably signifies a reluctance to exacerbate any war-related anxieties readers may be experiencing, Woman’s Weekly’s apparent disinterest in the December 1918 general election probably reflects its desire to attract as broad a readership as possible. Not all women supported the suffrage movement, and the magazine may not have wanted to risk alienating some by appearing to take sides.
Besides, during 1918 and 1928 Woman’s Weekly is a domestic manual with a focus on homemaking. Housewifery does not, of course, preclude taking an interest in current affairs – but if Woman’s Weekly readers want to read about governmental politics, they can do so elsewhere. Even today, the magazine’s current Editor Diane Kenwood says, readers are “very clear that there’s no place for politics on its pages.”
Woman’s Weekly’s lack of interest in women’s suffrage probably reflects its target readers’ class status and its acknowledgement of their social aspirations. The 1918 Representation of the People Act enfranchised only some women – those over thirty, who owned or occupied land or property worth at least £5 per year, or whose husbands met the same economic conditions. These qualifications, included to calm fears that full female suffrage would result in women becoming the majority of voters, made sure that only middle- and upper-class women could vote. It is extremely unlikely that many Woman’s Weekly readers belonged to this group. In 1918, the cheap (1½d) magazine targeted housewives on low incomes, living in small, probably rented, houses. Letters pages and jobseekers’ advice columns indicate that they worked as servants, shop girls and typists until they married – most probably left school at twelve or fourteen. (The article’s dig at women who went to university confirms that they are not presumed to have attended higher education.) Woman’s Weekly readers had higher social aspirations, however – etiquette features and tips for copying the latest clothing trends suggest that they wanted to become more middle-class in their conduct and appearance.
Since Woman’s Weekly readers probably did not qualify to vote, its editors may have felt that features about the election could make them feel socially excluded. The 1918 article avoids this in two ways. Firstly, by reminding them to register for the next election if they forgot to register in time to vote in December, it assumes that they do belong to the voting classes, but just didn’t get around to voting this time – a piece of social flattery acknowledging their middle-class aspirations. Secondly, because Woman’s Weekly knows that its readers do not really belong to the voting classes, it encourages them to believe that by the next election, they will. This is unlikely, and readers probably know this – but nevertheless, rapid social elevation is a pleasurable fantasy.
Finally, Woman’s Weekly readers’ class sensitivities may also have influenced the magazine’s off-handed treatment of the 1928 Act – during that year, its lack of interest in the “flapper vote” suggests that readers are already enfranchised, having already met the 1918 Act’s property, marital or educational qualifications. Again, social flattery reflects a target readership aspiring to become middle-class.
Woman’s Weekly’s almost-failure to acknowledge two fundamental changes to the political status British women reflects a popular domestic magazine eager to avoid alienating readers by discussing politics. It also classifies these readers, during 1918 and 1928, as housewives on low incomes, who aspire to join the better-off middle classes.
By Ellie Reed. Ellie is in the final year of her PhD at Roehampton University.
