Work Text:
March 5th, 1919
President Woodrow Wilson found the United States standing dutifully by one of the large windows lining the walls of the Oval Office. Her appearance in the White House, though rare, wasn’t completely unexpected that early March morning and he took the opportunity to study the nation in front of him before she realized that he was there.
It was hard to not think of America as a young woman - a girl really - when she looked no more than seventeen, but he knew her true age exceeded well over a hundred years. He also knew treating her as anything but was a severe mistake, one that he’d made once before and hadn’t made since for fear that the nation would disappear on him like she often did anyway. America personified was most certainly an impulsive woman with a fickle temper, and he’d hardly expected anything less.
As she stood silently in the window, her figure outlined by the morning light, he noticed her attention was fixated on something outside, something in the distance. He didn’t need to ask what it was, because he already knew.
The National Women’s Party’s ‘Silent Sentinels’, a small group of suffragettes, had been a near-constant presence outside of the White House gates since his meeting with them in 1917, bolstering colorful banners that demanded votes for women and, often enough, his own words.
Mr. President, you say liberty is the fundamental demand of the human spirit.
We shall fight for the things we have always held nearest to our hearts.
The purple, white, and gold-clad women were certainly persistent enough though. Regardless of whatever weather came, they remained outside; when they faced arrest and were subsequently arrested, they returned to their posts; and while their enemies attacked them, they stood firm. Their dedication was admirable, to say the least.
America’s expression was unreadable while she watched them, and the President couldn’t even begin to fathom what was running through her head. Yet, America herself didn’t quite know what to think. Women’s suffrage had been a long-term issue and something that had nagged at her over the years, but it had often taken the back burner to more pressing issues - slavery, war, politics that often overwhelmed her. Now, though, there was an uneasy peace at the end of a violent war and the suffragettes were making themselves heard. Time would tell if it was working.
“Do you think they’ll succeed?” she asked aloud, refusing to take her eyes away from the handful of women who’d taken up their posts at the gate. She wasn’t sure if the question was for herself or her boss. Did she think they’d succeed? Regardless of the fact that America thought they did, it wasn’t up to her. It was up to Congress and they were frustratingly mercurial about everything .
There was a long silence between them before the President answered. “I do. Perhaps not today or tomorrow, but most certainly soon.”
America ripped her eyes away from the Sentinals and turned to face President Wilson. Suffrage wasn’t why she was here. She was there because the President had very politely, and not very subtly, demanded she be present on his trip to Paris. In the end, America knew she really didn’t have much of a choice, because if she had a choice she wouldn’t have been standing in that office at all. She didn’t need to be present at the Paris Peace Conference and, more importantly, she wasn’t wanted at the Paris Peace Conference. England and France clearly thought they knew best and if that’s how they wanted to think then America wouldn’t indulge them. At least, she hadn’t planned to until Woodrow had insisted she come.
“I will never be able to convince Europe of an intergovernmental peace organization if my own nation refuses to attend,” he’d told her calmly after her protests had died down.
She knew he was right, but even America wasn’t convinced that the League of Nations would work, or that she even wanted to join. America had worked so hard, for so long, to distance herself from Europe, only to get reeled into a European war by European nations and to be threatened afterwards with an organization that would practically bind her to European whims. America was simply tired of Europe, so spending the next four months there wasn’t exactly appealing.
“Are you packed?”
A slight frown tugged at America’s face at the question. “I am.”
“Very good,” he said with a nod. “Now come along, the car is ready for us.”
America tore herself away from the window and tried her best not to sulk as she followed the President through the White House halls and to the awaiting car. She didn’t get much of a chance to get lost in thought though because as they drove through the White House gates, they passed the Sentinels. Up close, America could read some of their banners:
We shall fight for the things which we have always carried nearest our hearts—for democracy, for the right of those who submit to authority to have a voice in their own governments.
Kaiser Wilson, have you forgotten your sympathy with the poor Germans because they were not self-governed? 20,000,000 American women are not self-governed. Take the beam out of your own eye.
President Wilson tipped his hat to them as they passed, though whether the gesture was genuine or not America couldn’t tell.
Across from her, one of the President's assistants scoffed. “Damn women think they’re clever. Think they know everything about -”
The man cut himself off when he noticed America’s glare and his face grew beet red.
“Oh no, please,” the decidedly female nation said, dripping with bitter sarcasm. “Continue.”
“They simply don’t understand the complexities of politics,” the man dared to continue. Damn fool. “Feeble minds such as theirs should stay focused on the home, not the country.”
“And who are you to decide who should and shouldn’t vote, Mr. Graves?” America asked him, trying to shove down the boiling anger in her gut and hoping, praying that the man didn’t actually answer. They were about to spend ten days on a boat together and if he didn’t learn to hold his tongue he might just find himself accidentally going overboard. “The laws and policies enacted by elected officials affect them. So why shouldn’t they have a say?”
When the man opened his mouth to answer her, America held up a hand to cut him off. “If you want what little respect I still have left for you to remain intact, Mr. Graves, then shut the fuck up. There’s no excuse to deny people the liberties that they’ve been stripped of, regardless of their race or gender.”
“I never said anything about ra-”
“You didn’t have to. People like you are all the same.”
At her words, the man, thankfully, had the brilliant idea to stop talking.
It certainly hadn’t been the first misogynistic rant she’d heard, nor would it be the last, but it was always satisfying to put men like him down.
Out of the corner of her eye, America could see a slight, subtle smile tugging at the corner of the President’s mouth.
It was going to be a long trip.