"I would rather drudge out my life on a cotton plantation, till the grave opened to give me rest, than to live with an unprincipled master and a jealous mistress"
About this Quote
Better to be worked to the bone than worked on. Harriet Ann Jacobs draws that brutal distinction with the kind of moral clarity that feels almost indecent in its candor. She’s not romanticizing plantation labor; she’s ranking horrors, and the ranking is the point. The “cotton plantation” stands in for slavery at its most publicly legible: long days, raw violence, the body reduced to output. But the “unprincipled master and a jealous mistress” names a more intimate regime: the domestic sphere where power hides behind familiarity, where sexual predation and surveillance can be packaged as household order.
Jacobs is writing from a context many abolitionist narratives softened or euphemized to protect white readers’ sensibilities: the sexual coercion enslaved women faced, and the way white women were often folded into that system, not merely as bystanders but as enforcers of it. “Unprincipled” is almost wry in its restraint; it’s a small word doing heavy work, implying a man whose authority is already sanctioned by law, now made worse by appetite and impunity. The “jealous mistress” exposes the perverse emotional economy of slavery: a white woman displaced her rage downward, punishing the enslaved woman her husband targets rather than the husband who holds the power.
The sentence’s engine is choice. Jacobs stages a preference to insist on her interior life: she can weigh, judge, refuse. That’s the subtextual rebellion. She also quietly indicts a society that makes the grave sound like relief, not tragedy. The line works because it refuses sentimental suffering and instead offers a terrifyingly practical calculus of survival under gendered bondage.
Jacobs is writing from a context many abolitionist narratives softened or euphemized to protect white readers’ sensibilities: the sexual coercion enslaved women faced, and the way white women were often folded into that system, not merely as bystanders but as enforcers of it. “Unprincipled” is almost wry in its restraint; it’s a small word doing heavy work, implying a man whose authority is already sanctioned by law, now made worse by appetite and impunity. The “jealous mistress” exposes the perverse emotional economy of slavery: a white woman displaced her rage downward, punishing the enslaved woman her husband targets rather than the husband who holds the power.
The sentence’s engine is choice. Jacobs stages a preference to insist on her interior life: she can weigh, judge, refuse. That’s the subtextual rebellion. She also quietly indicts a society that makes the grave sound like relief, not tragedy. The line works because it refuses sentimental suffering and instead offers a terrifyingly practical calculus of survival under gendered bondage.
Quote Details
| Topic | Freedom |
|---|---|
| Source | Harriet A. Jacobs, Incidents in the Life of a Slave Girl (1861). Autobiographical narrative contains the cited passage. |
More Quotes by Harriet
Add to List








