The parties in the streets - Sylvia Pankhurst

During the war the men living in the Bow streets formed themselves into patrols, keeping vigil night after night in case of air raids. When the Armistice put an end to their labours they held a party for the children of the neighbouring streets in the W.S.F. Hall at 400 Old Ford Road. But now the mothers are giving parties—Peace Parties—to the children, not in a hall [in] this lovely weather, but in the open street, and the idea is spreading like a fever from street to street. Last Saturday we saw the wonderful party that the mothers of Appian Road had organised. We could hardly believe our eyes. All the greyness was gone. From innumerable strings stretched across the street hung numberless paper pennants, all in pale colours -— white, pink, lilac, green, blue—so many, so many of them, as gay and light as a forest of almond blossom. The walls of the houses were all covered with decorations, from as high as the top of the ground-floor windows one could see no bricks at all, they were covered by lace curtains, striped muslins, of many colours, and all sorts of draperies, and hanging from all the windows were the bright, strong, primary colours of the Union Jack and other national flags. There were mottoes over the doors, such as: “Peace, Peace! All are Welcome.” Beside the open doors stood small tables, which had been brought out to serve as stands for flowers, photographs, and other ornaments. Right down the street, in the middle of the road, were trestle-tables, covered with white cloths decorated with flowers, and loaded with cakes and bread and butter. 172 children, all dressed in clean pinafores, were at tea, and the mothers were waiting on them, whilst fathers, grandparents and other friends were sitting in the doorways watching them. Two men, with highly painted faces, dressed in curious gay garments and posing as a country man and woman, were strolling up and down amusing everyone. Some of the mothers were wearing best dresses and clean, white aprons, but some had a wonderful fancy costume, having a mob cap, a bodice of broad red and white striped cotton material, a short, blue cotton skirt, with the name “Britannia” stitched upon it, and low shoes tied, with red white and blue.

There were no parsons, district visitors, or social workers amongst the throng: the whole affair had been organised by the mothers of the street. One of them was now reading out to the group at each table in turn a bunch of letters and telegrams of good wishes, which had been received. She said that she had written to Buckingham Palace for a message. The King’s Secretary had replied that it was a most unusual thing for the King to send a message to a public gathering of that kind, but that if a telegram of congratulation were sent to him no doubt it would be replied to, “So if the King wants a telegram,” she said, her voice broken by annoyance, “he has got it, I sent one off at two o’clock, but I haven’t had an answer yet.” But neither the children nor the majority of the adults were worrying about a Royal greeting. This was their very own party, organised by themselves, and they were charmed by its prettiness and gaiety.

We, too, were well pleased, for we saw in these parties the germ of the co-operative life that will arise when the Social Revolution comes.

The people of the poor, little streets of Bow have begun by organising children’s parties: some day they will organise the Soviets.

Text transcribed for Prometheus by L Wilkinson where the text and intro is taken from:
https://prometheusjournal.org/2025/01/08/two-pieces-by-sylvia-pankhurst/