“Mrs. Satan”: The Most Demonized Reformer of the Gilded Age

Exposing the Truth Behind the ‘Mrs. Satan’ Myth and Reclaiming the Life, Work, and Legacy of a Woman’s “Social Assassination”

In the 1960s, young Scott Claflin sat in his grade school classroom, listening as his teacher explained that no woman had ever run for president. Scotty, surprised, raised his hand and confidently informed her that a woman had run for president in 1872: his great-aunt, Victoria Claflin Woodhull. His teacher quickly dismissed the claim, stating it was impossible since women didn’t even have the right to vote in the 19th century. Confused, Scotty went home that afternoon and asked his father whether it was true. His father confirmed it: Victoria Woodhull had indeed run for president. The next day, Scotty returned to class and insisted he had been telling the truth. In response, the teacher referred him to counseling. After nine sessions, he was diagnosed with having a fictitious sense of ancestry and living in an imaginary world. Decades later, in 2001, Dr. Judith Dann, a scholar specializing in the life of Victoria Woodhull, conversed with a teacher at her daughter’s elementary school in Homer, Ohio. During a conversation with one of the teachers, Dr. Dann mentioned her research subject. The teacher, visibly shocked, responded, “You’re researching that whore?”

This article critically examines the erasure and demonization of the legacy of the Gilded Age advocate Victoria Woodhull. It investigates how her radical actions and unapologetic independence exposed society’s deep fear of female power. It explores how she was persecuted not just by the press and politicians but also by her peers, those within the very suffrage movement she fought to advance. And beyond the why, it also uncovers the how: how the media vilified her, how historians ignored her, how conservative reformers actively pushed her out of the movement, and how her legacy was dismantled and rewritten over time. Victoria’s achievements were not forgotten by accident; her demonization was willful, and her erasure from history was more than intentional.

Victoria Claflin Woodhull did exist, and the fact that, nearly a century later, people who had heard of her knew her only by a pejorative is not only distasteful but blatantly ahistorical. History grants us substantial evidence of her depth of character and remarkable accomplishments. So, if this is true, then why do these stories exist? We are all familiar with renowned women’s rights advocates like Susan B. Anthony, Isabella Beecher Hooker, Elizabeth Cady Stanton, and Alice Paul. These trailblazing women are prominent in history books and dominant in discussions surrounding suffrage. Yet, one remarkable figure is conspicuously absent from these narratives: Victoria Woodhull. Victoria was not just a suffragist; she was a pioneering humanitarian, civil rights advocate, financier, reformer, orator, and, notably, the first woman to run for president of the United States. An active member of the National Woman Suffrage Association (NWSA), she earned the respect of many suffragists participating in the same conferences, delivered speeches, and maintained close correspondence with the movement’s leaders. Victoria was a woman ahead of her time, dedicating her life to societal progress and freedom for women. But despite these efforts, her name has been largely erased from the historical record. The unfortunate fact is that Victoria’s legacy has become obscure, and knowledge about her has largely become limited to the villainizing polemics deployed against her.

As she famously stated, “While others of my sex devoted themselves to a crusade against the laws that shackle women to this country, I asserted my individual independence; while others argued the equality of women with man, I proceeded it…I boldly entered the arena of politics and business and exercised the rights I already possessed.” (The Dirty Year, pg. 7). Through her actions and achievements, Victoria proved continuously that women were no less capable than men in politics, business, or public life. She was a woman of firsts: the first to run a brokerage firm on Wall Street, the first to publish a newspaper advocating women’s rights and labor reform, and the first woman to run for the highest office in the land. Given these accomplishments, one might wonder why she was nearly subjected to damnatio memoriae, her memory erased from history. Victoria dared to do what other women only dreamed of. She didn’t just ask for equality, she took it. And for that, she was vilified, scandalized, and labeled “Mrs. Satan.”

Born in 1838 in Homer, Ohio, Victoria Woodhull emerged from a family of ten, struggling to make ends meet on the western frontier. Her mother, Roxanna Claflin, faced severe mental illness, which impaired her ability to function as a mother and wife and at times led her to become violent, often lashing out at her children. Additionally, Victoria’s sister, Utica, a laudanum addict, who likely had severe ADHD, further complicated the family’s dynamics (Macpherson pg. 111). These early experiences with mental illness profoundly influenced Victoria’s later views on addiction and child-rearing.

Her father, Buck Claflin, was a devout spiritualist who moved the family frequently, involving his daughters, Victoria and her younger sister, Tennessee (Tennie), in spiritualist practices. They worked as mediums, offering readings, magnetic healing, and elixirs to local communities (Macpherson, pg. 15, 17). Growing up in the 1840s during the height of the Spiritualist movement, this environment left a lasting mark on Victoria, who continued to practice as a medium throughout her life. However, the Claflin family was regarded as social outcasts, and Buck Claflin was seen as a swindler. Lacking a formal education, Victoria was entirely self-taught, a process that cultivated her determination, discipline, and unwavering commitment to her cause.

At fifteen, seeking to escape her tumultuous family life, Victoria married twenty-eight-year-old doctor Canning Woodhull. For a woman in the mid-19th century, marriage was the only path to escape an oppressive familial atmosphere. But her marriage quickly deteriorated as her husband abandoned her for weeks, spending time in brothels and squandering his money on vices. A year into their marriage, she gave birth to their first son, Byron, who was diagnosed with idiocy, a common term that applied to a myriad of mental disabilities, was nonverbal, and suffered from severe mental incapacities (Macpherson, pgs 10-11). While caring for her son, Victoria supported herself by working as a seamstress, actress, and store clerk (Brandman). In 1861, she gave birth to her second child, Zula, during the Civil War. After years of neglect and hardship, Victoria divorced Canning in 1865, and the following year, she married Colonel James Blood, a fellow spiritualist. Though their marriage was likely more spiritual than physical due to his war injuries, Blood encouraged Victoria to embrace her mediumship talents fully.

In New York, Victoria and Tennie began openly advertising their mediumship services, eventually catching the attention of the railroad magnate Cornelius Vanderbilt, a fellow spiritualist seeking to contact his deceased wife. Through this connection, the sisters entered the business world and amassed a fortune of $700,000 (about $13 million in today’s currency). In 1870, they used this wealth to establish their own brokerage, making the sisters the first women on Wall Street. Despite their financial success, their achievements were often met with ridicule, with the press dubbing them the “bewitching brokers” (New York Herald, 1870). Nonetheless, Woodhull remained focused on her advocacy for civil rights. As Victoria became more enmeshed in the Spiritualist movement, she met women whose horrific marital and familial circumstances incited her belief in reform. In 1869, she became deeply involved in the Suffrage Movement, marking a pivotal turning point in her life.

To understand why Victoria was demonized by many communities, one must first consider the post-Civil War Gilded Age society in which she lived. For women, this period offered few freedoms. Many men returned from the war deeply traumatized, often with injuries that would affect them for the rest of their lives. As a result, these men frequently turned to alcohol, drugs, and prostitution, sometimes lashing out violently against their wives and children. This created a difficult and dangerous environment for women, who had little choice but to marry as society demanded. Opportunities outside of marriage were severely limited and socially condemned. Moreover, women had very limited legal recourse to escape abusive marriages. Under the legal framework of coverture, a law embedded in 19th-century society, women’s identities were subsumed under those of their fathers at birth and their husbands once married. According to this law, a woman’s legal existence was essentially erased upon marriage; she and her husband were considered one entity, with the husband holding full control over the wife’s finances, children, and even her body. Sexual consent from a wife was automatically implied after marriage, effectively condoning marital rape. If a woman were to divorce her husband, she would lose custody of her children. Women could not vote, they struggled to own businesses, and were not given an equal education (Allgor). These deeply entrenched legal and sociocultural practices were a central focal point of Victoria’s reform efforts. People despised her for speaking out against these realities, as she based her core beliefs on combating what she saw as flagrant injustices.

For a woman living in the 19th century, Victoria’s beliefs were far ahead of her time, so radical that they made her a controversial figure, not only in the public eye but also within the suffrage movement. Prominent suffragists like Susan B. Anthony and Lucy Stone viewed her ideas as too extreme, fearing that her radicalism jeopardized the movement’s credibility and chances of success.

Among her core beliefs, Victoria Woodhull’s stance on Free Love, eugenics, and equality particularly shook the 19th-century notion of an ideal woman. For Victoria, Free Love was not about unrestrained sexual freedom but about mutual respect, consent, and authentic emotional connection. She believed that marriage should only exist between two individuals who were deeply in love and fully consenting. Otherwise, she viewed such unions as exploitative, boldly stating that relationships lacking these qualities amounted to “legal prostitution” (Woodhull, And The Truth Shall Make You Free). If love faded or a relationship turned sour, Victoria argued that women should not be trapped by societal expectations or legal constraints. They should be free to love whomever they choose, whenever they choose, and for as long as they choose, regardless of marital status.

Victoria famously declared, “Yes, I am a free lover. I have an inalienable, constitutional, and natural right to love whom I may, to love as long or a short period as I can; to change that love every day if I please, and with that right neither you nor any law can frame any right to interfere” (Woodhull, And The Truth Shall Make You Free). Her advocacy stemmed from witnessing firsthand the emotional and physical suffering endured by women in oppressive relationships. She lamented, “I know whereof I speak; I have seen the most damning misery resulting from legalized prostitution (marriage), misery such as the most degraded of those against whom society has shut her doors never know. Thousands of weak, unresisting wives are yearly murdered, who stand in spirit-life looking down upon the sickly, half-made-up children left behind, imploring humanity for the sake of honor and virtue to look into this matter” (Woodhull, And The Truth Shall Make You Free). While her words were driven by a deep concern for women’s suffering and autonomy, the public reacted with harsh condemnation, branding her as immoral and a wicked woman for daring to challenge the sacred institution of marriage.

Regarding eugenics, Victoria did not believe in the ideas of a superior race, gender, or genetic makeup. Rather than focusing on these innate characteristics, her views on children and families were based on the injustices she witnessed in society and the brutal lives many women and children endured. She argued that only parents who were healthy, mentally stable, and of good character were ready to have children, and if not, then they should better themselves before assuming the responsibility of parenthood. Victoria also believed that if a mother struggled with illness during pregnancy, the child would likely experience trauma in the womb from her condition, an idea modern science would later confirm. Her understanding of heredity and generational trauma was ahead of its time, anticipating concepts that would not be fully recognized until the late 20th century.

Through her own painful experience with her son Byron, she grasped how deeply her husband’s alcoholism and drug addiction impacted their child’s in-utero and parturient experience. Victoria was a fierce advocate for prenatal care, insisting that society grossly neglected the needs of pregnant women. Commenting on the health and safety of the unborn, Victoria observed, “We have often wondered that, among medical authorities, there have not been more who devoted some part of their profuse writings to the ante-natal care and treatment of children. No more important addition could be made to our system of social economy,...than a strict analysis of foetal life…” (Woodhull, Children-Their Rights and Privileges). In addition to unborn life experiencing trauma in the womb, Victoria understood that children are profoundly shaped by their external environments; if that environment is abusive or oppressive, the child would likely act out or misbehave. Yet, she argued, the fault does not lie with the child but with the parents and society as a whole. She believed, “The rights of children…begin while yet they are in foetal life. Children do not come into existence by any will of their own…Under our systems the interests of children are utterly ignored” (Woodhull, Children-Their Rights and Privileges). According to Victoria, a nurturing, positive environment was the key to fostering strong, resilient children, not maintaining ideas of racial or genetic purity.

Victoria’s unwavering stance on equality often put her at odds with the public and her fellow suffragists. She challenged the prevailing approach of the movement, criticizing her peers for spending too much time pleading with men for the vote instead of asserting themselves in the public sphere, demonstrating through action that women were the equals of men. In this, she lived by example. Victoria founded her own brokerage firm, amassed millions in personal wealth, and advised some of the era’s most influential financiers. Her circle included the nation’s elite, and she maintained a notable relationship with President Ulysses S. Grant (New York Daily Herald, 1871). She hosted intellectual salons attended by the most prominent politicians and thinkers of the time, placing herself squarely in the heart of the national conversation. She was self-educated, independent, and a fierce orator, which made her highly intimidating. In a particularly bold move, Victoria drafted her own constitution, which uncompromisingly called for equal rights for all. She believed that women already had the right to vote and that the government needed to recognize it. Citing the 14th and 15th Amendments, she argued that citizenship, as granted by the 14th Amendment, inherently included the right to vote. The 15th Amendment, which prohibited voter discrimination based on race, only strengthened her claim.

Taking matters into her own hands, Victoria decided to vote in the 1872 election, accompanied by Tennie and their friend, Mrs. Miller. Mrs. Miller attempted to slip her ballot into the box behind the poll workers’ backs, but she was caught. Though her vote was removed from the ballot box and the women’s actions were ridiculed, they stood firm. While the suffrage movement had long lobbied Congress without success, Victoria achieved what others had not: She secured a formal hearing in 1871. However, Victoria’s vision went beyond suffrage. She championed full and equal rights for all people, regardless of race, sex, or class. In her groundbreaking Constitutional Equality Speech at Washington’s Lincoln Hall on February 16, 1871, she declared: “The will of the entire people is the true basis of republican government, and a free expression of that will by the public vote of all citizens, without distinctions of race, color, occupation, or sex, is the only means by which that will can be ascertained.” For Victoria, the vote was just the beginning. She refused to settle for anything less than total equality, proclaiming, “I repeat that I love you all; that I love every human creature, and their well-being; and that I believe, with the profoundest conviction, that what I have urged in this discourse is conducive to that end” (Woodhull, And The Truth Shall Make You Free). When this appeal to Congress failed, she decided to run for president as a member of the Equal Rights Party against Ulysses S. Grant, with Frederick Douglass as her running mate. She announced as presidentess, she would advocate for, “Representation of the minority, complete reform in government offices, presidential term limit to one with a life pension and a seat in the senate, civil service reform, commercial and navigation laws reform, reform in tax levies, employer/employee relations reform, do away with the death penalty, transform prisons into workshops and a portion of the earnings would go to the inmates’ families, grand international tribunal to settle all disputed questions” (New York Sun, 1872).

Because Victoria’s platform extended far beyond the right to vote, a rift formed within the suffrage movement. Conservative reformer Lucy Stone responded by founding the American Woman Suffrage Association (AWSA), distancing herself and her followers from Victoria. To Stone, Woodhull’s radical ideals, particularly her support for Free Love and universal equality, were a threat to the credibility and progress of the movement. Though many AWSA members privately practiced Free Love, often living with partners outside of marriage, they refused to publicly acknowledge it or support Victoria, fearing backlash and societal condemnation that would sabotage the movement.

Victoria’s controversial beliefs already made her a target of public scorn, but her involvement in two major scandals sealed her fate in the eyes of society. The year 1872 marked a turning point in her life. Not only was she ridiculed for running for president, but she also became entangled in one of the most explosive scandals of the era: the Beecher-Tilton affair. On May 22nd, 1871, the New York World published a letter written by Victoria, which hinted at the hypocrisy of a prominent man who denounced Free Love while privately engaging in it. The following day, Victoria met with Theodore Tilton and revealed to him that Reverend Henry Ward Beecher, one of the most esteemed ministers of the 19th century, was having an affair with Tilton’s wife, Elizabeth. Tilton confirmed the accusation, telling Victoria that Elizabeth had confessed a year earlier, claiming that when she approached him for spiritual guidance, Beecher had seduced her.

Determined to expose the hypocrisy, Victoria published a confession in The Woodhull Claflin Weekly, revealing the affair, claiming Beecher had coerced Elizabeth into the relationship. While other suffragists such as Susan B. Anthony and Elizabeth Cady Stanton were aware of the affair, they chose public silence to protect their reputations and the movement. Victoria, however, would not stay quiet. Backed by Tilton, she threatened to go public unless Beecher introduced her at an upcoming speech. In her account, she claimed Beecher “got up on the sofa on his knees beside me, and taking my face between his hands, while tears streamed down his cheeks, he begged me not to let him off” (Wagner-Wright pg. 3). Victoria refused, and he introduced her.

When Beecher’s sister, Harriet Beecher Stowe, author of Uncle Tom’s Cabin, learned of the situation, she retaliated. Outraged by Victoria's actions, Stowe launched a public attack through her satirical novel My Wife and I. The character “Audacia Dangereyes,” a brash woman running for president, was an obvious parody meant to ridicule Victoria. In the book, Stowe viciously mocked her: “No woman that was not willing to be dragged through every kennel, and slopped into every dirty pail of water like an old mop, would ever consent to run as a candidate … and what sort of a brazen tramp of a woman would it be that could stand it …? Would it be any kind of woman we should want to see at the head of our government?”(My Wife and I, pgs. 262-263).

Infuriated, Victoria responded by publishing the full account of the Beecher affair on the front page of The Woodhull Claflin Weekly in 1872. The public, shocked and furious at the fall of their beloved minister, erupted in outrage, not at Beecher, but at Victoria. Legal retaliation was swift. Anthony Comstock, a self-appointed moral crusader, often described as the “most hated man in the Union army,” led the charge (The Dirty Year, pg. 8). Comstock, known for his crusade against obscenity and even horrified by the fact that babies were born naked, considered Victoria and Tennie vile threats to morality. Under the soon-to-be established Comstock Laws, he charged them with “Sending filthy literature through the mail containing false, scandalism, and malicious libel of a well-known clergyman” (New York Herald, 1872).

Their paper was destroyed, and their reputations were shattered. On November 2nd, 1972, Victoria and Tennie were arrested for publishing libel in the Woodhull Claflin Weekly and remained in jail for six months before being acquitted. Meanwhile, after two internal investigations by Plymouth Church, Beecher was declared innocent and rewarded with a $100,000 raise. Victoria, once a central figure in the suffrage movement and a trailblazer in business and politics, was now vilified, erased, and discarded by the very society she had fought to reform.

As her reputation was being slandered by the Beecher-Tilton affair, another scandal developed synchronously. In 1872, Victoria and Tennie attended a French Ballet at the Academy of Music in New York. From their box, they noticed the financier Luther Challis and another man with two girls around the ages of 15-16. Throughout the performance, Victoria and Tennie watched as Challis and his associate supplied the girls with endless glasses of drink while they hardly drank anything themselves. When the performance ended, Victoria chased after the girls, begging them to stop drinking, fearing for their safety with these men. The men snapped at Victoria and demanded she leave them alone. Victoria persisted and asked these girls if they had ever been harmed by these men as Challis hurried the girls along, away from Victoria. Later, it was revealed that Challis and his associate were using these girls as sex slaves, allowing one hundred men to rape them. (New York Herald, 1872). Horrified beyond measure, Victoria published an article targeting Challis in the same issue of the Woodhull Claflin Weekly that publicized the Beecher-Tilton affair. After its publication, Victoria and Tennie were brought to court again and sued for libel against Challis. The men were found not guilty and were pardoned by the court. The public was horrified once again by Victoria’s behavior. Accusing a prominent man of sex trafficking was simply not done and was unacceptable in the eyes of society. Victoria could not settle for this. She insisted that all these men should be held accountable for their cruelties and that the truth should reign.

Following these scandals, the press had a field day relentlessly attacking Victoria. She became a favorite target, vilified in nearly every newspaper, and it was during this time that Victoria began to be buried under heaps of misconceptions. Through the media, these distortions took root and ultimately shaped the public narrative surrounding her. Referring to the Beecher-Tilton scandal in 1874, The New York Globe, described her as, “Woodhull, the profane priestess of an unclean doctrine, is one of those who appear in the story as eager only to profit by the possession of a secret. With her, it is traffic. She has wares to sell and she wants the endorsement of a man whose name is well known… she is regarded askance by the decent world.” Other papers also maligned the sisters, the Brooklyn Daily Eagle in 1871, attacked both Victoria and her sister Tennie with the words, “Their social creeds are at the depths of shamelessness that not even prostitutes and their pimps are so openly contemptuous of decency to support.” Another vicious blow came in 1873 when the paper declared that Victoria was “baptized, a demon.” In a later issue from 1874, referring to the court case between Woodhull and Challis, the paper urged its readers, “It is hoped that our people will be able to forgive these poor creatures and the evil they tried to do… they were crusaders in a bad cause, had publicity for their pay and behold the end of it!”

Victoria’s beliefs and actions demonized her to the point of widespread societal rejection, a rejection that continued long after she died in 1927. It was after she passed away that the public truly began erasing any memory of her life, work, and legacy. As early as 1872, a political cartoonist Thomas Nast captured the public’s disdain in a scathing image depicting Victoria as “Mrs. Satan,” complete with devil horns and terrifying wings, holding a sign that reads, “Be saved by Free Love!” This cartoon became the most enduring image associated with her, twisting her advocacy for Free Love into something deeply sinister, aligned with the devil’s work.

In 1880, Elizabeth Cady Stanton, Susan B. Anthony, and other prominent suffragists set out to write the complete history of the suffrage movement. In a letter responding to Isabella Beecher Hooker, a known supporter of Victoria, Elizabeth made it clear that she did not believe Victoria should be accurately included in the historical record. She wrote, “You may put glimpses of Woodhull and all the sinners you choose in the panorama, throwing a thin spangled veil over their shortcomings.” Instead, Elizabeth encouraged Isabella to focus the work on her own accomplishments, writing, “display all your graces and virtues, your wit and logic, your charm and pathos” (Stanton).

The History of Woman Suffrage was eventually published in six volumes over forty-one years, totaling over 5,700 pages. Victoria is mentioned only once. In the second volume, she is briefly acknowledged for addressing Congress, but that is the extent of her recognition. Despite a career that spanned over seventy years, that fleeting mention was all she was afforded. The suffrage movement itself had furthered the process of writing Victoria Woodhull out of history and incited the cascade of historians who would endeavor to do the same.

To further degrade her memory, writer Emanie Sachs began work on a detailed biography of Victoria Woodhull in 1927, referring to her as a “wild woman” (Sachs). Sachs sent inquiries to every prominent figure Victoria had crossed paths with, hoping to uncover the truth of her life and character. By that time, public perception of Victoria had been thoroughly corrupted: she was believed to have been a prostitute who ran a brothel, an illiterate, a seductress of politicians for influence, and a woman who had contributed nothing to the suffrage movement, seeking only publicity. Sachs asked her correspondents if these claims were true, and the responses were appalling.

According to Mrs. Blatch, “She was never active in suffrage, and many men of note were said to be devoted to her,” reducing Victoria’s legacy to mere gossip about potential affairs (Blatch). Suffragist Carrie Chapman Catt dismissed her entirely, writing, “She herself was a terror, let me say that I do not believe Mrs. Woodhull was ever an important factor in either this country or in England. Her life was chiefly valuable as demonstrating that a reformer can entirely queer every effort they make by getting too far ahead of the average trend of public opinion.” (Catt).

The most vicious response came from Charlie Stocky, who wrote:

“Dear Madam, I would remark that along the path the Lord hath led me, there are from time [to time] stinking, stagnant pools out of which one may, if so disposed, rake out a putrid cabbage, a dead cat, or some other equally pathetic memory of the days of yore. I can only rake for you in one such cesspool… At the time of the Henry Ward Beecher scandal, this Woodhull woman and a certain woman named Tennie C. Claflin were conducting a brokerage business in New York City, with some sort of side issue of a free-lunch hot-dog stand. They were attractive and bright women… Skunks often infest family graveyards and defile the monuments and memories of the dead! The Beecher graveyard is full of them, and most of them belong to the Woodhull and Claflin breed.” (Stocky).

Using these deeply biased and insulting responses, Sachs published The Terrible Siren, a biography that perpetuated lies and further buried the truth of Victoria’s life, solidifying the assassination of her character and the absence of her contributions and accomplishments from the historical narrative.

Victoria was the epitome of the female stereotype of a woman who is too much. She was too loud, too ambitious, too disruptive, so far ahead of her time that she seemed to defy time itself. She demanded reforms and envisioned a future for humanity that, even in the 21st century, progressive movements are still fighting to realize. Yet to this day, few people know her name, and those who do often still fear her and cling to the same misconceptions that were used to silence her over a century ago.

In the last ten years, author Kate Hannigan wrote a children’s book about the first woman to run for president, Victoria Woodhull, and couldn’t find an illustrator willing to work on it. Publishers and agencies, still believing the historical falsehoods, refused to illustrate a book about a so-called “eugenicist.” Even Ken Burns, one of the most respected documentary filmmakers in the world, released a series on the history of the suffrage movement without mentioning Victoria at all. Not a single word.

Victoria ran for president. She spoke before Congress. She opened the first female-owned brokerage firm. She published her own newspaper. She delivered some of the most powerful speeches of the 19th century. Yet, history has all but erased her.

Victoria Woodhull was not simply forgotten but was deliberately vilified and erased. Her radical vision, uncompromising independence, and unapologetic demand for equality threatened every structure of the 19th century. She didn’t ask for permission; she seized a place in politics, finance, media, and reform movements that were never intended to include her. And for that, she was punished—not just in her lifetime, but in the narrative that followed.

Through scandals sensationalized by the press, betrayals by fellow reformers and historians, Victoria’s legacy was buried beneath accusations, false narratives, and lies. From being caricatured as “Mrs. Satan” to being left out of suffrage histories and biographies, her story became a cautionary tale rather than a celebrated triumph. Even in the twenty-first century, when her name arises, it is often with skepticism, scorn, or disdain. The suffrage movement condemned her story for public acceptance and Victoria, too bold, too controversial, too free, was written out to protect a version of progress that did not include people of every sex, race, and creed.

Yet, everything she fought for remains incredibly relevant. Her vision of gender equality, female autonomy, and systemic reform, among countless other beliefs, speaks powerfully to today’s movements. She understood what others refused to confront and lived fearlessly in pursuit of it. Her life, her voice, and her legacy demand acknowledgment.

To reclaim Victoria Woodhull is to confront the intentional silencing of women who refuse to conform. It is to reject the notion that history is full of quiet women. It is to recognize that progress does not come solely from those who are remembered but also from those who were purposefully forgotten. Victoria understood the cost of defiance and foresaw the erasure of her voice, but had confidence that the truth of her life and legacy would be vindicated after her death: “Therefore, I feel well assured that whatever be the misrepresentations to which I may be subject at present, the event must be committed to time, which relentlessly unravels all distortions of rights and wrongs.” (Woodhull). She was not the demon the public made her out to be. She was, and remains, one of the most visionary and unjustly vilified reformers in American history.

It is time that Victoria Woodhull be remembered fully, truthfully, and without misrepresentation. As political philosopher John Stuart Mill once wrote in a letter to her, “Victoria Woodhull, you will never be shelved. Your work has the living fire… The world will pick your brains out of history [and] will give you your just due [and] will put it together again.” (Mill). These words remind us that her legacy, though once obscured, carries a spark that continues to inspire people. Let us all strive to embody the radical and fiercely independent spirit of Victoria; may our care for others and our confidence in ourselves honor her legacy.

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Stocky, Charlie. Letter to Emaine Sachs. 15 July 1927. Folklife Archives, Manuscripts & “Sachs, Emanie (Nahm), 1893–1981 (SC 2241)” (2010).

Stowe, Harriet Beecher. My Wife and I. J. B. Ford and Company, 1871.

“Victoria Woodhull’s Presidential Announcement.” New York Sun, 11 May 1872, 1872, p. 1.

“Victoria Woodhull’s Letter to the New York World.” New York World, 1871.

Woodhull, Victoria. “The Beecher-Tilton Scandal Case.” Woodhull Claflin Weekly, New York, vol. 5, no. 7, 2 November 1872, p. 9-13. Hamilton College Library.

Woodhull, Victoria. “The Philosophy of Modern Hypocrisy- L. C. Challis The Illustration.” Woodhull Claflin Weekly, New York, vol. 5, no. 7, 2 November 1872, p. 13-14. Hamilton College Library.

Woodhull, Victoria. Children, Their Rights and Privileges, delivered at Troy, New York, September 13, 1871. Published in Woodhull & Claflin’s Weekly, October 7, 1871.

Woodhull, Victoria C., et al. A Lecture on Constitutional Equality: Delivered at Lincoln Hall, Washington, D. C., Thursday. New York: Journeymen Printers’ Co-operative Association, 1971. Pdf. Retrieved from the Library of Congress, https://www.loc.gov/resource/rbnawsa.n1569

Woodhull, Victoria C., Lucy Stone, and National American Woman Suffrage Association Collection. “And the Truth Shall Make You Free": A Speech on the Principles of Social Freedom, Delivered in Steinway Hall. New York: Woodhull, Claflin & Co, 1871. Pdf. Retrieved from the Library of Congress, www.loc.gov/item/09008216/.

Woodhull, Victoria C., and Cari M. Carpenter. Selected Writings of Victoria Woodhull: Suffrage, Free Love, and Eugenics. University of Nebraska Press, 2010.

Woodhull, Victoria Claflin. Victoria C. Woodhull. Gray Rabbit Publishing, 2016.

Woodhull, Victoria. Quote from Autobiography Notes. 1895. Victoria Woodhull-Martin Papers, Special Collections Research Center, Southern Illinois University Carbondale.

Isabella Anderson is an undergraduate student pursuing a doctorate in History. Her academic interests center on women’s, social, and war history, particularly from the Gilded Age through the Vietnam War.