IV.

The Kewpies Campaign

By the time the Kewpies joined the fight for women’s suffrage, they had already won over the public. With their faces in magazines, homes, shops, and toy boxes, the Kewpies had become trusted, beloved figures. That familiarity gave them a unique power: they could introduce bold, progressive ideas to audiences who might have otherwise turned away. Using their well-earned charm, the Kewpies became unlikely ambassadors for gender equality.

Before the Kewpies ever marched for the vote, suffragists were already putting material culture to work. By the late 19th century, organizations like NAWSA sold sunflower pins and published calendars that celebrated women’s progress. These items weren’t just keepsakes, but tools for political persuasion, designed to make the idea of women’s enfranchisement feel both inevitable and patriotic.

NAWSA Woman's Century Calendar, 1900

Newspaper photograph of Votes for Women Grocery Store, 1913

As mass production ramped up in the 1910s, novelty goods exploded, and suffragists were savvy about seizing the moment. From playing cards to tea sets to a “Votes for Women” grocery store, the vote came wrapped in everyday objects.

Soon, Kewpies were showing up on the front lines of the movement. They appeared in suffrage shops, adorned parade floats, and even dropped from airplanes. In 1915, a large Kewpie dressed in yellow and white presided over a donation box in Atlantic City; in Nashville the year before, dolls with “Votes for Women” sashes fluttered from the sky. In all of these contexts, whether official or not, novelty goods like the Kewpies worked to bring the movement to mass audiences, an ability enhanced by the Kewpies’ already-entrenched relationship with consumers and potential voters.

Beyond physical events, the Kewpies also appeared on suffrage postcards—sometimes as cherubic babies calling for change. One O’Neill postcard, not explicitly branded but unmistakably Kewpie-like, features toddlers marching for their mothers’ right to vote. The verse is light, but pointed: “Our food, our health, our home, our schools... are all regulated by men’s votes.” In this message, domestic life becomes political. The Kewpies, once confined to nursery walls, become spokespeople for democratic reform.

"Votes for Our Mothers" Suffrage Postcard, 1915

This same image appeared on a suffrage poster published by the National Woman Suffrage Publishing Company in New York.

"Votes for Our Mothers" Suffrage Poster, 1915

True Kewpies also showed up on O’Neill’s suffrage postcards. A 1914 postcard published by the Campbell Art Company features one smiling, rosy-cheeked Kewpie walking upon a cloud, holding a sign with the words “Votes for Women” and “Equality,” and wearing a sash with the words “Women Suffer.” This juxtaposition of the charming, angelic Kewpie–practically in the heavens–with the bold “Women Suffer” sash harnesses the same power as the magazine Kewpie: a daring critique in an innocent package.

"Do I Get Your Vote?" Suffrage Postcard, 1914

Another postcard, published a year later also by the Campbell Art Company, features three Kewpies marching for suffrage with a flag calling for “Votes for Women.” The title of the postcard, “The Spirit of ‘76,” references an 1876 painting by Archibald Willard depicting a flag bearer, drummer boy, and fifer marching across a battlefield during the American Revolution. In O’Neill’s rendition, the three Kewpies mirror Willard’s soldiers–bearing the same instruments, but substituting Willard’s American flag with a yellow suffrage one, thus placing women’s rights in a lineage of American freedom struggles. By linking the suffrage cause to patriotic imagery, O’Neill framed equality not as a disruption, but a natural extension of the nation’s ideals.

"The Spirit of '76" Suffrage Postcard, 1915

The Kewpies didn’t stop at postcards. In her syndicated newspaper panel The Kewpie Korner, O’Neill offered weekly cartoons that often tackled suffrage themes. One 1918 feature shows the Kewpies voting unanimously that “Ma should vote.” Here, the logic is childlike, but persuasive. If every sensible Kewpie agrees, who’s left to argue?

"Kewpie Korner," January 1918

Not all of O’Neill’s suffrage cartoons leaned on domestic themes. Some used humor to promote the movement. In one 1918 edition of “Kewpie Korner,” a verse pokes fun at rigid gender roles by showing a Suffrage Kewpie mid-leapfrog: “Those folks who hold that Woman’s sphere / Is circumscribed and bounded, / Will at this Suffrage Kewpie here / Be shocked, pained and astounded. / But ain’t it grand that Woman can / Play leapfrog just as well as Man?” By framing the fight for equality as a children’s game, O’Neill softened the politics without dulling the message.

"Kewpie Korner," March 1918

Some “Kewpie Korner” entries were sharper. One verse warns male employers who delay their female stenographers at the end of the workday: “When she votes, they’ll be ‘also ran.’” The Kewpies imply that with suffrage, women will choose leaders who value them—and that those who don’t adapt will be left behind. This isn’t subtle. By 1918, the Kewpies had gone from gentle guides to political prophets.

"Kewpie Korner," February 1918

Even outside O’Neill’s pen, the Kewpies were enlisted in progressive causes. In 1915, The Tacoma Times quoted the “Kewpie Lady” in a column about fashion reform, declaring that women should be “free as Kewpies at the waist line and knee.” Simply invoking the ubiquitous Kewpie name softened the edge inherent to the promotion of progressive ideas of women’s clothing.

Rose O'Neill newspaper cutting, 1915

The power of Kewpie recognition extended to suffrage events, too. According to her autobiography, when asked to stall for time at a suffrage meeting, O’Neill stepped up and introduced herself as the mother of the Kewpies. The crowd erupted in applause.

Suffrage Paraders, 1915

Rose O'Neill at Suffrage Parade, New York City, 1917 (Photo Credit: Bonniebrook Historical Society)

Though a fierce advocate for gender equality, O’Neill represented more of a cultural suffragist than a political one. Her warm reception during her first suffrage speech, then, stemmed entirely from her status as “mother of the Kewpies.” As soon as the name of their innocent yet authoritative, relatable yet fantastical, stubbornly entrenched friend entered their ears, the rest went down easy.

The Kewpies’ journey—from playful cartoon critics tucked into women’s magazines to smiling mascots on butter dishes, department store shelves, and even suffrage podiums—was anything but accidental. Their rise in middle-class American culture was the result of careful timing, clever storytelling, and a keen understanding of how to work within the rhythms of consumer life.

Rose O’Neill designed the Kewpies to be lovable, but she also made them useful. Their charm, domestic sensibility, and ever-expanding presence made them trusted companions—perfectly positioned to carry messages about gender, fairness, and social change into homes across the country. They weren’t just cute. They were cultural catalysts in disguise.

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