A Mercy

I love to read. I read at least a book a month, sometimes more depending on my schedule. I was a literature minor in undergrad and took a Toni Morrison class. It was during my black, female authors phase. That is when I read just about everything written by Maya Angelou (best known for her Phenomenal Woman poem), Alice Walker (best known for The Color Purple - a good book and a good movie, I hope one day to see the theatre production), and Terry McMillan (best known for How Stella Got Her Groove Back, her books are better than the movies).

For Christmas this year, my good friend Angela gave me the new Toni Morrison book, A Mercy. Angela often gives me books, it is her favorite gift to give and my favorite gift to receive - so it works out nicely. I didn't even know Toni Morrion had written a new book. (Remember, I live in a town without a good book store so my days of wandering the shelves of books on a leisurely Saturday are over until we move or an adequate book store moves in to town.) I packed the book on my trip to Africa and couldn't wait to read it. I read it by head lamp in a couple of nights.

The story is about a mother, enslaved, who offers up her daughter as payment to a man she sees kindness in. She does it as an act of mercy, an attempt to protect her daughter. But, her daughter doesn't see it this way, she only senses abandonment and confusion at her mothers actions.

Check out the interview with Ms. Morrison on NPR about this book:
http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=95961382

The one thing all of these writings have in common are strong female characters. That is something that black females write about a lot - strong women, often in a network of other women. The characters are not without struggle, but they don't give up. They are not always outspoken or gregarious. The most appealing characters to me over the years were those, like this mother, who overcame without a lot of fan fare based on their inner strength and character. They didn't announce their accomplishments to the world, they just did what had to be done every day. That is the story of so many women's lives - make meals, wash clothes, deal with moody husbands, clean up after the family, take care of the details with little to no recognition. It takes strength to do that day after day, year after year. 

Recently I was at a friends house on Christmas day. Christmas stockings were hung on the mantle - one for each person in the family, including the grown children and grandchild, the husband, and there was one for herself. She had put the names on the stockings. All of them were full, but her own. That is the role of woman. Moms take care of these things on Easter, Christmas, and birthday's. It rarely is reciprocated, but they do it anyway - day after day, year after year. As a woman, I used to resent that, but now I see that it takes incredible strength to keep doing it. It is a self-sacrificing gift of love and her pleasure comes from the enjoyment others get in receiving the gift (though I still think some acknowledgement of the effort would be nice). If you are the one in your family (male or female) who takes care of these details, I applaud you. Thank you for making the lives of others manageable by fulfilling your daily chores and for making holidays a special time full of memories.