The first thought I had after finishing Sue Monk Kidd’s
latest novel, The Invention of Wings,
was that it can often take a lifetime to find your voice and the courage to use
it. Sarah Grimké would no doubt agree; Kidd’s fictionalized account of the
lives of the first American women abolitionists Sarah Grimké and her sister
Angelina (Nina) is by turns touching, disturbing, and enlightening, pointing
out the almost insurmountable difficulties and painful consequences involved in
taking a stand in life and fighting for what you believe in. It is impossible
not to be moved by this novel; the writing evokes both questions and the desire
to make (some) sense of what must have been a horrific existence for the slaves
in Charleston South Carolina in the 19th century (1803-1838).
Despite being ‘protected’ by the wealthy families who owned them, the slaves’ lives
and daily treatment depended upon the whims and moods of their owners. Their psychological
well-being and physical comfort did not matter at all. Punishment was meted out
rather arbitrarily for minor infractions, e.g. the Missus was having a bad day
and one of her slaves ’disobeyed’ her orders, wasn’t listening properly, or was
too slow in responding. The actual punishments were little more than exercises
in the public torture of other human beings, and inflicted permanent damage on
many of the slaves who suffered these tortures. It is established very early on
in the novel that Sarah wishes to have no part in the ownership of another
human being—in her case, 10-year old Handful (Hetty) who becomes Sarah’s slave
against her wishes, forced upon her by her family on her 11th
birthday. Sarah does not want to be like her family at all, but she is trapped
within it. One might think that the desire to treat another human being the way
one would wish to be treated, would be simple enough to achieve within one’s own
family. One might expect that one’s family (churchgoers and law-abiding
citizens) would support you in your quest to treat other human beings, who
happen to be non-white, fairly and kindly. But that is not the case in Sarah’s
family (or in society at large). Their cruelty knows no bounds, toward slaves who
endure the physical cruelties, and toward their enlightened daughters Sarah and
Nina who must endure the psychological abuses meted out to them for wishing to
abolish slavery. In Sarah’s case, her independent and outspoken voice becomes
muffled after she is dressed down by her father in front of the family—told
that her dreams and aspirations of becoming a lawyer are simply out of the
question. She is then forbidden to use her father’s library to read her beloved
books in an attempt to educate herself. She suffers ridicule in front of her
family for her aspirations to make something of herself; her father and
brothers essentially tell her, rather cruelly, that she is a fool to have had
such aspirations, even though her father appeared to encourage them only when
he assumed that she did not take his words seriously. It is after this
humiliation, and really the only time in the novel, that her mother shows her
any compassion whatsoever and lets down her guard as far as describing to Sarah
what women can and cannot aspire to within the framework of their society. You
get the sense that her mother does not like that women’s lives had limitations
put upon them, but she retreats again behind her mask of upholding the society
she finds herself in, for all it is worth, because it is that society of wealth
and political correctness that gives her status and keeps her
materially-comfortable. Her mother’s role in life was to bear her husband many
children, which she did. Sarah’s dressing-down by her father and brothers is
followed by the societal humiliation she has to endure when her fiancé is
exposed as a serial user of young women for sexual gains; he proposes to them
and then tells them that they can now become intimate because they are engaged.
After these incidents, Sarah is completely browbeaten and unable to find the
voice she once had. She struggles along, as does Handful, each of them trying
to find the wings they need to escape their stifling existences. When her
sister Nina is born, Sarah becomes almost like a mother to her, and Nina grows
quite close to her. Eventually she comes to share her sister’s abolitionist
(and feminist) views, which puts both of them at odds with their family and
with Charleston society. Sarah moves to the North and becomes a Quaker; Nina
eventually follows her and the two of them embark on their mission to abolish
slavery. Sarah finds her voice again after many years, but struggles with
self-confidence, in contrast to Nina who is a born orator and who does not seem
to lack confidence at all. The bulk of the novel is really Sarah and Handful’s
stories, and how Sarah steps up to the plate to keep her promise to Handful’s
mother Charlotte to free Handful.
Sometimes a person is born with a voice that he or she has
no problems using as he or she grows up. One takes a vocal stand against
injustice and bullying, against the immoral ideas and situations in
society. And then something happens to stifle that voice, at least for a while.
Bullying, cruel slander, psychological abuse, physical abuse, a bad marriage,
divorce, loss of a job, financial ruin—all of these can destroy a woman’s voice
as well as a man’s. Self-confidence wanes; self-doubt rules. No matter what
others say to you, the fact remains that regaining confidence and finding your
voice again are your own roads, and you must walk them alone. The novel makes it clear that heroes and
heroines are never superhuman; they are ordinary human beings like you and me,
with the familiar everyday problems with which we all must deal and tackle.
They struggle with self-doubt and misery, with depression, with anxiety, with
confusion. They struggle with finding their voices and using them to rail
against the injustices in the world. They hold onto their beliefs in the hope
that better days will come along; and better days do come along, but at quite a
cost, for Sarah, Nina, and Handful. Along the way, you will come to really like
these characters and to want to understand them. You will come to appreciate
how difficult their lives were because they lived according to their
principles, as well as how difficult it was to change the obstinate and unenlightened
world around them, at that time, and at any time. Our own civilized society still
has much to learn about how to treat the poor, immigrants, the mentally ill,
the elderly, or those who just do not fit in no matter how hard they try. Those
who support them and fight for them deserve our help and praise, not our
criticism and ridicule.
