A good friend of mine recommended that I read the book “The Help” by Kathyn Stockett last summer. I fiercely resisted because the LAST thing that I wanted to read for fun was a book about African American women working as maids in the South during the 1960s. I finally gave in and downloaded the e-book a few days before my week-long cruise to the Bahamas. (More on my joys at seas in my next entry.) I was quickly engrossed by the language and the hilarious characters (Minny is a trip!), and I read a few chapters before my trip. Little did I know I would be in for a real-life revelatory moment with this book a few days later.
On my last day of the cruise, I found a nice sunny spot in the dinning room, and I was all set to do some journaling and reading on my iPad after I finished eating. It was late breakfast/early lunch time and it was pretty crowded, so I took the first available seat, which was a full table. An older black woman in her mid-60s asked me could she sit with me and of course I welcomed her to sit down. This was one of the BEST conversations I've had in a long time. We talked about everything from relationships to marriage to motherhood to self-empowerment. It was so refreshing and encouraging to talk with her.
In the course of our conversation, I discovered that she had worked as a maid for several years before she was able to go to college. My ears perked up and I asked her had she read "The Help." She said that she had and that she enjoyed it. I asked her how accurate it was and she said she believed the conditions were different and a little better for maids in North (she worked as a maid in New York).
We talked a little more and she asked me what I did and I told her about my current job as a magazine editor and her eyes just lit up. She said "Wow! I never thought that black women would be capable of doing something like that." In that moment, I understood what “The Help” was REALLY about. Millions of black women have scrubbed floors and toilets, nursed babies, and cooked elaborate meals for years so that I wouldn’t have to. These women gritted and endured long days, aching backs, and swollen feet so that I could have access to the opportunities that I have now. My career path has not always been smooth, but I have been incredibly blessed to have chances that women in her generation could not even dream about. In that conversation, it really reminded me that black women like her sacrificed a whole lot on their hands and knees so that could be where I am now.
Although I was VERY reluctant to read "The Help" I’m now really eager to read more about this chapter of African American life that isn't always so comfortable to think about and remember. As we celebrate another Black History Month, let us pay homage to those who sacrificed time, sweat, tears, and their lives so that we can stand strong and let us never forget where our “Help” comes from.
P.S. I AM NOT FINISHED READING THE BOOK! I repeat, I AM NOT FINISHED READING THE BOOK! So, please NO SPOILERS! I look forward to sharing another post with you when I finish.
