"Sweetness," by Toni Morrison

The "New Yorker" published an interesting short story by Toni Morrison in its Feb. 9, 2015 edition -- a story that, while easily standing on its own, may be the first few pages of her new novel "God Help the Child," which is due for release in April. The story is called "Sweetness" and like a lot of good fiction, it is both well written and operates on more than one level.

 

There have been numerous calls for a fresh dialog on race in America in the wake of the Trayvon Martin, Ferguson and Eric Garner affairs and on one level, "Sweetness" could be viewed as part of the conversation. Color-based prejudice is not just a black and white problem, but appears to be deeply ingrained in human nature. Is that one reason the laws and regulations implemented, not always properly, in the wake of the Civil Rights Movement appear to have failed in certain important respects?  How then best to address the issue?

"She was so black she scared me. Midnight black, Sudanese black. I'm light-skinned, with good hair, what we call high yellow and so is Lula Ann's father. … Some of you probably think it's a bad thing to group ourselves according to skin color – the lighter the better – in social clubs, neighborhoods, churches, sororities, even colored schools. But how else can we hold on to a little dignity? … All I know is that, for me, nursing her was like having a pickaninnay sucking my teat. I went to bottle feeding as soon as I got home." 

 

The birth of this ever-so-black baby to much lighter parents leads both to the breakup of a marriage after "three good years together" (the woman, insisting it wasn't her fault, can't convince the man she wasn't unfaithful) and to a perverse form of impoverished, single-mother parenting.

 

"Her color is a cross she will always bear," the protagonist says, simultaneously protecting and punishing her child for that trait.

 

In the end, the child who calls herself  "Bride," emerges as beautiful, in part as society changes, and the mother – eventually cast off by the child by way of a note with no return address – wants to take credit for the girl's success. "The lessons I taught her paid off. … I wasn't a bad mother, but I may have done some hurtful things to my child because I had to protect her. … All because of skin privileges."

 

Learning "Bride" is pregnant, however, the protagonist, who insisted her daughter call her "Sweetness" rather than "mother," has a different reaction. "Bride" is about to find out how the world changes when one is a parent. "Good luck and God help the child," she declares. 

 

There may be more fundamental issues than racial prejudice, it seems -- issues that will likely make the new book poignantly relevant to a wide audience. Can fiction help us see that what we have in common is more significant than what apparently sets us apart?