Godspeed, Nelle Harper Lee, and Thank You

I was sorry to hear of the passing of Nelle Harper Lee, author of "To Kill A Mockingbird" and "Go Set A Watchman," and otherwise known by her pen name, Harper Lee.  What a weird coincidence that an author who artfully exposed America's racist underbelly passed during the same week of the passing of a U.S. Supreme Court justice who seemed oblivious to his replication of said underbelly in word and legal decisions.

I am a member of the "TKAM" cult.  I am the daughter of a black Southerner and briefly lived in the South. Lee's book confirmed the stories I would hear from my Southern dad and relatives about the precarious position of African Americans in the Jim Crow South.  The major difference between my father's childhood in the 1930's Jim Crow South and what is portrayed in TKAM is that the Atticus Finches of the world were few and very, very far between in his childhood home of Gould, Arkansas.

I can't say that I was inspired by the character of Atticus Finch to become a lawyer; I was already well on my way on the path to becoming a lawyer by the time I read TKAM, or at least I was in my mind.  What I found oddly comforting about TKAM is that it confirmed the stories my dad had sometimes inadvertently shared about his childhood, which he occasionally let slip but tried mostly to shield us kids from in our lives in what he called his "Promised Land," California.  He didn't want to bring the South and its Jim Crow past with him into our lives that were relatively untainted by racism, but sometimes he let things slip.  He wanted better for us.  He still does.

But Nelle Harper Lee gave me a greater appreciation of how precarious my father's existence as a black boy in the 1930's Jim Crow South had been, long before Isabel Wilkerson would write "The Warmth of Other Suns."  I'm grateful that TKAM was assigned reading.  May it forever remain so.

When "The Mockingbird Next Door" came out, I was thrilled to learn more about this lady who had confirmed what I had heard of my father's childhood.  She courageously put America's racist predilections front and center in the form of a YA novel that the South could at once claim proudly as stellar writing in the Southern literary tradition and disclaim falsely as aberrational in its portrayal of Southern race relations.  There would be no sequel, no sophomore effort, at least none she would speak of.  I had to know more about this woman who wrote one of the best novels of the twentieth century.

Before I got around to reading "The Mockingbird Next Door," word came that her novel that preceded TKAM, "Go Set A Watchman," was "discovered" and would be published, allegedly with her permission.  I planned a weekend of literary excess around its publication:  I would read "The Mockingbird Next Door," then "Go Set A Watchman," and then re-read TKAM.  TKAM was indeed the sophomore effort.  "Watchman" was her first novel that was never published on the advice of her editor, who counseled her to write something more positive than TKAM.  After reading "Watchman," I understood why.

Contrary to the Amazon reviews bashing "Watchman" because of the questionable circumstances under which it was published, I loved it.  I loved it because I realized what courage it took for Lee to write it when she wrote it.  I loved it because in this era when people finally have a name for the concept of white privilege, Scout was having a philosophical discussion about it and white supremacy with Atticus and about his role in preserving them, a role that Atticus fans could not have imagined from his portrayal in TKAM and Gregory Peck's film portrayal of Atticus.

Simply put, given the racial upheaval happening in the South when Lee wrote "Watchman," had it been published when she wrote it, I am confident that Lee would have met up with a terrible end.  White Southerners intent on preserving their "way of life," i.e., white supremacy, had already rallied 'round the Confederate flag, literally, when Lee put pen to paper to write her first novel.  I am confident white Southerners would not have countenanced one of their own exposing them in such a manner.  TKAM made racial oppression in the South look like something that Southern whites of good will would not support, when in fact it was most often the other way around -- racial oppression was something the majority of southern Whites, of good will and otherwise, did and would support.

And Atticus?  He didn't support racial oppression, but he sure did believe in white supremacy.  And to a lesser degree, so did Scout.  Go read for yourself if you haven't already.

No matter how she told it, in TKAM and "Watchman," Nelle Harper Lee told the truth about race and racism in the South without flinching.  She told the truth in a manner that made white Americans reckon with that truth and feel good doing so because of her craft in telling a good story.  Because of her own white Southern privilege, she was considered a credible witness.

For that, Nelle Harper Lee, I thank you.  Godspeed and rest in peace.

In Defense of Phil Robertson (The Right Thing To Do)

I haven't been following the dust-up about Phil Robertson's quotes in GQ magazine as closely as some, and I don't necessarily share the same feelings about them as does my sister, The Writing Diva.  I think issues of race and sexual orientation in the South are more complex than those of us raised outside the South understand.  When a white Southerner expresses a point of view about sexual orientation or race that isn't in line with moderate America's expectations, we're quick to dismiss that person as an ignorant, backwoods hick.

It's more complicated than that. 

Maybe it's because of Nelson Mandela's recent passing that I'm stepping back and taking the longer view on what Phil Robertson said in light of his life experience and mine.  Here's my life experience.

I lived in Mississippi for a year.  What I learned living there is that even if Southern or rural Southern whites believe that the Bible forbids what you're doing or how you're living, that doesn't necessarily mean that they hate you or that they would mistreat you.  My experience is that there is a Southern code of conduct, so to speak; I would call it "The Right Thing To Do": -- No matter what people might think of you or what you do, unless they're rabid racists, they're going to treat you with respect and human kindness just as they would want to be treated.  The culture of respect runs deep in Southern culture.  My mental litmus test for anyone, including Phil Robertson, is, "Would this person help me if I were stranded on the side of the road with a flat tire?"  Trust me, you're more likely to be helped by a Southerner of any race than a Californian.  Southerners of any race help strangers simply because it's The Right Thing To Do.  I watch "Duck Dynasty," and although I've never met Phil Robertson, I think he would pass my litmus test.

There are a lot of Christians of all races who believe that homosexuality is a sin.  That doesn't mean they hate gay people or would harm them.  I don't recall there being this much of a dust-up when, on "R&B Divas," the singer Monifah, who came out, asked her daughter if she could support Monifah's union with her partner Terez.  Her daughter said, "No, no I can't."  It was a matter of faith, not hate, for her.  It didn't mean that she loved her mother less; it simply meant that, as a matter of faith, she could not encourage a gay union.  Good Christians are perfectly capable of hating the sin (or at least what they consider sin) and loving the sinner.  They need to be because we're all sinners.

Finally, I think we have to look at context and life experience when taking the measure of someone.  Phil Robertson's remarks about black people were based on his life experience, which I hazard to guess is rather limited.  I doubt that black folks picking cotton with him back in the day could tell him how they truly felt about their lives and experiences.  Just as we black folks today can't necessarily share all our feelings at work lest we be branded as radical or angry, I'd be willing to bet that the happy temperament of black folks that Phil Robertson experienced while picking cotton with them was the part of their feelings that was safe to share with whites during that time.  That is what he experienced.  The implication of his statement that this state of black affairs was "pre-welfare" and "pre-entitlement," although misguided and ill-informed, doesn't appear to me to be an expression of hate. Maybe I'm naïve.

I watch "Duck Dynasty," and I think many people who are quick to criticize Phil Robertson have never seen the show.  I enjoy the show.  The reason I enjoy it is because, like Tyler Perry's "Madea" movies, there's always a moral to each episode.  I like that they are family that hasn't let wealth change them, they stick together, and they have all the same characters and problems that all families have: A crazy but loving uncle (Uncle Si); a patriarch (Phil Robertson) who, like many Southern patriarchs, is really ruled by the matriarch of the family (Miss Kay); and adult sibling rivalry (Jase and Willie).  They end each episode at the dinner table saying grace and thanking the Lord for their blessings, like many families of all races do daily across the South.  They truly appear to love one another, and it's clear that Phil Robertson loves his family deeply.  What I don't see on the show, and what I've never seen, is hate.

I have advanced degrees from two Ivy League institutions, and I have lived all around this country. If you asked me to bet whether one of my "to the manor born" white Harvard classmates or white trash (his words) Phil Robertson would be most likely to help me if I were stranded by the side of the road, I'd pick Phil Robertson every time. He'd do it because, as a Southerner, he knows it would be The Right Thing To Do.