Wednesday, May 22, 2013

Fly Away

*I'm finished with the book, so beware of spoilers*

For thousands of years women have been viewed and represented as the epitomes of sweetness, love and care. There is what is known as the maternal instinct - which everyone subconsciously expects a woman to have - and many people claim that if the government were run by women, there would be less wars and violence. Society, on the other hand, portrays men as responsible leaders who must take care of their oh-so fragile wives. However, Toni Morrison dared to take a completely different approach on men in her novel, Song of Solomon. They are not such responsible beings, but simply the opposite of women: spiteful, selfish and condescending.

Hagar loved Milkman. But guess what? He did not love her back: he simply used her. The only two other people who also actually loved Milkman were his mom and Pilate (yes, both women). "From the beginning, his mother and Pilate had fought for his life, and he had never so much as made either of them a cup of tea." (331) He never loved them back, while they would give up anything for him.

In addition, in Song of Solomon, since men are incapable of love, they end up objectifying women. Unsurprising, isn't it? After all, by now we are all used to misogynistic jokes that include the words "sandwich" or "kitchen." Yes, that's getting old and even less amusing than it was initially. But when Morrison exemplifies such objectifying behavior in a very subtle manner, the message is far more striking than that of any chauvinistic "joke." "Naked came ye into this life and naked shall ye depart," (316) writes Morrison as she quotes the minister's words at Hagar's funeral (Yes, she dies... I warned you of spoilers). This is perfectly standard, but then she explains that this is a "sermon... he had always believed suitable for the death of a young woman." (316) Yes, "young woman." Why doesn't she say it's suitable for any death - elder, adult, or child - but rather decides to specify that it must be a "young woman" who died? With this nonchalant phrase she is exhibiting the minister's pervertedness, as even when a woman has died, he is still thinking of her as a mere sexual object. And if this is what the minister is like, - someone who is supposed to be saintly and holy - what can you expect from all the rest?

Hagar has loved Milkman for a while now, and she is desperate for the feeling to be mutual. But, of cousre, it's not. What else can you expect from a male character in this novel? So Hagar goes crazy after looking at herself in the mirror, repeating "no wonder" over and over again. (308) She thinks it's "no wonder" that he doesn't love her. That's how far she's gone: her own perception of herself depends on that of a man's. If a man won't approve of her, neither will she.

So, how does Hagar seek to earn this approval? By seeking to make herself beautiful, of course. Now Morrison is not only demonstrating how gender roles cause insecurity in women, but also how, as a result, females seek to appeal to men in order to gain back their confidence, and they end up changing themselves and trying to be "beautiful." So Hagar goes out and buys a diamond's-worth of clothes and make-up so she can be pretty. She believed that beauty was the key to everything: "She could spend her life shimmering in peaches and cream. In satin. In luxe. In love." (311)

What's even worse is that this pursuit of "beauty" makes Hagar feel ashamed of herself and of her race. "He don't like hair like mine," she says. (315) "He loves silky...penny-colored hair...and lemon-colored skin...and gray-blue eyes...and thin nose... He's never going to like my hair." (315-316) She wants to change simply because she thinks he doesn't like her appearance, while in reality, there's no deep reason to why he doesn't like her: He is simply indifferent, and never actually thought of how much he hurt her.

But everybody in this book is hurt in one way or another. The only way to get rid of this suffering is through death or flying... or both. The book begins with a man flying toward his death (the only way in which he was able to successfully eliminate his problems), and towards the end the reader finds out that Solomon (Milkman's great-grandfather) escaped all of his issues by flying away. "He just took off...No more cotton! No more bales! No more orders! No more shit! He flew, baby." (328) Wouldn't it be splendid? To just fly away for a while? But it's impossible: You either keep your feet on the ground or float away forever.

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