Breath, Eyes, Memory

When I read Edwidge Danticant's novel Breath, Eyes, Memories two articles from my freshman year women's studies class came to mind. The first was about oppression. The author (Sorry, you'd have to ask Katie for the name) distinguished between "suffering" and "oppression", dramatically, but thoughtfully defining oppression as being choiceless, cornered, pressed, blocked. I felt that this novel showed how women, not to mention postcolonial women, are so deeply oppressed. First, I thought about the prevalent theme of men's ownership of women, especially physical. Martine is never free from the invasive rape, more so than I have ever experienced in a literature, or anyother recounting. Between the rape and the testings done by her mother, she never fully feels that she is anything more than a tortured object, thwarting her from loving anyone or living happily. This directly ties into the second article I remembered from freshman year, which was about anorexia. The feminist perspective of anorexia is, according to the article, that women become anorexic because they feel so greatly that their body's are not their's and therefore want to destroy that body. Martine's eating disorder and the way she completely tears apart her body in the end of the novel reflect her physical self-hatred.

In conclusion, the aspect of breath, eyes, memory that struck me the hardest was the fact that not only were these women's bodies sacrificed without their agency to society and men, but to each other. Sophie and Maritine both shared their bodies with eachother, despite their desire to be separate. Maritine sees Sophie as a manifestation of her strife and depression, while Sophie goes as far as experiencing the rape of her mother. Its amazing how mothers and daughters emotional connection can push them together through a forced physical connection.

The Joys of Motherhood by Buchi Emecheta

The Joys of Motherhood was probably the novel that interested me the most thus far in the course. I found the novel to be, more than anything else, about sacrifice. Nnu Ego is the protagonist of the story, born from Agbadi and Ona. I wanted so much to love Ona for her subversive behavior toward traditional gender roles. Her father grants her the privilege of never marrying, and being his forever, which appeared to be liberating. But the consequences of this lifestyle are great. First, though her stubborn indepedence makes her attractively strong to Agbadi, she is always in fear that he only loves her because he can never really have her. Second, she loses a lot of respect in her community, where wifedom and motherhood is praised, despite being so caging and exploitive to the women. Third, when she does have a child, her life begins it's end. Also, Ona, despite seeming admirable, is viewed in her culture as punishable, especially when she becomes the percieved cause of Agunwa, Agbadi's first wife. The death of Agunwa also, due to an exceptionally destructive tradition, results in the death of her slave, who proclaims before falling into the grave that she will come back to life as his daughter. Thus perpetuating the punishment for Ona's lifestyle by making her only daughter, Nnu Ego, one who lives as a slave to her family.
Nnu Ego's whole life is about sacrifice, but a crueler kind than I had ever imagined to be generated from motherhood. She gives up her happiness, choices and life for her children and her husband, all of whom do absolutely nothing for her and leave her to die without having any sort of contentment in her life. while they go on to have happier lives without her. The only things she gains in return for her sacrifices are the validation of taking on the highly respected role of being a mother, and a nice funeral provided by her son. Its ironic, how scoieties, which value motherhood so greatly, and castigate those who chose a different path, still make it such a torture to be a mother.

Annie John by Jamica Kincaid

There is something about a mother- daughter relationship. Unlike Annie, I grew up with an older sister, Claire. only a year and a half apart, we did everything together. The only thing we ever did seperately was our activities with my mom. For some odd reason, she preferred to have a lot of private time with each of us. She would steal me from school for lunches and leave claire to go to all of her classes. Then when I would come home from friend's houses, Claire and mom would be chatting in Mom's room with the door closed. I always felt that she wanted to have a special, but different relationship with both of us. And honestly, I adored her. When I was little I thought she was the smartest, most beautiful and interesting woman that ever lived. She could cook and clean and make things and paint rooms and tuck me in just right and make everyone laugh, etc, etc, etc. But then there was that point when I swear, out of no where, I just hated her. I was 11, it's a bad age for girls. So when I read Kincaid's portrayal of intense daughterly hatred, I assumed it was just a universal thing. That her book was explanatory. I figured that she was dramatizing a commonality amongst all adolesent girls, begining with early childhood, where the identity mainly is shaped by the mother and love for that mother. Then shifting to sudden that hatred for her, for whatever reason.
Then again, I see a lot of differences between Annie John and myself. I never didn't have to share my mom with my sister. The sense of belonging to one-another between mom and I was always interrupted with this needy other person. When I was young and longed for my mother, I felt like she longed for me too, and that we had this rebellous fun love that had to be hidden from my sensitive sister. As I grew older, i felt like my mom abandoned me for Claire, and I inturn wanted to rebel by not loving her as much back.
I sense that Annie's story is meant to be different in someway from most of the readers in virtue of the context that she is living within. That her culture somehow pushes her away from her mother in a way that I cannot understand as a situated knower, but Kinciad makes it unclear how so. Maybe as she matures and experiences her world she sees that her mom cannot protect her from her surroundings, and feels betrayed. And perhaps because she never had to share her mother with anyone else, the betrayal begins when she realizes that her mother has needs that only her father can fulfill. Without a sibling to cushion her feelings of neglect, she resorts to her intense fantasy world.
I feel as though Annie's confusing social identity makes her feel alienated from any sort of outsider understanding that she clearly longs for from others. This novel was certainly an interesting glimpse into the mother-daughter bond, and how extended awareness of the controlling outside world can tamper with it.