I finished reading this book on 11th December 2012. I like reading books like this. Another book I've read years back is Massacre of Nanjing.
The Help is a fiction book. It may be a fiction book but we all know that the divide between Blacks and Whites was evident in the US many, many years back. Perhaps the writer tried not to make it too obvious.
I feel that this book is not as bad as the Massacre of Nanjing. Now let me talk about this book - The Help.
Coloured people are not allowed to use the same swimming pool as the Whites. They are not allowed to use bathrooms which the Whites use. They are not allowed to eat with the Whites. When they fall sick, they are treated like they've contracted some major illness. It could be just cough and they are treated as if they have cancer. They are not allowed to enter certain libraries or bookstores etc. They are to agree with their employer and her friends even though they do not agree deep down. I read that once, a black boy was caught using the bathroom of a White and he was attacked. He ended up blind. Yes, no doubt these are all just fictional stories but I'm sure it's far worst in the real world at that point of time. Ever heard of black slaves? I've said it before and I'm saying it now. Human beings really are the most cruel creations on earth. There are good ones around but fewer than usual in this generation, in my opinion.
Martin Luther King was mentioned in the book and we know in real life that he is real. I'm going to tell you a little bit about him. The following are extracted from Wikipedia (to be reflected in Italics) and no words of my own:
Martin Luther King, Jr. (January 15, 1929 – April 4, 1968) was an American clergyman, activist, and prominent leader in the African-American Civil Rights Movement.[1] He is best known for his role in the advancement of civil rights using nonviolent civil disobedience.[2] King has become a national icon in the history of modern American liberalism.[
"I Have a Dream" is a 17-minute public speech by Martin Luther King,
Jr. delivered on August 28, 1963, in which he called for an end to racism in the
United States. The speech, delivered to over 200,000 civil rights
supporters from the steps of the Lincoln Memorial
during the March
on Washington for Jobs and Freedom, was a defining moment of the American
Civil Rights Movement.[1]
King
begins by invoking the Emancipation
Proclamation, which freed millions of slaves in 1863,[2] but says that "one hundred
years later, the Negro still is not free."[3] At the end of the speech, King
departed from his prepared text for a partly improvised peroration on the theme of
"I have a dream", possibly prompted by Mahalia Jackson's cry,
"Tell them about the dream, Martin!"[4] In this part of the speech, which
most excited the crowd and has now become the most famous, King described
dreams of freedom and equality arising from a land of slavery and hatred.[5]
"I
have a dream" was ranked the top American speech of the
20th century by a 1999 poll of scholars of public address.[
See his speech on 28th August 1963 as follow:
I am happy to join
with you today in what will go down in history as the greatest demonstration
for freedom in the history of our nation.
Five score years
ago, a great American, in whose symbolic shadow we stand signed the
Emancipation Proclamation. This momentous decree came as a great beacon light
of hope to millions of Negro slaves who had been seared in the flames of
withering injustice. It came as a joyous daybreak to end the long night of
captivity.
But one hundred
years later, we must face the tragic fact that the Negro is still not free. One
hundred years later, the life of the Negro is still sadly crippled by the
manacles of segregation and the chains of discrimination. One hundred years
later, the Negro lives on a lonely island of poverty in the midst of a vast
ocean of material prosperity. One hundred years later, the Negro is still
languishing in the corners of American society and finds himself an exile in
his own land. So we have come here today to dramatize an appalling condition.
In a sense we have
come to our nation's capital to cash a check. When the architects of our
republic wrote the magnificent words of the Constitution and the Declaration of
Independence, they were signing a promissory note to which every American was
to fall heir. This note was a promise that all men would be guaranteed the
inalienable rights of life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.
It is obvious today
that America has defaulted on this promissory note insofar as her citizens of
color are concerned. Instead of honoring this sacred obligation, America has
given the Negro people a bad check which has come back marked "insufficient
funds." But we refuse to believe that the bank of justice is bankrupt. We
refuse to believe that there are insufficient funds in the great vaults of
opportunity of this nation. So we have come to cash this check -- a check that
will give us upon demand the riches of freedom and the security of justice. We
have also come to this hallowed spot to remind America of the fierce urgency of
now. This is no time to engage in the luxury of cooling off or to take the
tranquilizing drug of gradualism. Now is the time to rise from the dark and
desolate valley of segregation to the sunlit path of racial justice. Now is the
time to open the doors of opportunity to all of God's children. Now is the time
to lift our nation from the quicksands of racial injustice to the solid rock of
brotherhood.
It would be fatal
for the nation to overlook the urgency of the moment and to underestimate the
determination of the Negro. This sweltering summer of the Negro's legitimate
discontent will not pass until there is an invigorating autumn of freedom and
equality. Nineteen sixty-three is not an end, but a beginning. Those who hope
that the Negro needed to blow off steam and will now be content will have a
rude awakening if the nation returns to business as usual. There will be
neither rest nor tranquility in America until the Negro is granted his
citizenship rights. The whirlwinds of revolt will continue to shake the
foundations of our nation until the bright day of justice emerges.
But there is
something that I must say to my people who stand on the warm threshold which
leads into the palace of justice. In the process of gaining our rightful place
we must not be guilty of wrongful deeds. Let us not seek to satisfy our thirst
for freedom by drinking from the cup of bitterness and hatred.
We must forever
conduct our struggle on the high plane of dignity and discipline. We must not
allow our creative protest to degenerate into physical violence. Again and
again we must rise to the majestic heights of meeting physical force with soul
force. The marvelous new militancy which has engulfed the Negro community must
not lead us to distrust of all white people, for many of our white brothers, as
evidenced by their presence here today, have come to realize that their destiny
is tied up with our destiny and their freedom is inextricably bound to our
freedom. We cannot walk alone.
And as we walk, we
must make the pledge that we shall march ahead. We cannot turn back. There are
those who are asking the devotees of civil rights, "When will you be
satisfied?" We can never be satisfied as long as our bodies, heavy with
the fatigue of travel, cannot gain lodging in the motels of the highways and
the hotels of the cities. We cannot be satisfied as long as the Negro's basic
mobility is from a smaller ghetto to a larger one. We can never be satisfied as
long as a Negro in Mississippi cannot vote and a Negro in New York believes he
has nothing for which to vote. No, no, we are not satisfied, and we will not be
satisfied until justice rolls down like waters and righteousness like a mighty
stream.
I am not unmindful
that some of you have come here out of great trials and tribulations. Some of
you have come fresh from narrow cells. Some of you have come from areas where
your quest for freedom left you battered by the storms of persecution and staggered
by the winds of police brutality. You have been the veterans of creative
suffering. Continue to work with the faith that unearned suffering is
redemptive.
Go back to
Mississippi, go back to Alabama, go back to Georgia, go back to Louisiana, go
back to the slums and ghettos of our northern cities, knowing that somehow this
situation can and will be changed. Let us not wallow in the valley of despair.
I say to you today,
my friends, that in spite of the difficulties and frustrations of the moment, I
still have a dream. It is a dream deeply rooted in the American dream.
I have a dream that
one day this nation will rise up and live out the true meaning of its creed:
"We hold these truths to be self-evident: that all men are created
equal."
I have a dream that
one day on the red hills of Georgia the sons of former slaves and the sons of
former slave owners will be able to sit down together at a table of
brotherhood.
I have a dream that
one day even the state of Mississippi, a desert state, sweltering with the heat
of injustice and oppression, will be transformed into an oasis of freedom and
justice.
I have a dream that
my four children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by
the color of their skin but by the content of their character.
I have a dream
today.
I have a dream that
one day the state of Alabama, whose governor's lips are presently dripping with
the words of interposition and nullification, will be transformed into a
situation where little black boys and black girls will be able to join hands
with little white boys and white girls and walk together as sisters and
brothers.
I have a dream
today.
I have a dream that
one day every valley shall be exalted, every hill and mountain shall be made
low, the rough places will be made plain, and the crooked places will be made
straight, and the glory of the Lord shall be revealed, and all flesh shall see it
together.
This is our hope.
This is the faith with which I return to the South. With this faith we will be
able to hew out of the mountain of despair a stone of hope. With this faith we
will be able to transform the jangling discords of our nation into a beautiful
symphony of brotherhood. With this faith we will be able to work together, to
pray together, to struggle together, to go to jail together, to stand up for
freedom together, knowing that we will be free one day.
This will be the day
when all of God's children will be able to sing with a new meaning, "My
country, 'tis of thee, sweet land of liberty, of thee I sing. Land where my
fathers died, land of the pilgrim's pride, from every mountainside, let freedom
ring."
So there you go... A fiction book which brings many feelings, emotions and thoughts in my mind. You may say that such stuff don't happen no more. Open your eyes big and look around. Don't just look and move on. Look in depth, think and ask yourself - Does such stuff happen no more???
Something to ponder on...
I wish you a great Sunday.
Dreamy C
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