The Help, By Kathryn Stockett

Pantomime and prejudice

David Evans
Sunday 13 November 2011 01:00 GMT
Comments

Your support helps us to tell the story

From reproductive rights to climate change to Big Tech, The Independent is on the ground when the story is developing. Whether it's investigating the financials of Elon Musk's pro-Trump PAC or producing our latest documentary, 'The A Word', which shines a light on the American women fighting for reproductive rights, we know how important it is to parse out the facts from the messaging.

At such a critical moment in US history, we need reporters on the ground. Your donation allows us to keep sending journalists to speak to both sides of the story.

The Independent is trusted by Americans across the entire political spectrum. And unlike many other quality news outlets, we choose not to lock Americans out of our reporting and analysis with paywalls. We believe quality journalism should be available to everyone, paid for by those who can afford it.

Your support makes all the difference.

Kathryn Stockett's debut novel – which has already been turned into a saccharine Hollywood movie – explores the relationship between white middle-class women and their black domestic "help" in 1960s Mississippi.

Stockett alternates between three narrators – the maids Aibileen and Minny, and an idealistic white journalist known as Skeeter – as they work on a book of interviews exposing the callous prejudice of the state capital's housewives, thereby doing their bit for the gathering civil rights struggle.

Stockett is white, and so is walking a very fine line in adopting the idiomatic vernacular of a black housekeeper. There have been accusations of racism from some quarters. I'm not sure about that. She is, at least, sufficiently self-aware to have Aibileen comment derisively that "white people been representing colored opinions since the beginning a time".

If anything, I find Stockett's treatment of the white employers more troubling. They come across as pantomime villains: their ringleader, Hilly Holbrook, is an odious racist with the primped veneer of a Stepford wife. The problem with such simplistic characterisation is that it puts the reader in too comfortable a position. We boo and hiss at Hilly, and cheer when she gets her comeuppance, all the better to reinforce our complacent sense of superiority – and to avoid thinking too deeply about how we might have behaved, had we grown up on the privileged side of the Jim Crow South.

Join our commenting forum

Join thought-provoking conversations, follow other Independent readers and see their replies

Comments

Thank you for registering

Please refresh the page or navigate to another page on the site to be automatically logged inPlease refresh your browser to be logged in