Inside Audrey's Mind
the help (a real-life story)
by A.R. Bey on 01/09/12
I wish to share my thoughts on The Help. Over the holidays, I had a chance to speak with one of my favorite aunts, Aunt Hazel, who has known me since birth. Over the years, she has been a rock for me in my life in so many ways, and I love her dearly. When there are issues, she is always there.
So my Aunt Hazel and I had a chance to discuss The Help and she shared with me that she enjoyed the film. Strolling here and there, whenever I could, I came across the book and began to see the film pop up around the way. Weighing should I have read the book first or view the movie first. This time, the film won out, but I will visit the book at some point. After viewing the film, I found that I enjoyed it despite the negative criticism from many African-Americans.
The cast was very convincing and I was impressed with the performances by the lead African-American actresses. Being fair, though the film does portray what life was like in the South during that era, this film offered a sanitized view. With the main white female protagonist, Skeeter, who seems more open and unprejudiced unlike others of her kind, she also balances the she-devil racist, Celia Foote.
As a child and as an adult, it was shared with me that my great maternal grandmother, who lived in the South, worked as a domestic for a white family. As a result, my maternal Grandmother, Ozell, and great Uncle Edmond, were conceived from an adulterous and more than likely, an unconsented relationship. How could a black woman refuse the advances of a white man in those days when she was not considered a bonafide citizen of the US?
My great grandmother’s husband had become paralyzed from an incident that involved him being thrown from a train, or jumping from a train. Anyway, she had several children with him. From my girlhood, I remember two of those siblings. Aunt Vic and Aunt Anna were my maternal grandmother’s, older half-sisters.
It was said that when others would ask why Ozell and Edmond looked different from the other children, the reply would be, “their half-Indian”. I do not know how that made more sense, but some accepted this explanation, even when my grandmother’s first two children were born with fair-complexions and gray eyes, despite their father being a dark-complexioned man. I was also told that there was a degree of shame regarding this matter, and the family did not speak about it openly.
As a girl, while I was visiting my grandparents during the summer, my Aunt Lucy came over for a visit. I looked forward to her visits and can recall spending a Thanksgiving or two at Aunt Lucy’s. Admiring my Aunt Lucy’s eyes, I remarked that they were pretty. She stared blankly at me through them and said nothing. Aunt Lucy, the oldest of my grandma Ozell’s children was always kind to me. This response puzzled me. Perhaps the origin of those gray eyes created a cellular memory of pain that I simply did not know.
Historically,
Audrey
To be continued…
