I recently finished reading Alice Walker's collection of journals, Gathering Blossoms Under Fire, dated 1965-2000.
Alice Walker is the noted author of the Pulitzer Prize-winning novel, The Color Purple. I have watched the film interpretation of the novel dozens of times, firstly because I have long been a fan of Whoopi Goldberg, and secondly because the story enchants and alarms me. I remember thinking at the age of twelve that it didn't seem possible that such topics as rape, incest, and adultery could all be part of a movie that anyone could rent from the video store. I had seen horror films from a young age, but The Color Purple may have been the first movie I saw that attempted to emulate life in a way that revealed the shocking side of humanity--and revealed some of its greatest beauty. When I heard that Alice Walker's journals had been published (just a couple of months ago, in fact), I made a mental note to go find it. When I visited Changing Hands to pick up a copy, it was marked as a banned book. I had tremendous interest in the life of Ms. Walker. My interest was in part motivated by a desire to become more deeply rooted in anti-racism. Reading about the life experience of a person whose social location is different from mine--particularly when written in her own words--was one way to do that. My interest also stemmed from curiosity about her rise to critical acclaim. As a writer, I am curious to know how other writers live and approach their work before and after they've "made it." One thing that stands out for me from Ms. Walker's journals is how, as she rises to fame and financial success, she releases some of her sharpness and becomes--it seems to me--more deeply rooted in her own humanity, flaws and all. I remain astonished that she was willing to be so raw and self-revealing in her journals and then to put those journals on display for all the world to see. I recently moved my own collection of journals from under my bed to one of my bookshelves, and even having them in sight turns my stomach a little. What if people saw me, not just the polished me, but the me that is in process, that changes her mind, that gives in to selfishness and self-absorption in addition to generosity and goodness? As I wonder these things, I recognize that I have ongoing shame to work through around my life story. I also recognize that there is a flipside to those questions. I think of one of my mentors, who said she'd burned all her journals long ago. I remember how disturbed I was to hear that she'd burned her words so that not even she would have access to them. But what about the record of your life? One of the books I'm reading right now is The Mayfair Witches, a trilogy by Anne Rice. In the second book of the trilogy, reference is made to a brilliant character's notebooks and observations being thrown away by another character without her consent. I had to set the book down after reading this. The thought of someone robbing another of the evidence of their journey was horrifying. I can think of few greater assaults on a human being, short of physical violence. I find myself grateful for this window into Ms. Walker's life, and I am reminded of how precious it is to be able to see into a person's life through their own eyes, to be witness to their imperfections and their great beauties. How do you reveal your life's great flaws and beauties to others?
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