When I learned about the invisible backpack
Excerpts and reflections from Children’s Literature paper, MassArt
Roll of Thunder, Hear my Cry was the first book that ever introduced me directly to the concept of prejudice when I was in middle school. I came from a nearly all-white community, so the ideas presented to me at such a young age seemed very extreme. Of course, as I got older, I learned more about the events happening during the time frame of this book, and I wised up. I think that this novel is an effective tool to introduce children to such a tragic, complex, and hard to understand topic as racism and segregation, as it was used for me. Upon re-reading this, I noticed elements within the story that I think are part of a sort of template used frequently in stories and movies touching on the same topic. Here are the elements:
Primary black family is part of the larger black community, but is fiscally better off than many of their neighbors, usually through assets like property or business ownership. (in this case: property)
One member from the family sees the injustice in the way they or other people from their community are treated by white people. (Cassie)
There is another sibiling that, while understanding that they way they are treated is unfair, accepts and/or silently suffers through mistreatment.
There is a sibling that, despite the knowledge of their ‘place’ in society, and the desire to rise above it, succumbs to a stereotypical action attributed to the community by the white community, and suffers, acting as a sort of martyr or a ‘what-not-to-do’ type of figure. (T.J.)
The family unit is compromised through temporary or permanent abscence of one parent. (Father for the first half of the novel)
Older, hot-headed figure within the family that acts as a time-bomb for other members of the family. (Hammer)
One very strong example of these elements reoccuring in another piece on the same topic is John Singleton’s Boyz in the Hood (1991). This film, while set in the 90’s, mirrors almost every aspect found in this novel as listed above. I think this approach is used because it positions the family as a group of well-meaning, insightful people and allows readers from a middle-class or higher background to relate because the family is still set in an environment that is relatable (instead of something more extreme like a half-way house or homeless, etc), and has us follow the character who understands the injustice of the situation (Cassie) instead of following the character ultimately set up to fail (T.J.) so that we may ‘learn from his mistakes’ through seeing it play out as an outsider.
A too-personal story of failure to learn from (or two)
There are two times during my life that my privilege was made horrifyingly evident to me.
The first of those times was my DUI. I was stupid, 25 or 26. In retrospect in that “untouchable” phase still. My privilege was made clear to me way after the initial arrest (I would like to call out that the bail was set using this method: “well, what do you have on you?” and it was $45. Forty-five dollar bail. Think about that compared to Kalief Browder’s unreasonable price of $3,000.) It was made clear during the course of obtaining a lawyer and fighting the charges. I was able to win that case because I am from an upper middle class white family with the means to pay to play the system for me, because I had the personal means to wear a fashionable and presentable “part” outfit to court (that part being the usually-a-good-white-kid), being able to take vacation time off from work for court appearances, to have a support network happy to drive me to and from work so that no one was the wiser. No life impact other than money, a little time, and a lot of jaded insight.
The second was during the pregnancy and subsequent birth of my daughter. I smoked pot while pregnant, in a legalized state. Talked with my doctors about it, decided to be pretty un-apologetic together. Everything was fine until the day of delivery. That day they asked me if I had marijuana recently (which I’m sure was in my chart, and to which I answered yes) which set of a series of events leading to my urine being tested to see if I, indeed, did smoke the marijuana I just admitted to—and ultimately DCF involvement in my life for six months from the moment she was born. I could go on about how awful that was...but my real point is this:
They do not test every pregnant woman’s urine at delivery for substance presence. Not everywhere, not every state, no consistency. And that call was made only on my admission of the presence of marijuana in my system. If that is the case, then who is calling the shots on those tests being done? In a world where all of the systemic racism is showing, how can we possibly doubt that women are being profiled and subsequently separated from their children? In my case, I was transparent with my doctors, pursuing truth of care—and was able to act so confidently. Knowing that this test is not performed automatically on all women, that I was asked and perhaps one was administered “because it had to be” where if my skin was darker I would not have been extended the grace of being asked, and even worse — my children taken or compromised based on an assumption.
Recommended and mentioned reading: