The Help

"The Help", by KathrynStockett merits a 10 out 10 rating, according to me. Based in Jackson, Mississippi during the 1960s, Stockett makes you feel like you are right there with dear Skeeter, ferocious Minny, and lovable Aibileen as they conduct their secret project in this dangerous town. If you like the Ya Yas, or Fried Green Tomatoes, you'll love this book too. In fact, you may enjoy this book even better.





This book resonates with me because of my family history. Most people wouldn't know, but I have deep roots in the South. My Mama was born in Taledagea, Alabama in the late 1950s, her family moved years later to Charleston, South Carolina. As a young girl I heard stories about Mama's life "back home". My Grandma, a white women origanally from Chicago, was very anti-establishment. She was in her mid-40s, it was the 1950's, in racially divided Alabama when she adopted not one, but two Japanese children, one of them being my mother. It doesn't get more anti-establishment than that.





Growing up, Grandma did have Black "help". There was Estelle. She came to my Grandma's three days a week. She scrubbed the floors, bathtub, and walls. She cleaned the house top to bottom. She had been doing this work for years by the time my family employed her. There was, however, one major difference between those other employers and my Grandma. Grandma was right there beside Estelle scrubbing, cleaning, shopping, everything. My Mama has memories of them scrubbing the kitchen floor, on their knees, side by side. Scrub, scrub, scrub. That is how it always was. Grandma did her job, with her "help". Estelle wasn't cheap labor, she was family. Estelle once told my Grandma, "No other white women has ever treated me this way, ever."



Mama started dance lessons at a young age. One day as Grandma and Estelle walked the city's street to take Mama to her studio, a civil rights march passed right by them. Estelle noticed that her teenage son was participating, and pushing past the crowd, she grabbed him and dragged him away from the other protesters. She forbade him from participating. She didn't do this because she was against civil rights, she did it to protect her precious son. What a very dangerous time my mother lived in, and despite her childhood innocence, she noticed the tension that seized the region.




My Grandfather, after retiring from a distinguished military position, started a small landscaping business. He employed a young Black man to help him. Mama remembers the two eating lunch together at their kitchen table regularly. So, when she noticed things around town, like separate water fountains, she was confused. Her parents explained that not everybody recognized how wrong it was to treat others like that. They instructed her to treat everyone with respect and kindness, regardless of race. She has always followed their advice and example and instilled it in me.





I know my grandparents are not the only ones who treated their employees well. I do think they might be in the minority though. Most people treated their help and other people of their race terribly because that was just the way it was back then. Or even worse, they despised people just because of the color of their skin. Like I said, my grandmother was anti-establishment, she took no joy in following inane social views. Both Grandma and Grandpa followed their own moral code - we each have one too, are we going to live by it? And not just when it is easy? "The Help" has urged me to be more courageous and stand up for the right things. Oh, and it is an incredible story, that is wonderfully written.