LITR 5731: Seminar in American Minority Literature
University of Houston-Clear Lake, Fall 2004
Sample Student Midterm

Michael Russo
10/09/04

Indictments of Escapism in Morrison’s Song of Solomon and Sapphire’s Push

     The pursuit of happiness in the United States of America presents different challenges for different people.  Personal success is a subjective concept, but the ability of an individual to feel successful and content can be fairly tied to notions like opportunity and choice.  The history of African Americans is not one of opportunity and choice; it is a history of bondage, enslavement, and hard-fought but limited freedoms.  While not void of any and all triumph, it is nonetheless a history pregnant with spiritual and physical pain.  It is a history of challenges, of overwhelming obstacles, and of deep suffering.  It is appropriate then that the literature of African American writers often tackles directly this painful past and the impact it continues to have on the African American community in general.

     In fact, there are but two ways to deal with the reality of a wrongful past and an inequitable present: one can run from these challenges, meaning ignore them, or one can address them directly.  While it is easy to point to the preferable approach while locked in the safety of cold logic and a protective academic environment, it takes great resolve and unwavering purpose to engulf oneself in an oppressive reality for the purpose of finding that needle of opportunity.  Do you run from that dragon, or do you strap on your armor, draw your sword and approach the Goliath with Davidian resolve?  Toni Morrison’s Song of Solomon and Sapphire’s Push are two African American novels that are separated by almost twenty years; yet both expose the dangers of taking an escapist approach to the unique obstacles that complicate the pursuit of happiness for African Americans.

     If the goal of an author is to expose escapism then the challenge is to lure escapist readers to the discussion.  Both Morrison and Sapphire have unique solutions to this problem.  Song of Solomon contains a brilliant mix of escapist narrative and contemplative wisdom.  Its escapist plot devices, such as the search for lost treasure or the homicidal former lover, act to draw in the escapist reader and keep the pages turning; yet the less than action-packed conclusions to these escapist narratives force the reader into an introspective exercise that culminates in an indictment of escapist behavior.  Push, by comparison, uses a less refined technique to draw in escapist readers – it relives on shock imagery and street language to connect with the readers it hopes to convert.  The language of Push assures intended readers that its author is on their side; with this established, the novel proceeds to address behavioral issues, including escapism and its impact on the African American community.

     Both Morrison and Sapphire seek to undermine the power of escapist behavior through the device of literacy; the idea here is that an informed and educated community would find escapism less satisfying and ultimately less effective in numbing the problems of everyday life, thus forcing them to address problems directly.  Consider the experience of former slave Fredrick Douglass, who described literacy as a kind of curse that made it impossible to forget the intolerable injustice of his life in bondage.  He said of learning to read: “It opened my eyes to the horrible pit, but to no ladder upon which to get out.  In moments of agony, I envied my fellow slaves for their stupidity, I have often wished myself a beast.  I preferred the condition of the meanest reptile to my own.  Any thing, no matter what, to get rid of thinking! (370)”  For Douglass, who now understands the circumstances of his situation, the very real desire for freedom is so intense that he is unable to escape it, yet the thought itself is hurtful because his desire appears to be unquenchable.  Yet being unable to drive it from his mind, his desire for freedom motivates Douglass to keep “pushing” until he has finally obtained it.

     In that sense, a parallel can be drawn between Douglass himself and Sapphire’s protagonist Precious Jones.  Precious seems to have a fair understanding of her situation and the complexity of overcoming this hardship.  We know this because she sets realistic goals: to escape her abusive home and find a way to provide for herself and for her children.  “Maybe after I have baby I lose some weight.  Maybe I get my own place (23).”  She also understands that a helping hand is an uncommon friend.  “I know who they say I am – vampire sucking the system’s blood.  Ugly black grease to be wipe away, punish, kilt, changed, finded a job for (31).”  Perhaps this wisdom and understanding is the drive that propels Precious to succeed in school when it would have been so easy for her to fail.  For the most part, Precious avoids the trap of escapism and remains driven right from the start of the novel through its concluding pages.

     Morrison’s Milkman, on the other hand, is the antithesis of driven.  He spends the majority of the novel fleeing from responsibility, drowning his troubles in drugs and alcohol, pursing meaningless sexual relationships and fearing to look back into his past.  “He did not want to see trees that he had passed, or houses and children slipping into the space the automobile had left behind (32).”  As a result, he forms few meaningful human relationships and disappoints those who offer him unconditional love.  “He lad left her.  While he dreamt of flying, Hagar was dying (332).”  Only at the end of the novel does he break this funk and accept life’s daily challenge.  When he does, it is hard to imagine him reverting to escape.

     When faced with unpleasant thoughts, Milkman turns first to alcohol and his friendship with Guitar Bains.  After hearing troubling revelations about his mother, Milkman’s desire for escape is immediate.  “Milkman was heading towards Southside.  Maybe he could find Guitar.  A drink with Guitar would be just the thing (76).”  Yet Milkman’s friendship with Guitar starts to take a turn for the worse when Guitar grows increasingly interested in politics and civil justice.  “He was constantly chafing Milkman about how he lived, and that conversation was just one more example of how he’d changed.  No more could Milkman run up the stairs to his room to drag him off to a party or a bar.  And he didn’t want to talk about girls or getting high (106).”  Guitar’s withdrawal from escapist pursuits is simply one of number events that work to bring Milkman to his eventual epiphany.  With his drinking buddy no longer playing along, Milkman is confronted with the direction of his own life.

     Fredrick Douglass observed the effect of alcohol on a slave community, and provided sharp insight into the manner in which slaveholders used alcohol to keep down any rebellious spirits.  Talking about slave owners encouraging their slaves to drink on holidays, Douglass says, “Their object seems to be, to disgust their slaves with freedom, by plunging them into the lowest depths of dissipation (397).”  He later adds, “The most of us used to drink it down, and the result was just what might be supposed: many of us were led to think that there was little to choose between liberty and slavery (397).”  Douglass is pointing out that alcohol can kill the ambitions of its users, leading them to unwittingly choose the continuation of an oppressive reality.

     In contrast to Milkman, Precious never approves of drugs.  “I hate crack addicts.  They give the race a bad name (14).”  It could be argued that Precious’ strong feelings against drugs stem from her attraction to Farrakhan and his teachings.  “I love him.  He is against crack addicts and crackers (34).”  Yet the important point is that Precious does not develop a drug addiction, which likely would have proved one too many hurdles in her pursuit of literacy.  “Give race a bad name, lost in the hells of norf america crack addicts is (37).”

     Attitudes towards sex are sharply different when comparing Milkman to Precious.  Milkman uses casual sex as just another form of escape – an activity that helps him temporarily numb his troubles, comparable to alcohol.  In fact, he compares his stale relationship with Hagar to a third beer.  “She was the third beer.  Not the first one, which the throat receives with almost tearful gratitude; nor the second, that confirms and extends the pleasure of the first.  But the third the one you drink because it’s there, because it can’t hurt, and because what difference does it make (91)?”  He avoids serious relationships, and cuts ties with women when responsibility interferes with his escapist pursuits.  “He never kept a woman more that a few months – the time span that he said was average before she began to make ‘permanent-arrangement-type noises (107).”

     Morrison exposes the consequences of escapist sex through the devastating effect it ultimately has on Hagar.  Her final act of desperation just prior to her death provides Morrison with an opportunity to explore consumerism as a form of escapism.  Unable to comprehend her rejection, and powerless to reverse it, Hagar eventually seeks comfort in new clothes and a trip to the beauty salon.  In one brilliant but heart-wrenching passage, Morrison reveals the absurdity of attempting to solve real world problems through superficial means.  “She was thoroughly soaked before she realized it was raining and then only because one of the shopping bags split.  When she looked down, her Evan-Picone white-with-a-band-of-color skirt was lying in a neat half fold on the shoulder of the road, and she was far far from home (313).”

     For Precious, sex itself is something she longs to escape.  One of the more effective moments of the novel comes when we see Precious using her imagination to ease the pain of her father’s rape.  “I fall back on the bed, he fall right on top of me.  Then I change stations, change bodies, I be dancing in videos!  In movies!  I be breaking, fly, jus’ a dancing! (24).”  This is one of the few moments in the story where we see Precious actually trying to escape reality.  “He mess up dream talkin’ n’ gruntin’ (24).”

     Sex brings significant consequences that Precious cannot ignore; it results in two children, one who is born with Down’s Syndrome, and it results in her development of the AIDS virus.  Milkman sees sex as a casual pursuit with no consequences; until the end of the story, he remains ignorant of the damage he has done to Hagar and quite likely to a number of other women from his past.

     So what keeps Precious from resorting to escapist behaviors in response to all of her life’s problems?  A concept known as “the Dream” is a recurring theme in African American literature.  It operates as a kind of inspirational force that can help keep individuals motivated and driven even in the face of seemingly unbeatable difficulties.  Although the Dream functions in a similar manner to the well-known narrative of the American Dream, the alternative Dream narrative of African American literature involves connecting with the past, understanding one’s personal and family history, and then using that understanding to build a brighter future.  The Dream narrative is perhaps more mature than that of the American Dream in that it factors in future setbacks.  It could be fairly argued that this Dream concept keeps Precious rooted in reality and motivated to work towards her goals.  She has faith that her goals are achievable, but she is also aware that faith alone is not enough.  This wisdom comes from her repeated trips back into her past to grapple with the injustices that were committed against her at the hands of those who should have been her protectors.

     Yet when one thinks of dreams one can’t help but think of the escapist.  Milkman dreams of flying – is this the motivational forces of the Dream narrative at work, or is Milkman merely wishing to fly away from his responsibilities?   It’s telling that Milkman’s obsession with flying takes him further away from confronting the challenges of daily life and accepting adult responsibility.  Contrasted with Precious’ pursuit of literacy, the theme of flight in Morrison’s Song of Solomon seems to be a mechanism for indicting escapism.  “You just can’t fly on off and leave a body (332).” 

     Yet upon deeper examination, Morrison also suggests that there’s a right way and a wrong way to fly.  If flying for escape is the wrong way to fly then flying for a better future is the ideal.  Student Elizabeth Martin in her Spring 2003 midterm pointed out that “Flying is a forward action.”  Milkman was born with the desire to fly.  But without any understanding of his past that would allow him to visualize the future he wants to achieve, he was “flying blind” and without direction.  Martin adds, “From an early age Milkman sees only what is behind, while yearning to move forward.  He must learn about his past to have a future with meaning.”

     The literary techniques used by Morrison and Sapphire couldn’t be more different.  Yet both Song of Solomon and Push have a driving purpose that extends beyond the mere telling of a good story.  These novels are intended to be motivational, inspirational, and perhaps even a bit parental.  They confront the African American community with a demand for success.  They confront the past, but they also promote the possibilities of the future.