“The Help” Book and Movie Review

I wasn’t planning on writing about The Help even though I read the book, (cried, loved it) and went to the movie as soon as it came out (cried, loved it). There just didn’t seem to be much to say, honestly, since I figured anything I wrote about it would simply be “I loved it SO good WATCHITREADIT NOW NOW NOW gaaaah” *wipe eyes, blow nose*.

But I’ve realized that there are a couple of things that make this story stand out. First of all, there are no fully developed male characters, (particularly in the movie version) and this does not dim the beauty of the story whatsoever. This is not woman-power tale, wrapped in shrill assertions of their equality with men. These are women who love being women and are largely happy with their roles. They love to cook, love being mothers and love each other in very deep and caring ways, a trait unique to women friendships but often glossed over in our petty, tabloid-driven age. Even the relationships that fall apart do not do so over catty differences and schoolgirl spite, but because of the power of conviction and a desire to see injustice righted and truth told, no matter the cost.

It’s also unique in that it’s one of the first stories of its kind to not force the audience or reader to make judgments based only on external circumstances. I never once felt ashamed to be white, but rather proud to be an American. Where else on Earth could people go from slavery to friendship in 100 years? Sure, the world was not perfect (and never will be) but we are not made to honor certain characters simply because they were white or black, rich or poor. In The Help, we are free from Underdogma, the characters are judged on the content of their character soley – from the crazy, unconventional Celia to weak-minded Elizabeth to mean-hearted Hilly – these characters are soul-filled, three-dimensional beings whom we react to for their actions, not the fact that they are all white. In the same way, our black characters are not carbon-copies of each other and are not assigned worth simply because they lived in an oppressive time and place. They have unique perspectives and personalities, and they also have flaws and virtues, just like everyone else.

The Help also drives home the point of individual responsibility. The government in Mississippi was on the wrong side of the civil rights issue, undeniably, and people – brave people like Aibileen, Minny and Skeeter, made a difference. They didn’t riot in the streets or strike for their rights or throw rocks through store windows to make a point. They simply told the truth. Even in telling the truth, they didn’t need to demonize their opposition or scream at their “enemies”. If Skeeter was a journalist today, she would have stopped Louvenia from telling her story about her employer who bought a field from a racist neighbor so that Louvenia could safely walk to work every day without being afraid. She would instead have focused on Yule May’s unfairly long imprisonment for the theft of a small ring. Both are examples of stories that really happened to maids in the South – one is beautiful and one heart-breaking – but both deserve to be told, whether or not they fit the established narrative. The truth wins in the end, and the issues are not simple – not all Southern white men are Ku Klux Klan members, and not all black women are angelic, caring mothers, but the complex narrative that emerges still manages to show a clear path of good vs. evil.

These days, every new issue is trumpeted as “today’s civil rights battle” or “just like when Martin Luther King, Jr. said fill-in-the-blank-with-your-pet-cause”. To me, it’s impossible to imagine a country more free of real racism and discrimination than the one we currently live in (a mere 40 years since the Civil Rights Act passed and we have a black president, for crying out loud), and it is demeaning to those who really did risk their lives for equality to claim every pet project as “just like” those previous monumental efforts. You can think that government-run health care is important, or you can want your civil union defined as a marriage – but unless you are not allowed in a store because of an external definition or you are breaking the law to talk to another human being because of your skin color – don’t pretend that it even comes close.

The Help reminded me of what really matters. It gave me courage to speak the truth even when it’s unpopular, to love people through their externals and “write what disturbs me, particularly when it bothers no one else”.