Entry FeedI just finished reading The Help by Kathryn Stockett.
It is set in the early sixties in Jackson, Mississippi, and is the story of black maids taking care of white families told by the view point of two maids and one young white writer.
I didn't know what to expect before reading this novel, and its recommendation to me was that is was a great read. After finishing the novel, I took a look at some of the reviews online, and I am little surprised by them.
There seems to be this focus on whether or not Ms. Stockett, as a white women, can tell the stories of these black maids. I think that any criticism on this front is a waste.
Personally, I enjoyed the book and found it a quick and easy read. There were no amazing revelations - some maids loved their families and charges, some where well taken care of, some were not.
However, my epiphany with this novel was how we are 50 years later, and nothing has changed.
In my neighbourhood, you could replace "black maid" with "Filippina Nanny" and find yourself in 2010. Some, making barely minimum wage to raise your child (yes, some of admit that there children were raised by the maids, others believed that they were actually raising their children themselves though the maids were doing all of the work.) Doing your laundry, housekeeping and even pulling your weeds and washing your minivan. Leaving their own children to be raised by others so that they can hold these jobs.
Perhaps in Toronto this could be the story of the Filippina nanny in 2010. In other states it may be the story of the Mexican domestic. Removing the backdrop of racial bigotry from The Help, could the same story be told today just exploiting a different bunch of workers?
In the novel, not all maids are treated poorly and unfairly. And many loved the children that they raised. Are we helping our "help" have better lives, or just outsourcing our unloved tasks?
But I am reminded of a day just a few months ago. I sat in my friend's kitchen planning an event while her nanny watched both of our children, getting them snacks and folding laundry while we drank fizzy water and met in the kitchen... This exact scene was repeated so many times throughout the novel.
It raises questions to me... as a feminist about women exploiting other women, or helping them. I just don't have any answers.