"Some people could look at a mud-puddle and see an ocean with ships. But Nanny belonged to that other kind that loved to deal in scraps. [Janie's] Nanny had taken the biggest thing God ever made, the horizon--for no matter how far a person can go the horizon is still way beyond you--and pinched it in to such a little bit of a thing that she could tie it about her granddaughter's neck tight enough to choke her. She hated the old woman who had twisted her so in the name of love."Zora Neale knows humanity--knows it well. I read this passage, and instead of hating the grandmother like Janie, I felt sad for her. Because, unlike Janie, I know the grandmother's sacrifice: that as a slave, she was beaten and raped and driven from her only known home for carrying her abuser's child. And that defined her, and made her scared, made her to cling to precious things, to choke out dreams because dreams are dangerous for a slave. The grandmother protected Janie by choking her dreams, and Janie hates.
If you haven't yet, read this book.
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