As summer winds down to an end, I want to make note of recent releases that explore the role of the domestic help and the modern day nanny in American households. But, before I begin let me say that for most Black women, reading stories about other Black women with limited opportunities sometimes forced, sometimes of their own choosing, care-taking for White families is weighted with a boatload of historical crap.
First up is Mona Simpson’s My Hollywood, detailing the story of bewildered new mother, Claire, and her live-in Filipino nanny, Lola, hired so Claire can continue her career as a composer. To be honest, I can’t tell you much more because after reading a little more than 100 pages, I couldn’t take it anymore. Simpson’s attempt to get inside the head of a middle-age Filipino left me exasperated and disappointed as she struggled to give equal voice to a character she obviously wants readers to admire. For me, her treatment bordered on condescending.
What did resonant with me is Claire’s search for fairness and equality in her marriage as her husband chases his dream of being a comedy writer in Hollywood and Claire struggles to maintain her successful composing career while assuming the role of primary caregiver to their newborn. I acutely remember those early days with Miss Olivia and being jealous of Loverman as he continued to travel to film festivals and participated on panels and I was desperately seeking the fallacy of fairness while adjusting to motherhood and what seemed like my little girl’s relentless need to breastfeed at will. The tensions in our marriage continued until I made a huge attitude adjustment and began to understand that mothers are irreplaceable during those early years and babies needed the physical presence of their mother in a more intense way than they needed their fathers.
To be honest, my dismay in Simpson’s My Hollywood followed in the footsteps of The Help, the debut novel by Kathryn Stockett. Although I know many readers loved this tale of the inner lives of the domestic help in Jackson Mississippi during the civil rights movement, I was mildly offended. For me, the granddaughter of a live-in domestic, Stockett’s account, although sympathetic, was little more than a romanticized story of the indignities suffered by the thousands of Black women who, more often than not, spent more time and energy in raising their charges, then they were allowed to spend with their own families. To make matters worse, word on the street is Steven Spielberg has purchased the rights to make The Help into a feature film. Lord help us!
Thankfully, Lori Tharps’ Substitute Me, hits all the right notes, with a few jaw-dropping twists! Released just last week, Tharps tells the story of thirty year old, African American, Zora, who becomes a nanny for Kate and Brad Carter an upwardly mobile White couple living in Brooklyn’s Park Slope. Like the My Hollywood and The Help, Substitute Me alternates perspectives and the story is told through the voice of Zora, Kate and later in the story, Brad. Tharps paints both Zora and Kate with expansive brush strokes, which colors them as real, thoroughly modern women, warts and all. If forced to find a fault, I wish Tharps had provided a bit more insight into what makes Brad tick. For me, the choices he makes late in the story were totally unexpected and threw me for a delightful loop. Tharps’ thoughtfully explores the depth of the complexities of women of color assuming the role of care-giving domestics in the era of Obama, and the historical baggage that comes with the gig. I regrettably finished the book last night but undoubtedly I’ll be pitching this great read to all and any who will listen.
