A Farewell to Mangoes

    The House on Mango Street ends on a hopeful note, with Esperanza saying that though she will leave, she will return someday to help those she left behind. Some interesting ideas about her meaning have arisen, including that the book itself is meant to help those still stuck on Mango Street, and I have to say that it sounds plausible. Partly, of course, there's the fact that she talks about writing poetry, and in combination with the writing style it's easy to see it as a collection of events Esperanza recorded while living on Mango Street, later to share them with the world. And there are also hints (or sometimes more than hints) of her views on the social constraints that exist on this street, and probably elsewhere. Readers (you know, all two of you), I put it to you that this book is indeed what Esperanza has given to help those who cannot leave Mango Street, and to change the unfair social "rules" which still control lives there.
    One of the better examples of this is the very brief vignette "Those Who Don't". It deals with unfair racial distinctions and the irrational fear many people have of "a neighborhood of another color". These fears work both ways:

"Those who don't know any better come into our neighborhood scared. They think we're dangerous [...] All brown all around, we are safe. But watch us drive into a neighborhood of another color and our knees go shakity-shake and our car windows get rolled up tight [...] That is how it goes and goes." (28)

Esperanza notices how every race seems to be afraid of every other, how they don't understand others and don't try to. She speaks of it as a cycle, because neither group tries to understand the other (if there were only two, which there aren't, but that's not the point), and this allows the fear to continue; she also seems to realize that there isn't any reason for this to continue. The vignette explains that the people who are afraid of Esperanza's neighborhood are "stupid people who are lost and got here by mistake", and while it's never said directly, the implication seems to be that the people in her own neighborhood who are afraid of others are being just as narrow-minded. If the book is indeed her gift to the people of Mango Street, her intention may be to open their minds to the fact that people of other races should not automatically be seen as dangerous.
    Earlier, in the very first vignette, Esperanza speaks of a previous home and how, when she pointed it out to a passing nun from her school, the nun reacted with obvious distaste; this was because the flat looked even from the outside like an undesirable place, due to a lack of money. Later, in "A Rice Sandwich", Esperanza tells the story of the one occasion when she ate lunch in the canteen at school. The school's Sister Superior says that Esperanza doesn't live far enough away from the school to need to eat in the canteen, and then goes to the window and points out "a row of ugly three-flats, the ones even the raggedy men are ashamed to go into" (45) with the guess that Esperanza lives there. These events, and others in the book, indicate a general contempt for poverty exhibited by many secondary characters. Perhaps this is another issue Esperanza aims to change with her writings? It wouldn't be possible to eliminate the poverty itself, not with a book, but at least people will not automatically look down on those with less money.
    And how can we be sure that Esperanza intends this book to help those still on Mango Street? By the way she describes her first encounter with this idea. It arises in "The Three Sisters", where one of the title characters speaks to Esperanza about her desire to leave:

"When you leave you must remember to come back for the others. A circle, understand? You will always be Esperanza. You will always be Mango Street. You can't erase what you know. You can't forget who you are." (105)

If the book is indeed Esperanza's message for those she leaves behind, this is her clue to those who read it. By including the message given to her by the mysterious sister, she is effectively saying: No, I have not forgotten who I am. I have remembered Mango Street, and I will come back for the ones I left behind. This, along with the final vignette, cements the theory that The House on Mango Street is what she offers those who "cannot out".
    Of course, we know that Esperanza is herself fictional and technically cannot write a book, but many books are written with clear indication that they are intended to be seen as the character's writings; third-person books sometimes do this too. It gives the reader more concrete ideas about events after the book. Perhaps Esperanza, like Alicia, attended university; perhaps she became the one who is beautiful and cruel, and her stories are meant to teach others to do the same. It's certainly a nice thought.

Tortillas Are Not Empowering

    Sandra Cisneros clearly acknowledges that boys and girls are often raised differently, but she indicates that they shouldn't be, or that the differences shouldn't be what they are. Her characters tend to speak of marriage as a goal of sorts (26), as if it is the only way to escape their current lives; from other vignettes it appears that the girls are raised to think this way, so that their only ambition is marriage. This is demonstrated on page 31:

"A woman's place is sleeping so she can wake up early with the tortilla star [...] Alicia, whose mama died, is sorry there is no one older to rise and make the lunchbox tortillas."

The statement about a woman's place seems to come at least in part from Alicia's father; Alicia is a university student, pursuing this path because she does not want to be limited to taking care of her family for the rest of her life. She is given the responsibility of making the tortillas because her mother is no longer around to do it, and her father probably leaves it to her because he considers it women's work. Her father also disapproves of her life as a student, presumably because it means she will spend less time doing the things women are "supposed" to do, and that she has ambitions apart from getting married. The implication is that a boy in that situation would not be disapproved of, that the choice to attend university would then show initiative. Cisneros's tone in the vignette indicates that she finds this double standard unfair, that at least this differentiation between the genders should not stand.
    In the vignette "Beautiful & Cruel", Esperanza (Cisneros's protagonist) refers to marriage as "the ball and chain" and talks about a common female character in movies who is "beautiful and cruel". This woman is in control of what power she has, and uses it to maintain her independence from men without barring them from her life completely. But more telling are the words Esperanza uses to summarize her goal to be this type of woman:

"I am one who leaves the table like a man, without putting back the chair or picking up the plate." (89)

More than any other words in this vignette, this sentence speaks of the gender roles imposed on Esperanza and others like her. It is expected, or even required, that a woman clean up after herself--perhaps in more places than just the table mentioned here--but a man is actually expected not to do this. Therefore, if Esperanza leaves the table without cleaning up after herself, she is behaving "like a man". Does Cisneros approve of this distinction? It appears that she doesn't; her protagonist certainly ignores it, anyway, at least to the point of not obeying it, although it remains present enough for her to feel that it's worth mentioning. Esperanza is shown to find many of the imposed gender roles of her society unfair, both here and in other vignettes; while a character that serves simply as a mouthpiece for one's views usually seems more flat than Esperanza, it is unlikely that Cisneros is not in at least some agreement. After all, it's quite a challenge to write from the point of view of someone who thinks completely differently from oneself.
    It's quite clear that Sandra Cisneros does not think that boys and girls should not be rised differently, at least not in the ways outlined in the vignettes. The only question remaining is, do you?

William

I love this character. He sprang fully formed from an image of an irritating kid in an apple tree, and continues to provide me with inspiration daily. He's had some interesting adventures, some of them involving talking cats, which may or may not show up here later.

---

    This time he was sitting in a tree, munching an apple and dangling his legs insolently.
    "Why are you still here?" she demanded.
    He laughed. "Oh, for this reason and that one. Fancy an apple? I've got plenty."
    "But what reasons?" She was beginning to get very vexed with him.
    "Oh, that. Well, there are too many of them for me to tell even the ravens, and they can listen for hours when they've a mind to. The long and the short of it is that I'm a wizard." He took another bite of apple.
    "You can't be!"
    "Oh, can't I?"
    "No! You haven't got a robe."
    "And who said wizards have to wear robes?"
    "Well, you haven't got a hat!"
    "And?" He appeared greatly amused by her confusion, and he laughed when she scowled at him.
    "Well--well--you just can't be, that's all!"
    "Oh, all right, then. But if I'm not a wizard, then I can't tell you why I'm here." He winked and swung higher up the tree, out of sight.
    "Wait!"
    "You're very indecisive, you know that?" He reappeared, hanging upside down from a high branch.

- - -

    Now he was in the kitchen, sitting on the table and munching another apple, or maybe the same one. When she came in, he grinned as if at some private joke.
    She slammed her hand on the table near him, and was further irritated when he didn't flinch. "You'll be in trouble when Mother gets home, you know. Mother doesn't approve of this sort of thing."
    "Oh, I doubt I'll have too much trouble with your mother. Do you have any cold cider? I'm parched."
    "Right, I suppose you'll use your wizardly powers," and she rolled her eyes.
    "I don't think it will come to that. I'm rather charming, you know."
    Which was even more infuriating, because it was true.
    "You're just saying that because you're not really a wizard. You won't use your powers because you don't have any."
    He shook his head with an air of disappointment, though his grin never left his face. "Still on about that, are you? Oh dear. I believe I've already disposed of the illusion that I require a robe, hat, or wand. What is it now?"
    "Well--look, why did you have to ask about the cider, then? You should just know! Better yet, conjure up your own drink!"
    He dropped his apple core carelessly on the table. "That would be a dreadful waste. There are better ways of using magic, you know. And you never did answer me, anyway."
    "You're just an arrogant boy, that's what you are! You don't deserve any cider!" She felt a bit silly, having said this, but she tried to look stern anyway.
    "Well, well." He contrived to look affronted. "If you're going to be like that, I'll get my refreshment somewhere else." He jumped up and swung a leg over the window sill.
    "But--" For some reason, she suddenly wanted him to stay. At least until her mother got home, she amended, so she could watch her rage at him.
    "Farewell, fair maiden." And he was, suddenly and irrevocably, gone.
    A few minutes after he left, she remembered the apple core. When she reached for it, however, it was gone. In its place was a bracelet of some unknown material, a simple bangle of gold-veined red. When she slipped it on, a seed fell onto the table.
    She stared out the window for several minutes. Then she went out to milk the cows, wondering.

---

    He was standing in snow halfway to his knees, and his scarf, which was far too long, whipped around him in the wind. The snow collected on his shoulders and in his hair, and fell into his pockets when he held them open, but he didn't seem to be cold.
    As she watched, he scooped up a handful of the whiteness, despite the fact that he wore no gloves.
    "You shouldn't do that."
    He turned, smiled at her. "Why not, my dear lady?"
    "You'll get frostbite, or some such. It's like putting your hand in a bucket of ice water."
    "Is it really?" He looked surprised. "Learn something new every day, I suppose." He turned his hand over and watched the snow fall, fluttering down to become indistinguishable from anything else. "And who are you, who is so wise in the ways of winter?"
    "Stella." She felt, absurdly, that he was mocking her--perhaps because she had been so often mocked in the past. But he seemed perfectly pleasant. "And you?"
    "I'm William, when I choose to be myself. There have been times that I've had to be somebody different, but I think those days are over." He thrust his hands into his pockets and leaned back, staring up at the grey sky. "Walk with me, Stella, won't you? I could use the company." He looked over at her. "If you don't mind terribly, that is."
    He walked strangely in the snow, lifting each leg entirely above the surface before plunging it back in. Nevertheless, she found herself struggling to keep up with him. "So what are you doing in this town?"
    "Oh...nothing, really." And she looked at him and knew, absolutely knew, that he would tell her nothing more on the subject no matter how she pressed.
    They walked in silence for a while, watching the snow muffle the world. And neither minded the silence.

Daughter of Alnia

Contents
1........................................Castles
2.....................Backwards Quellen
3...The Vest of Feliciano Montgard
4...............................Jester's Mule

Windows

    In The House on Mango Street, Sandra Cisneros seems to use windows to represent lonely people; the idea is that these people just sit and stare out the window, perhaps wishing for a different life. The first shows up in "My Name", on page 11, when Esperanza talks about her great-grandmother:

"She looked out the window her whole life, the way so many women sit their sadness on an elbow."

In the text beforehand, she mentions that her great-grandfather forced her aforementioned great-grandmother to marry him, against her will, and that she never forgave him. It would appear, then, that here the window symbolizes the great-grandmother wishing she had not married, still angry at having been torn from her previous life. She longs for the way she used to live. Much the same thing is shown in "No Speak English":

"She sits all day by the window and plays the Spanish radio show and sings all the homesick songs about her country [...]" (77)

Much like Esperanza's great-grandmother, Mamacita (the "she" in this passage) is being kept away from the life she used to live--in this case, presumably in Mexico. The many ways she shows her desire to return to her old life are detailed in the vignette: how she refuses to learn English, how she never comes downstairs,  how she misses the house she used to live in. It upsets her when her younger child speaks English, even when it is only a Pepsi commercial, because it makes her even more isolated from the people around her. She does not belong, and so she stares wistfully out the window.
    Finally, there is Rafaela. She, too, stares out the window and wishes for something different, something better:

"Rafaela leans out the window [...] and dreams her hair is like Rapunzel's. On the corner there is music from the bar, and [she] wishes she could go there and dance [...]" (79)

From the surrounding text, it is clear that Rafaela's husband does not let her leave the house, perhaps out of the fear that she will not come back. She asks the children who hang around nearby to get her things from the store because she cannot go there herself. The mention of dreaming that her hair is like Rapunzel's also shows her desire to escape; if her hair were indeed as long as Rapunzel's perhaps someone would climb up it to rescue her. She is trapped, unable to do what she wants, like the other two women who sit and stare out the window. The windows show that these women want to escape the lives they lead, controlled by men as they are, and also that it seems impossible to escape.

The Color Purple

            Alice Walker’s epistolary novel The Color Purple tells the story of two sisters, Celie and Nettie, who are separated by the unfortunate circumstances of their lives and do not meet again for many years. Celie is forced to marry Albert (referred to for much of the book as Mr___), who views her as a lesser being and treats her like a servant; later, Celie meets Shug Avery, the woman Albert actually wanted to marry, and the two become first friends and then lovers. Nettie, on the other hand, flees their abusive father and becomes a missionary in Africa after becoming friends with a woman named Corinne; by some chance, Corinne is raising Celie’s children, who were taken from Celie after her father got her pregnant. Throughout their lives, the two sisters go through many changes in their perspectives on religion which eventually lead to the same ideas, as well as experiencing similar forms of gender inequality, though they react to it differently.

            Based upon the different directions their lives take, it is apparent that Celie and Nettie begin with different views of God. Celie’s letters to God are written in the tone of a journal or diary. She seems to think of God as a confidante, perhaps with the idea that he is the only one who will listen to her problems. There is a point where she recounts a conversation with Nettie about Celie living with Albert (Mr ___), noting: “I just say, Never mine, never mine, long as I can spell G-o-d I got somebody along.” (17) It is clear that confiding in God helps Celie deal with what is happening to her. On the other hand, it seems probable that Nettie’s concept of God is different; based on the fact that she becomes a missionary and on some of her own statements, it appears that she views God more distantly. Although her situation at the start of the book is in many ways as bad as her sister’s, she never writes letters to God or any other such entity. Later on she mentions prayer, but this seems to be a more remote form of communication. This may have something to do with Nettie’s continued belief, while Celie goes through a second stage of religious development: the idea that there is no God at all. After Celie finds out that the man she knew as her father is not really, and learns the truth about her parents, she goes through a period of doubting God’s existence or willingness to help her. This is not thoroughly covered in her letters apart from her explanation of it to Shug, but it still clearly occurs. But Nettie, who watches the destruction of the Olinka people’s way of life, never stops believing in God. This may stem from her conception of him: because she sees God as a more distant figure, she does not blame him for the actions of selfish humans as Celie seems to.

The final view that both of them reach, however, is the same. There is no great detail in Nettie’s description of her changing viewpoint, only a brief description of the realization both she and Celie eventually reach:

“God is different to us now, after all these years in Africa. More spirit than ever before, and more internal. Most people think he has to look like something or someone—a roofleaf or Christ—but we don’t. And not being tied to what God looks like, frees us.” (257)

This is a more eloquent summary of the understanding of God that Celie also comes to—that God has no specific shape or appearance. It is in everything in some way, a spirit that infuses everything rather than a being that controls it. The fundamental reason for God’s creation of things, as explained by Shug to Celie, is that it, like everything else, wants to be loved. This version of God appeals to the sisters possibly because both of them have been in situations where they, too, wanted to be loved: Celie for most of her life before meeting Shug, and Nettie to some extent when Corinne is suspicious of her husband Samuel’s interactions with Nettie.

            Both sisters also have experience with sexism, but they have encountered and responded to it in different ways. Celie, in fact, has dealt with it from the beginning: she is treated much like an object by the man she knows as her father, first sexually abused and then sent off to live with Albert in a way much reminiscent of someone trying to sell something. It is clear from what she records of people’s words that the men she knows treat their wives like property, just there to follow instructions. Albert, relatively early in the book, even states that he beats Celie just because she is his wife. Nettie’s experiences of this mentality occur in Africa rather than America, but in some ways what she sees is much the same. To begin with, of course, she also lives with their “father”, and witnesses his abuse of Celie; she has a similar incident with Albert but responds by fighting back, which leads to her being forced to leave his house. The following years, for Nettie, are not as rife with sexism as her sister’s, and Samuel seems to see her as an equal. It is only in Africa that she observes the same gender inequality Celie has been living with all along:

“[The men] listen just long enough to issue instructions. They don’t even look at women when women are speaking. They look at the ground and bend their heads toward the ground…[for the women] to ‘look in a man’s face’ is a brazen thing to do.” (162)

Among the Olinka as well as the people in the sisters’ hometown, the women are thought of and taught to think of themselves as inferior. The men assume that what women have to say is generally of little importance, and that they exist only to be ordered around. Female children in the Olinka village are not even allowed to go to school, due to the assumption that they will never use that education. In fact, this is another link to Celie’s experiences, as Celie is not allowed to go to school following her first pregnancy. It is clearly demonstrated that sexism is much the same for both sisters.

            Although they see the same patterns in gender inequality, Celie and Nettie do not react to it in the same way. Celie first becomes extremely subdued, rarely speaking to anyone apart from her sister—at least partly because so many of the people in her life are men. After meeting Shug, Celie discovers her own lesbian feelings, and though it is not entirely certain, it seems that this may be partially influenced by her negative experiences with men. This is most clearly demonstrated by Celie’s response to being asked whether she dislikes Albert just because he is a man: “Take off they pants, I say, and men look like frogs to me. No matter how you kiss ’em, as far as I’m concern, frogs is what they stay.” (254) It becomes obvious, after this exchange and a later conversation on the same subject, that Celie will never be happy in a relationship with a man; of course, this is also clear in her interactions with Shug. But Nettie does not feel the same way, despite having experienced the same kind of sexism her sister has. Quite apart from being lesbian, Celie has a dislike for all men, but Nettie clearly does not make the same immediate judgment; she even marries Samuel after Corinne’s death. This may be because Nettie has not dealt with gender inequality as directly as Celie. She has merely observed it from the outside, without it being applied to her most of the time; her life is not defined by male supremacy as her sister’s is. Divergent experiences lead to unlike reactions and assumptions.

Even as their lives follow completely different courses, Celie and Nettie manage to draw the same conclusions about religion and God; they also see much the same kind of gender inequality, though Celie is more directly affected, which is probably why the sisters respond so differently. Nettie begins with a more distant view of God than her sister seems to have, but like Celie, she eventually comes to the realization that God has no set appearance and is in everything. Celie is a victim of sexism many times over, while Nettie only views it from the outside, and as a result Celie hates men while Nettie does not. Alice Walker’s point in creating these characters, therefore, seems to be at least partly in favor of fighting against gender inequality; Nettie fights from the beginning and her life is presented as being better, while Celie remains submissive until she leaves Albert’s house with Shug, at which point her life improves but not to the level of her sister’s. Celie and Nettie themselves, as characters, are simply products of their experiences and cannot be judged as anything else.

Letters to God

    In the novel The Color Purple, the protagonist Celie's letters to God make it clear that she is a religious person, but it also shows something about the way she sees God. It would seem that she thinks of God as someone to whom she can tell all her problems without too much judgment, perhaps someone to confide in. As the book goes on her letters begin to sound more and more like a diary, or maybe just letters to a friend. However, in her first letter, Celie writes, "Maybe you can give me a sign letting me know what is happening to me." In this instance, it is clear that she is addressing the God who would be the recipient of her letter, were she able to send it. Perhaps, as the story continues, her faith in God becomes secondary to her belief in what is happening now. In the beginning her letters are also much shorter--brief confidences, or confessions; it is difficult to tell sometimes why she writes things down. As she continues, the letters get longer, and it seems more as though she is telling the story of her life. It is as if she thinks of God as the only friend she has, or the only person who would care enough to listen.
    As I have mentioned, the letters mainly seem to record the goings-on of Celie's life, with particular attention to things out of the ordinary. There are several different potential reasons for her doing this.  Maybe she wants to keep a record of important events in her life so she can look back on it later on; she may not want to forget anything, and the best way she can think of to remember is by writing everything down. Or, based on the aforementioned sentence from the first letter, maybe she is going through a confusing time as compared to her life before the letters. In this case, she would be writing things down to more easily process them, to help her get a better understanding of what is going on. This seems somewhat more likely, as she mainly records those events which break her regular routine; many of them she seems to be confused about, or uncertain, and perhaps she needs to work out her feelings on paper. This would explain why none of the letters are dated.
    Another possible reason for her letter-writing may be related to Celie's sister, Nettie. In her eighth letter, Celie writes, "I know I'm not as pretty or as smart as Nettie, but she say I ain't dumb." Celie goes on to explain how her sister tried to teach her things she was learning at school after Celie herself was taken out of school by her father. So it's possible that Celie is also writing things down because she wants to improve her writing. She might see this as learning something (which it is), and because her sister is no longer present to teach her things, she wants to find some way to teach herself.