Why?

When discussing In the Time of the Butterflies earlier in the semester, our class determined that one of the most important aspects of understanding any story is to understand both why its characters are where they are, and why they go on a journey, whether that journey is actual/physical, emotional, or spiritual. 

In the novel Push, by Sapphire, it is not hard to see that the main character, Precious Jones, embarks on all of these types of expeditions.  At the beginning of her story, Precious exists in a place of self-doubt, danger, instability and uncertainty; none-the-less, she starts to travel—into motherhood, into school, into a new home, into a new pattern of behavior—and over time, she experiences profound and truly monumental change.  In a sense of the word, she arrives. Given the circumstances of Precious’ youth, however, ‘why’ becomes a very difficult question to even contemplate.  Readers are left asking a much more rhetorical ‘why’ than in most cases.  Why does this young woman have to experience the horrors of rape and incest, of abuse and maternal molestation, of ridicule and judgment? Why do we exist in a world where these abuses can take place? Why doesn’t anyone intervene on this child’s behalf?

Arguably, there is no answer to these questions—it is nearly impossible to comprehend the devastation of Precious’ treatment from an outside perspective.  Additionally, there is a clear explanation for why Precious undertakes learning to read, living on her own, and being a mother—somehow, this young woman, with such an inner well of strength, saw no choice other than to break the cycle of abuse, of being uneducated, of being categorized by the system. 

Therefore, to truly comprehend Precious’ story, one must focus not only on why, but what this young woman actually achieves.  The last paragraph of the novel is in Precious’ own inner monologue, while she is sitting with her son, Abdul:

“It’s Sunday, no school, meetings. I’m in dayroom at Advancement House, sitting on a big leather stool holdin’ Abdul.  The sun is coming through the window splashing down on him, on the pages of his book.  It’s called The Black BC’s. I love to hold him on my lap, open up the world to him.  When the sun shine on him like this, he is an angel child.  Brown sunshine. And my heart fill.  Hurt.  One year?  Five?  Ten years?  Maybe more if I take care of myself.  Maybe a cure.  Who knows, who is working on shit like that? Look his nose is so shiny, his eyes shiny.  He my shiny brown boy.  In his beauty I see my own.  He pulling on my earring, want me to stop daydreaming and read him a story before nap time. I do” (139-140).

            What a difference from the Precious that readers meet on the first page.  She talks about the sun, the warmth of which she was unable to feel under her mother’s oppression.  She is teaching her son to read, having evolved from student to mentor.  She sees her own beauty, after having ridiculed herself for years for not looking more like the white or skinny women she sees as beautiful and deserving of love.  She has a moment to daydream, after living in a nightmare.  And, perhaps, more remarkably than anything else, she says, “I do.”  This phrase is active, and it indicates that she has earned some control in her own life and, if nothing else, is no longer failing herself.

            There are so many people and institutions that failed Precious while she was growing up; her mother, father, grandmother, neighbors, the police, the hospital all allowed, whether directly or indirectly, facilitate the abuse that she suffers.  Even Precious’ own body, which becomes pregnant under circumstances outside of her control and experiences biological arousal despite the revulsion she feels about her father’s sexual behaviors, seems to betray her.  But her mind and her soul, those other two pieces of self that she maintains, enable her to move forward.  Against all odds, she goes to school, learns to read and write, and finds the capacity to be a caring mother.  She becomes less defensive as she develops these skills, acting out less and broadening her perspective with the help of her new found friends. Indeed, she goes on a journey that truly epitomizes the human capacity for hope and resilience.