63 pages • 2-hour read
Lalita TademyA modern alternative to SparkNotes and CliffsNotes, SuperSummary offers high-quality Study Guides with detailed chapter summaries and analysis of major themes, characters, and more.
Content Warning: This section of the guide includes discussion of child sexual assault, sexual assault, enslavement, and racist violence.
Rather than being an incidental aspect of the plantation economy, sexual coercion is central to the project of enslavement and to the exploitation of Black women after Emancipation. Throughout the novel, white enslavers explicitly use sexual coercion to reinforce their power over Black women. Even after enslavement is abolished, the dynamic between powerful white men and less powerful Black women persists, with some differences. In the novel, Tademy presents three forms of sexual coercion and explores how these tactics reverberate down the generations, impacting all of the women in Elisabeth’s line.
The first form of coercion is violent rape, as is demonstrated when Tademy foreshadows Eugene Daurat’s assertion of power and eventual rape of Suzette from his very first encounter with her. The dynamic is first introduced with Louis Derbanne’s lewd talk as he points out Suzette to Eugene; the issue is further reinforced with Eugene’s disingenuous comment about drinking immature wine, for the salacious undercurrents of this conversation reveal that the two men see Suzette’s young body as currency that they are exchanging to cement their own friendship and business relationship. When Eugene finally rapes Suzette, he treats her as an object to satisfy his sexual urges, then sends her on her way with no acknowledgement of what he has done; in his mind, she is not a person and therefore has no right to bodily autonomy. His abuse of her reflects the broader relationship between white men and enslaved Black girls and women, making it clear that he and men like him have no qualms about committing acts of domination and dehumanization.
Crucially, this form of sexual coercion operates in silence even though everyone is fully aware of what is happening. This silence is maintained by shaming women and girls when their pregnancy—the products of their rape—begins to show. For example, Françoise openly blames Suzette rather than Eugene, characterizing the pregnancy as proof of what she sees as the inherently promiscuous nature of Black girls and women. Similarly, when Oreline treats Suzette coolly upon learning of the pregnancy, it is because she sees the pregnancy and the rape that preceded it as a secret that Suzette has kept from her, and Oreline fails to appreciate that Suzette has been assaulted and abused by a white man whom she was powerless to reject. That same form of blame was also once aimed at Elisabeth, whose previous enslaver sold her away rather than confronting the obvious fact that Elisabeth had been exploited by the woman’s husband. Notably, Elisabeth tells Suzette that she can offer her daughter no true protection or advice on fending off Eugene, and the conversation reveals that even the parent-child relationship cannot survive the impact of sexual coercion.
The second form of coercion is one in which Black women agree to become the mistresses of white men who desire them merely because the women know that such coercion is inevitable. Women like Philomene, who are born into enslavement, and those like Doralise, who is a free woman of color, are caught between gaining nothing or gaining something from their exploitation—a lose-lose proposition, given that these women and their children will remain subject to the whims of white men. Those whims extend even to physical violence, as when Narcisse punches Philomene after her attempt to assert claims for her children. The failure of the law to give Black women agency or to legitimize their children reflects the broader vulnerability of Black people in a system that is built to support a racist social order. In this context, the “bleaching of the line” (382) gains momentum; this approach is based upon the idea that if to be white is to have agency and financial independence and to be Black is to have neither, then the greatest advantage that Black women can secure for their offspring is to give them a greater chance of passing as white.
The third form of sexual coercion takes place because of the constraints that the law places on Black women’s agency and upon Black people more broadly after enslavement is abolished. On the surface, such relationships are not the result of violent or inevitable encounters, as in previous generations. Nevertheless, these relationships reflect the unequal power dynamics between Black people and white people, and between women and men, during the Post-Reconstruction period. Emily is 14 when Joseph, her guardian, begins grooming her, and he is the one who determines that she is ready to have a relationship with him at 16, despite his greater age. The eventual outcome of their relationship (death for Joseph and the theft of the inheritance from Emily’s children) shows that the law gives white men power over Black women—even when Black women are ostensibly “free.” The women’s silence when the sheriff questions them about Joseph’s death shows their awareness of this truth and their inability to change it.
Emancipation comes during the course of the events of the novel, but the Black female figures still face significant constraints that not even the legal end of enslavement can remove. While many of the Black female characters discover that being free doesn’t guarantee true freedom, the experiences of Doralise and Emily illustrate that truth the most explicitly.
Doralise, who is Suzette’s godmother before Emancipation, is a free person of color, but she still experiences moments of powerlessness and danger despite her legal status. When Suzette appeals to her godmother for help in ensuring that Philomene’s future is brighter than Suzette’s, Doralise makes it clear that she has limited power to protect the baby. Doralise’s lack of agency is made explicit many times to Suzette, including when she hears Doralise’s husband screaming at Doralise outside the church and sees Doralise’s blackened eyes: the results of her partner’s abuse. These details make it clear that Doralise cannot advocate for herself and will have little power to advocate for someone else. It takes the intervention of a white man, Eugene Daurat, for Doralise to be granted a divorce and to become a woman of property. Her freedom only goes as far as men allow, and the version of freedom she achieves grants her only partial agency.
Emily Fredieu is another “free” Black woman, but despite her birth after the end of enslavement, she also encounters distinct limits to that freedom. As a child, she is subjected to the whims of adults, as when her father sends her to school and places her under the guardianship of a man who marries her when she is still a teenager. Emily’s relationship with Joseph Billes occurs in the context of Reconstruction and Post-Reconstruction, when a grim combination of violence and unjust laws allowed white people to continue to exercise social and legal control over formerly enslaved Black people and their descendants. Emily is married to Billes in all but name, but as a Black woman, she has no claim to her home in Billes Landing, and this is made clear when Joseph Billes evicts her so that he can move his white wife-to-be into the home that he originally built for Emily. Her willingness to allow Joseph to be a part of her life and her children’s lives causes disruption to the racial order in Cane River; threats to her person and family limit her ability to exercise control over her property, and they prohibit the possibility of her marriage to Joseph. These details show that freedom is complicated at best for the “free” Black women in Cane River.
In her interaction with the census taker, Elisabeth observes of the people in her family a movement from “from coffee, to cocoa, to cream, to milk, to lily. A conscious and not-so-conscious bleaching of the line” (382). The phrase “bleaching of the line” is a reference to colorism: the act of valuing people whose skin tone more closely approximates whiteness over those who have darker skin. Colorism represents one of the enduring marks of enslavement on the bodies and psyches of the women (and some men) in the book. The “bleaching of the line” (382) actually begins with Suzette, but it occurs offstage. It may be that Elisabeth’s “bleaching of the line” is a conscious decision, inasmuch as she chooses Gerasíme. Suzette, whose skin tone is the “cocoa” in that metaphorical progression, gives birth to Philomene, making Eugene Daurat the author of that “bleaching of the line” (382) through rape. In these cases, there is no agency involved.
After the end of enslavement, colorism once again comes into play despite the greater agency accorded to Elisabeth’s daughter, granddaughter, and great-granddaughter. Despite their freedom, these women nevertheless find themselves hemmed in by racism that affects their survival and their economic mobility. Because of these conditions, the women consciously use colorism as a survival strategy. When Elisabeth accuses Philomene of being “color-struck” (310), Philomene makes it clear that her children’s very light skin is a currency that they can spend to gain higher social status. However, Elisabeth responds to Philomene’s belief that lighter skin is purely beneficial by warning her that “passing” as white destroys Black families because members who can pass abandon those who cannot. Thus, the novel makes it clear that this form of conscious “bleaching” comes at great personal cost. Emily, for example, loses her son Eugene forever when he leaves Cane River so that he can live as a white man.
Try as they might, these women discover that colorism, a hold-over from the time of enslavement, is not a viable strategy if one remains among one’s people, for one can never be light-skinned enough to actually be seen as white and gain access to the social advantages that come with such a perception. This reality is borne out when Lola labels Emily’s children using racist slurs associated with people who have both African and European heritage; her abuse is perpetuated despite the fact that these children are indistinguishable from white people, as evidenced by the photos included in the book.
Notably, T.O. is the only one who inverts the damaging logic of colorism. When T.O. chooses Eva Brew and brings her home to Emily, he sees it as an effort to “break the chain” and “strengthen the blood of his own children” (508). He values Blackness and associates it with positive traits that can help him and his family survive—unlike Emily, who unsuccessfully tries to pass as white at the end of the novel. In this scene, she still isn’t white enough to be served in front of a woman who is recognized as white or to be served in the café through the front door should anyone recognize her. During this era, Jim Crow laws, the legal successor to enslavement, were still designed to oppress Black people and force them to adhere to the unjust and arbitrary social divisions based on race. Tademy’s choice to present this picture of Emily counters her family’s myth-making of her ancestor as a gracious lady, and the novel’s conclusion thus points out the ultimate bankruptcy of colorism as a survival strategy.
The women of Elisabeth’s line and the other Black women of Cane River are not fully defined by the violence and heartbreak of living as enslaved people—or, in the years after Emancipation, as those who are bound by the injustices of a racist society. They gain many layers of wisdom and beauty from their connections to the women who came before them, and Elisabeth, as the matriarch of her line in Cane River, represents the power that connections to family can provide.
Elisabeth’s wisdom is hard-won and comes from her lived experiences as an enslaved woman. From the first, she gives the girls and women of her family the knowledge they need to navigate life under enslavement, and her legacy is carried forward as her descendants continue to confront the limitations imposed by racism. When she tells Suzette that “[t]here is no fair. Just do your work” (13), she is giving her daughter a piece of grim but practical advice that will help them to survive the likes of the Derbannes. Elisabeth also directly counters the flawed logic of colorism when she tells Philomene that Clement’s “brown doesn’t make him bad, and [Philomene’s] yellow doesn’t make [her] good” (112). Without exception, Elisabeth’s insight is borne out by the experiences of the subsequent generations of her family.
Elisabeth is also the main figure who seeks and finds joy and beauty by creating a nurturing family life amidst the oppressive environment of enslavement. She plants roses, braids hair, and makes quilts, and the meals that she cooks serve as an anchor for the family during hard times. In fact, Philomene’s vision of the family sitting around a table over which Elisabeth and her granddaughter preside is the quintessential expression of the family’s will to survive enslavement with their connections intact. Likewise, the quilts that Elisabeth creates are a communal affair, for she invites Philomene to help her with the sewing as Philomene waits for news of Clement. Elisabeth even works on the quilt long after her eyes and joints make the task difficult, performing this labor for the sheer pleasure of forming “a handsome design that held at the center and became more than any of the fragments” (378). In this way, the act of making the quilt draws the entire family together. Philomene eventually becomes the decision-maker in the family, but Elisabeth remains the “root” (506). Mentoring everyone from her daughter to her great-grand-daughter, she gives the women of her family the resources to resist the destruction and dehumanization that Black Americans experienced under the eras of enslavement and Post-Reconstruction.



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