Caucasia by Danzy Senna

Caucasia is a novel that belongs in IMHO's Cultural Identity Crisis department if ever there was, even though neither Rascal or Nette can lay claim to this particular brand. Danzy Senna's story about coming of age in America is wrenched all out of shape by the fact that the protagonist is of mixed race. So what, right? Especially in the 1970s. I mean, I grew up at the same time, and many of my little friends and classmates had one white parent and one black parent. But apparently inner city Toronto was a very different thing from Boston U.S.A.

Birdie and Cole are the daughters of a black intellectual and a white activist/revolutionary. As sisters, they are super-close and speak to each other in their own invented language. But Cole has inherited darker skin and an afro from her father, while Birdie looks mediterranean with olive skin and straight hair. From very early on they are given keen object lessons about a highly racist society. Birdie has a hard time fitting into "Nkrumah, The Black Power School" they attend, while Cole is pretty much ignored by her white maternal grandmother. Even closer to home, Birdie is aware of the pride and comfort her father takes in beautiful Cole's African-American appearance, while Cole experiences frustration with a mother who can't braid her hair nicely, the way other girls' mothers do.

But it all gets a lot more weird than this. The parents' marriage splits apart, mirroring the increased racial tension in the city. Birdie's father decided to emigrate to Brazil, where he hopes to find a society better fit for a black man. Birdie's mother believes her involvement with the radical underground has finally caught up with her, and the FBI are on the verge of making an arrest. So what do they do? Each parent grabs the appropriate-coloured kid and takes off in their separate directions. For Birdie this means years of hiding under a false identity, learning the flip-side of the racial coin in a small town in New Haven. Hard enough to handle all that teenage stuff like boys, fashion and bitchy girlfriends, without having to re-learn it all in your schizophrenic country's white half.

This one moment in the book struck me as the epitome of Birdie's quandary. Her mother has spotted the only (visibly) half-black kid in school, and is electrified by the feelings it stirs up in her:

"'Why didn't you say hello to her?'
I shrugged again. 'Like Mona said, she's a loser. Everybody hates her. Nobody speaks to her except the school genius, Nora, and she's a loser too.'

I avoided my mother's glare, looking toward the electric poles and trees in the distance. I could see that her arm was shaking from the weight of the groceries. Jim was smacking away at his peanuts, and Mona was teasing her hair and gazing at her reflection in the van's window.

My mother's voice sounded thick as she said, 'A loser? Jesse Goldman, I never thought I'd hear you talk about another human being in such terms. What the fuck have I been trying to teach you all these years? That girl is no different from you. Do you hear me?'
"You mean we're both black?' It had come out before I could stop it.

My mother breathed in sharply, and we stared at each other.

I heard Mona beginning to giggle. She had her hand over her mouth and wa strying to stifle her laughter. She said, 'Sorry, Mrs Goldman. It's just what Jesse said. It's kinda funny.'

I looked at Jim. He appeared confused and was looking back and forth between my mother and me, wiping the salt and peanut grease from his lips.

My mother put her hand to her temple, as if to stop a migraine. Then she begins to giggle as well, loudly, in a way that made even Mona's smile disappear."

Typical hippy parent moment, I thought: In a very messed-up society, imposing this enormous idealistic burden on the next generation, and somehow expecting the children to manage better than they themselves are doing. Anyway, definitely worth a read, this book.

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