patsy-talks

[patsy-talks]

Nicole Dennis-Benn at @housingworksbookstore, 7/27/16

[patsy-talks]

About Jamaica: State Sanctioned Queerphobia

Patsy remembers how Roy appeared out of nowhere inside the house on Jackson Lane—the shattering of the rusted mirror now loud in her ears as if she’s back inside that moment. It was Roy who fought the man off of Patsy and Cicely with his bare hands; his blood splattered when the man slashed his fist with a shard of glass. (402)

To end this short blog—I might return to it, who knows—I want to talk about the dangerous queerphobia Patsy narrates. There are a few moments I wish to point out that make Patsy’s desire to leave the country more understandable. In contrast, Tru’s semi-open expression of her queer gender acts as a symbol of hope and improvement. I recommend watching Vice News’ Young and Gay: Jamaica's Gully Queens as it gives a quick insight into queer life in Jamaica.

Hints of Patsy and Cicely’s trauma are littered throughout the novel—whether it be through Roy’s scar, Cicely’s scar, or Patsy’s frequent return to that time. It is through Patsy’s memories that we are finally able to piece together what happened: Patsy and Cicely were attacked while being intimate with one another. Roy, for a reason that remains unknown, happened to be there at the time of the attack and stopped the event before it got worse. As discussed by Vice News, queer hatred is common in Jamaica with many of its LGBT citizens having to experience reoccurring physical violence because of their identities. Patsy and Cicely were lucky—the situation could’ve escalated beyond a small scar on Cicely’s brow. 

When Patsy left Jamaica she wasn’t just going for Cicely, she was emigrating for a chance to finally love without fear (something she eventually achieved with Claudette). While Tru hasn’t been physically attacked within the book, it’s still a looming threat considering the amount of harassment she receives for presenting more masculine. It can then be assumed that many Jamaicans in the real world have done the same. Though it may be difficult, as expressed in previous blogs, emigration might be the safest option for queer Jamaicans in immediate danger.

Not all hope is lost, however. I’ll cite Vice one last time to mention that there are still people fighting to legalize homosexuality within the country. Patsy doesn’t make a direct comment on this, but I believe Tru could stand as a symbol of progression in terms of queer rights. The previous generations have had to flee the country, while the new is choosing to remain and improve it. 

Tru had the hardship of trying to balance Patsy’s neglect and the struggles that come with being perceived as a woman. Despite this, she manages to find some sort of peace near the end with her “finally surrendering to the all-encompassing feeling of being a girl and a boy, hard and soft, powerful and vulnerable at the same time.” (419). I have no way of knowing how Tru’s life will continue, she’s still so young when the book ends, but I truly hope that she gets to live a life of love—love that her mother wasn’t able to get for decades.

[patsy-talks]

About Tru: Missing Her Mother, Or Just Queer?

I will use she/her pronouns when referring to Tru as the text does so throughout the narrative

In class, we had a brief discussion where we debated the origin of Tru’s non-conforming gender expression. To me, it was obvious that Tru’s gender was in some way queer (she may stay in the binary as a man, or remain somewhere in the middle). Another argument implied that her masculine nature was the result of not having her mother around to raise her. There are many controversial aspects to that statement—for example, what about same-sex parents? Are they “responsible” for their child becoming queer by not having both sexes present? Are children of single parents more likely to “become” queer?

Tru’s gender, in my opinion, was only indirectly influenced by her mother’s absence. As I discussed previously in Raised By A Phantom Mother, Patsy had always pushed traditional binary gender roles onto Tru. After she left Tru in Jamaica, her daughter continued to uphold those values in hopes it would bring her back. But with Tru growing out of her childhood self and separating from her mother’s image, I believe she was able to see a part of herself that had always been there. Her queer gender identity wasn’t created from her mother’s absence, but rather rejecting her mother’s teachings has led her to a path of discovery.

The reason I believe her queerness isn’t a direct result of her mother lies mostly in her own words. There are three specific instances I believe best explain what I mean. The first comes about when we’re just getting to know Tru in her high school years:

She considers herself one of the boys…Women and girls pause in restrooms when she enters. She doesn’t apologize or explain. She simply stares back at anyone who stares—an act that incites people to loudly suck their teeth and cuss under their breath…She likes the ambiguity, feels secretly affirmed by it. (275)

As a queer person, it’s clear to me that she’s experiencing gender euphoria. She likes the fact that she doesn’t present as a woman. I would even go on to argue that her goal isn’t to present as a man at all, but as someone outside of the binary. When Pope says “Ricky neva mention dat you’re a girl.” and Tru replies with “I’m not.”, she doesn’t specifically call herself a boy (360). Doing so would likely be dangerous in a queerphobic state, but she is nonetheless sure that she isn’t a girl. This yet again proves that her queer gender isn’t the result of a missing feminine presence (and, in turn, an exaggerated masculine presence her father provides), but her own truth of being somewhere in between. 

Another scene I’d like to point out is the one where she’s binding her chest in the girl’s locker room after the class had already cleared out. This scene all but confirms that femininity isn’t just something she’s fighting against, but also something she’s deeply uncomfortable by:

She examines herself in the long mirror to make sure there’re no bumps on her chest. But she still sees them. No matter how tight she does the bandage, she never feels secure. (308)

Saskia shrugs. “It looks painful.”

“Not as painful as having breasts.”

“I don’t know ‘bout you, but I like breasts.”

“Good for you,” Tru says. (309)

A rebellious child trying to combat her mother’s lessons likely wouldn’t go to the extent that Tru is. It’s clear through these small moments of euphoria, dysphoria, and outright denial of her birth sex, Tru’s gender expression, whatever it may be, is inherent to her sense of self. 

[patsy-talks]

About Patsy: Sacrificing For A Green Card Pt.2

Early on when Patsy is obtaining her visiting visa, she, like many others who have gone through the same process, is made to outperform the evaluator’s expectations. She had to prove that she had some semblance of wealth (by mentioning her “plans” to build a house), present herself in a respectable manner (wearing expensive clothing despite the heat), as well as lie about her reason for visiting America (claiming that she was going to a relative’s wedding). 

Now, because Patsy overstayed her visa and refuses to marry a citizen for a green card, she’s unable to return to Jamaica. Doing so would prevent her from going back to America altogether. She knows this and yet feels as though the trade-off is worth it. As if the opportunities awaiting her outshine what she had in Jamaica.

Instead, she finds that America doesn’t care for the achievements she’s made—her education and previous work experience mean nothing. Pasty had the highest math scores in Jamaica during her youth, she had an office job, and she took a course in one of her country’s universities. Needless to say, she wasn’t expecting to clean and raise other people’s children for the rest of her time in America. But just like Cicely, she had to conform to what corporate America wanted from its immigrants. Not only was she unable to build a stable relationship with her best friend and lover, but her value as a worker was capped at childcare. 

Tru was yet another loss emigrating took from her. Patsy wasn’t so keen on raising her own daughter to begin with, but later in the novel she’s able to acknowledge her mistake. Just like Cicely, Patsy can never return to Jamaica—she wouldn’t be granted access to America again after having over-stayed her visiting visa. Her chances of true forgiveness are slim, only so much can be expressed through letters and phone calls. 

Of course, not every aspect of American life went sideways for Patsy. Although she wasn’t able to get a job she considered “respectable,” she was able to live her truth as a queer woman. The U.S. certainly isn’t without its prejudice, but the fact that she was violently attacked in Jamaica for loving another woman isn’t something she fears in Brooklyn:

[Patsy] can afford to be careless. Do little things like brush a dreadlock out of her lover’s face, close that troublesome hook on the collar of her lover’s coat, use her thumb to wipe away that extra stroke of berry lipstick she can’t bear to let sit untouched in sunlight. Here, in a place where she’s alien, invisible, she can reach over to do this one thing—this one private thing without fear. The city has become an accomplice, making it so easy to fall in love. (367-8)

Based on this, it could be argued that she got what she emigrated for to begin with: love. Specifically love that affirmed her identity as a queer woman. It took plenty of sacrifices, some of which weren’t hers to make, but Patsy is more herself than she was previously able to be.

[patsy-talks]

About Cicely: Sacrificing For A Green Card Pt.1

“…My mother used to tell me dat my looks can take me nuff places—that it’s a pass. A visa through life. Mabley would be proud.”

“Is dat yuh only accomplishment? To be di trophy wife?” Patsy asks. 

“Sometimes we ‘ave to do t’ings we don’t like, to get what we want,” Cicely says with resolve. “An’ besides, ah got a beautiful son out of it. Dat is now my ambition.” (112)

America doesn’t grant access to their country to just anybody, and they certainly don’t make it easy for immigrants to become citizens. For the majority of American immigrants, emigrating is costly, dangerous, and emotionally taxing. It is not enough for a foreigner to simply want to live in America. They have to prove that they’re an above average-citizen and that their purpose for emigrating is beneficial to the state. 

Cicely managed to get around this by finding someone she could marry in order to to obtain her green card. Even this she fought for—having to bury her feelings for Patsy and steal funds from the Pennyfield don, Pope. Her sacrifice continues in the form of an abusive relationship, one where she owns nothing and is instead “a woman who sacrifices her needs for her husband” (111). This opportunity is unique to people like Cicely—someone whose lighter skin is an essential component of their perceived beauty. The effects of colorism would’ve made marriage even harder had she been born darker. 

Of course, as Patsy points out above, raising a child for a hateful man wasn’t her goal—especially since she originally planned on divorcing him after gaining citizenship. Just before that part of the conversation, Patsy reminds Cicely of her original dream of becoming a nurse. A noble yet challenging occupation for anyone regardless of immigration status. Even so, the enticement of a green card overshadowed her need for fulfillment. 

Unlike Patsy, who initially fights against doing servile work, Cicely has accepted her place with her new family. Because of these new duties, she doesn’t have the ability to return to Jamaica even with her green card. Cicely is then trapped in the same country, with the same man, and with the same unresolved futures. 

Whether or not Cicely’s life change was worth gaining access to the U.S. isn’t black and white. On one hand, she was fleeing a homophobic area where she had to sell substances for Pope. On the other, the place she ran to took away much of her freedom. To decide whether or not her decision was a good one is entirely up to Cicely herself. As Patsy makes it very clear, the grand ideas of what American life is like don’t always match reality. Things will surely be different, but that doesn’t always mean better.

Like many immigrants, Cicely was sold on the idea of reaching for something better and was soon let down by the reality of the glorified country. It makes you question just how many people in the real world ended up worse-off after emigrating, and how much of their original skills/intelligence won’t be accepted by corporate America.

[patsy-talks]

About Tru: Raised By A Phantom Mother

Tru nods. “Good girls keep dem self neat an’ clean.”

Patsy smiles. “An dey obedient. Can you promise me dat? Be a good obedient girl an’ I promise I’ll be back fah you.” (61)

Parents often forget the impact their words have on their children. Patsy likely forgot, or likely didn’t care. Lying to Tru about her plans to return—or rather, lack thereof—only left her daughter confused about the situation. Had Patsy left Tru with her father while choosing to stay in Jamaica, her abandonment would’ve been less elusive. Because of her final words and her eventual immigration, Tru was left to believe that she had not been abandoned at all. That her mother would return, or at the very least send her love from abroad. 

She had every right to hold on to her mother’s words, much of her community assumed the two were still connected in some way. After all, it was typical for the children of immigrated parents to receive gifts from them. Maybe only a call or a written letter once and a while, but contact nonetheless. Tru had none of that. Instead, she was made to believe that her connection to her mother relied on her being an “obedient girl.” 

I argue that this sentiment did much of the parenting for Tru’s early life. Marva made it clear that Tru wasn’t her child, and Tru wasn’t nearly as familiar with her father as she was with her mother. While they no doubt had an impact on her development as her guardians, it would always be filtered through Patsy’s presumed return. Even later when she was just starting to distance herself from Patsy's image, Tru still tries to prove herself to her absent mother. After failing her CXC (an exam that determines her registration at Wilhampton), she not only puts effort into trying again, but Tru is aware of its absurdity: “What’s the use of continuing to wear a Wilhampton uniform when her mother will never see her in it?” (254). The search for approval remains. 

Once she grows older and begins to transition from her childhood ideation, Tru is still haunted by her mother’s transgressions. She hasn’t heard from her in years and has started rejecting the femininity her mother wanted out of her. Even as a small child, Patsy discouraged her “tomboy ways” and urged her to be more like the girls at Wilhampton (31). Later, when Pasty finally sends the long-overdue barrel of gifts, they’re all hyperfeminine and completely out of character for Tru. Patsy not only left her child after instilling binary feminine values, but she assumes that Tru continues to uphold them. 

It could be argued that Tru’s queered gender expression is a result of her absent mother, I think it’s more accurate to say that the distance only helped her discover a latent part of herself. While there is no doubt a connection, I find it difficult to believe that her more masculine presentation is a direct result of Patsy’s wrongdoings. Without her mother’s phantom lessons on femininity, Tru was able to become more of herself. (This particular aspect of Tru’s gender expression is later discussed in Missing Her Mother, Or Just Queer?.)

To conclude and complete this blog, there is no question that Patsy’s final words to Tru affected her upbringing. Her mother’s immigration status led Tru to believe in the possibility of return. As she aged and matured, she realized that her mother wasn’t likely to come back and, in turn, grew into a more true version of herself.

[patsy-talks]

Table of Contents:

- About Tru: Raised By A Phantom Mother

- About Cicely and Patsy: Sacrificing For A Green Card  (Part1) (Part2)

- About Tru: Missing Her Mother, Or Just Queer?

- About Jamaica: State Sanctioned Queerphobia

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