Schooling the Help: ForeThought to a note from the Association of Black Women Historians (ABWH)
Recently, I read the book "The Help," (by Kathryn Stockett) and later with some relunctance, viewed the movie with the same title. Granted there exists some notable differences between the book and the film, I have major concerns with the overall message the book and movie delivers to the general public.
In short, the film distorts history and Black women's lives in a hostile socio-political context, while simultaneously, neglecting to capture the nuances of African American's lives in the south. I will leave that critique to writers of the American Black Women's History Association (ABWHA)  (see the open letter from the organization below).

My concern here is with the ways in which so many Black girls in America are still being schooled to become the next generation of The Help. Many young women of African ancestry are being prepared by white female teachers to participate, and be content, with their place in society. For most Black women, their place in society will be at the bottom of the social stratum, stuck in lower-tier work, with little opportunity for social or economic mobility. And, those who are not being reared as "The Help" are socialized to view themselves as superior to or "special" compared to their lower-income peers, even though their material existence still does not compare to that of their white male and female counterparts.

As the U.S. competes with other developed (and under-developed) countries in the era of globalization and in a post-industrial economy, it is pertinent that more African American females are trained and skilled in technological fields, including disciplines, such as math, science, and medicine. Furthermore, we need more young women to enter the teaching profession. However, as I have argued elsewhere (see Teaching Other People's Daughters, Evans-Winters & Esposito, 2011), most teachers are not adequately prepared to teach African American girls. The majority of those entering the teaching profession are young white female students from suburban middle class families. These future teachers tend to view Black girls, and their development and culture from a deficit perspective.

Media portrayals such as that put forth by the Help do not change white women's perceptions of Black girls and women. Instead, movies like the Help produces what Freire refers to as a "false generosity" from white women and others. Images of mammy (asexual and holier-than-thou) and sapphire (the fast talking, eye-popping, hot tempered Black woman), for instance, do not help the Black girls' cause. False generosity and age old stereotypes of Black females in the media only lead to under estimating the power and potential of this group of girls. Young Black women will not benefit from white women's pity or false generosity. In the case of education and schooling, Black girls will benefit from an educational experience that is empowering for the individual and Black community; one that is gender and culturally-relevant; and, and an education that adequately prepares them to compete in the global marketplace.

In order for this vision to take place and to move beyond false generosity that is so prevalent when liberal teachers enter classrooms with Black girls, there is a need for white women and others to acknowledge both the vulnerability and resilience that Black girls possess, alongside recognizing their cognitive and emotional abilities and talents. The statement below from the ABWH is a great starting point for critiquing how Black women are often portrayed from a white woman's perspective, and how we might imagine newer images of Black girls and women-to move us away from being society's "Help" or permanent underclass.            
Peace,
Venus
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An Open Statement to the Fans of The Help:
On behalf of the Association of Black Women Historians (ABWH), this statement provides historical context to address widespread stereotyping presented in both the film and novel version of The Help. The book has sold over three million copies, and heavy promotion of the movie will ensure its success at the box office.
Despite efforts to market the book and the film as a progressive story of triumph over racial injustice, The Help distorts, ignores, and trivializes the experiences of black domestic workers. We are specifically concerned about the representations of black life and the lack of attention given to sexual harassment and civil rights activism.
During the 1960s, the era covered in The Help, legal segregation and economic inequalities limited black women's employment opportunities. Up to 90 per cent of working black women in the South labored as domestic servants in white homes. The Help's representation of these women is a disappointing resurrection of Mammy-a mythical stereotype of black women who were compelled, either by slavery or segregation, to serve white families.
Portrayed as asexual, loyal, and contented caretakers of whites, the caricature of Mammy allowed mainstream America to ignore the systemic racism that bound black women to back-breaking, low paying jobs where employers routinely exploited them. The popularity of this most recent
iteration is troubling because it reveals a contemporary nostalgia for the days when a black woman could only hope to clean the White House rather than reside in it.
Both versions of The Help also misrepresent African American speech and culture. Set in the South, the appropriate regional accent gives way to a child-like, over-exaggerated "black" dialect. In the film, for example, the primary character, Aibileen, reassures a young white child that, "You is smat, you is kind, you is important." In the book, black women refer to the Lord as the "Law," an irreverent depiction of black vernacular.
For centuries, black women and men have drawn strength from their community institutions. The black family, in particular provided support and the validation of personhood necessary to stand against adversity. We do not recognize the black community described in The Help where most of the black male characters are depicted as drunkards, abusive, or absent. Such distorted images are misleading and do not represent the historical realities of black masculinity and manhood.
Furthermore, African American domestic workers often suffered sexual harassment as well as physical and verbal abuse in the homes of white employers. For example, a recently discovered letter written by Civil Rights activist Rosa Parks indicates that she, like many black domestic
workers, lived under the threat and sometimes reality of sexual assault.
The film, on the other hand, makes light of black women's fears and vulnerabilities turning them into moments of comic relief. Similarly, the film is woefully silent on the rich and vibrant history of black Civil Rights activists in Mississippi. Granted, the assassination of Medgar Evers, the first Mississippi based field secretary of the NAACP, gets some attention.
However, Evers' assassination sends Jackson's black community frantically scurrying into the streets in utter chaos and disorganized confusion-a far cry from the courage demonstrated by the black men and women who continued his fight. Portraying the most dangerous racists in 1960s Mississippi as a group of attractive, well dressed, society women, while ignoring the reign of terror perpetuated by the Ku Klux Klan and the White Citizens Council, limits racial injustice to individual acts of meanness.
We respect the stellar performances of the African American actresses in this film. Indeed, this statement is in no way a criticism of their talent. It is, however, an attempt to provide context for this popular rendition of black life in the Jim Crow South. In the end, The Help is not a story about the millions of hardworking and dignified black women who labored in white homes to support their families and communities.
Rather, it is the coming-of-age story of a white protagonist, who uses myths about the lives of black women to make sense of her own. The Association of Black Women Historians finds it unacceptable for either this book or this film to strip black women's lives of historical accuracy for the sake of entertainment.
Ida E. Jones is National Director of ABWH and Assistant Curator at Howard
University.
Daina Ramey Berry, Tiffany M. Gill, and Kali Nicole Gross are Lifetime Members of ABWH and Associate Professors at the University of
Texas at Austin.
Janice Sumler-Edmond is a Lifetime Member of ABWH and is a Professor at Huston-Tillotson University.
Suggested Reading:
Fiction:
Like one of the Family: Conversations from A Domestic's Life, Alice Childress
The Book of the Night Women by Marlon James
Blanche on the Lam by Barbara Neeley
The Street by Ann Petry A Million Nightingales by Susan Straight
Non-Fiction:
Out of the House of Bondage: The Transformation of the Plantation
Household by Thavolia Glymph
To Joy My Freedom: Southern Black Women's Lives and Labors by Tera Hunter
Labor of Love Labor of Sorrow: Black Women, Work, and the Family, from Slavery to the Present by Jacqueline Jones Living In, Living Out: African American Domestics and the Great Migration by Elizabeth Clark- Lewis
Coming of Age in Mississippi by Anne Moody
Any questions, comments, or interview requests can be sent to:
ABWHTheHelp@gmail.com