Now, I have always had a problem with Alice Walker. For example, she wrote some articles for Ms. Magazine (which are a big part of the reason I quit reading it- that, and the reason that everyone at Ms. seemed to have started thinking like Alice Walker) which redefined the word “inane.” A typical article from her would go through the following stages:
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Rant about some sort of social problem.
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Vague guilt over being a rich liberal who is part of the problem.
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Mind-meld with victims of the problem, leading to an understanding that Alice Walker is in no way harming the victims.
For example, she wrote an article on vegetarianism, talking about how she felt guilty eating chicken because meat is murder (I don’t know if she equated hamburgers with rape, but it’s been a while since I read the article.) If she feels so damn guilty, why does she keep eating it? Because meat tastes too damn good for her to give it up. And she talks about how she really wrestled with this problem until she was on vacation in Mexico, and she saw a chicken run across the road in front of her car, and zwooong she looked into the chicken’s eyes and in that instant of mind-meld she knew that it forgave her for eating meat. So now, you see, she happily eats meat guilt-free.
Then there’s the article in which she frothed over the difference between the evil (and, btw, White) “cunt women” like Marilyn Monroe, as opposed to the good (and, btw, Black) “tit women” like Aunt Jemima. (One wonders if she ever wrote a follow-up on Hispanic “ass women” like J-Lo.) You see, all Black women (or at least all fat Black women- Walker seems to have exempted herself from this) have a genetic destiny to turn into Aunt Jemima and nurture everyone around them. (Please, for the love of God, remember that I don’t believe this Amos ‘n’ Andy stuff- I’m describing what Alice Walker thinks!) The article ended with an anecdote about how she was at the airport and was thralled to see several Black “tit women” serving food at the cafes, and at that moment- zwoooong she looked into their eyes and realized that she doesn’t have to feel guilty about how little Black women in the foodservice sector get paid, because they really are holding those jobs as a labor of love. Fat Black women have the Aunt Jemima gene, you see, and so they love to ladle out food to rick folks even if they get paid dirt. Remember, folks, if I hadn’t told you it was Alice Walker, you’d have thought it was David Duke.
She even wrote a book on clitoridectomy. Silly me, I thought it would actually be informative. Actually, about 150 pages of it was her talking about how she confronted the women of various tribes who carried out the clitoridectomy rituals and rubbed their faces in the fact that she knew all their secret ritual knowledge. And the fact that she went to a clitoridectomy ceremony and felt so upset the next day, which was her birthday, that she spent lots of money on an international call to her boyfriend. And let’s not forget that at one point she asked some women how they felt about having no clitoris, and they said they were happy that way. (!) Now, I think this raises some complex issues. Do they really feel happy that way? If they are, should we follow the Prime Directive, or should we intervene on the grounds that they’ve been brainwashed into feeling good about being horribly mutilated? Don’t worry, Alice Walker has cut this Gordian knot for us. Zwooooong… she could see in their eyes precisely what they were feeling, which was that deep under the surface they weren’t happy at all, but couldn’t say it out loud because the men of the tribe would kill them. That, you see, is why they sacrifice a bull at the clitoridectomy ritual- because we all know that the bull is the ultimate symbol of femininity, and by killing it they are implicitly saying that the women will be killed if they talk. (Did I mention that she thinks the BULL is the ultimate symbol of all that is feminine? What does the think is the symbol of all that is masculine- a ladybug in a tutu?) Oh, yes- there’s also the part where she talks about how she ran into Tracy Chapman on vacation, and how she was so excited about this because she’s such a fan, and she has a lot of pictures in the book of herself hanging out with Chapman. Did I mention the parts where she says, in all seriousness, that wearing high heels is no different from having your clitoris chopped off with a rusty knife?
100 pages of the rest of the book are full of similar navel-gazing by her co-author, although admittedly she lacks the Walker touch. Then there are maybe 5, perhaps 10 pages of interviews with some anti-clitoridectomy activists. Then Walker has a concluding chapter talking about how her masseuse went apeshit and killed her lesbian lover and herself, leaving her small child an orphan. Why did she do this? Probably something to do with evil men. Walker concludes, you GO girl!, and enthuses over the whole thing. I tell you, the book is a bottomless well of infantile, self-absorbed stupidity such as the world has never seen.
Dare we ask- no, dare I even utter the question? Can such a thing even be spoken of aloud? But I must. Having written this much, I have gone too far to turn back. Dare we ask what Alice Walker thinks of Sept. 11?
The Village Voice asked a number of intellectuals, plus some assorted riffraff, how they thought we should deal with Osama bin Laden. Walker’s reply?
Alice Walker, novelist: In a war on Afghanistan, Osama bin Laden will either be left alive, while thousands of impoverished, frightened people are bombed into oblivion around him, or he will be killed in a bombing attack for which he seems quite prepared. But what would happen to his cool armor if he could be reminded of all the good, nonviolent things he has done? Further, what would happen to him if he could be brought to understand the preciousness of the lives he has destroyed? I firmly believe the only punishment that works is love.
Aaaaaaaaaaugh!
-Ben
