Recently, to celebrate my birthday, Dear Husband and I went to see the 2023 version of the movie The Color Purple. I loved the original version, and I loved the book, and someday I hope to see the play. I was pleased to discover that this new musical version has every right to hold its head high within The Color Purple franchise. It filled me with the same thunderous awe as the others. For those of you who find musicals intolerable, well, you will never know what you’re missing.
The message of The Color Purple, in all its many forms, is that no matter how much trauma a woman experiences in life (and there always is some, isn’t there?), as long as she has the unbreakable bond of sisterhood, she will be able to draw strength, feel empowered, and learn to stand tall in her self-acceptance. This sisterhood does not have to come from a sibling. Strong friendships can also be more precious than gold.
That’s probably why I found myself having a good, ugly cry toward the end of the movie. I had been fine until Fantasia Barrino, who plays Celie, the main character, started to sing “I’m Here.” That ripped my heart out.
I tried to find a clip of her performance, but had no luck. But this video of Cynthia Erivo, who had the same role in the play and is singing the same triumphant song, is also amazing.
If you’re unable to watch the video, you can at least find the lyrics to the song here.
Hearing this song made me cry, because even though the sisterhood of friends is amazing, it’s a rare one who will have your back, through thick and thin, forsaking all others, your whole life long. If you are lucky enough to have that type of bond, you most likely have a devoted sister. I know some women who do. Their sisters would crawl naked through ground glass to be there when needed. Like Nettie in the movie, they say things like, “Nothing but death can keep me from it”, and they mean it, with every fiber of their being. They love their sisters just as they are, and they lift them up and help them fly.
The rest of us only get to see that kind of bond in the movies and envy it from afar. All we can quote from the movie is, “I know my sister is somewhere in the world,” and that is a tragic waste. I can only speak for myself, but the pain derived from that is one of the worst things one can ever experience.
Yes, I’m airing my dirty laundry, but I can do so feeling confident that my sister will never read it, because one of the last things she said to me, 16 months ago, was that she isn’t interested in reading my blog. Since this blog is basically me on a page, and is one of the things that I’m most proud of, and since she has nothing but time on her hands, that was a heavy blow.
I have no idea what I did this time that has rendered me so worthless in her eyes that I don’t even deserve being spoken to. I suspect that she probably doesn’t remember either, at least not the finer points. The silent treatment is a form of abuse that has run through my family for generations. Forgiveness and acceptance, on the other hand, withered on the vine long ago. Our family tree seems to have been planted on a Superfund site.
Estrangement is a strange thing. The one who initiates it paints herself into a corner and gets walled in by pride. I can almost hear the echoes of relatives past saying, “Come out, come out wherever you are.” To no avail.
I know I can be a lot. I know that my black and white thinking can seem harsh to people who assume I expect total agreement. I know that I might be frustrating and rather incomprehensible to the average neurotypical person or to anyone who has to spend long stretches of time with me, but does that mean I should be locked away, starved of love, and then cast out like so much refuse? As I listen to more and more people who share the spectrum with me, I am learning that many autistic people experience this. This invisible disability can be quite isolating.
Everyone has a different story, of course. I’d be the last person to say that one should waste time attempting to heal incurably toxic relationships. At a certain point it’s better to prioritieze one’s mental health.
Some people will only be in your life for a season, and that’s often for the best. But speaking only for myself, the pain from this silent treatment, and the unspoken message of judgment and rejection that showers down upon me on a daily basis, has most definitely made me feel diminished. There’s a hole within me that should not be there, but it’s one of the few constants in my life.
This feeling seems even more acute today because it’s my sister’s birthday, and she’ll be turning 68. We have little time left to be siblings. When your glassful of time runs increasingly dry, it seems heartbreakingly extravagant to pour much of its contents on the ground.
I’ve made it clear that if she ever wants to talk, I’m here, but she has not accepted that offer. And I’m getting way too old and tired to beg for love. As things stand between us, the only gift I can give her is to not torture her by trying to have a place in her life when she makes it so clear that she wants me gone. After all, she is allowed to fill her space with whatever and whomever she sees fit. The least I can do is acknowledge that freedom. If she wants to let go so badly that she’s willing to cause pain to do so, then the kindest act that I can do at this point is to relax my grip, even if it goes against my instincts.
Maybe I should blame Hollywood for giving me the impression that an epic level of love and acceptance is possible. Maybe I’m longing for something that doesn’t exist for me and never truly has. Maybe I’ve been taught the wrong thing. Perhaps every Man really is meant to be an island.
So yes, I’m feeling rather purple today. As in bruised. As in beaten down. As in the polar opposite of empowered. As in unacceptable to all and sundry. (And please remember, dear reader, that I often write my posts several weeks in advance, so on the day you read this, I most likely am in a different head space entirely. Never fear. The pendulum will continue to swing. That is the nature of things.)
But for those of you who harbor the possibility of change, I’d like to remind you that eventually your glassful of time will get completely knocked over and shattered. And the cruel truth is that you’ll never know when that moment will come. People shouldn’t take time for granted any more than they should turn their backs on the ocean.
If there’s an afterlife, can one feel regrets while there? If so, I suspect that that feeling is doled out generously to those who didn’t try their best while alive. And because regret can expand ever outward, the wasting of time may march on even after death
Happy birthday, Sis. I know you’re somewhere in the world, and that will just have to be enough for me. And maybe that’s as it should be. I apologize for trying so hard to make you feel things that you don’t feel and want things that you don’t want. I love you and hope that you find peace.
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