She is often treated in literature as a product of sin, a whore because of her sex and the actions of others, or a helpless naïve damsel to be saved or dismissed. Her voice is shuttered and her body is abused and mutilated at the hands of the social, economic, and political schisms of her time. But the story of the mulatto woman is much grander than this. She deserves to have her story told with dignity and courage for three reasons.
First, the mulatto woman has historically been represented in 19th and 20thCentury literature (and film) as a helpless creature destined for ostracism or to be some man’s whore, property to be disposed of based on the whims of her “creator.” Secondly, secondary and undergrad students are not taught that women did own successful businesses before, during, and after the Civil War: that not all of them were willing to give up their property and what was rightfully theirs because the law of the land said they were women and did not have a voice. And if they should encounter a piece of literature that attempted to show her reaching for power and access, she is annihilated (think, Roxana, by Daniel Defoe, or Nella Larsen’s Passing). Marriage was not to a woman’s advantage in many respects during the 19th Century and well into the 20th. Finally, there is little written on how the Civil War forced people, but mainly women of all colors and classes, to put security and safety over morality and human rights. The “peculiar institution” of slavery and its aftermath forced people to hide and forgo true love (romantic and self) for racial superiority/inferiority. It’s the greatest human tragedy!
In my novel, The Secret Life of Lucy Bosman, I presented another image of the mulatto woman–of women in general–as patriots, entrepreneurs, and realists. It is the story of love, race, entrepreneurship, gender, and war. It is the American woman’s story–black, white, yellow, or brown! I was inspired to write this novel by a story I read in an 1862 archival issue of the local newspaper here in Richmond, Virginia–The Times-Dispatch–while I was doing research for my other historical fiction novel, Murder on Second Street: The Jackson Ward Murders. In the report, a mulatto woman was arrested and accused of not just prostitution but for “corrupting the morals of white men” during the Civil War. The other woman, a white woman, was not arrested for either charge. I found the story fascinating because prostitution was rampant during the war. Prostitutes would follow Union and Confederate troops to different cities to offer their services. “According to the 1860 U.S. Census, Nashville was home to 198 white prostitutes and nine referred to as “mulatto”.… By 1862, though, the number of “public women” in Nashville had increased to nearly 1,500, and they were always busy.” So, to add the charge of moral corruption was hypocrisy at its finest.
And this is the story of the mulatto (and women of color). They are labeled as moral corruptors, Jezebels, in the eyes of the community, the government, and readers. How can we re/write her story? By seeing her as human, not just as a victim. She is/was flesh and blood with dreams and desires that course(d) through her veins. We must dive deeper into the false gender and racial stereotypes and institutionalized belief systems that tell us there is only one reality, one representation of a human being: white and male. The story of woman is complex and varied. She makes for a formidable character in literature because she shows us creative survival and justice… if allowed to.
Think of your grandmothers and mothers and how they managed to provide and take care of your family and the community around them. Imagine the secrets they held onto in order that you might be here. The self-sacrifice. The silent heartache. The spirited joy.
I am currently working on another historical fiction novel about a Haitian and French female pirate name Jaquotte Delahaye who escaped from slavery at the hands of the French in 1791. “Captain Jack” is determined to create her own identity and freedom for herself and other slaves she encounters on her adventures across the seven seas. And guess what? She really did exist! But history denied her existence, her story. Why? Because “History” is male-centered, and thus, so is literature. We must change this. Our current social, economic, and political environment demands this re/writing for women of color, and women in general.
About the Author
Rebekah L. Pierce is an award-winning author, teacher, and veteran. She is also a former board member of James River Writers.