Shug Avery: Sexuality, Androgyny, and Freedom in The Color Purple

Shug Avery is perhaps the most enthralling character in The Color Purple not only because she is described as being this way to all she meets, but also because she exudes a sense of freedom that is exceptional for an African-American living in early 1900s America, surrounded by racism, pain, and suffering constantly. Shug’s freedom is exhibited in many of her characteristics, including her success in singing, her relationship with Mr. ____ who would seem heartless if it wasn’t for her, and her blunt, take-charge way of living. Perhaps one of the biggest ways she remains more free of struggles and insecurities compared to the other characters is through her sexuality and how she shows no shame for it.

Celie falls for Shug before she even knows her, and eventually the two have a devoted romantic relationship that doesn’t lose its love even when Shug falls for other people and has relationships with them. Celie isn’t happy about the fact but understands that Shug is who she is, and the immense amount of love that Shug constantly feels for everyone around her cannot be contained. Shug is freedom.

Shug is the one who teaches Celie that sex isn’t always a horrible, traumatic experience. Up into Celie meets Shug, Celie’s knowledge of sex is that it’s a weapon, and all that she knows about sex is rape. But then, Shug introduces her to her own sexuality and through other discussions about God and joy, Celie begins to understand also that it doesn’t have to be dirty; it can just be love.

The closer Celie and Shug get, the more free Celie is. Shug is the one who convinces her to try wearing pants, which Celie falls in love with. She begins making pants for everyone she knows, and Shug is the one who convinces her to start her own business. Shug is the one who is with Celie when they find all of the hidden letters from Nettie. Shug is there for every major moment when Celie discovers more of herself and more ways she can be happy. Shug is even the reason that after all of the bad experiences Mr. ____ and Celie had, they can end up being friendly with one another and content in each other’s company. Losing Shug brings them close together despite how badly Mr. ____ always treated Celie.

There is a moment when Mr. ____ is talking to Celie about Shug and her androgynous nature comes up: “He say to tell the truth, Shug act more manly than most men. I mean she upright, honest. Speak her mind and the devil take the hindmost, he say… Mr. ____ think all this is stuff men do… What Shug got is womanly it seem like to me… Sofia and Shug not like men, he say, but they not like women either,” (Walker 269). Sofia and Shug are strong, confident, and take no prisoners. Mr. ____ and Celie have to agree that they are androgynous because the two of them are so vastly different compared to Sofia and Shug that they can’t even comprehend a definition for the two women. There is no label for who they are, besides strong. Celie and Mr. ____ are so caught up in their worries and past trauma that they are broken down by society’s expectations. Shug shows them a world they’d never seen before, and in that world, they are brought together despite their differences. Celie and Mr. ____ are not emotionally married, and the closest they get to it is when they both lose Shug’s company; they can finally stand one another’s company. Shug freed them from each other.


Walker, Alice. The Color Purple. London: Women's Press, 1992. Print.

Religion, God, and How They Change in The Color Purple

The Color Purple is written from Celie’s unique perspective, in letters addressed to God (for the most part). From the very beginning, it is clear that Celie’s relationship with God is not necessarily a loving, devoted one. The letters are written like journal entries, not prayers.

Writing to God gives Celie some direction. I don’t believe if she wrote simply journal entries, she would be getting the same amount of fulfillment out of it. She has to write to something rather than just write because she is so alone. At the very beginning, Celie is separated from her sister Nettie, and it is the biggest source of her pain throughout the novel. She is forced to marry, separated from Nettie, her father, and her children. The book takes place over such a long span of time it seems as if she’ll never see any of these characters in person again. So if she doesn’t have family, the only source of consistency in her life has to be God. She has nobody else to share her thoughts, feelings, and struggles with.

A major turning point in the book, however, is when Celie no longer writes to God, but writes to Nettie instead. It is implied that Celie doesn’t send these letters, likely because she doesn’t know Nettie’s exact location. Celie discusses God with Shug at this point in the book, who makes her look at God and religion differently: “Don’t look like nothing, she say. It ain’t a picture show. It ain’t something you can look at apart from anything else, including yourself. I believe God is everything, say Shug. Everything that is or ever was or ever will be. And when you can feel that, and be happy to feel that, you’ve found it,” (Walker 195).

From this moment on, Celie is much more spiritual even though she is no longer writing letters to God. Seeing Him as an “It” rather than as a “Him” made all the difference. The pressure she used to feel from religion changed to freedom; Shug’s character causes this shift from restriction to freedom multiple times for Celie in the book.

The last letter Celie writes is addressed to God; not only God, but also the stars, trees, sky, peoples, and everything (Walker 285). The moment she writes of is the one she’s always been waiting for. It is the perfect ending, and the only letter to God that is a prayer, beginning with “Thank you” and truly showing her character development.

Walker, Alice. The Color Purple. London: Women's Press, 1992. Print.

Why His Name is "Mr. ____" in The Color Purple

Alice Walker’s writing style is one of the most notable features of the novel The Color Purple, particularly because the unique, imperfect language and lack of punctuation would have been accurate for Celie’s character and her lack of education. The fact that she can read and write well and know so much about the world in the first place is a sort of novelty for her character.

Readers of The Color Purple realize from the get-go that there are virtually no last names used in the novel, with the exception of a few caucasian characters. Celie always refers to her husband as Mr. ____, and the reasons for why are what make Walker’s writing so powerful and true. When discussing this with my mom, she said to me: “Well, they’re basically slaves, aren’t they?” I shrugged in response, since I’d only read a few pages of the book at the time, but it’s clear that the characters in this book are not slaves. They are independent people with their own lives separate from caucasian people and with their own families. The closest we see to slavery is Sofia working as a servant to a white family at one point, but this is in replacement of her jail sentence; she is not a slave.

However, The Color Purple is a constant reminder of the painful, lasting effects of slavery. Along with Nettie’s letters from Africa and the racism that all the characters face, a major part of this reminder is the fact that these African-American people don’t have last names. The whole book is really focused on broken families, and truthfully, the fact that these characters have no knowledge of their family history may be a contributing factor to their constant familial issues.

Mr. ____ being known as Mr. ____ not only makes him feel very separate from Celie despite their marriage, it also creates the brutal atmosphere of early 1900s America. African-American people were facing the effects of slavery and the abuse their family members (that they never knew) daily. They were only identifiable by first name, making them all the more forgettable in society’s eyes.

Walker, Alice. The Color Purple. London: Women's Press, 1992. Print.

Professor Bhaer: German-American Immigrants of Civil War America

Even though Jo is the protagonist in Little Women (a fact that can be debated, if you ask me, since the four sisters get a pretty equal amount of attention in the book), her love interest at the end of the story is still somewhat of a mystery character. Professor Bhaer is intriguing to read about, especially since he’s introduced for the first time 342 pages into the book, much more than halfway through the story. We know very little about him, only that he is very educated and from Germany. The most insight given into his background comes from a conversation Jo has with Miss Norton: “He never spoke of himself, and no one ever knew that in his native city he had been a man much honored and esteemed for learning and integrity, till a countryman came to see him… She felt proud to know that he was an honored professor in Berlin, though only a poor language-master in America…” (Alcott 359). So I decided to do a bit of research.

I learned that not only are 13% percent of American residents born overseas, but they were at the time of the Civil War as well, (Doyle). Along with that, between 1820 and World War I, “...nearly six million Germans immigrated to the United States. From 1840 to 1880, they were the largest group of immigrants,” (Wikipedia). There has been speculation for a long time now about whether or not the inclusion of Professor Bhaer’s character was to satisfy Alcott’s publishers, who wanted to see Jo engaged to be married by the end of the novel. If that is the case, Alcott still managed to make the most of an unideal situation, and make Jo’s fiance an immigrant. The reality of Civil War New York City was that it was highly populated with immigrants, especially Germans. Included is an image of German population density in the United States in 1872. (Image Source: Wikipedia)



The huge wave of German immigrants occurred in 1848 after Germany’s failed revolution; those who arrived were nicknamed the “Forty-Eighters” (Wikipedia). In fact, without the massive number of German soldiers who enlisted to fight for the Union during the Civil War, the South would have had a much better chance of winning. Professor Bhaer’s political mind and intellect was not necessarily an uncommon situation for German-American immigrants. This is likely why Jo remarks on his higher stature in Berlin compared to being average America (Alcott 359). There’s no mention in the book about Bhaer being one of these Forty-Eighters, but considering the timeline of the book and German-American history, the numbers line up in a way that would make sense. Little Women takes place roughly from 1861-1876, and Bhaer is in his later forties in the book. If he came to the US in his early twenties, he could have been part of that group.

Considering the fact that Little Women is known as a semi-autobiographical novel of Louisa May Alcott’s life, historians and literary intellectuals have realized Bhaer’s contrast with Alcott’s husband. He was warm and emotionally much more open, which were attributes Alcott hoped to see more in males in society (Wikipedia). Bhaer, like countless other aspects of Little Women, is idealized as what Alcott may have wished she could’ve had in her life.

I’m glad I looked into what could possibly Bhaer’s history as a German immigrant in 19th century America. It made me inquire on my own, actually, because two years before that massive wave in 1848, my own relatives came to West Michigan from Germany. Their story is very different from Bhaer’s (much less smart professor-y, much more poor farmer-y), but it’s certainly fascinating to learn different immigrants’ from the same place at the same time purposes were in coming to America. 

Works Cited
Doyle, Don H. “History: The Civil War Was Won By Immigrant Soldiers.” Time, Time, 29 June 2015, time.com/3940428/civil-war-immigrant-soldiers/.
“German Americans.” Wikipedia, Wikimedia Foundation, 2 Dec. 2019, en.wikipedia.org/wiki/German_Americans#19th_century.
“Little Women Key Facts.” SparkNotes, SparkNotes, www.sparknotes.com/lit/littlewomen/facts/.
“Little Women.” Wikipedia, Wikimedia Foundation, 4 Dec. 2019, en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Little_Women#Additional_characters.

Beth and Dede: The "Other" Sisters

The only fact I really knew about Little Women for the longest time was that *spoiler alert* Beth dies. I didn’t know anything about how or why, I didn’t even know Amy or Meg’s names, but I knew Beth dies. Why is that? Honestly, I don’t believe it’s simply because Little Women is a famous piece of literature and that’s a major event in the story. Laurie’s proposal to Jo and her rejection is a major event as well, and I didn’t know about that. I think Beth’s death is so curious and beautifully tragic that when it addresses the question why bad things happen to good people, we can’t look away from it. When reading the book or even watching some of the film adaptations, the subject is so captivating because it poses a desperation to figure out why. Why Beth? She’s the kindest, most genuine and pure sister of all four.

It’s almost the same question I found myself asking when I read In the Time of the Butterflies. Not necessarily “why Dede?” but why do bad things happen to good people? Why did the deaths of Minerva, Mate, and Patria seem like they had to occur? Why was the tragedy so inevitable? The only event in the plot that I knew would happen when I read In the Time of the Butterflies is that three of the sisters would be brutally murdered and one would survive.

Now, both of these novels are considered fictional accounts of real events. Little Women so closely reflects the author Louisa May Alcott’s life that most people in the world of literature consider it to be a semi-autobiographical novel. In the Time of the Butterflies is definitely a dramatic retelling of the Mirabal sisters’ stories during the Dominican Republic’s dictatorship under Trujillo. For the sake of literary analysis, I’m temporarily going to put aside the fact that Beth’s death is based on the real event of Alcott’s sister passing, and the fact that Dede’s survival despite the other Mirabals’ demise is a real event as well. I believe in order to draw the parallels between Dede’s and Beth’s characters, the facts of the literature need to be prioritized over the facts of reality.

Little Women, Chapter One. “Playing Pilgrims.”
“‘Christmas won’t be Christmas without any presents,’ grumbled Jo, lying on the rug.
‘It’s so dreadful to be poor!’ sighed Meg, looking down at her old dress.
‘I don’t think it’s fair for some girls to have plenty of pretty things, and other girls nothing at all,’ added little Amy, with an injured sniff.
‘We’ve got Father and Mother and each other,’ said Beth contentedly from her corner.” (Alcott 7).
From the very beginning, it’s clear that one sister is not like the others. At only thirteen years old, Beth is perfectly “contented” with her life while her other sisters, twelve, fifteen, and sixteen years old, are aching for wealth and equality, desiring more than what they have.

In the Time of the Butterflies is the same way. The book begins in Dede’s perspective, always written in the third person, whereas the other sisters’ perspectives are in first person. The novel bluntly addresses the question I’m attempting to answer here: “Why, they inevitably ask in one form or another, why are you the one who survived?” (Alvarez 5). In the same chapter, the question is almost answered in an eerie way, as Dede recalls one day in her childhood when her father was playing at predicting their fortunes: “...she realized that hers is the only future he really told. Maria Teresa’s was a tease, and Papa never got to Minerva’s or Patria’s...A chill goes through her, for she feels it in her bones, the future is now beginning. By the time it is over, it will be the past, and she doesn’t want to be the only one left to tell their story,” (Alvarez 10). The silly, fun game of her father’s predictions is clear foreshadowing for the actual future that occurs.

In the later chapter of Little Women, “Beth’s Secret,” Beth confesses to Jo her true feelings about the end of her life: “‘...I only mean to say that I have a feeling that it never was intended I should live long. I’m not like the rest of you; I never made any plans about what I’d do when I grew up; I never thought of being married, as you all did...I never wanted to go away, and the hardest part now is the leaving you all. I’m not afraid, but it seems as if I should be homesick for you even in heaven,’” (Alcott 382). She’s always known herself to be different from her sisters.

In one book, three sisters die and one survives. In another, three survive and one dies. In the Time of the Butterflies takes place in a corrupt world, governed by those who punish the pure of heart and reward the impure. Dede’s failure to join the revolution along with her sisters was rooted in her fear of her husband and her fear of what would happen to her if she did. Considering Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs, she never reached self-actualization until her sisters’ passing, when she became the one to tell their story. All the other sisters reached self-actualization when they rebelled against Trujillo.

Little Women takes place in a poor, yet supportive and loving home, governed by those who encourage ambition and having big dreams. Beth’s failure to find a higher-purpose than living as she always has in her own home with her family left her lacking in ambition. Living poor never bothered her as it did her sisters, so she didn’t have that push to go seek greatness in the world. She reached self-actualization too early; it was supporting her sister’s dreams (most notably, Jo’s) and being their companion that made her reach the top of the hierarchy so soon. Her sisters were still reaching self-actualization as the book ended, which was why they lived.

So why do bad things happen to good people in these works of literature? The atmosphere of each book differs so greatly, and yet in both, the purest in morale do not survive. Perhaps it is because they’ve already achieved all that they were meant to in their lives. Perhaps the legacy of Las Mariposas could only end the DR’s dictatorship if the strong, symbolic women passed away. Perhaps Beth’s legacy could only push the sisters to achieve all that they dreamed (and initiate Jo to write the book she was always meant to) if she passed away. Little Women and In the Time of the Butterflies, whether they mean to or not, make intriguing implications about how fate, ambition, and demise are intertwined.


Works Cited

Alcott, Louisa M. Little Women. New York: Signet Classic, 2004. Print.
Alvarez, Julia. In the Time of the Butterflies. Chapel Hill, N.C: Algonquin Books of Chapel Hill, 1994. Print.

Laurie and Amy: Attention, Honesty, and Communication in Little Women

So for the past month or two now, I’ve started diving deeper and deeper into the Little Women story and all the different adaptations that exist. The disappointing aspect of every movie/musical adaptation I watched was the same: Laurie and Amy’s roles in the story are miniscule, if they’re even there at all. The movies give short glimpses of their time in Europe and the musical has one song where the two characters have returned and tell Jo they are married. The relationship development between Laurie and Amy was easily my favorite part of the book and it’s about time someone addresses the importance of it.

Amy and Jo are both fiercely passionate, stubborn, and artistic people, but they differ in their views of the future. Amy plans to marry for money and live in high society. Jo intends to make her own money to provide for her family and live on her own. Laurie is the biggest romantic in the story, and when he proposes to Jo, it’s likely the most heartfelt and vulnerable any of the characters have been thus far: “I’ve loved you ever since I’ve known you, Jo, couldn’t help it, you’ve been so good to me… I can’t go on so any longer…” (Alcott 369). He confesses to all of his choices being for her as well as not being good enough for her; he even says straight out: “If you loved me, Jo, I should be a perfect saint, for you could make me anything you like,” (Alcott 371-2). This outburst by Laurie, in all honesty, makes me believe that even if Jo had loved Laurie and wanted to accept his proposal, she would have been incredibly skeptical to accept the offer. Jo values self-expression so highly that knowing he’d constantly be changing himself and sacrificing his own wants and needs to satisfy her would unsettle her deeply.

However, there is one specific moment in Europe between Laurie and Amy that settles the fact that the couple is a much better fit. Laurie gives Amy a bracelet at a ball:
“‘Thank you. It isn’t what it should be, but you have improved it,’ he added, as he snapped the silver bracelet on her wrist.
‘Please don’t.’
‘I thought you liked that sort of thing?’
‘Not from you, it doesn’t sound natural, and I like your old bluntness better.’
‘I’m glad of it,’ he answered, with a look of relief…” (Alcott 391).
Laurie knows exactly what Amy would like to hear, so as the romantic he is, he says it in order to attempt to win her over. Yet, Amy is socially inclined in a way Jo isn’t. She spends so much time out in the world socializing that she can read people incredibly well, and especially since she knew Laurie already, she can tell immediately when he is behaving out of character. Even more importantly, Amy calls him out on it.

Though it sounds unlike her, Jo never actually calls Laurie out for changing his decisions according to what she’d prefer. The reason, however, is because she never actually realizes how everything he’s doing is for her. She’ll tell him she dislikes it when he drinks too much or plays billiards but when he stops, she chalks it up to him finally coming to his senses rather than the truth: that he stopped because she asked him to.

In the chapter Lazy Laurence, Amy and Laurie have their first falling out, and it’s all due to them being honest and expressing their concerns about one another. Laurie confronts Amy about her relationship with Fred Vaugn: “‘’Then you are fond of old Fred?’ ‘I could be, if I tried… he is rich, a gentleman, and has delightful manners,’ began Amy, trying to be quite cool and dignified, but feeling a little ashamed of herself, in spite of the sincerity of her intentions.” Then, Amy proceeds to confront Laurie about his lack of ambition: “Well, I despise you.’... ‘Why, if you please?’ ‘Because, with every chance for being good, useful, and happy, you are faulty, lazy, and miserable,’” (Alcott 415). Amy lectures Laurie in a way that was very necessary since he’s spent so much time wallowing in a depressed state after Jo’s rejection.

This exchange, while heated, teaches the couple that they can trust one another to be attentive, honest, and most importantly, communicative. I believe Little Women advocates for these qualities in relationships, and specifically, romantic ones. They are the same qualities that shine through with Jo and the Professor’s relationship, as Professor Bhaer points out that Jo can do better than the sensational stories she is writing only so she may be paid. The very fact that Jo knows Laurie so well and cannot pick up on his choices being manipulated for her pleasure is a major fault to their relationship that proves they couldn’t be together and happy. The fact that Amy knows Laurie half as well as Jo does and yet, picks up immediately on his faux conduct, proves that with better acquaintance they’d be a much better couple. And it does occur-- the tragedy of Beth’s passing ignites their longer courtship as they find comfort in one another a whole ocean away from the March family. Laurie and Amy needed each other right when they were reunited in Europe, and that timing is exactly what allows their friendship to become so much more.


Works Cited:

• Alcott, Louisa M. Little Women. New York: Signet Classic, 2004. Print.

Heroes and Their Ill-Fated Relationships in Circe

“Never stand next to the hero,” says Thomas C. Foster in How To Read Literature Like a Professor. You’ll probably die. Even if you don’t, you’re screwed. Why? Because, “there is generally no more persuasive reason for revenge, outrage, or prompting to action than the killing of the best friend (or his progeny),” (Foster).

In the novel Circe by Madeline Miller, the Goddess falls in love approximately 4 times (all different types of love and all different quantities of it). But the thing that really sucks for her is this: 3 of her lovers? Yeah, they’re mortal. Well, mortal* (one becomes a god, one is a demigod, one is the son of that same demigod). And the 4th love is barely that-- if anything, it’s merely lust (Circe engages in an ongoing affair with the messenger God, Hermes).

Perhaps what’s most interesting about Circe’s romantic relationships is the order that they occur in. Guy #1, Glaucos, is (in the grand scheme of things) the least significant at first. He’s a meek fisherman, and it’s likely that Circe falls in love with him simply because she likes the idea of mortals, and he’s the first one she really interacts with. She turns Glaucos into a god so she can marry him, but of course, the minute she does, he gets drunk with power and completely tosses her aside. Out of revenge, she turns the new object of his interest into the horrible monster Scylla. So yeah, don’t get close to the hero because she might turn your crush into a 12-legged monster who consumes men from every ship that passes by her (either 6 or 12 men, depending on her mood that day).

Guy #2, Hermes, isn’t really relevant to this rule. The two aren’t really close at all; Hermes serves as Circe’s news network more than anything else. They just slept together every so often until they decided they were bored of each other.

Guy #3, Odysseus, is the source of a lot of the action in the story. He arrives on Circe’s island on his long, legendary journey home and stays for a year to recollect himself and his men from all that they’ve gone through. He and Circe engage in an affair in that time, and she secretly bears Odysseus’ child when he leaves. This child would one day grow up and leave the island excited to meet his father, only to accidentally kill him once he does. Again, don’t get close to the hero because she might give birth to your child without telling you and that child will kill you.

Guy #4, Telemachus, (it’s kinda gross) the son of Odysseus and his wife Penelope. Telemachus and his mother comes to Circe’s island with her son when he returns from meeting and murdering Odysseus. Eventually the two fall for one another and Telemachus ends up getting a good deal compared to the other guys. The worst he has to go through (because of his relationship with Circe) is rowing her boat and almost getting killed as she faces off, for the last time, with the monster she created, Scylla.

What’s interesting (and honestly, quite realistic) about the order of these relationships is the fact that in general, the decency of her lovers increases with each one. Glaucos is shallow (and frankly, so is Hermes), Odysseus isn’t, but he’s ruthless, and Telemachus is actually pretty good all-around.

Odysseus and Telemachus are heroic figures in Greek mythology. So just as they shouldn’t get close to Circe, the hero of the story, she shouldn’t get close to them. She went through a LOT because she fell in love with them. If she’d never laid with Odysseus, she wouldn’t have had her son Telegonus, who she honestly has to sacrifice so much for. If she’d never fallen for Telemachus, (major spoiler alert) she probably wouldn’t have made the difficult decision to sacrifice her immortality for their relationship.

She loses so much because she falls for heroes. They lose so much because they fall in love with her. It’s all messy and yet, there’s a strange balance to it, in a way. And even though the stories are outlandish and fantastical, there’s an odd realism to them; I do believe it’s due to this genius dynamic Miller creates between all of the heroes. Circe is a truly wonderful novel, and the relationships between the characters are complex in an honest and compelling way.


Works Cited
Foster, Thomas C. How to Read Literature like a Professor: a Lively and Entertaining Guide to Reading between the Lines. Harper Perennial, an Imprint of HarperCollins Publishers, 2014.
Miller, Madeline. Circe. New York City, Little, Brown and Company, 2018.