Color Purple Collection

by Alice Walker

  But how could he? There is so much we don’t understand. And so much unhappiness comes because of that.

  love and Merry Christmas

  to you,

  Your sister, Nettie

  DEAR NETTIE,

  I don’t write to God no more. I write to you.

  What happen to God? ast Shug.

  Who that? I say.

  She look at me serious.

  Big a devil as you is, I say, you not worried bout no God, surely.

  She say, Wait a minute. Hold on just a minute here. Just because I don’t harass it like some peoples us know don’t mean I ain’t got religion.

  What God do for me? I ast.

  She say, Celie! Like she shock. He gave you life, good health, and a good woman that love you to death.

  Yeah, I say, and he give me a lynched daddy, a crazy mama, a lowdown dog of a step pa and a sister I probably won’t ever see again. Anyhow, I say, the God I been praying and writing to is a man. And act just like all the other mens I know. Trifling, forgitful and lowdown.

  She say, Miss Celie, You better hush. God might hear you.

  Let ’im hear me, I say. If he ever listened to poor colored women the world would be a different place, I can tell you.

  She talk and she talk, trying to budge me way from blasphemy. But I blaspheme much as I want to.

  All my life I never care what people thought bout nothing I did, I say. But deep in my heart I care about God. What he going to think. And come to find out, he don’t think. Just sit up there glorying in being deef, I reckon. But it ain’t easy, trying to do without God. Even if you know he ain’t there, trying to do without him is a strain.

  I is a sinner, say Shug. Cause I was born. I don’t deny it. But once you find out what’s out there waiting for us, what else can you be?

  Sinners have more good times, I say.

  You know why? she ast.

  Cause you ain’t all the time worrying bout God, I say.

  Naw, that ain’t it, she say. Us worry bout God a lot. But once us feel loved by God, us do the best us can to please him with what us like.

  You telling me God love you, and you ain’t never done nothing for him? I mean, not go to church, sing in the choir, feed the preacher and all like that?

  But if God love me, Celie, I don’t have to do all that. Unless I want to. There’s a lot of other things I can do that I speck God likes.

  Like what? I ast.

  Oh, she say. I can lay back and just admire stuff. Be happy. Have a good time.

  Well, this sound like blasphemy sure nuff.

  She say, Celie, tell the truth, have you ever found God in church? I never did. I just found a bunch of folks hoping for him to show. Any God I ever felt in church I brought in with me. And I think all the other folks did too. They come to church to share God, not find God.

  Some folks didn’t have him to share, I said. They the ones didn’t speak to me while I was there struggling with my big belly and Mr. children.

  Right, she say.

  Then she say: Tell me what your God look like, Celie.

  Aw naw, I say. I’m too shame. Nobody ever ast me this before, so I’m sort of took by surprise. Besides, when I think about it, it don’t seem quite right. But it all I got. I decide to stick up for him, just to see what Shug say.

  Okay, I say. He big and old and tall and graybearded and white. He wear white robes and go barefooted.

  Blue eyes? she ast.

  Sort of bluish-gray. Cool. Big though. White lashes. I say.

  She laugh.

  Why you laugh? I ast. I don’t think it so funny. What you expect him to look like, Mr. _____ ?

  That wouldn’t be no improvement, she say. Then she tell me this old white man is the same God she used to see when she prayed. If you wait to find God in church, Celie, she say, that’s who is bound to show up, cause that’s where he live.

  How come? I ast.

  Cause that’s the one that’s in the white folks’ white bible.

  Shug! I say. God wrote the bible, white folks had nothing to do with it.

  How come he look just like them, then? she say. Only bigger? And a heap more hair. How come the bible just like everything else they make, all about them doing one thing and another, and all the colored folks doing is gitting cursed?

  I never thought bout that.

  Nettie say somewhere in the bible it say Jesus’ hair was like lamb’s wool, I say.

  Well, say Shug, if he came to any of these churches we talking bout he’d have to have it conked before anybody paid him any attention. The last thing niggers want to think about they God is that his hair kinky.

  That’s the truth, I say.

  Ain’t no way to read the bible and not think God white, she say. Then she sigh. When I found out I thought God was white, and a man, I lost interest. You mad cause he don’t seem to listen to your prayers. Humph! Do the mayor listen to anything colored say? Ask Sofia, she say.

  But I don’t have to ast Sofia. I know white people never listen to colored, period. If they do, they only listen long enough to be able to tell you what to do.

  Here’s the thing, say Shug. The thing I believe. God is inside you and inside everybody else. You come into the world with God. But only them that search for it inside find it. And sometimes it just manifest itself even if you not looking, or don’t know what you looking for. Trouble do it for most folks, I think. Sorrow, lord. Feeling like shit.

  It? I ast.

  Yeah, It. God ain’t a he or a she, but a It.

  But what do it look like? I ast.

  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.

  Shug a beautiful something, let me tell you. She frown a little, look out cross the yard, lean back in her chair, look like a big rose.

  She say, My first step from the old white man was trees. Then air. Then birds. Then other people. But one day when I was sitting quiet and feeling like a motherless child, which I was, it come to me: that feeling of being part of everything, not separate at all. I knew that if I cut a tree, my arm would bleed. And I laughed and I cried and I run all around the house. I knew just what it was. In fact, when it happen, you can’t miss it. It sort of like you know what, she say, grinning and rubbing high up on my thigh.

  Shug! I say.

  Oh, she say. God love all them feelings. That’s some of the best stuff God did. And when you know God loves ’em you enjoys ’em a lot more. You can just relax, go with everything that’s going, and praise God by liking what you like.

  God don’t think it dirty? I ast.

  Naw, she say. God made it. Listen, God love everything you love—and a mess of stuff you don’t. But more than anything else, God love admiration.

  You saying God vain? I ast.

  Naw, she say. Not vain, just wanting to share a good thing. I think it pisses God off if you walk by the color purple in a field somewhere and don’t notice it.

  What it do when it pissed off? I ast.

  Oh, it make something else. People think pleasing God is all God care about. But any fool living in the world can see it always trying to please us back.

  Yeah? I say.

  Yeah, she say. It always making little surprises and springing them on us when us least expect.

  You mean it want to be loved, just like the bible say.

  Yes, Celie, she say. Everything want to be loved. Us sing and dance, make faces and give flower bouquets, trying to be loved. You ever notice that trees do everything to git attention we do, except walk?

  Well, us talk and talk bout God, but I’m still adrift.

  Trying to chase that old white man out of my head. I been so busy thinking bout him I never truly notice nothing God make. Not a blade of corn (how it do that?) not the color purple (where it c
ome from?). Not the little wildflowers. Nothing.

  Now that my eyes opening, I feels like a fool. Next to any little scrub of a bush in my yard, Mr. ____’s evil sort of shrink. But not altogether. Still, it is like Shug say, You have to git man off your eyeball, before you can see anything a’tall.

  Man corrupt everything, say Shug. He on your box of grits, in your head, and all over the radio. He try to make you think he everywhere. Soon as you think he everywhere, you think he God. But he ain’t. Whenever you trying to pray, and man plop himself on the other end of it, tell him to git lost, say Shug. Conjure up flowers, wind, water, a big rock.

  But this hard work, let me tell you. He been there so long, he don’t want to budge. He threaten lightening, floods and earthquakes. Us fight. I hardly pray at all. Every time I conjure up a rock, I throw it.

  Amen

  DEAR NETTIE,

  When I told Shug I’m writing to you instead of to God, she laugh. Nettie don’t know these people, she say. Considering who I been writing to, this strike me funny.

  It was Sofia you saw working as the mayor’s maid. The woman you saw carrying the white woman’s packages that day in town. Sofia Mr. ____’s son Harpo’s wife. Polices lock her up for sassing the mayor’s wife and hitting the mayor back. First she was in prison working in the laundry and dying fast. Then us got her move to the mayor’s house. She had to sleep in a little room up under the house, but it was better than prison. Flies, maybe, but no rats.

  Anyhow, they kept her eleven and a half years, give her six months off for good behavior so she could come home early to her family. Her bigger children married and gone, and her littlest children mad at her, don’t know who she is. Think she act funny, look old and dote on that little white gal she raise.

  Yesterday us all had dinner at Odessa’s house. Odessa Sofia’s sister. She raise the kids. Her and her husband Jack. Harpo’s woman Squeak, and Harpo himself.

  Sofia sit down at the big table like there’s no room for her. Children reach cross her like she not there. Harpo and Squeak act like a old married couple. Children call Odessa mama. Call Squeak little mama. Call Sofia “Miss.” The only one seem to pay her any tention at all is Harpo and Squeak’s little girl, Suzie Q. She sit cross from Sofia and squinch up her eyes at her.

  As soon as dinner over, Shug push back her chair and light a cigarette. Now is come the time to tell yall, she say.

  Tell us what? Harpo ast.

  Us leaving, she say.

  Yeah? say Harpo, looking round for the coffee. And then looking over at Grady.

  Us leaving, Shug say again. Mr. _____ look struck, like he always look when Shug say she going anywhere. He reach down and rub his stomach, look off side her head like nothing been said.

  Grady say, Such good peoples, that’s the truth. The salt of the earth. But—time to move on.

  Squeak not saying nothing. She got her chin glued to her plate. I’m not saying nothing either. I’m waiting for the feathers to fly.

  Celie is coming with us, say Shug.

  Mr. ____’s head swivel back straight. Say what? he ast.

  Celie is coming to Memphis with me.

  Over my dead body, Mr. _____ say.

  You satisfied that what you want, Shug say, cool as clabber.

  Mr. _____ start up from his seat, look at Shug, plop back down again. He look over at me. I thought you was finally happy, he say. What wrong now?

  You a lowdown dog is what’s wrong, I say. It’s time to leave you and enter into the Creation. And your dead body just the welcome mat I need.

  Say what? he ast. Shock.

  All round the table folkses mouths be dropping open.

  You took my sister Nettie away from me, I say. And she was the only person love me in the world.

  Mr. _____ start to sputter. ButButButButBut. Sound like some kind of motor.

  But Nettie and my children coming home soon, I say. And when she do, all us together gon whup your ass.

  Nettie and your children! say Mr. ____. You talking crazy.

  I got children, I say. Being brought up in Africa. Good schools, lots of fresh air and exercise. Turning out a heap better than the fools you didn’t even try to raise.

  Hold on, say Harpo.

  Oh, hold on hell, I say. If you hadn’t tried to rule over Sofia the white folks never would have caught her.

  Sofia so surprise to hear me speak up she ain’t chewed for ten minutes.

  That’s a lie, say Harpo.

  A little truth in it, say Sofia.

  Everybody look at her like they surprise she there. It like a voice speaking from the grave.

  You was all rotten children, I say. You made my life a hell on earth. And your daddy here ain’t dead horse’s shit.

  Mr. _____ reach over to slap me. I jab my case knife in his hand.

  You bitch, he say. What will people say, you running off to Memphis like you don’t have a house to look after?

  Shug say, Albert. Try to think like you got some sense. Why any woman give a shit what people think is a mystery to me.

  Well, say Grady, trying to bring light. A woman can’t git a man if peoples talk.

  Shug look at me and us giggle. Then us laugh sure nuff. Then Squeak start to laugh. Then Sofia. All us laugh and laugh.

  Shug say, Ain’t they something? Us say um hum, and slap the table, wipe the water from our eyes.

  Harpo look at Squeak. Shut up Squeak, he say. It bad luck for women to laugh at men.

  She say, Okay. She sit up straight, suck in her breath, try to press her face together.

  He look at Sofia. She look at him and laugh in his face. I already had my bad luck, she say. I had enough to keep me laughing the rest of my life.

  Harpo look at her like he did the night she knock Mary Agnes down. A little spark fly cross the table.

  I got six children by this crazy woman, he mutter.

  Five, she say.

  He so outdone he can’t even say, Say what?

  He look over at the youngest child. She sullen, mean, mischeevous and too stubborn to live in this world. But he love her best of all. Her name Henrietta.

  Henrietta, he say.

  She say, Yesssss ... like they say it on the radio.

  Everything she say confuse him. Nothing, he say. Then he say, Go git me a cool glass of water.

  She don’t move.

  Please, he say.

  She go git the water, put it by his plate, give him a peck on the cheek. Say, Poor Daddy. Sit back down.

  You not gitting a penny of my money, Mr. _____ say to me. Not one thin dime.

  Did I ever ast you for money? I say. I never ast you for nothing. Not even for your sorry hand in marriage.

  Shug break in right there. Wait, she say. Hold it. Somebody else going with us too. No use in Celie being the only one taking the weight.

  Everybody sort of cut they eyes at Sofia. She the one they can’t quite find a place for. She the stranger.

  It ain’t me, she say, and her look say, Fuck you for entertaining the thought. She reach for a biscuit and sort of root her behind deeper into her seat. One look at this big stout graying, wildeyed woman and you know not even to ast. Nothing.

  But just to clear this up neat and quick, she say, I’m home. Period.

  Her sister Odessa come and put her arms round her. Jack move up close.

  Course you is, Jack say.

  Mama crying? ast one of Sofia children.

  Miss Sofia too, another one say.

  But Sofia cry quick, like she do most things.

  Who going? she ast.

  Nobody say nothing. It so quiet you can hear the embers dying back in the stove. Sound like they falling in on each other.

  Finally, Squeak look at everybody from under her bangs. Me, she say. I’m going North.

  You going What? say Harpo. He so surprise. He begin to sputter, sputter, just like his daddy. Sound like I don’t know what.

  I want to sing, say Squeak.

  Sing! say Harpo.
<
br />   Yeah, say Squeak. Sing. I ain’t sung in public since Jolentha was born. Her name Jolentha. They call her Suzie Q.

  You ain’t had to sing in public since Jolentha was born. Everything you need I done provided for.

  I need to sing, say Squeak.

  Listen Squeak, say Harpo. You can’t go to Memphis. That’s all there is to it.

  Mary Agnes, say Squeak.

  Squeak, Mary Agnes, what difference do it make?

  It make a lot, say Squeak. When I was Mary Agnes I could sing in public.

  Just then a little knock come on the door.

  Odessa and Jack look at each other. Come in, say Jack.

  A skinny little white woman stick most of herself through the door.

  Oh, you all are eating dinner, she say. Excuse me.

  That’s all right, say Odessa. Us just finishing up. But there’s plenty left. Why don’t you sit down and join us. Or I could fix you something to eat on the porch.

  Oh lord, say Shug.

  It Eleanor Jane, the white girl Sofia used to work for.

  She look round till she spot Sofia, then she seem to let her breath out. No thank you, Odessa, she say. I ain’t hungry. I just come to see Sofia.

  Sofia, she say. Can I see you on the porch for a minute.

  All right, Miss Eleanor, she say. Sofia push back from the table and they go out on the porch. A few minutes later us hear Miss Eleanor sniffling. Then she really boo-hoo.

  What the matter with her? Mr. _____ ast.

  Henrietta say, Prob-limbszzzz... like somebody on the radio.

  Odessa shrug. She always underfoot, she say.

  A lot of drinking in that family, say Jack. Plus, they can’t keep that boy of theirs in college. He get drunk, aggravate his sister, chase women, hunt niggers, and that ain’t all.

  That enough, say Shug. Poor Sofia.

  Pretty soon Sofia come back in and sit down.

  What the matter? ast Odessa.

  A lot of mess back at the house, say Sofia.

  You got to go back up there? Odessa ast.

  Yeah, say Sofia. In a few minutes. But I’ll try to be back before the children go to bed.

  Henrietta ast to be excuse, say she got a stomach ache.

  Squeak and Harpo’s little girl come over, look up at Sofia, say, You gotta go Misofia?