A Conversation of Endurance

The existence of the mother is predicated on the protection and upbringing of her child. But what is the mother to do when the fate of her child is out of her hands and subject to the biases and radicalisms of an unchecked public? In “The Closing Door” by Angelina Weld Grimké, the reader is subject to the emotional and ultimately physical struggle that the mother, specifically the black mother, bears when confronted with the precarity of her child’s existence. While Zora Neale Hurston posits that the African American spirit, like that of High John de Conquer, can endure through extreme duress and will prevail as “things are bound to come out right tomorrow,” Grimké provides the public with the terrifying account of what occurs when the spirit is slaughtered by the actions and vitriol of a nation founded on racism and the subversion of rights (148). Like other characters of the Harlem Renaissance such as Helga Crane in Nella Larsen’s Quicksand, Agnes Milton does not believe that her child will be brought into a world where their life will be upheld as a sacred right. Rather, she falls prey to American disillusionment. Agnes is a reflection of the anxieties of motherhood, underscored by the anxieties of a racialized existence. Written in the wake of the Red Summer, Grimké explores what it means to carry the burdens of motherhood and race in a world where neither identity carries inherent protections. Placing Grimké and Hurston in conversation with one another displays the juxtaposition of the movement; while a spirit of uplift allows many to endure, the realities of a racially divided America have a substantial and lasting impact on the optimism and endurance of the subjugated.

In her essay “High John de Conquer,” Zora Neale Hurston presents a story of uplift and optimism. The prevailing spirit of African Americans is the cornerstone of the Harlem Renaissance. The endurance of hope is what carried millions of enslaved peoples through the brutality of the chattel system and carried many more millions through the exploitation and subjugation that continued through Jim Crow. The spirit of High John de Conquer proves the determination of the body and soul under extreme duress and reinforces the notion that the fight comes from within: “Fighting a mighty battle without outside-showing force, and winning his war from within. Really winning in a permanent way, for he was winning with the soul of the black man whole and free” (141). While Hurston’s message provides insight into the psychological determination of the subjugated individuals that pushed for progress and extended freedoms, Grimké forces the reader to reconcile themself to the unfortunate reality of living in a country where the oppressor has more rights than the oppressed.

Grimké’s “The Closing Door” begins by revealing Agnes Milton’s worldview. Lucy notes that, even prior to Bob’s death, Agnes had broken away from happiness: “And before it was too late, I used to pray that in some way I might change places with her and go into the darkness where though, still living, one forgets sun and moon and stars and flowers and wind—and love itself, and existence means dark, foul smelling cages, hollow clanging doors, hollow monotonous days,” (Grimké 486). Agnes has fallen into a depressive hole as a direct result of living in a world in which one is judged not by their character, but by the color of their skin. Grimké evokes images of enslavement, a burden that follows all black Americans but specifically the black mother.  Following the news of her pregnancy, Agnes’s mind becomes a place of “dark, foul smelling cages” (Grimké 486). She is no longer able to recognize “that life is not one-sided,” and the fear of racialized motherhood overtakes her (Hurston 145).

Grimké introduces Bob’s death as the  moment in Agnes’s life when any salvation of the world that she knows has been cast aside. Grimké details a brutal lynching that follows Bob’s altercation with a white man, reminiscent of the thousands of lynchings that occurred across the country after the Civil War: 

“An orderly mob, in an orderly manner, on a Sunday morning—I am quoting the newspapers—broke into the jail, took him out, slung him up the limb of a tree, riddled his body with bullets, saturated it with coal oil, lighted a fire underneath him, gouged out his eyes with red hot irons, burnt him to a crisp and then sold souvenirs of him, ears, fingers, toes. His teeth brought five dollars each.”

He ceased for a moment. “He’s still hanging on that tree.—We are not allowed to have even what is left,” (Grimké 494). Following this moment, even Lucy is pulled into the darkness: “I was sinking into a horrible black vortex that seemed to be sucking me down,” (Grimké 494). This descent is then broken by Agnes’s own rapid  descent into the realm of complete and utter destruction of the mind, body, and soul. In her mind, the black body exists only to be destroyed by an “orderly mob,” where even the rule of law has no say, and the ownership of one’s own body is taken away simply for the sake of being born black. Agnes begs the question of why she is forced to exist in a world that only seems to bring about violence and the destruction of her race (Grimké 495). She fears for the existence of her child regardless of his location in the United States. The racialization of the world is not lost upon her, and while authors like Hurston preach about the better days to come and the enduring spirit of the black community, Grimké is forcing the recognition of the futility of a black existence under a radically racialized world. For Agnes there is no High John de Conquer, there is no way in which “things are bound to come out right tomorrow” (Hurston 148).

The futility of black motherhood is further exposed upon Agnes’s pronouncement that echoes the burdens of mothers everywhere but is emphasized by the precarity of her blackness. “Yes!—Yes!—I!—I!—An instrument of reproduction!—another of the many!—a colored woman—doomed!—cursed!—put here!—willing or unwilling! For what?—to bring children here—men children—for the sport—the lust—of possible orderly mobs—who go about things—in an orderly manner—on Sunday mornings!” (Grimké 496). Agnes believes herself to be a cog in the great machine of reproduction, but a reproduction that results in the creation of beings who are going to be subject to the brutalities of prejudice and violence. Agnes believes that she can provide no protection for her child, that even if she does all of the things that are required to raise a successful child, they will meet the same fate as Bob and the thousands of other lynching victims. She also correctly recognizes that, while greater opportunities may exist in the North, it is by no means a place where her child will be fully protected from an “orderly mob” or the broken rule of law that is predicated on racial division and persecution: “There is a time coming—and soon—when no colored man—no colored woman—no colored child, born or unborn—will be safe—in this country” (Grimké 496). Agnes has lost all hope in the future of America, and thus has lost all hope in the future for her child. And this is why Agnes engages in the unimaginable act of removing her child from this doomed existence before he can ever know of his precarity.

Upon her child’s birth, Agnes hopes that he will not survive so that he will not have to endure the legacy of suffering that has followed his race since the inception of America. Additionally, she loses her faith in a “pitiful” God (Grimké 500). She cannot stand that her child could be a happy, healthy, breathing human being because she believes that one day this will be pulled out of him in the most brutal ways possible. Thus, Agnes believes that she has no choice but to complete the most devastating act imaginable, smothering her own child: “Agnes Milton had taken a pillow off of my bed and smothered her child…Agnes Milton is no more, God, I think, may be pitiful, after all” (Grimké 500). It is this final act that releases both Agnes and her child from the burdens of black motherhood and a racialized existence under extreme duress. For Agnes there is no way out other than death. Her body had broken long before her soul, and once her soul followed suit, there was nowhere else to go but down. When the future seems utterly futile and the precarity of living is weighed with the peace of death, Agnes makes the decision that will bring about a silence that she has so desperately craved. For Agnes, no life can be worse than that of a black man in America, so she takes the option away. Her child will never know the full consequences of being born black in a world where only whiteness is valued. She could not live in a world where her child could be used for the “sport” of an “orderly mob.” Thus, with her final act, she also ceases to exist. In a way she performs the most motherly act of all, complete isolation of her child from the world that is built to destroy him.

The endurance of the human spirit is predicated on the ideal  “that no matter how bad things look now, it will be worse for those who seek to oppress us” (Hurston 148). Harlem Renaissance writers like Hurston uplift the black community and inspire the progression of freedom and equality. Yet characters like Agnes Milton serve as a reminder that, while hope exists for many, the brutality of the American system has means of corrupting even the most joyful of people. Grimké provides the reader with  insight into how mental health and sanity can be bludgeoned by the realities of black life in America. While Agnes’s actions are brutal and almost incomprehensible, there is a deep sadness and legacy of trauma that burdens not only her, but her community as a whole. While the North provides solace from the everyday precarity of walking down the street, it is by no means shielded from the greater prejudices and bigotry that follow the black body. For Agnes there is no freedom in living in America; her relationship to motherhood and race has made this her ultimate truth. While she lives in “dark, foul smelling cages,” she cannot imagine a world in which others can see the “sun and moon and stars and flowers and wind” (Grimké 486). But for the progression of history and the protection of rights and liberties, ideas from the likes of Hurston must continue to prevail against a country that seeks to disseminate hate and vitriol. The spirit of High John de Conquer is necessary to fight forces of hatred and bigotry, but stories like Agnes Milton’s need to be weighed in tandem to provide a complete depiction of the psychological impact of the black experience in America.

Hurston, Zora Neale. “High John de Conquer.” The Complete Stories, HarperCollins, New York, 1996, pp. 139–147.

Grimké, Angelina Weld. “The Closing Door.” The Birth Control Review, 1919, pp. 486–500.