“Pity me, and pardon me, O virtuous reader! You never knew what it is to be a slave; to be entirely unprotected by law or custom; to have the laws reduce you to the condition of a chattel, entirely subject to the will of another” (Jacobs).
In finishing Jacobs’ novel/narrative, I felt a sense of disenchantment. Reading her firsthand experiences as a slave made me feel the injustice of her time period. How can anyone treat another human being like that? How could African Americans be thought of as “property?”
I know these questions have been asked thousands of times and they have yet to receive solid answers, but I can’t help but think them. It brings me back to the overall question of racism; no matter how much you’re brainwashed, on some human level, you have to feel some sort of sympathy. I find it truly impossible that humanity could be that cruel and heartless towards its own kind. When you slap someone or insult someone, you feel bad for a reason. No matter how hardened or cold you may be, you feel something.
I can barely imagine myself in Linda’s (or Harriet’s, rather) place. Being trapped and forced into a life you were born into; something you have no control over, freaks me out. I don’t think I could have been as strong as she was. She hid herself in a tiny crawl space for seven years while her muscles slowly atrophied…she honestly had genuine strength of will. Furthermore, the separation she had from her children, the light of her life, was torturous. A mother seeing her child, and the child not knowing his or her mother is a terrible situation to be put in. Linda is one of the strongest people I have read about; she sacrificed everything for her children and for their freedom.
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