I was raised by "the help." I don't mean that "the help" served me in my parents' mansion. No, my parents were "the help" in white households -- my mother a domestic servant and my father a handyman.
Read Whole Story
I can't tell you how many times white women have told me they saw The Help and just loved it. In some ways, I think they're trying to tell me that thanks to the film, they now get it.
The white Jesus on the wall in Aibileen's humble home, a place of honor next to a photo of her deceased beloved son, underscores the amazing conflicts of everyday life in 1960s Mississippi.
My brother, Danny, recently reminded me of the time my father took us both to the front of a picket line. He took me off his shoulders, let go of Danny's hand, and decided to lay down in protest in front a moving bulldozer.
Get top stories and blog posts emailed to me each day. Newsletters may offer personalized content or advertisements. Learn more.