Girl, Woman, Other

“[A]ged sixteen, aspiring to become an actress, she headed for London where people proudly proclaimed their outside identities on badges.”

Amma’s journey to find acceptance illustrates Evaristo’s interest in the intersections of identity and her portrait of underrepresented communities in Great Britain and beyond. The pride that people of Amma’s generation take in their unique identities is one of the generational differences that the novel explores; Amma’s father, for instance, seeks to blend in rather than stand out.

“I tell Mum, she married a patriarch. Look at it this way, Amma, she says, your father was born male in Ghana in the 1920s whereas you were born female in London in the 1960s.”

Touching on the book’s theme of the effects of Diaspora in Great Britain, Amma’s mother attempts to explain to Amma the cultural dissonance between the way her father was socialized in Ghana in the 1920s and what Amma has been brought up to expect as a Londoner in the 1960s. A similar cultural tension underpins other parent-child relationships, including Carole and Bummi’s, raising questions about The Impact of Family Legacy in immigrant families.

“[W]hat it was like when white men opened doors or gave up their seats on public transport for white women (which was sexist), but not for them (which was racist).”

Amma’s recollection of her time as a young, Black, struggling actress highlights the importance of intersectional feminism. In particular, it demonstrates how societal inequities can lead to friction between various identities; Amma’s tone is exasperated as she remembers a moment when being subjected to sexism almost seemed desirable given that the alternative was racism.

“[S]he created the position of seven godmothers and two godfathers to ensure there’d be a supply of babysitters for when her child was no longer quite so compliant and portable.”

Amma’s approach to motherhood reflects her values of collective social practices, emphasizing Evaristo’s interest in Human Connectivity and Interdependence.

“[F]eminism is so herd-like, Yazz told her, to be honest, even being a woman is passé these days […] I reckon we’re all going to be non-binary in the future, neither male nor female, which are gendered performances anyway, which means your women’s politics, Mumsy, will become redundant, and by the way, I’m humanitarian, which is on a much higher plane than feminism.”

Yazz’s discussion of what she views as her mother’s antiquated understanding of feminism traces how identity politics evolve from generation to generation. Evaristo’s tone in this passage is lightly ironic, framing Yazz as slightly overconfident in her beliefs; however, the conversation unfolds from Amma’s point of view, which opens up the possibility that it is Amma who is bristling at what she perceives as her daughter’s brashness and ingratitude.

“[W]ith me, you’re safe, Nzinga said, although Dominique wasn’t feeling particularly unsafe

with me, you’re complete, although Dominique wasn’t feeling incomplete.”

Evaristo addresses the unspoken phenomenon of queer abuse via Nzinga’s treatment of Dominique. Nzinga undermines Dominique’s ability to trust her perceptions by suggesting that Nzinga alone knows what’s best for Dominique.

“[H]ow had her clothes come off? then

her

body

wasn’t

her

own

no more.”

The representation of Carole’s gang rape exemplifies Evaristo’s utilization of experimental forms to illustrate her characters’ emotional states. Here, as Carole feels her agency slip away as she remembers the rape, the language on the page begins to fragment and disintegrate.

“Carole knows what drives people to such despair, knows what it’s like to appear normal but to feel herself swaying.”

Carole’s need to work speaks to the effects of late capitalism and its connection to oppression. Through Carole, Evaristo echoes a Marxist standpoint that capitalism dehumanizes workers, estranging them from themselves.

“[T]here is no point getting on in this country if you lose who you really are, you are not English or did you give birth to yourself?”

Bummi bemoans the loss of Carole’s Nigerian cultural roots as Carole deepens her friendships with her upper-class English peers at college. Her sarcastic remark about Carole “giving birth to herself” highlights the personal stakes of this conflict; for Bummi, Carole’s rejection of her cultural heritage feels like a rejection of her family heritage as well.

“[H]er daughter would soon belong completely to them.”

Formerly Bummi worried that her daughter would be too isolated to capitalize on her British birth, but as Carole aligns herself with her well-to-do British classmates, Bummi worries that Carole will lose her Nigerian roots. This cultural tug-of-war illustrates the effects of diaspora, a major theme of the book.

“[W]ith Augustine in her life, Bummi did not feel so alone

they were two halves of a circle moving towards completion.”

Bummi unpacks how Augustine fulfills her childhood loneliness and lack of support. The image of the couple as a completed circle highlights the broader theme of human Interdependence.

“Bummi complained that people viewed her through what she did (a cleaner) and not what she was (an educated woman).”

The assumptions made about Bummi by greater British society signify the racism and xenophobia experienced by diasporic communities in Great Britain. These issues intersect with class inequality, as despite Bummi’s degree in math, she holds a blue-collar job in the country she immigrated to.

“She felt sad when he said to her one day, if we cannot make it here, perhaps our child will.”

Bummi recalls with sorrow Augustine’s wish for Carole to succeed in England even if he and Bummi could not, again accentuating Bummi and Carole’s differing experiences of diaspora.

“The shame she had tried to suppress began walking towards her.”

Through Bummi, Evaristo explores the issue of queer shame for the first time in the book. Whereas characters such as Dominique and Amma fully embrace their queerness, Bummi’s narrative highlights the obstacles to accepting a queer identity.

“When he spoke patois, they thought he was thick and put him in a class the year below, even though he was top of his class back home. When he was naughty with his white schoolmates, he alone was singled out and sent to the Sin Bin.”

LaTisha’s father tells her of the racial discrimination he felt as a Black immigrant in the British education system, solidifying LaTisha’s mistrust of her educational institutions. That mistrust shapes the course of LaTisha’s later life, as the contrast with her friend Carole underscores; thanks in part to a teacher, Shirley, who takes an interest in her, Carole goes on to a lucrative career.

“[T]he future is in the past and the past is in the present.”

One of the core components of Evaristo’s focus on the effects of diaspora is the cyclical quality of colonialism and how history manifests in the present and shapes the future. Shirley communicates this to her students to underscore the systemic inequalities that have contributed to their struggles.

“Shirley felt the pressure was now on to be a great teacher and an ambassador for every black person in the world.”

Through both Shirley and Carole’s characters, Evaristo highlights the pressure people of color may feel to successfully and positively represent their community in the workplace.

“[A]nd Megan was a woman who wondered if she should have been born a man, who was attracted to a woman who’d once been a man, who was now saying gender was full of misguided expectations anyway, even though she had herself transitioned from male to female. This was such head fuckery.”

Trans woman Bibi introduces Morgan to the gender spectrum and queer identity. Though she finds it full of contradictions at first, Morgan navigates this new world to discover their true nonbinary self-identification.

“[O]ne of the last things he said to her was, you belong here, Harriet Jackson née Rydendale. You are my daughter and in your hands rests the future of this family.”

Using the Greenfields farm as a symbol, Evaristo unpacks the complicated reality of family legacy. What begins as an expression of kinship is tainted by its relationship to the economy of slavery. At the same time, the fact that the farm ends up in the hands of a multiracial woman and her African American husband implies a degree of poetic justice.

“[W]hite people are only required to represent themselves, not an entire race.”

Carole reiterates the added responsibility she feels to educate her pupils outside of pure professional requirements. Her comment points to the dehumanizing effects of racism, which does not allow people of color to be individuals in the same way that white people are.

“[W]ho cares about her colour? why on earth did Penelope ever think it mattered?”

Penelope confronts the uselessness of her prejudices as she comes face-to-face with her birth mother, and she feels an overwhelming sense of belonging and connectivity despite their vast differences in life experience. The moment unites the themes of family legacy and human connectivity, hinting that Penelope’s discovery is emblematic of the human condition broadly; ultimately, everyone is tied to everyone else, and recognizing this combats prejudice and division.

“[B]oth of them welling up and it’s like the years are swiftly regressing until the lifetimes between them no longer exist.”

Penelope and Hattie’s differences fall away as they embrace and acknowledge each other as mother and daughter at the end of the book, bringing the theme of interconnectivity full circle. The characters’ sense of the years “regressing” reflects the novel’s interest in the way different eras bleed into one another, but in this case, the intersection of past and present is positive and healing rather than traumatic.

“[T]his is not about feeling something or about speaking words

this is about being

together.”

The book’s parting message and key theme is human interconnectivity and interdependence; humans are infinitely connected, and what matters in life is maintaining these bonds.