My darling Philippines has a different take on race relations, in that we actively stereotype the most common non-Pinoys (e.g., the Chinese are stingy but work hard, the Indians are also stingy and charge high interest rates, and Americans are friendly and rich) -- but in a non-violent, non-oppressive way, or so I would like to believe. Please feel free to update me about any horrific, systematic injustices you have detected or personally experienced.
My point is, it's taken me about a decade of living in the US to understand just how frequently a story like Celie's occurs, and it's a crushing of spirit that is related to the unfortunate circumstances of her birth: she's 1) a woman, 2) black, and 3) poor. The title is all the more moving because of what it signifies: an awakening of hope and a commitment to living.
But words cannot adequately convey the emotional ups and downs I went through because of this book. I was unashamedly weeping on the train, it was that bad. Let me portray my feelings via chart:
This post brought to you by Fragrant Husband's chicken parmesan and Argentina's Malbec! Wooo!!!