Of Love and Dandelions

            One night, Pecola, Claudia, and Frieda are huddled together in bed, and Pecola asks as question: “How do you do that? I mean, how do you get someone to love you?” To this, Claudia says in her inner monologue, “But Frieda was asleep. And I didn’t know.” And I find myself saying, you’re you, and if someone finds you love-worthy, then you’re loved. Simple as that. But some people don’t have that ingrown belief that they are special, worthy, and consider the simplicity of the answer, which is Claudia at the moment. 

            Said love, or rather, relationship, between a famile is explained through Claudia’s eyes: “They slipped in and out of the box of peeling gray, making no stir in the neighborhood, no sound in the labor force, and no wave in the mayor's office. Each member of the family in his own cell of consciousness, each making his own patchwork quilt of reality--collecting fragments of experience here, pieces of information there. From the tiny impressions gleaned from one another, they created a sense of belonging and tried to make do with the way they found each other." I’ve never thought about family in this way, only as a type of foothold and balance in the basis of understanding and love. But Morrison describes family as a group of people who unknowingly affect and are affected by those around them, people who are touched by the people closest to them and in a way molded to who they are.

            As for the conflict of the story, a certain paragraph caught my eye. Claudia is scrutinizing dandelions and begins with the following: "Dandelions. A dart of affection leaps out from her to them. But they do not look at her and do not send love back. She thinks, 'They are ugly. They are weeds.' Preoccupied with that revelation, she trips on the sidewalk crack. Anger stirs and wakes in her; it opens its mouth, and like a hot-mouthed puppy, laps up the dredges of her shame. Anger is better. There is a sense of being in anger. A reality and presence. An awareness of worth." Here we see some of the reasoning behind the main conflict of the story. The fact that if she loves something and said entity doesn’t feel the same way, then Claudia responds by “hating” them. In a way, it the means by which she protects herself from pain. Anger is better. When something happens that leaves you raw and sad, maybe it’s better to feel anger because it is a powerful sentiment and not so much a helpless one. In hating dandelions, she is protecting herself. As for the white, blue-eyed perfection, the opposite is true. She begins by hating them, but then turns her feelings into love because you have more control over love.