Caroline, by Allison Joseph (Analysis #1)

Caroline

By Allison Joseph

In the eighth grade, we teased that girl

as much as we could, mocking

her clothes, her stringy hair

her flat, pallid face that revealed

little protest. Used to being

the one white girl in our class

of blacks, Hispanics, she endured

our taunts on her lack of rhythm,

on her stiff, flat-butted walk.

How we pitied her—brown hair

parted straight, pulled back

in a dull ponytail, her jeans

or corduroy pants in washed-out

shades of gray or blue,

her homework neatly done

in pained, legible print.

How weak it was to be white,

we thought, not able to dance

or run fast, to have skin

that peeled from too much sun.

We never let Caroline forget

that she was white and we

were black, that we could

swing our hips and snap

our fingers without trying,

privy to street-slang rhythms.

But she was our white girl,

and if anyone else dared

to touch her or call her names

we’d be on them in a second,

calling them ugly right back,

slapping offenders if necessary.

With one of us by her side,

she could walk the school

safely, knowing she was ours

even if we didn’t let her in

all the way, even if we laughed

at her white speech, thin lips.

(Whoa, that was long! For the record, that was not done by copying and pasting)

I really don’t know why I am drawn to this poem. It doesn’t relate to me at all, and it doesn’t particularly resonate with something deep inside my soul. It’s not very emotional, so it doesn’t stir up some sort of profound feeling. I don’t know what it is about it that I love so much, I was just immediately drawn to it. I guess I just like it because it’s a great poem. It’s well written, delightfully constructed, and has an interesting theme that hasn’t been approached very much in modern poetry. I was especially pleasantly surprised when it took the sudden turn to “But she was our white girl…” The first time I read it, I did a double-take. What? They WEREN’T mean to her, but they were? How does that work? Another thing that I like about this poem is its beautiful language. Allison Joseph uses a different type of imagery that’s very satisfying for this poem. Instead of using flowery, formal language that’s typical for imagery, she uses awesome words like “peel” (say that out loud really slowly… peel) and “privy”. It suits the tone of the story, and I feel that the author is being real with the reader. I feel that she’s being herself.

Image © Anders Hald