Hilton Als reverses expectations with the title of his newly released work, “White Girls,” in which he portrays no version of what would instinctively be considered a “white girl.” The book’s title evokes images either of blond kids in pigtails playing with Barbies or those who mirror the outrageous cast of Lena Dunham’s series “Girls,” but the book actually depicts prominent black men among others who have struggled to define themselves in a society bounded by the expectations of race and gender.
Through the combinations of fiction and nonfiction, memoir and critique, Als blurs the boundaries between white and black, male and female. He hardly provides any perspective of a “white girl” but rather focuses on characters who are marginalized and ultimately upset the status quo.
Als draws similarities between diverse cultural icons who have appeared throughout history and have dealt with discrimination due to race, gender or sexuality. The work comprises memoirs that depict reality but include fictional elements as well. Als includes Truman Capote, Malcolm X, Michael Jackson, Richard Pryor, Andre Leon Talley and even himself.
These figures resonate with the public as they are driven together by the need to be loved and accepted by those who surround them while being driven apart by their tendency to discriminate against those who do not belong to their group. The stories are not disparate but rather are tied together through each individual’s sense of otherness.
The novel’s opening essay recounts Als’ struggle as a homosexual black man in his desire to be accepted as a lover and as a respected writer. This section addresses the prejudice Als faced during these relationships, or “twinships,” as he calls them. Although this is the only section explicitly in his voice, the other characters possess different qualities with which he identifies.
The section entitled “The Women” focuses on Truman Capote in his early career, when he began to openly identify as a homosexual in the midst of the 1940s, “when ‘real’ women would not or could not” successfully identify themselves as female published writers. Capote chose to identify himself as a “woman” at a time when homosexuality remained, for the most part, concealed — a situation similar to that of Hilton Als. Ironically, the intolerance toward gay men at the time made way for the discrimination against successful women. This alone encapsulates a major concept of the work: Discrimination against one marginalized group can, in turn, lead to discrimination against another.
Als then diverges into a discussion about identity, detailing his subjects of Eminem and Michael Jackson. He confirms that identity is not something given at birth but rather what each person chooses to identify with both publicly and personally, regardless of the potential for discrimination.
Eminem, whose biography has become commonly known from the film “8 Mile,” is depicted as ostracized from his Detroit community due to his race. He still continues in the wake of criticism, however, to develop his name in the rap industry. Jackson, like Eminem, was raised in a destructive household, leaving him at odds with his identity as he moved through his years as a pop icon.
Als concludes his work with two pieces on comedian Richard Pryor, the latter piece from Pryor’s sister’s point of view. The first essay focuses on Pryor’s success as a comedian and how he made his way on his own terms by focusing on his race for his material. In the section, his fictional sister shows her disdain for her brother’s success through jokes about his racial background. She, on the other hand, fails to make an independent name for herself as a porn star voice-over actress, as she is overshadowed by Pryor’s success. Although Pryor achieved what any comedian would consider success, this success was gained, from the perspective of his sister, by selling out his people. By concluding the book in the perspective of a black woman, Als furthers his distaste for the effects of “othering.”
“White Girls” rings true to Als’ claim in the opening chapter: “I see how we are all the same, that none of us are white women or black men; rather, we’re a series of mouths, and that every mouth needs filling: with something wet or dry, like love, or unfamiliar and savory, like love.”
Contact Sasha Chebil at schebil@dailycal.org.
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