Title & author
The Vanishing Half by Brit Bennett
Synopsis
The Vanishing Half addresses racism, colorism, and intersectionality by following the lives of Stella and Desiree Vignes, twins that grow up in a small southern town whose residents are obsessed with lightness. By tracing the twins’s diverging lives, particularly through the intersecting paths of their daughters Kennedy and Jude, Bennett addresses identity-- both blood and persona-- in an authentic, forceful, and lyrical way.
Who should read this book
Fans of Toni Morrison, Jacqueline Woodson, and Rebecca Makkai
What we’re thinking about
Identity politics in America
Trigger warning(s)
Physical violence, sexual violence, slurs, sexism, mental health, racism, transphobia, homophobia
Amidst the 2020 protests against police brutality and structural racism, Brit Bennett’s The Vanishing Half (Riverhead, 2020) debuted at the top of the New York Times bestseller list. The novel addresses racism, colorism, and intersectionality by following the lives of Stella and Desiree Vignes, twins that grow up in a small southern town whose residents are obsessed with lightness. By tracing the twins’s diverging lives, particularly through the intersecting paths of their daughters Kennedy and Jude, Bennett addresses identity-- both blood and persona-- in an authentic, forceful, and lyrical way.
Exposed to racism, sexism, and classism from a young age, the twins are launched onto different paths that lead them to assume opposing identities-- Desiree back in their childhood town and Stella passing as a white woman in Los Angeles. Desiree doesn’t “care about lightness” in the same way the rest of her town does (Bennett, 9). Although individuals in her hometown seek out opportunities to make their bloodline lighter, Desiree does not. She marries a Black man, “shocked by the brightness of the tie and boldness of the jet-black brother who’d found the nerve to wear it” (19). Her husband’s acceptance of himself captures her attention. And when they have a baby together, Desiree knows “a different woman might have been disappointed by how little her own daughter resembled her, but she only felt grateful” (25). Desiree is thankful when her daughter takes after her father in skin tone, unlike those in her town would be. But does this gratitude symbolize an acceptance and proudness of her identity? Bennett complicates the question, Desiree going on to state that “the last thing she wanted was to love someone else who looked just like herself” (25). Is her gratitude a sincere symbol of her embracing her and her daughter’s Black identities, or is it self-serving? Perhaps it is both.
Across the country in Los Angeles, Stella is passing for white. “The passe blanc were a mystery. You could never meet one who’d passed over undetected...the act could only be successful if no one ever discovered it was a ruse” (69). Stella, now married to a white man and living in an upper-class neighborhood surrounded by white neighbors, has not been in touch with her family since fleeing New Orleans in order to protect her assumed whiteness. When a Black family attempts to move into the neighborhood, Stella cries that the community “‘must stop them...if you don’t, there’ll be more and then what?’” (146). Out of fear for their discovery of the truth, Stella lives a lie, even with those she loves the most. She “stare[s] into her daughter’s face, seeing everyone that she had ever hated” and fears that, even though Blake “had never hurt her...he could” (199, 161). Stella’s lie conflicts with her innermost feelings and prevents her from ever building a reality, a true identity. In this rejection, Stella ends up perpetuating racist stereotypes and harmful language, rejecting Blackness-- and a part of her history-- altogether.
Bennett builds upon these complex questions of identity and self by using the twins’s daughters, Jude and Kennedy, to explore them further. Jude, “Black as coffee, asphalt, outer space, black as the beginning and the end of the world,” flees to L.A. for a new start, desperate to escape the “loneliness” that came with Mallard’s colorism (84, 88). Bullied and outcast, Jude seeks familiarity and acceptance. In L.A., she finds Reese and Barry, the three of them “new people here” (133). Reese, a photographer and transgender man, and Barry, a teacher and drag queen, help her explore and understand who she is and what she wants, cultivating her identity.
But her cousin, Stella’s daughter Kennedy, cannot be herself, convinced she doesn’t “know who that is” (227). Even though “her whole life, in fact, had been a gift of good fortune-- she had been given whiteness. Blonde hair, a pretty face, a nice figure, a rich father,” she still is jealous of Jude, convinced “if she’d been born black, she would have been perfectly happy about it” (299, 296). Whiteness affords Kennedy the privilege of choosing her identity, of deciding who she wants to be and when she wants to be it, including through the perpetuation of racism. Unlike her mother, her aunt, and her cousin, she is able to live a life unimpacted by race.
Yet, Kennedy attempts to identify as Black simply out of convenience and desire to belong. But her white upbringing and its subsequent privilege reinforce that ultimately she can never understand marginalization and racism. Her mother might be Black, but Kennedy has never identified as such, her experiences shaped by whiteness and the world’s view of her as white. How can she ever understand what Jude, her mother, or her aunt have undergone? Isn’t it our identity and subsequent experiences that teach us what we value and uphold? Isn’t it our identity that prevents us from truly understanding the lives of others?
On many “anti-racism reading lists,” The Vanishing Half provides insight to four different lives through the lens of identity and identity politics. However, the novel also reinforces two important takeaways: First, that while we can educate ourselves, unless experienced, non-Black women will never understand anti-Black racism. White women in general will never understand the racism faced by the BIPOC communities. And we must not assume we can. The most powerful thing we can do is step aside, show up, and support. The second takeaway is that while this novel and many others are being read by individuals with the intent of education, these novels should instead be appreciated and consumed for the literary talents of the authors. Toni Morrison, Brit Bennett, Zora Neale Hurston, Jacqueline Woodson-- these women, and so many others, are lyrical, poetic, genius. We have much to learn from all of them, much to admire, beyond their exploration of race in America. And we are benefiting absolutely nobody if we pigeonhole authors that address race in their work into “simply” being experts on race and racism.
“Maybe Miss Vignes was already a part of her, as if she had been split in half. She could become whichever woman she decided, whichever side of her face she tilted to the light.”
Join in
Contribute your thoughts by using the “Leave a comment” button found underneath the share buttons below. Answer one of these questions, ask your own, respond to others, and more.
What influence does Bennett’s choice have to expand the story to follow Jude and Kennedy in addition to the twins? Why should the story just not follow the sisters?
Stella, Jude, and Reese all move to California. What does the west symbolize for them? Does it live up to their expectations?
Please note that all comments must be approved by the moderator before posting. We reserve the right to deny offensive or spam-related commentary. And, for the wellbeing of our BIPOC, LGBTQIA+, and/or disabled-identifying community members, please respect the personal capacity to address questions on certain topics. We encourage you to search for the answer in a great book or online instead. Thank you!