Alice Walker: We are a Sick Culture, Art can Help

I had seven brothers and sisters, and not one of them became the person they should have been — because of poverty, because of racism, because of poor diet and drugs, because of the war. The boys went off to the Army.
- Alice Walker

I am remarkably stubborn. And I believe in the truth. So, once I got through the Lyme disease period, I thought adding music to the story might be good. When people are fiercely opposed to things politically, music can help reach them, soften them. This story is one that we need, as a kind of medicine. We are a sick culture, and I believe that art can help.
- Alice Walker

Does this happen to you when you’re working, Alice? You think you’re making something up, and suddenly, you realize: Oh no, here it comes again: the abandonment. It’s coming up all over again.

AW: All the time. I’ve decided to work with it until I don’t need it anymore. No repression, no regret. Here it is. What can I make of it this time?

PG: Like the story of your grandfather, shooting at your grandmother with a rifle. …

AW: And only missing because he was dead drunk. They told that as a funny story. Can you believe it? I’m sure that’s why my brother shot me in the eye when I was 8.

PG: How old was he?

AW: Ten. Poor thing. But everything that happens to us teaches us, if we are open to it. And eventually life will open you. What I learned from that moment in refusing to tell on him. …

PG: What?!

AW: No, no, no. I was loyal. He would have been beaten by my parents if I’d told. So, my other brother and I conferred and came up with another story. And what I learned from that moment has served me so much better than what happened to my brother. I don’t think he ever cared, and his life was like that. He died, later, of cocaine and anger and frustration. He never apologized, so I’ve had to work with it forever. But I try not to cling to the things that are devastating.

PG: What do you cling to instead?

AW: There was a tree growing out beyond the porch. I was lying in bed. And as I gradually lost sight in that eye, the last thing I saw was that tree. And I love trees.

CT: How beautiful is that?

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