When readers pick up Sassafrass, Cypress, and Indigo, we are immediately confronted with claim that she has “too much of the South in her.” Even on this back cover, however, there is a tension between what that means in terms of physical location and spiritual connection. The book summarizes “Indigo, the youngest, is still a child of Charleston”– “too much of the South in her”– who lives in poetry and has the supreme gift of seeing the obvious magic of the world.” (back cover). While The New York times seems to think that Indigo’s physical location and consequent tie to the land of the South is pervasive to her very being, she is also initially described as understanding the magic of the world- which is a much larger place than the South.
On page 2, Shange describes the deep bond that exists between Indigo and the land of the South. “The South in her, the land and salt-winds, moved her through Charleston’s streets as if she were a mobile sapling, with the gait of a well-loved colored woman whose lover was the horizon in any direction. Indigo imagined tough winding branches growing from her braids, deep green leaves rustling by her ears, doves and macaws flirting above the nest they’d fashioned in the secret, protected niches way high up in her headdress. When she wore this Carolinian costume, she knew the cobblestone streets were really polished oyster shells, covered with pine needles and cotton flowers. She made herself, her world, from all that she came from. She looked around her wharf. If there was nobody there but white folks, she made them black folks. In the grocery, if the white folks were buying up all the fresh collards and okra, she made them disappear and put the produce on the vegetable wagons that went round to the colored. There wasn’t enough for Indigo in the world she’d been born to, so she made up what she needed. What she thought the black people needed.
Access to the moon. The power to heal. Daily visits with the spirits” (2-3).
The beginning of the passage begins by literally rooting Indigo into the ground of the South by describing “winding branches growing from her braids, deep green leaves growing from her ears” (2). Through this description, Indigo is described as deeply invested in and belonging to the soil of the South. Despite her connection, however, “There wasn’t enough for Indigo in the world she’d been born to.” (2). Indigo believes that black people need access to the moon, which seems counterintuitive given that she is described as one with land of the South and the moon is the complete opposite of the land that she is physically on.
“When her father died, Indigo had decided it was the spirit of things that mattered. The humans come and go. Aunt Haydee said spirits couldn’t be gone, or the planet would fall apart. The South in her” (6).
Here, we see once again that Indigo possesses a belief about, or an inherent spirituality that reaches far beyond the land of the South.
The dual idea of “The South in her” as describing Indigo’s physical connectivity to the land as well as her spiritual freedom begs the question of what the line actually intends to convey about Indigo’s special relationship to the South.
Discussion Question:
Does the description of Indigo as having. “too much of the South in her” convey Indigo’s physical connectivity/placement in the South or an alternative spiritual freedom from the land of the South? Can it do both or are these things at odds?