Abstract
According to Cathy Caruth, literature is a way of representing trauma. It captures the complexity of trauma, explores its psychic and cultural dimensions, and portrays its impact on individuals and societies. She argues that literature can give a voice to the often-silenced victims of trauma. In literature, trauma is frequently represented in a fragmented, confused, and splintered way, reflecting the psychic experience of dissociation and disorientation. The different literary representations and writing styles enable readers to better understand the complexity of the traumatic experience and to recognize the importance of empathy and compassion in healing from trauma.
The transmission of traumatic experiences varies across different forms of media. This is evident when a book undergoes adaptations into films, series, or picture books, for example. Branden Jacobs-Jenkins're-adaptation of Kindred into a series showcases numerous changes and adjustments during the transmediation process, aiming to convey a similar message while catering to a distinct audience. Similarly, the novel Beloved by Toni Morrison undergoes a transformation into a psychological horror drama film directed by Jonathan Demme. This film explores similar themes found in Morrison's A Mercy.
Henceforth, some key questions can be raised: How does the factor of race and gender affect African American female characters? To what extent is the choice of fiction relevant to cultural heritage? What are the roles of the different writing styles and transmediation in the intergenerational transmission of African American women's traumatic experiences?
Extract
[...] Hoping for a miracle. He said yes. It was not a miracle. Bestowed by God. It was a mercy. Offered by a human. I stayed on my knees. In the dust where my heart will remain each night and every day until you understand what I know and long to tell you: to be given dominion over another is This decision showcases her enduring strength and maternal instinct, defying the dehumanizing conditions of slavery. It reminds readers that despite the systemic oppression they faced, slaves were not devoid of choice or agency. [...]
[...] His preference for steady female labor over dodgy males was based on his own experience as a youth. A frequently absent master was invitation and temptation-to escape, rape or rob. The two men he used as occasional help presented no threat at all. In the right environment, women were naturally reliable. He believed it now with this ill-shod child that the mother was throwing away, just as he believed it a decade earlier with the curly-haired goose girl, the one they called Sorrow. [...]
[...] Also, African-American slaves sought to write themselves out of slavery. Through the slave narratives, the ex-slave black male writers asserted their full humanity and their manhood. Ex-slave female writers asserted their full humanity and womanhood and also exposed the sexual crimes perpetrated against them by white male slave masters. They embraced the dream of reason and of civil liberties. They defined their own identity and undermined the stereotypical representations of the Europeans. Slavery, and especially chattel slavery, is called a holocaust by Howard H. Hariott8. [...]
[...] How resilient can one become when another life relies on their care? It is through the maternal bonds forged with Rufus and Alice that Dana becomes entwined in their intricate relationship? Dana has the role of a moral guide for Rufus, assuming the role of a mother figure in his life. However, her influence can only extend so far as Rufus, like numerous other white masters, succumbs to the deplorable practice of exploiting enslaved women. Alice, who bears Rufus's children, derives her purpose solely from their existence, drawing strength from their presence and even contemplating escape with them. [...]
[...] As a result, the intergenerational transmission of trauma is often implicit. Future generations inherit the emotional consequences of traumatic experiences, even if the specific details may not be explicitly shared. In Octavia Butler's Kindred, time travel creates a veil of temporal silence, where the protagonists, especially Dana, are often reluctant to divulge information about the future to people from the past: "I forced myself to remain silent, knowing that the words I could say could shake things up." This retention is linked to the complexity of passing knowledge and trauma over time. [...]
