A Risky Competition: How Motherhood Poses Danger––and Confers Power––in Nella Larsen’s Passing
Leah Cates
“Being a mother is the cruellest thing in the world,” admits a tearful Clare Kendry to Irene Redfield. Irene reflects, “Clare […] put into words that which, not so definitely defined, was so often in [Irene’s] own heart of late,” and replies, “And the most responsible, Clare. We mothers are all responsible for the security and happiness of our children” (Larsen 197). Throughout Nella Larsen’s Passing, Clare, the mother of Margery, and Irene, the mother of Theodore and Junior, contemplate and compete over motherhood. For the light-skinned Black women in Passing, pregnancy and motherhood are associated with fear. A mixed-race child’s potentially dark skin is a constant reminder of their mother’s tenuous relationship with her Black heritage in a racist early 20th-century U.S. society, which, particularly for Clare, whose white husband is racist, the child threatens to reveal. However, motherhood also presents an opportunity for social and personal leverage, whether to garner social capital, bolster feelings of self-worth, or preserve a failing marriage. Ultimately, Passing depicts Black middle-class motherhood not as an end in and of itself, nor as a labor of unconditional love, but instead as an elaborate performance that both poses danger to Black women and presents opportunities for power within their social networks and the traditional domestic sphere.
Motherhood as a Source of Anxiety and Racial Insecurity for Black Women
For many Black women in early 20th-century America, pregnancy presented a source of unease and dread. In her introduction to Passing, Deborah E. McDowell explains the dangers inherent in sexuality for these women. Some of this danger is tied to pregnancy. McDowell focuses on the risks associated with the stereotype of Black women as lascivious as well as the general burden of motherhood on women, introducing the trepidation with which Black women might have approached pregnancy (xii-xv). She explains that Black women could not ignore the “connection between sexuality and reproduction” because, for Black women, “sexual pleasure leads to the dangers of domination in […] repeated pregnancy” (McDowell xv, xiv). McDowell contextualizes pregnancy not as a source of joy and excitement, but instead as an anxiety-filled burden.
While none of the women in Passing explicitly express anxiety about being stereotyped as lewd, both Clare and Gertrude Martin, the light-skinned mother of twin boys, expressly avoid “repeated pregnancy” and experience anxiety-laden pregnancies, as they are concerned about handing down Blackness to their children. Moreover, pregnancy creates additional anxiety for Clare as a woman who passes and whose mixed-race daughter could have revealed her mother’s Blackness. Clare asserts that she does not intend to bear more children:
I nearly died of terror the whole nine months before Margery was born for fear that she might be dark. Thank goodness, she turned out all right. But I’ll never risk it again. Never! The strain is simply too—too hellish. (Larsen 168)
For Clare, pregnancy and maternity present a “risk,” since a Black child is a liability that would destroy the marriage, social network and life that she worked for years to build. Indeed, birthing a child of color would likely render Clare a homeless single mother without financial resources or a support system. The danger associated with childbearing proves particularly acute in light of Clare’s husband, who views Black people with disgust and disdain. According to Mr. Bellew, “I hate them. […] They give me the creeps. The black scrimy devils” (Larsen 172). If Margery had been Black, Mr. Bellew likely would have disdained and disowned both his baby and wife, themselves “black scrimy devils.” Clare’s pregnancy does not brim with the excitement and joy of bringing a human being into the world and fulfilling one’s socially prescribed maternal role. Instead, Clare experiences a “hellish” and relentless “terror,” dreading the moment the baby begins to crown.
Some of Clare’s anxiety appears to rest in insecurity about her own Blackness, including a fear of the shame associated with her Black heritage being discovered by her peers in prejudiced 20th-century America. By stating that Margery “turned out” to be “all right,” Clare makes a value judgement about race in and of itself. Had Margery been born Black, she would not have been “all right” according to her mother, who would view her baby girl as flawed, at least in the eyes of the larger society, due to her race. As a Black woman passing in 20th-century America, Clare may feel ashamed of her own Blackness and fears passing it on to her daughter of whom, if visibly Black, Clare may likewise feel ashamed. Clare would be forced to navigate and restructure life in a racist society with a Black child after suffering the embarrassment of being “found out” by bigoted Americans, including her own husband.
Furthermore, after an uncomfortable interaction between Irene and Gertrude, who unwittingly criticizes Irene’s Black son (see below), Clare asserts,
Coloured people—we—are too silly about some things [bearing mixed-race children with dark skin]. […] It’s only deserters like me who have to be afraid of freaks of the nature. (Larsen 169)
The first portion of Clare’s statement, wherein she writes off Black people’s fear of mixed-race children as “silly,” suggests that her own terror of a Black child stems solely from fear of discovery of her own Black identity. The latter portion of her statement complicates the former, however, as she deems Black children, which might have included her own baby, fearsome “freaks of the nature.” While Clare may be mocking the way in which her society views Black children and people, she may have, in part, internalized some of America’s racism in considering Black children to be unnatural, perverse and worthy of fear.
Anxiety related to insecurity about one’s own Black heritage is likewise present in Gertrude’s attitude toward childbearing. According to Gertrude, “It’s awful the way [Blackness] skips generations and then pops out. […]. Of course, nobody wants a dark child” (Larsen 168). Although Gertrude, unlike Clare, is not passing for white, she nevertheless fears her baby’s potential Blackness. To Gertrude, Blackness is an “awful” looming menace that threatens to “pop out,” unexpected and unwanted. Her assertion that “nobody wants a dark child” suggests that Gertrude may believe a Black child to be inherently undesirable, even if it is her own child and even—or, perhaps, especially—because she herself is Black. Indeed, Gertrude’s statement suggests that her fear of birthing a Black child may stem not only from anxiety about the oppression that the child will endure, but also from the child’s Blackness in and of itself, which would create a visible and constant reminder of the Black heritage that, as a result of societal racism, she seems to reject.
Motherhood as an Opportunity for Leverage in Women’s Social Sphere
Both Irene and Clare perform devoted, concerned motherhood to garner social capital. Irene performs primarily to bolster her sense of self-worth, “beat” Clare, of whom she feels jealous, and salvage her failing relationship with her husband. Clare performs motherhood to compete with Irene. In this way, both women ultimately employ their children as means to an end in the advancement of their own interests.
It is important to note that, although their children prove essential to Irene and Clare’s characterization and relationship, as well as to the movement of the plot—Theodore and Junior’s desire for gifts sets the story in motion by placing Irene and Clare in the same restaurant, and Margery’s presence in Switzerland promises to remove Clare from Irene’s presence come spring—the reader rarely encounters the children (Larsen 146, 149, 209). Margery remains abroad for the duration of the novel, and Theodore and Junior, both of whom are static characters, make few appearances. The children’s simultaneous centrality to the story and invisibility represents their status as either exploitable assets (see below) or life-shattering liabilities (see above) for their mothers, but unimportant beyond their potential for utility or damage, and certainly not autonomous beings who deserve care in and of themselves.
The first suggestion that Irene’s performance of motherhood proves essential to her sense of self is her search for her sons’ gifts. Irene feels annoyed by the task, as revealed by her having “characteristically” procrastinated shopping for her sons until the final days of her trip and considering her search for Junior’s coloring book a “snag” (Larsen 146, 149). Nevertheless, Irene searches six stores for the gift, perhaps to convince herself of her devotion to her children by performing a task that is time consuming, but notably does not necessitate direct care or significant emotional labor (Larsen 146). For Irene, Theodore and Junior are an essential aspect of the nuclear, heterosexual, middle class family she desires. Readers rarely, if ever, see Irene Redfield engaged in direct care work, beyond occasionally reminding her boys to mind their manners (Larsen 201). Indeed, Irene’s hunt for Theodore’s drawing-book is perhaps the most direct maternal effort described in the novel; every other suggestion of Irene’s alleged love of motherhood comes from her words as she tries to convince others of her maternal dedication and success.
Irene acts the part of the devoted mother not only to convince herself of her embodiment of the ideal mother, but also to gain the envy of her peers. Immediately after Gertrude asserts “Nobody wants a Black child,” Irene replies “in a voice of whose even tones she was proud: ‘One of my boys is dark,’” employing her status as the mother of a Black child to her social advantage (Larsen 168). Irene’s ability to respond confidently and calmly to an unwitting, yet scathing, insult about her son suggests to her peers that she possesses a sense of security in her racial heritage, a self-assurance that neither Clare nor Gertrude enjoys. Irene’s pride in her cool reply, however, reveals that her confidence might in fact be feigned, as Irene’s success in the performance renders her pleasantly surprised. This argument gains credence when considered in conjunction with Irene’s inviting many white people to attend the social events that she hosts for the Negro Welfare League (Larsen 197, 198). In the introduction, McDowell notes how “the social functions that Irene arranges, supposedly designed to aid the unfortunate black masses and to give them a sense of belonging, are so heavily attended by prominent whites” (McDowell xxv). Indeed, Brian quips, “Pretty soon the colored people won’t be allowed in at all, or will have to sit in Jim Crowed sections” (Larsen, qtd. in McDowell xxv). Irene’s inviting important white individuals to her parties suggests that she aspires, at least to a degree, to insert herself into the white community, which America perceived as higher class than the Black community.
Theodore and Junior especially become social capital when Irene attempts to gain the upper hand in her relationship with Clare. The former feels jealous of the latter due to her beauty, success in passing as white for over a decade, and alleged affair with Irene’s husband which, even if not true, is a manifestation of Irene’s envy. This dynamic is reflected in the comment, made by Irene, that prompts the conversation discussed in the previous section. Irene taunts, “It seems that Clare’s rather behind, doesn’t it?” as Clare only has one child, while Gertrude and Irene have two (Larsen 167). Irene’s subtle jab suggests that the number of children a woman bears is a competition and, by choosing to have only one child, Clare has fallen “behind” Irene and Gertrude in the baby delivery race; for a woman, more babies equals greater social status.
Irene also directly employs Margery—whom, once again, readers never directly encounter—in the maternity competition that she creates with Clare. When Clare brushes off Irene after she (Irene) expresses to Clare the dangers of passing, Irene retorts, “There’s your little girl, Clare. Think of the consequences to her” (Larsen 196). In fact, Irene likely mentions Margery not out of genuine concern for the child’s well-being, but instead to spite her “friend” (quotes mine) by attempting to provoke feelings of guilt for what Irene deems Clare’s “selfish” actions (Larsen 197). By describing Margery—a pre-teen who is independent from her parents in a foreign country—as a “little girl,” Irene hopes to make Clare feel as though she fails to protect her young and vulnerable child, and is an inadequate mother in comparison to Irene, who must condescendingly remind Clare to remember her own daughter’s well-being and who, at least ostensibly, enjoys a stable and transparent relationship with her husband that benefits her sons. Perhaps Irene is successful; in response, “Clare’s face took on a startled look, as though she were totally unprepared for this new weapon with which Irene had assailed her” (Larsen 196). Indeed, Irene has transformed a “little girl” into a fierce armament. Clare’s stunned reaction does not stem so much from maternal responsibility and guilt as from a fierce blow in the maternity battle, as Irene accuses Clare of not prioritizing her child, and thus not conforming as well as Irene to the domestic ideal which patriarchal early 20th-century American society imposed upon middle-class mothers.
Despite her bewilderment in the aforementioned scene, Clare refuses to allow Irene to win the motherhood contest without stiff competition. When Irene once again goads Clare by asking her what would become of Margery should Mr. Bellew discover Clare’s Black heritage, Clare replies, “If it wasn’t for her, I’d [tell Mr. Bellew] anyway. She’s all that holds me back.” (Larsen 234). Clare’s comment suggests loyalty and devotion to Margery, at the alleged expense of her own well-being. Without concern for her “little girl,” Clare could liberate herself from her racist husband and secretive, stressful lifestyle. Clare continues, however, “But if Jack finds out, if our marriage is broken, that lets me out. Doesn’t it?” (Larsen 234). In this moment, Clare unwittingly reveals her hope that Mr. Bellew will discover her secret, unfettering her from constant stress and perhaps allowing her to feel guilt-free, as she would not be directly responsible for a situation that simultaneously advantages her and harms Margery.
Perhaps the most overt moment of Irene and Clare’s motherhood competition comes after Irene suggests to Clare that she will be happy to reunite with her daughter. Clare responds, “‘Children aren’t everything,’ […]. ‘There are other things in the world, though I admit some people don’t seem to suspect it’” (Larsen 210). According to Larsen, “[Clare] laughed more, it seemed, at some secret joke of her own than at her own words” (210). With Clare’s assertion, the competition takes an unusual turn, wherein Clare mocks Irene for her apparent one-track mind in many of their conversations. “Some people” likely refers to Irene, and Clare’s “secret joke” to a recognition of the competition that Irene has constructed and the new defensive tactic that she (Clare) tries: sabotaging the contest altogether, by undermining the value that Irene, influenced by early 20th-century American ideals, places on motherhood.
Irene, however, refuses to be toyed with. She retorts,
You know you don’t mean that, Clare. You’re only trying to tease me. I know very well that I take being a mother rather seriously. I am wrapped up in my boys […]. I can’t help it. And, really, I don’t think it’s anything to laugh at. (Larsen 210)
Irene condescends to Clare—as a mother might to her child—throughout this quotation, including telling her what she does not mean, accusing her of teasing, and chastising Clare for her laughter. According to Larsen, although Irene recognized “the slight primness in her words and attitude, she had neither power nor wish to efface it,” suggesting that her disciplinary and stuffy tone might be intentional (210). As Clare attempts to frustrate the motherhood competition, Irene intensifies her strategy by embodying the stereotypical qualities of a mother in her interaction with Irene. Yet again, Irene derives satisfaction from being perceived by Clare as an inherently maternal parent who “can’t help” being consumed with her sons and has therefore conformed more successfully than Clare to the middle class 20th-century American ideal of devoted motherhood.
How Irene Exploits “The Boys” to Salvage Her Marriage
Beyond employing Theodore and Junior to assuage her feelings of jealousy toward and gain social capital in interactions with Clare, Irene uses her children—to whom she often refers as “the boys,” as opposed to recognizing them as autonomous individuals—to convince herself that Brian, her husband, will not abandon his family and to tie Brian to her (Larsen 190, 219, 221, 222). Irene ultimately hopes to preserve what McDowell calls Irene’s “most cherished attainment […] the accoutrements of middle-class existence,” which include children, social status, and material resources, all of which necessitate the presence of a successful husband who earns a respectable living (xxv). After a fight with Brian, Irene recalls her former fear that he will desert his family for Brazil, where he desires to move despite Irene’s forcing the family to remain in America. Irene quickly assures herself, “He was fond of her, loved her, in his slightly undemonstrative way. And there were the boys” (Larsen 190). Initially, Irene eases her concern by convincing herself of Brian’s marital affection. When she recalls his aloofness, however, Irene quickly thinks of “the boys,” who are her ultimate means of keeping Brian bound to her in America.
Irene’s train of thought reflects her underlying belief that Brian might in fact not love her enough to remain married, and only his loyalty to Theodore and Junior will prevent him from leaving. Significantly, the conversation that prompted their argument arose from a failed ploy to preserve their marriage: Irene mentioned her concern that Junior was moving too quickly in school, hoping that her husband might bring Junior to school in Europe, which might help to satiate his desire to leave America (Larsen 189-190). Here again, Irene renders one of her “boys” a mere pawn in her larger plan to retain control over her marriage (Larsen 190).
Clare’s alleged affair with Brian intensifies the extent to which Irene depends on her sons to maintain her marriage. As a panicked Irene speculates about Brian and Clare’s supposed affair, she wonders, “How would it affect her and the boys? The boys! She had a surge of relief” (Larsen 221). The exclamation point after “the boys” underscores the immediate comfort that recalling their presence provides to Irene, for whom the real question is not so much how the affair will “affect” her boys, but instead how her boys will “affect” the affair, particularly by undermining it, or at least preventing Brian from leaving Irene for Clare. In addition, the use of an exclamation point after “the boys” recalls an earlier moment wherein a friend mentions Theodore and Junior to Irene, who is engaged in internal panic about the affair. Irene thinks, “The boys! For once she’d forgotten them” (219). Here, Irene engages in a degree of self-deceit, bolstering her sense of self and confidence by convincing herself of her utter devotion to her sons. The exclamation point, in conjunction with “For once,” which expresses the rarity with which Irene fails to think about her sons, suggests Irene’s ostensible surprise at having neglected to consider Theodore and Junior, if only momentarily. Indeed, Irene believes that she is always “wrapped up” (see previous section) in her sons. In fact, she is constantly preoccupied with her relationships with Clare and Brian and, for her own sense of success in having achieved the societally imposed standards of dedicated motherhood, deceives herself into believing that her sons are always on her mind.
Perhaps most significantly, Clare and Brian’s supposed affair creates for Irene a rare moment of self-awareness and insight. Irene begins to recognize that, despite her performance of adoration for and devotion to her maternal role, she cares about preserving her marriage as the ultimate means to self-esteem and social status, and comes to the heartbreaking realization that her maternal role is bound in Brian’s treating her solely as a mother, as opposed to his life partner. Immediately after the “surge of relief,” Irene’s calm
Ebbed, vanished. A feeling of absolute unimportance followed. Actually, she didn’t
count. She was, to him, only the mother of his sons. That was all. Alone she was nothing.
Worse. An obstacle. Rage boiled up in her. (Larsen 221)
In this moment, Irene directly confronts the possibility that her husband does not love her, even in a “slightly undemonstrative way” (see above) and tolerates her solely as a conduit to his sons. Despite all of her proclamations of devoted motherhood, this realization infuriates Irene, who suddenly feels worthless. Irene’s despair reflects that much of her self-esteem and sense of self-worth is dependent not upon her role as a mother, as she often convinces herself, but instead in her success as a wife. Importantly, the realization that, to Brian, she is “only” a mother disturbs Irene, complicating the image of a woman who “takes being a mother rather seriously” (see above section). Although Irene might simultaneously endeavor to be a caring mother and a wife valued for who she is as a person (as opposed to simply her motherhood), her train of thought underscores the inextricable link between her performance of motherhood and her fundamental desire to remain in an ostensibly successful marriage.
Conclusion: Barriers to Bonding, Female Solidarity, and an Empowering Motherhood
Notably, the advantages that Irene Redfield and Clare Kendry derive from performing motherhood, including garnering social capital inside feminine circles and, for Irene, maintaining her tenuous marriage, lie within women’s traditional domestic sphere. These “rewards” reinforce the socially imposed gender roles that encourage the women to perform motherhood, a potentially perilous endeavor, in the first place. As Irene backhandedly ridicules Clare for her lack of maternal devotion—which mirrors Irene’s own absence of care for her children—Irene initiates a fierce, jealousy-ridden competition between the two women that poses barriers to both female bonding over maternity, and solidarity in the face of oppression associated with their femaleness, Blackness, and status as mothers. Had Irene and Clare revealed to one another that their respective performances of “the cruelest thing in the world” were indeed fairly disingenuous, they might have transformed motherhood into an endeavor that fostered racial and gender solidarity. While it would continue to prove challenging and oppressive, motherhood might also have united them as friends, confidants, and survivors.
Works Cited
Larsen, Nella. Passing. 1929. Edited by Deborah E. McDowell, New Brunswick, Rutgers University Press, 1986.
McDowell, Deborah E. Introduction. Passing, 1929, by Nella Larsen. Edited by Deborah E. McDowell, New Brunswick, Rutgers University Press, 1986, pp. ix-xxxi.