Authenticity and False Identity in Toni Morrison’s Song of Solomon

In Toni Morrison’s Song of Solomon, the theme of identity is inherent throughout the entire novel. It tells the story of Milkman Dead, a man on a journey to find his own identity. Many of the other characters depicted in Song of Solomon lack their own personal identity. Milkman’s mother, Ruth Dead, attempts to draw her identity from her relationships and her usefulness to others. Other characters in the novel draw theirs from pride and wealth, other’s attitudes toward them, and, in Guitar’s case, from an acute sense of revenge. At the very beginning of the novel, Milkman derives his own identity from extreme vanity and a masculine sense of entitlement; however, on his journey, with the help of his aunt, Pilate, he endures a process which allows him to discard his false ideas about himself and to adopt healthier attitudes regarding himself and the people around him. His Aunt Pilate provides a standard of self-knowledge that Milkman sets out to attain. She is possibly the only character who lives her life by an axiom of truth. The rest of Morrison’s characters live their lives under false pretenses, creating for themselves false identities, through which they themselves are unable to see. Theodore O. Mason Jr. describes the condition of these characters, saying that they all “have their stories, the fictions by which they live” (180). In Song of Solomon, Milkman is able to overcome the array of lies that surround him to become a truly authentic person.

Milkman’s mother Ruth is probably the most inauthentic character in the entire novel. She defines herself with her relationships to others, primarily her father and her son. She never really has a sense of self, but rather she “grows into womanhood without a personal identity, as the extension of her father” (Samuels and Hudson-Weems 54). Her existence consists of the fact

that she is her father’s daughter. This tendency carries on through her relationship with her husband and son, constantly using them to define herself. Karen Carmean gives an account of Ruth’s bleak existence saying that she is “contained by the house that her father built to flaunt his success and position, a house her husband uses for the same reason, Ruth allows herself to be controlled to a large degree by their expectations of her. Their presumptions of her automatically relegate Ruth to the role of adoring, or at least docile, dependent” (58). She sustains herself by making nighttime visits to the cemetery where her father is buried, and by nursing Milkman for years beyond infancy. She is never truly able to find strength within herself, or to define herself in a meaningful way.

Macon Dead, Milkman’s father, though not the passive character that Ruth is, is also lacking a personal identity. He defines himself with ownership and with the sense of power and control that his possessions give him. He tells Milkman once that “Money is freedom. The only real freedom there is” (Morrison 163). This statement is what drives everything that Macon does. He seeks freedom, and he is using money to find it; however, physical wealth is simply a substitute for the spiritual freedom, the sense of self that he lacks. Jan Furman describes Macon’s error saying, “proprietorship consumes Macon and alienates him from family and community, leaving no room for spiritual virtues like love, compassion, kindness, tolerance” (Furman 40). He constructs this façade of ownership and the status it implies, and in this process, he alienates himself from everyone around him, breaking ties even with his wife.

The Marriage of Ruth and Macon Dead, along with the entire family, is simply a charade, an act that they put on to disguise the ugliness of what it really is. There is nothing real about Ruth and Macon’s marriage, no feelings of genuine love and affection, not even a sense of toleration and empathy for each other. After a questionable instance involving Ruth and her dead father, Macon relinquishes all sexual relations with Ruth, with the exception of their union that resulted in the conception of Milkman. They continued to be married, playing the roles of husband and wife, though they hated each other to the point that Macon once told Milkman: “I regret she talked me out of killing her” (Morrison 75). Not only is their marriage a sham, but also the image of the entire family. Milkman had no regard for his sisters, in fact, he admits that Lena, First Corinthians, and his mother are nearly indistinguishable in his mind. Macon speaks harshly and discouragingly to his daughters, never establishing any sort of relationship with them. His relationship with Milkman is only slightly more meaningful” there is a sort of masculine bond between them; however, their relationship is never one of mutual love between a father and son. It more closely resembles the relationship between two business associates. Despite all this, the Dead family goes for their regular Sunday afternoon drive in Macon’s big Packard, as if they are a real family. Of this car, Furman says: “The lifeless metallic form of the Packard, which the people of the community dub ‘Macon Dead’s hearse’ is a looming symbol of the dead relationships and the feelings of the people inside” (Furman 35). Like the Packard, the Dead family appears flawless; however on the inside, familial relationships are hideously twisted.

First Corinthians, Milkman’s sister, carries on the pattern of false representation. A college-educated black woman, daughter of a wealthy property owner, First Corinthians finds herself as the maid of a female poet. She is unable to overcome her sentiments of pride and superiority, so she represents herself to her mother and others as Mary-Michael Graham’s amaneunsis, rather than her maid. Mason explains this saying that she “fixes on the Latinate amaneunsis (with its attendant class implications) to make her life as Mary-Michael Graham’s maid more consonant with her self-image. The term plays a role in the drama that Corinthians creates”[maintaining] at least the surface of gentility” (Mason 177). As Corinthians continues to work as an amanuensis/maid, she meets a man named Porter who she eventually comes to love; however, this love comes to her at a price. Porter is very poor, and in her opinion inferior to her, but nonetheless she loves him. “For her to make an emotional commitment to him, she must discard the false assumption at the root of her life. She must discard the idea or superiority because of wealth and Porter’s perceived intellectual and social inferiority because of his poverty” (Camean 59). First Corinthians, like her brother, Milkman, becomes aware of herself in Song of Solomon, finding herself in time to be with the man she loves.

Milkman’s relationship with Hagar, his cousin and lover, is both a foil and a parallel to that of his parents. Unlike the relationship between Ruth and Macon, their relationship is almost entirely sexual; however, it is similar in the respect that they never have a ‘real’ relationship. Milkman never considers her to be a “real and legitimate girlfriend” (Morrison 91). Their relationship exists as an illusion in the mind of Hagar. She has used their relationship to define herself, though in reality, their relationship hardly exists. Guitar describes her fatal error saying to her: “You think that because he doesn’t love you, that you are worthless. You think that because he doesn’t want you anymore that he is right” that his judgment and opinion of you are correct. If he throws you out, then you are garbage” (Morrison 306). Hagar has used Milkman’s love to define herself and when Milkman leaves her, her folly is revealed and there is nothing left of her. “Hers becomes a wasted life because she has no aim other than to be loved” (Camean 57). Hagar, along with the rest, was unable to find herself and suffered as a result.

Milkman’s friend, Guitar, is another example of a false identity. In Song of Solomon, Guitar undertakes a journey of his own. Furman compares Milkman and Guitar’s separate journeys saying, “As Milkman journeys toward self-discovery and cultural identification, Guitar travels a parallel path toward psychic disintegration and cultural alienation” (Furman 41). Guitar becomes involved with the Seven Days, a political group that has taken it upon itself to “[keep] the racial ratio the same” (Morrison 223), killing white people every time a white murder of a black person goes unpunished. He tells Milkman that he does it out of love for his fellow black people, but this is untrue. He claims to believe that “white hatred precipitates black love” (Furman 40). However this is untrue “it is a false pretense that Guitar is using to hide his desire for revenge and his lust for power. He, like nearly all of Morrison’s other characters in the novel refuses to seek or acknowledge his true self. Instead he uses this idea of “love” as a substitute. Furman notes this saying, “Although he is a self-declared avenger of his people, the love of black life is eventually twisted into a love of power” (Furman 40). Furman also makes the point that “in pledging his ‘whole life’ to the universal love of all black people, Guitar cannot claim a more personal love of wife, children, friends” (Furman 40). He allows himself to be overtaken by this love, and in his pursuit of it, he moves away from authenticity.

Milkman’s aunt, Pilate, is an example of true authenticity. She makes no false pretenses, claiming to be nothing other than what she is. She owns a wine house and gave birth to her daughter, Reba, out of wedlock, yet she makes no excuses. She simply is who she is. She carries her name around in a brass box attached to her ear, as an emblem of her identity. She understands the value of those around her, and loves them passionately, a task most of Morrison’s characters are incapable of. Pilate’s strength and sense of identity provide Milkman with an example of what he is trying to become. Furman describes this saying, “Her journey to self-knowledge having been completed, she knows, from the beginning of the text, what Milkman discovers at the end, and as her name suggests, Pilate is Milkman’s spiritual guide through his passage” (Furman 45).

Milkman, the central character in Song of Solomon, begins the novel as false and disconnected from himself as any of Morrison’s other characters. He uses his sense of maleness and an extreme form of vanity to define who he thinks he is. He treats people as if they owe him something, as if he deserves something from everyone. It is not until late in the novel that he questions this sense of entitlement. Once, Milkman informed his father of First Corinthian’s secret boyfriend Porter, causing Macon to evict Porter, garnish his wages, and forbid First Corinthians to leave the house. After this incident, Lena loathingly describes his attitude towards others, particularly herself and First Corinthians, and its origin. She tells him:

You have yet to wash your own underwear, spread a bed, wipe the ring from your tub, or move a fleck of your dirt from one place to another. And to this day, you have never asked one of us if we were tired, or sad, or wanted a cup of coffee. You’ve never picked up anything heavier than your own feet, or solved a problem harder than fourth-grade arithmetic. Where do you get the right to decide our lives? I’ll tell you where. From that hog’s gut that hangs down between your legs. (Morrison 215)

Lena gives an accurate description of Milkman’s general outlook, describing the careless way he treats others and the cause of it, which is essentially his belief that he deserves a larger lot in life simply because he is male. At this point in Milkman’s life, he has no understanding of himself, but rather lives his life at a “dehumanizing distance” (Mason 181).

In Song of Solomon, Milkman begins to realize the errors in his false assumptions about himself and sets out on a journey toward authenticity. He begins his journey as a quest for gold; however, he ends it by uncovering a type of wealth very different from the kind he originally sought. Though he did undertake a physical journey, more importantly, he sets out on a spiritual and emotional journey toward self-knowledge. While on his journey, Milkman begins to learn of his heritage, learning of his great-grandfather, Solomon, a figure of local legend who flew away one day leaving his wife and children behind. At first, Milkman is fascinated by the idea that his ancestor had the power to fly. It is not until Sweet, a woman he meets on his journey, asks Milkman a question about Solomon’s flight that he realizes the importance of people around him. She raises the question: “Who’d he leave behind?” (Morrison 328), and Milkman eventually comes to realize that the power of flight is meaningless if one has to leave everyone else behind. Milkman begins to value relationships over money, power, and himself, and that is when he finds his true self. Furman gives this account of Milkman’s discovery:

Milkman’s reveries have a domino effect, toppling one illusion after another: money is not freedom, but enslavement; independence means submitting to people in his life, not escaping them. He confesses and repents of his shameful retreat from relationships…Alone, with the accoutrement of his vanity, the old personality gives way to make space for a new spirituality so expansive that only “the whole entire deep blue sea’ will contain its volume. (Furman 39)

He becomes “willing to resist all narrow definitions of self and take responsibility for the tough choices he makes” (Furman 35), and, in doing this he becomes truly authentic.

Toni Morrison’s Song of Solomon is a tale of lies, misrepresentations and false identities. Nearly all of her character’s true identities remain unknown, even to themselves. With the exception of Pilate, all of the characters struggle with identity, including the central character, Milkman. With Pilate’s guidance, Milkman is able to overcome the lies that surround him and the falseness with which he had once represented himself. The novel ends as Milkman’s has reached self-knowledge, and has found real meaning in his life.