Review of Boundaries by Jennifer Emelife
Oluwadeaduramilade Tawak
Writers write to pass along something — messages, morals, musings — and whether they like it or not, readers will make assumptions. With nonfiction, there’s less room to assume: the writer is telling us what has happened. It is personal, centred around their experience of an event. Here, we make assumptions from how the story is told.
With Emelife’s Boundaries published in Selves Afro Anthology, you can already guess the end from the beginning — it is clear that something is wrong, that something will go wrong; there is no happy ending — but what pulls you to continue reading, even though you know what’s coming is the need to know how. Woman meets mentor, mentor abuses power. How did we get here?
There is a stunning clarity enabled by the simplicity of the story: This is what happened, this is when it happened, this is how it happened; a clinical detachment in the telling. It is not wrought with emotions. It is almost toneless. There is no crescendo, no conflict, no resolution. No redemption, no forgiveness, no catharsis — maybe except for the writer. Which might be a nod to the messiness of experiencing abuse. Even when it ends, when the abuser stops — whether in the moment or over a lifetime — the survivor carries on with the scars of the event, never knowing why this has happened to them. Why did this happen?
The story has been published before under a different title, and in the first person. In its second telling, Emelife chooses the second person, and what results is a more forceful story. Armchair psychology says that Emelife’s use of the second person point of view is a way of dissociating herself from the story — and by extension, the incident — and asking you to — no, demanding that you do — step in her shoes and feel what she’s feeling, to experience this in full, to feel her fear. With an experience such as this, pulling of the second person voice can be tricky: the reader might recoil or might empathize. Emelife’s manages to achieve both because there is no attempt to soften up what’s happening.
She succeeds so much so that it is easy to forget that you are reading a piece of nonfiction — the characters can be anybody. This could be a factor of being a story of the MeToo era. Boundaries is a story of the abuse of power. Over 7 pages, Emelife unravels how abuse can creep up on the victim. How it results from the breaking of trust. How it is often difficult to realise when it is happening until it is almost too late. How did I get here? An example:
“You’re supposed to be my ‘father.’ Please. Stop it.” You stood to leave and he blocked your way, saying he loved you. He forced his tongue into your mouth. You fell back on the bed. He fell on top of you, rubbing your breasts. You hit him repeatedly, legs kicking, but he caught your hands and pressed them against the wall.”
You’ve heard this all before, so at first you’re almost amazed at the naivete: Woman meets man. “Call me father,” he says. “I want to mentor you.” Boundaries are crossed. “Calm down, I have no ulterior motive.” Trust is eroded. “Trust me, please.” But then you catch yourself because this has been you — or almost. It’s all too familiar.
About the author: Oluwadeaduramilade Tawak is a reader, writer, almost psychologist, and researcher. She has been published in The Naked Convos, Brittle Paper, Athena Talks, and Arts and Africa. She was the 2nd runner-up in The CREETIQ Critic Challenge 2017.
