Reading Alice Walker’s The Color Purple and Mariama Bâ’s So Long a Letter felt like listening to a love song; or a prayer to God; of two women having a conversation across continents. One is from the American South, the other from Senegal, West Africa. Though set in vastly different worlds, both novels tell stories of women navigating pain, betrayal, and societal expectations, while discovering their voices and reclaiming their power in a man’s world.
I first read So Long a Letter in junior secondary school. Despite its brevity: about 88 pages. I’ve returned to it often, each time finding new layers of meaning.
In 2024, I watched The Color Purple on the big screen in Harlem, New York. The film left such a deep impression on me that I rushed home, eager to dive into the novel. I remembered buying the book from a local vendor on Harlem’s bustling 125th Street, near the Apollo Theater. As I turned its pages, I couldn’t help but notice striking similarities between Walker’s and Bâ’s writing styles. Both authors use letters as a storytelling tool, creating an intimate connection with the reader. Celie writes to God and later to her sister Nettie, something most of us do in our loneliest moments, while Ramatoulaye pours her heart into a letter to her dear friend Aissatou. This epistolary style feels personal, like sitting across from a friend, listening as they reveal their deepest fears, hopes, and dreams.
At the heart of both novels are women grappling with oppressive systems. Celie endures years of abuse, silenced by the men who control her life, until she finds the courage to fight back, supported by women like Shug Avery. Ramatoulaye faces the heartbreak of her husband’s betrayal when he takes a second wife; an act permitted by Senegalese culture but one that leaves her emotionally shattered. Her solace comes from the friendship and understanding she shares with Aissatou.
As I read The Color Purple, I found myself wondering: Could So Long a Letter have influenced Alice Walker? After all, Bâ’s novel was published earlier. Out of curiosity, I searched the internet, hoping to find a connection, an interview, an article, anything that might confirm my suspicion. But I was disappointed; I didn’t find any concrete evidence to support the idea. What I learned, however, is that at the heart of literature lies a universal language that resonates with people of all races, whether in Asia, Europe, or Africa. While the experiences of women in Senegal and America may seem different on the surface, they’re rooted in the same systems that try to silence, control, and define women.
In today’s world, where women’s rights continue to be challenged, these stories deserve a place on every bookshelf. They remind us of the struggles faced by Black women, disabled women, Christian women, Muslim women, atheist women, queer women, uneducated women, unemployed women, and even the powerful women who are often expected to bear it all in their silence.
Melvin Sharty is the co-author of "Talking Kapok Tree & Other Short Stories", and author of "A Gift for Failure (a novella). Melvin lives in Harlem, New York where he works for a non-profit. During his free time, he enjoys writing, visiting museums, or playing soccer.