A Portrait of Stephen Dedalus

Through James Joyce's A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man, Stephen Dedalus struggles to overcome social and religious preconceptions of his life's purpose in order to discover his true identity. He must learn to escape, not only social expectations and regulations, but, his own prim and proper, reserved mindset. For when he frees himself of these shackles, these self-made and socially implied confinements, he is able to embrace his own talents and express his true self fully.

As a child, Stephen is overly cautious to speak his mind. Which, for most children is not uncommon. Be it shyness or embarrassment, many children are frightened of giving their true opinion. But Stephen is different. He is not afraid to give an answer, he's afraid to be wrong. Afraid of judgment. Of looking foolish in front of others. The other children mock him for this; to which Joyce reflects, “He felt his whole body hot and confused in a moment. What was the right answer to the question? He had given two and still Wells laughed. But Wells must know the right answer” (Joyce 8). Stephen yearns for a concrete answer. Something to tell him whether he is right. Or wrong. Like Catholicism. There is a distinct definition of sin. Of the afterlife. Of Heaven. Or Damnation. And he wants the same clarity in his life. But when there is no correct answer, he's disgruntled. Irked by truth. And as Stephen matures, he realizes that there is not a concrete answer for everything. Like his urges, his passions and desires. Stephen begins to notice his uniqueness and singularity. “He saw clearly, too, his own futile isolation. He had not gone one step nearer the lives he had sought to approach nor bridged the restless shame and rancour that had divided him from mother and brother and sister… He turned to appease the fierce longings of his heart before which everything else was idle and alien” (87). Not even his family understands him, instead they instill shame and rancour and isolate Stephen further. And according to his Catholic teachings, he must suppress his urges. He is supposed to be Pure, Virginal and act in the image of God. But the temptation is too great; he frequents the brothels in his town, in full recognition of his sin. And it eats at him. By acting upon his natural, inherent sexuality and emotions, he betrays the church. By thinking freely, contemplating the existence of a God and God's purpose, he opposes all of his prior teachings. And it's as if he fails himself--as if he fails to meet his expectation of who he should be. And in his mind, he is a man of God. He feels he must confess his sins and reaffirm his faith. He likes the boundaries. Or he thinks he does. 

As Stephen contemplates his becoming a priest, he realizes that his life, his idealized image of who he should be, cannot be fulfilled under oppressive Catholic statutes: “Then he wondered at the vagueness of his wonder, at the remoteness of his own soul from what he had hitherto imagined her sanctuary, at the frail hold which so many years of order and obedience had of him when once a definite and irrevocable act of his threatened to end for ever, in time and eternity, his freedom” (141). As he comes to this realization, he recognizes the limits he has placed upon himself. He asks himself, “Could it be that he, Stephen Dedalus, had done these things? … The leprous company of his sins closed about him, breathing upon him, bending over him from all sides” (121). Although he asks this before his realization of his incompatibility with Catholicism, it's as if this thought sparks the initial doubt in his future as a priest. He asks almost in awe, "Could it be that he, Stephen Dedalus, had done these things?" It's as if his idealized conception of who he should be collides with the reality of his sins. The realization of his sin in combination with his Catholic up-bringing produces an immense moral burden for Stephen, "the leprous company of his sins." In order to allow himself to progress both mentally and spiritually, Stephen must  escape the crushing guilt, "breathing upon him, bending over him from all sides." The Catholic interpretation of the Bible is fairly concrete. Their answers to life's mysteries are black and white--there is no grey area. Sin is sin. Profane is profane. And God's will is almighty. But Stephen has blurred the lines between what he thinks is acceptable versus what the church believes. 

His divergent thinking leads him to discover his true future, his purpose in life. To create. He pursues beauty and esthetics, surrounds himself in light. He becomes the artist--the poet. He explains, “ ‘Art... is the human disposition of sensible or intelligible matter for an esthetic end,’ ” and later reflects in his writing, “Welcome, O life! I go to encounter for the millionth time the reality of experience and to forge in the smithy of my soul the uncreated conscience of my race” (186)(229). He no longer wants such stern definition between right and wrong. Instead he wants to experience life and the wonders of the world. He wants to experience the people. Their struggles, their stories. He wants to understand, not to judge.

On a Scale of Black to White, Where Does "Invisible" Lie?

Ralph Ellison's Invisible Man follows the journey of a young African American man, as he struggles to define his identity and societal role. His journey is long. Arduous. But he is strong. His drive to overcome adversity and exceed all other's expectations, allows him to excel; however, his personal expectations are not self-defined. The narrator is heavily influenced by white society and their expectations. Not his own. 

At first it seems the narrator, more than anything, seeks to please the white men. Even when they degrade him, make him subhuman. Even when they strip him half naked, blindfold him and force him to fight other terrified young men. Even when they electrocute him. He wants to prove that he is better. That he is strong enough to be a member of white society. That he can be equal. But they won't acknowledge this, and he won't realize it. The Battle Royale scene is the first glimpse, as seen by the reader, of the brutality the narrator must face. He wants these powerful white men to like him, to recognize his value. But he can only handle their disrespect for so long. They think he's a joke. And when he gives a speech about the African American duty to be humble, submissive members of society, they harass him. He is no more than another angry black boy to them.  They turn his speech into a mockery. And his mask slips, but only for a moment. He preaches, "social equality" instead of "social responsibility." Which catches the white men's attention, but only for a moment. Without hesitation, he corrects his indiscretion. And rewires himself back to his obedient, passive, invisible self. He believes that in order to succeed--in order to better his race--he must give the white men exactly what they want. So if they want a fighter, he'll be a fighter. If they want a poor boy scrambling for money, he'll grapple for every last penny. If they want him to go to school, he'll go to school. And with this constant pressure to be what someone else wants him to be, he loses his individuality. He becomes the stereotypical black boy trying to work his way up the ladder, and perhaps that's what he wants to be. Successful, just like the white men.

He creates this image of himself and mentally cannot move past it; it seems that, subconsciously, he wants to escape his race. His entire motivation, up to this point, is to create a life as a white man. He doesn't say this directly, but he's hypercritical of black society and disregards the injustices to African Americans and makes them seem somewhat justified. Like when he visits Trueblood's cabin. He, and society, shun Trueblood because he is an incestuous rapist, but the color of his skin makes his name unspeakable in "civilized"--white--society. And this simply encourages the narrator's detestation for the low-class, uneducated black community. Even after he's expelled, he attempts to remain socially "above" African American culture.But in the back of his mind, he knows that this facade does not suit him. He goes to college, but gets expelled and (unwillingly) moves to New York. And here marks the end of his past identity. He attempts to maintain his studious, hard-working masquerade, but his aspirations are crushed by sabotage. Dr. Bledsoe sends him to New York for work, instructing him to deliver letters to several of his business connections. Little does the narrator know, Bledsoe damns him in these letters. Here ends his magnificent, mystical perspective of Bledsoe and "upper-class" black society. His aspiration to work under Bledsoe at the school: over. His future: over. He attempts to work, but ends up in electro-shock therapy. He failed.

He is invisible.

He has become part of the unnamed masses of African Americans that suffer below white society and he first realizes it--truly realizes it-- while in Liberty Paint's employee hospital and electricity courses through his body with excruciating precision. This is a turn. He claims, "I [want] freedom, not destruction. It was exhausting, for no matter what the scheme I conceived, there was one constant flaw--myself" (Ellison 243). He finally realizes that he cannot achieve his idealized goals if he continues living in this charade he has created. He cannot continue trying to live a white man's life; he cannot continue rejecting his heritage. And when Mary takes him in and nurses him back to health and allows him to live with her, he realizes the absurdity of his past perspective. He previously judged black folk like Mary, but now he sees that his judgments are equally as inaccurate as those produced by white men. He learns to relate to common man, or in this case woman. She took him in and nursed him back to health without even knowing him, and out of common decency she allows him to live with her. Even when he can't pay his rent. And this transforms the narrator. He, for the first time, truly connects with another person on a deeper level. He realizes Mary's sacrifices and wants to alleviate others of similar burdens. The narrator asks himself, "What and how much had I lost by trying to do only what was expected of me instead of what I myself had wished to do? ...What of those things which you actually didn't like, not because you were not supposed to like them, not because to dislike them was considered a mark of refinement and education--but because you actually found them distasteful? ...I had accepted the accepted attitudes and it had made life seem simple" (266). And as he watches an elderly African American couple lose their home, their possessions strewn on the sidewalk, he makes a stand. He feels the speech within him, building. And he stands before the crowd and persuades them into action, perhaps unintentionally. He is strong and powerful and his speeches almost overcome his very being. And his words move the crowd. They feel his emotion. More than feel, even. They become his emotion. And the Brotherhood takes notice.

Brother Jack is the catalyst which causes the narrator to truly become invisible. He cajoles the narrator into joining their cause. So he abandons Mary and basically destroys all trace of his previous self. But little does the narrator know, the Brotherhood merely wants to manipulate his speech-making skills in order to gain followers. The narrator makes speeches because they are what he feels. Because there are real problems and injustices in the world and people need to understand their consequences. But the Brotherhood sees him as too unpredictable. Too wild. Undisciplined. Free. They force him to learn how to make speeches in a proper way. Their way. And when Brother Clifton is shot down, he regains his passion, his purpose. They march after Clifton's death and the narrator speaks before the crowd, preaching, "Just look around you. Look at what he made, look inside you and feel his awful power.... When he was alive he was our hope, but why worry over a hope that's dead? ...His name was Tod Clifton, he believed in Brotherhood, he aroused our hopes and he died" (457). But the Brotherhood did not approve of his actions or his speech because they believe Clifton to be a traitor. This marks the beginning of the end of the narrator's association with the Brotherhood. When he visits Brother Hambro and discovers their intention to pursue wider "political" goals and forfeit their power in Harlem, the narrator begins to conspire against the Brotherhood. He stoops to despicable measures. He pretends to be Rhinehart, plans to use Emma, then Sybill to discover the Brotherhood's true intentions. He is not himself. He is sneaky. Slimey. Invisible. Always wearing a facade of deception. But eventually, when he discovers the Brotherhood's association with Ras, and their plot to allow Harlem to fall into chaos, he realizes that turning against one another does not solve anything. He tries to gain the attention of the rioters and tell them to unite, but Ras encourages their frenzy, negating the narrator's attempt for peace. He runs. And realizes that through all his struggle and toil, he is better off underground. Invisible. He claims, "After existing some twenty years, I did not become alive until I discovered my invisibility" ( 7).