Fernie Mae Rosen: The Black Madonna
Reading Jean Toomer’s “Fern,” is similar to finishing a puzzle, only to find that the box
was missing one piece. Frustrating in the same way, Fernie Mae Rosen captures the attention of
the reader and yet leaves one feeling as though they knew nothing about her by the end of the
story. She seems expressionless and apathetic, yet at the story’s climax we see a completely
different side of Fern, one that sings and sobs and bangs her head against the ground. Despite
this passionate scene, the narrator leaves us without explanation of what caused it. It is a story of
paradoxes, of a girl who is forever desired and who desires nothing; a girl who is emotionally
distant, yet the “easiest” girl in town. In a similar paradox, throughout “Fern,” indications are
given that it is Fern’s power that is the source of her anguish. This power, however, is not one
that Fern inherited or obtained naturally but one that is falsely projected upon her by the men
who pursue her.
Critics have hypothesized that Fern is emblematic of the Virgin Mary and that she
represents the hope of a messiah for the African American race. William Spofford’s article on
Cane, the larger work that “Fern” appears in, presents this idea and points out the significance of
Fern’s name. Fernie Mae Rosen is a “combination of Negro and Jew” and creates a tie between
the history of the Israelites and the African American race (Spofford, 59). Spofford also points
out the importance of the black woman that draws the mother of Christ “in charcoal on the
courthouse wall” creating the picture of a “black madonna” (59). There are also several points in
the story where Fern is described as having Jewish features or qualities. The narrator states that
looking at Fern was like “hear[ing] a Jewish cantor sing” and later, during her trance, Fern
becomes a “Jewish cantor singing with a broken voice” (959, 962). The similarities between the
Israelites and the African Americans are extended beyond the theme of slavery in this story to
encompass a promised and desired messiah.
The idea of a black madonna was prevalent during the Harlem Renaissance, when “Fern”
was written. A portrait called “The Brown Madonna” was created in 1925 as an illustration for a
book called The New Negro by Alain Locke (Reiss, n.p.). The portrait features a young African
American mother with a shadowy halo around her head, slightly similar to portraits of the Virgin
Mary. Both this portrait and The New Negro embraced the idea of an African American or a
group of African Americans who would lead the way to a better future for their race. According
to Steve Pinkerton, Toomer himself was viewed as being a possible “messiah” during the Harlem
Renaissance, saying:
Jean Toomer glows with a radiance that exceeds even the brown Madonna’s, in keeping
with the fact that he, more than any other contributor, is held to promise a fulfillment of
the volume’s messianic hopes. (William Stanley Braithwaite’s New Negro essay even
invokes Toomer as the “bright morning star of a new day of the race,” echoing Christ’s
own self-identification as “the bright and morning star” in Revelation 22:16) (Pinkerton,
n.p.).
After considering the Harlem Renaissance, the possibility that Fern holds the potential to
produce a savior brings clarity to the desire she awakens in the men of her town. Perhaps
unaware of their own reasoning, these men are attempting to recreate the virgin birth. In Fern,
they see the potential of Mary and the potential for new life and regrowth through a savior. This
would also explain men’s treatment of Fern. Although there is no talk of love between the men
and Fern, they treat her “unlike their hit and run with other girls” and desire to provide gifts for
her and security from harm (Toomer, 960). Their treatment of her is like a man’s treatment of his
wife or, more notably, the woman who is carrying his child. Regardless of their lack of a real
relationship with Fern—aside from a physical encounter—they treat her as though a deeper
connection between them exists.
It is clear how the men of this town feel towards Fern, but shrouded in shadow is Fern’s
feelings towards them. The text claims that “something inside of [Fern] got tired of them” but no
clue is given as to how she felt towards the men that clamored for her attention before this
moment (960). The only things we get a glimpse of are Fern’s eyes, “vision [being] the
governing motif in ‘Fern’” (McKay 110). These eyes “sought nothing,” “desired nothing that
you could give her,” and had “hardly a trace of wistfulness” in them (Toomer, 960). Despite
these descriptions of emptiness, Fern’s eyes are said to “[hold] God” by the narrator (962). These
differing descriptions of Fern’s eyes seem to conflict. In one case her eyes hold nothingness,
acting almost as a black hole in which the countryside around her “seemed to flow into” (960). In
another instance, her eyes hold the entirety of existence and creation. To consider why these
changes occur, the situation and surroundings of Fern are important.
According to Abby Perkins, Fern is an example of the extreme power given to one who
is consumed and is, in fact, “much more than a consumable object” (Perkins, n.p.). Perkins is
probably correct in stating that Fern wields power over the men who are “consuming” her, but
this is not a power that Fern attempts to use to corrupt society or “elevate herself” as Perkins
claims. Instead, Fern’s power exists, not because of her own actions, but because of the view
men have of her. Projected upon Fern are the hopes and desires for the future that the men of her
town have. Fern has power over the men because they believe she has something that they want,
not because she actually does. Her eyes promise nothing, yet the men have “fooled themselves”
into believing otherwise (Toomer, 960). They believe in their delusions about Fern to the extent
that they lose their sexual appetite for her, for fear that she is “somehow above them” (960).
Fern, an ordinary girl, is taken and elevated to the station of an unapproachable and unviolated
goddess. It is in this situation that Fern’s eyes are empty and expressionless.
In the narrator’s interaction with Fern, the way her eyes are viewed is different. Although
the men mentioned above “sought [Fern’s] eyes,” they never make the attempt to communicate
with her as the narrator does (959). He is unique in his interaction with Fern. He claims that he
“tried to tell her with [his] eyes” and seems to feel that Fern understands what he is trying to tell
her (962). Certainly, Fern’s demeanor changes after this communication. Some shield that
existed between them is knocked down and she goes from merely answering his questions with a
“yassur or nassur” to actually asking the narrator a question for the first time in the narrative
(961). The narrator also claims that Fern’s mysterious spell on him vanishes and “le[aves] her
visible” (962). It is in this scene that Fern loses her robotic and emotionless appearance and
becomes intensely vulnerable—her eyes hold God. Fern’s eyes change from holding nothing to
holding God because of who is looking at her. Outside of the projections of the townsmen, Fern
is a different creature. Once she is regarded with eyes that intend to communicate with her rather
than solely eyes that regard her as a “consumable object,” Fern becomes a startlingly human and
frail figure (Perkins, n.p.).
It is this small, yet poignant communication that causes Fern’s break down in the woods.
Her body being “tortured with something it could not let out,” Fern sings and sputters and weeps,
pounding her head against the ground (962). She sings sorrowfully with a child’s voice, an old
man’s, and then a Jewish cantor’s. Her childlike voice reminds the reader that Fern, despite all
her sexual experience, is a young girl who has been used from a very early age to satisfy the
desires of men. Considering her age, she is carrying a great deal of responsibility. This burden is
illustrated by the voice of an old man that also emerges from her. The voice of an old man
coming from a girl’s body shows how worn down and tired by life Fern has become. In this
moment she is especially frail; she is a child who has aged prematurely and who feels the
burdens of someone much older than her. Lastly, Fern sings with the voice of a Jewish cantor, a
sound that, according to the narrator, “made your own sorrow seem trivial compared with [hers]”
(960).
There is a pivotal part in “Fern” where the men go from “everlastingly bringing her their
bodies” to suddenly being turned off to Fern (960). The narrator hypothesizes that Fern “got tired
of them” but that “she could not tell why or how she began to turn them off” (960). This
observation by the narrator suggests that there was a point where Fern was not tired of the
attention she received, that she perhaps even enjoyed it. No explanation is ever offered for Fern’s
change in feeling, but there are two possible options. The first is that the narrator is wrong and
that nothing changes about Fern. She was apathetic to men’s advances before and she remained
apathetic. This would mean that it was the men who changed in their perception of Fern. It’s
possible that the men could have grown tired of “always…approaching” Fern but never actually
experiencing a deep connection in their physical interactions with her (Stein, 64). The other
possibility is that the narrator is right in saying that Fern grew tired of the men. This view is
supported by a study by Ine Vanwesenbeeck on the perspectives of male and female prostitutes.
In her study, Vanwesenbeeck found that female prostitutes experience “burnout,” a mental
collapse as a result of stress. Three types of burnout are revealed in the study: “…emotional
exhaustion, personal incompetence, and depersonalization. The latter refers to a cold, indifferent,
and cynical attitude towards one’s clients as a result of distancing strategies…”
(Vanwesenbeeck, 15). Although Fern is not exactly a prostitute, she does exhibit some of these
symptoms. Most notably, Fern experiences depersonalization. This would explain Fern’s lack of
motivation. She is not even willing to pull a nail out of the porch post so that she can rest her
head without discomfort. The narrator says that she “never took the trouble to pull it out,” but
rather leaned her head forward to avoid the nail (Toomer, 960). She is indifferent towards her
circumstances. It is possible that she has been in her situation so long that she has lost her
original sense of identity and now is left with the identity projected upon her by the town.
Whereas before she may have enjoyed the attentions of men, after continually being subjected to
their expectations she has become removed and distant.
At the end of the story, it is clear that Fern experiences emotional exhaustion as an effect
of her “prostitution” as well. Her grief, perhaps hidden behind indifference before, is loud and
unrestrained in the woods. Fern seems determined in this scene to let loose something inside her.
Whatever she is trying to release herself from is like “boiling sap” that flows through her “arms
and fingers till she shook them as if they burned her” (962). Fern’s efforts are in vain, for the
thing “could not let out” and she ends the scene in a faint (962). Although the narrator has no
knowledge of what Fern seeks to be set free from, considering Vanwesenbeeck’s study, it is
possible that Fern is trying to be freed from her position as the prostituted “black madonna.” The
power that she holds in the minds of men is slowly stripping her of her identity. Fern has become
a shell-like person in which others house their hopes for the future. Unable to fulfill these hopes
and expectations, Fern is breaking under the weight of power that has been projected onto her
and is experiencing an emotional collapse.
In the end, we see that the hopes of the men were unfounded. The narrator claims that
“Nothing ever really happened. Nothing ever came to Fern” (962). She is not the fulfillment of
the men’s desires for a better future. The narrator passes her as he leaves town, noticing that she
sits in the same position on the front porch, her head tilted forward to avoid the nail. Her eyes are
“vaguely focused on the sunset,” one again uninterested and apathetic (962). Even after her
emotional breakdown, Fern returns to her former state. The narrator apparently expresses an
interest in her, even after he returns to the North. He continues to feel as though he should give
Fern something, “some fine unnamed thing” that will please her. But just as the other men of the
town, the narrator makes claims about how he would like to treat Fern without ever acting upon
them.
Although many say they would like to do something special for Fern, never in the
narrative does a man actually provide Fern with the luxuries he desires to give her. Because the
men have perceived Fern to be much higher above them than she actually is, they treat her as
though she is not human. They search and search for her desires, but claim not to find them. If
we accept that Fern is a normal, human girl, then the men’s reluctance to treat her as such could
possibly have a dehumanizing effect on her. Perhaps Fern does desire a box of candy or a
mysterious present from a man, but since she is never given one, she never has a chance to show
a human reaction. The culmination of time and lack of human-to-human interaction has sapped
Fern’s desires away gradually. A human set up as something more than human, as Fern is,
cannot continue to act in a “normal” manner. As a result of the high expectations placed upon
Fern and the false perceptions that the men have of who she is, Fern loses part of her humanity.
Until she is encountered by the narrator and his eyes that seek to communicate with her, Fern is
unable to express her emotions. Their encounter allows Fern to briefly feel human again, and the
result is an outpouring of anguish. The power that Fern has over men is not really hers to wield at
all. It is only the belief that Fern is powerful and desirable that keeps the men in awe of her. Her
“power” has a crippling effect, not an empowering one. Out of her natural place, Fern sits on a
throne that ostracizes and dehumanizes her, resulting in an unbearable and expressionless grief.
Works Cited
McKay, Nellie Y. Jean Toomer, Artist. London: The University of North Carolina Press, 1984.
Print.
Perkins, Abby. “The Madonna and the Whore: The Power of the Consumed in Jean Toomer’s
‘Fern.’” Modernism, Magazines and Media. Web. 28 April 2014.
Pinkerton, Steve. “‘New Negro’ V. ‘Niggeratti’: Defining and Defiling the Black Messiah.”
Modernism/Modernity 20.3 (2013): 539-555. Academic Search Complete. Web. 30 April
2014.
Reiss, Winold. The Brown Madonna. 1925. Schomburg Center for Research in Black Culture,
Harlem. NYPL Digital Gallery. Web. 30 April 2014.
Spofford, William K. “The Unity of Part One of Jean Toomer’s Cane.” Markham Review 3
(1972). 58-60. Print.
Stein, Marian L. “The Poet-Observer and Fern in Jean Toomer’s Cane.” Markham Review 3
(1972). 64-65. Print.
Toomer, Jean. “Fern.” Norton Anthology of American Literature. Ed. Nina Baym, Robert S.
Levine. New York: W.W. Norton & Company, 2013. 959-962. Print.
Vanwesenbeeck, Ine. “Prostitution Push and Pull: Male and Female Perspective.” Journal of Sex
Research 50.1 (2013). 11-16. Academic Search Complete. Web. 30 April 2014.