Alice Walker wrote The Color Purple forty years ago.

The story is told from the point of view of an African American teenager, Celie, living in rural Georgia during Reconstruction. She suffers from abuse but eventually triumphs through the process of owning her story.

She reveals her thoughts and feelings in letters to God and overcomes extreme isolation through the bonds she forms with other women.

I couldn’t help but think about this story as my morning walks have taken me past a brown brick bungalow two blocks away. A small patch of purple tulips bloomed there, seemingly overnight.

The book title refers to a conversation Celie has with a confident, fully expressed, older woman, Shug Avery, in which she is asked whether she notices the little things God gives us to demonstrate His love.

Shug says, “I think it pisses God off if you walk by the color purple in a field somewhere and don’t notice it.”

Who can NOT notice such beauty? I’ve been looking forward to lingering in front of these purple tulips in the course of my morning walk every day this week. The color is rich and evocative. The flowers are also beautiful to me because they seem to want to be noticed.

I have observed myself making all sorts of associations with these purple tulips, with the themes of this novel, with the forward movement of my life, and the very sad crossroads we seem to be at as a country.

The Supreme Court is poised to overturn Roe v. Wade.

In January of 1973, the Supreme Court declared that women in the United States had a fundamental right to choose whether to have abortions without excessive government restriction.

Of course, hard fought rights are usually not taken away after they become institutionalized. The very idea of this action is almost unimaginable. This law has been on the books for almost fifty years.

This  imminent move is unsettling in so many ways.  It says that women would no longer have agency over their bodies.

That a woman can be raped and forced to carry the product of her trauma to birth is an assault to my sensibilities. The movement to make this happen has largely been championed by men who have no clue what it might feel like not to have dominion over their own bodies.

As I watched the purple tulips dance in the summer breeze, my mind filled with thoughts about the beauty of small things that are in our world to notice and appreciate.

I also gave thought to how power and its abuse plays in our lives, how people in a privileged position will do anything to keep that power. I am so sad that so much abuse is directed at women, especially at poor women whose life experience reinforces the idea that they can’t fight, that they have to accept having fewer rights than others.

I have to hold on to the lesson of the novel. Celie comes to own her life by acknowledging the value of her thoughts and accepting that they, not other people’s agendas, define her.

She strengthens her understanding of her self-worth through the relationships she forms with others. By exposing some of her vulnerabilities, by sharing intimate thoughts and dreams with other women, she breaks the bubble around her isolation.

I’ve seen this in my life, a growing acceptance of my right to think and feel whatever comes to me, then to find encouragement in a receptive audience.

I hope women throughout the country (and the men who love them) recognize that their right to control their bodies should not be taken away. I hope women keep speaking their truth to those in power and take strength from sharing their stories with other women.

I expect there will be challenges and setbacks, but life can’t help but move forward. For me, moving forward does not mean becoming angrier and more full of hate than one’s abusers.

Being able to stand up for yourself AND pause to take pleasure in the purple tulips is no small thing.