The Nickel Boys is not an emotionally uplifting novel, but it does demonstrate that it’s possible for a person to maintain a sense of self-worth even in times of hardship. Elwood especially embodies this gravitation toward dignity, which he learns from the Civil Rights Movement. He adopts Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.’s belief that African Americans ought to believe in themselves and, in turn, believe that their rights are worth fighting for. This sense of self-worth helps Elwood cultivate an image of himself as a hard worker with a strong moral compass—a moral compass that sometimes puts him at odds others. This is all well and good when he’s a top student working in Mr. Marconi's shop, but his convictions become harder to uphold when he’s sent to Nickel Academy after a wrongful arrest, where standing up for himself and his fellow classmates puts him in real danger. Nevertheless, Elwood maintains his resolve, eventually writing a letter about Nickel’s abusive practices and attempting to deliver it to white government inspectors. This is an act of pure bravery, and though it ultimately leads to Elwood’s death, Whitehead suggests that certain sacrifices are worth making, even if they’re doomed for failure.
Elwood learns the importance of cultivating a sense of self-worth by listening to a recording of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. speaking at the Zion Hill Baptist Church in Los Angeles in 1962. One of the most important ideas that he draws from Dr. King’s words is that African Americans should stand proud in the face of racism. “We must believe in our souls that we are somebody, that we are significant, that we are worthful, and we must walk the streets of life every day with this sense of dignity and this sense of somebody-ness,” Dr. King asserts. This particular idea resonates with Elwood because it gives him an impetus to believe in himself, something that the racist environment in which he exists actively discourages. Armed with this message, he develops the wherewithal to advocate for himself. “There are big forces that want to keep the Negro down, like Jim Crow, and there are small forces that want to keep you down, like other people, and in the face of all those things, the big ones and the smaller ones, you have to stand up straight and maintain your sense of who you are,” he realizes. Consequently, he cultivates a “sense of dignity” that helps him believe not only in himself, but also in the value of resisting bigotry.
Elwood’s newfound dignity helps him establish strong morals, some of which get him into trouble. When he sees two black boys stealing from Mr. Marconi's store, for example, he decides that they deserve to be caught. Mr. Marconi knows that children steal from his shop and has decided it’s best to do nothing, but Elwood can’t accept this. Accordingly, he says, “Put it back,” when he sees two boys from his neighborhood shoplifting—a decision that earns him a thorough beating on his way home that night. Nevertheless, he stands by his decision to call them out because he feels morally obligated to do so. After all, he sees the boys’ misbehavior as a personal insult, something that makes both the shoplifters and himself look bad. Acting on his sense of self-respect and dignity, then, Elwood speaks up because he thinks it’s the right thing to do. To him, doing the right thing takes precedence over all else, even when there are negative consequences.
It’s relatively easy for Elwood to honor his convictions when he’s facing little more than a neighborhood beating. At Nickel Academy, though, the stakes are much higher. This is why Turner initially rejects Elwood’s idea to slip a note about the institution’s injustice to a group of government inspectors. He tells Elwood to forget the idea, saying that his friend should simply focus on getting through Nickel unharmed. Nonetheless, Elwood disagrees, telling his friend that it’s important to “walk with your head up no matter what they throw at you.” Although Turner at first refuses to participate, he eventually helps Elwood go through with his plan to deliver the letter. That night, administrators take Elwood from his bed and beat him before placing him into solitary confinement. Shortly thereafter, Turner hears that Spencer and his employees are going to kill Elwood, so Turner helps him escape. However, the Nickel employees catch up to them and shoot Elwood, killing him in a field while Turner gets away. Decades later, Turner bemoans his decision to help Elwood act on his convictions, wishing that he hadn’t taken part in Elwood’s plan to speak out against Nickel Academy’s injustice. After all, he can’t ignore the fact that, although he saved his friend from getting beaten to death, Elwood still died because of his refusal to submit to his oppressors.
Turner is retrospectively cynical about the efficacy of standing up for one’s own convictions, seeing Elwood’s dignity as the very thing that got him killed. But even though The Nickel Boys outlines the grim fact that doing what’s right often means making great sacrifices, Whitehead also hints that these sacrifices are worthwhile. To understand this, it’s worth considering the following: As a boy, Elwood used to look into the dining room of the hotel his grandmother worked in, and he would fantasize about someday seeing a black man sitting at one of the tables—an idea that seemed nearly impossible at the time. In the novel’s final scene, Turner visits this very restaurant and unknowingly fulfills Elwood’s dream, a turn of events that suggests that even though racism is still very much alive, the sacrifices people made during and after the Civil Rights Movement have indeed made a difference to society.
Civil Rights, Dignity, and Sacrifice ThemeTracker
Civil Rights, Dignity, and Sacrifice Quotes in The Nickel Boys
The morning after the decision, the sun rose and everything looked the same. Elwood asked his grandmother when Negroes were going to start staying at the Richmond, and she said it’s one thing to tell someone to do what’s right and another thing for them to do it. She listed some of his behavior as proof and Elwood nodded: Maybe so. Sooner or later, though, the door would swing wide to reveal a brown face—a dapper businessman in Tallahassee for business or a fancy lady in town to see the sights—enjoying the fine-smelling fare the cooks put out. He was sure of it.
From time to time it appeared that he had no goddamned sense. He couldn’t explain it, even to himself, until At Zion Hill gave him a language. We must believe in our souls that we are somebody, that we are significant, that we are worthful, and we must walk the streets of life every day with this sense of dignity and this sense of somebody-ness. The record went around and around […]. Elwood bent to a code—Dr. King gave that code shape, articulation, and meaning. There are big forces that want to keep the Negro down, like Jim Crow, and there are small forces that want to keep you down, like other people, and in the face of all those things, the big ones and the smaller ones, you have to stand up straight and maintain your sense of who you are.
He hadn’t marched on the Florida Theatre in defense of his rights or those of the black race of which he was a part; he had marched for everyone’s rights, even those who shouted him down. My struggle is your struggle, your burden is my burden.
“It’s not like the old days,” Elwood said. “We can stand up for ourselves.”
“That shit barely works out there—what do you think it’s going to do in here?”
“You say that because there’s no one else out there sticking up for you.”
“That’s true,” Turner said. “That doesn’t mean I can’t see how it works. Maybe I see things more clearly because of it. […] The key to in here is the same as surviving out there—you got to see how people act, and then you got to figure out how to get around them like an obstacle course. If you want to walk out of here.”
The blinders Elwood wore, walking around. The law was one thing—you can march and wave signs around and change a law if you convinced enough white people. In Tampa, Turner saw the college kids with their nice shirts and ties sit in at the Woolworths. He had to work, but they were out protesting. And it happened—they opened the counter. Turner didn’t have the money to eat there either way. You can change the law but you can’t change people and how they treat each other. Nickel was racist as hell—half the people who worked here probably dressed up like the Klan on weekends—but the way Turner saw it, wickedness went deeper than skin color. It was Spencer. It was Spencer and it was Griff and it was all the parents who let their children wind up here. It was people.
Which is why Turner brought Elwood out to the two trees. To show him something that wasn’t in books.
Elwood frowned in disdain at the whole performance, which made Turner smile. The fight was as rigged and rotten as the dishwashing races he’d told Turner about, another gear in the machine that kept black folks down. Turner enjoyed his friend’s new bend toward cynicism, even as he found himself swayed by the magic of the big fight. Seeing Griff, their enemy and champion, put a hurting on that white boy made a fellow feel all right. In spite of himself. Now that the third and final round was upon them, he wanted to hold on to that feeling. It was real—in their blood and minds—even if it was a lie.
It wasn’t Spencer that undid him, or a supervisor or a new antagonist […], rather it was that he’d stopped fighting. In keeping his head down, in his careful navigation so that he made it to lights-out without mishap, he fooled himself that he had prevailed. That he had outwitted Nickel because he got along and kept out of trouble. In fact he had been ruined. He was like one of those Negroes Dr. King spoke of in his letter from jail, so complacent and sleepy after years of oppression that they had adjusted to it and learned to sleep in it as their only bed.
But be ye assured that we will wear you down by our capacity to suffer, and one day we will win our freedom.
The capacity to suffer. Elwood—all the Nickel boys—existed in the capacity. Breathed in it, ate in it, dreamed in it. That was their lives now. Otherwise they would have perished. The beatings, the rapes, the unrelenting winnowing of themselves. They endured. But to love those who would have destroyed them? To make that leap? We will meet your physical force with soul force. Do to us what you will and we will still love you.
“You’re getting along. Ain’t had trouble since that one time. They going to take you out back, bury your ass, then they take me out back, too. The fuck is wrong with you?”
“You’re wrong, Turner.” Elwood tugged on the handle of a weathered brown trunk. It broke in half. “It’s not an obstacle course,” he said. “You can’t go around it—you have to go through it. Walk with your head up no matter what they throw at you.”