The Vanishing Half highlights the human tendency to yearn for support and companionship. As identical twins, Desiree and Stella are used to depending on each other, especially in the aftermath of their father’s murder. However, the novel suggests that companionship shouldn’t be taken for granted. Desiree learns this difficult lesson when Stella leaves her to start a new life passing as a white woman, cutting all ties and, therefore, putting an end to their system of mutual support. Before Stella ran away, Desiree always thought of herself as the bold, independent sister who made the important decisions and motivated Stella to take chances. She drew meaning from this personal narrative—or, as the novel puts it, “This was the story Desiree needed to tell herself and Stella allowed her to. They both felt safe inside it.” The word “needed” is significant here, implying that Desiree depended on her relationship with Stella to affirm her own sense of self. The novel is particularly interested in looking at imbalanced relationships in which one character wants companionship and support but doesn’t fully receive it from the other person—like, for instance, the relationship between Kennedy and Stella. Kennedy wants to connect with her mother by learning about her past, but Stella keeps her at an arm’s length because she can’t let herself rehash those memories. In a way, then, the novel suggests that emotional support between two people can really only happen when both people are willing to open themselves up to each other.
The book implies that relationship dynamics aren’t always as cut-and-dry as they seem. Although everyone sees Desiree as the more adventurous and independent twin, she herself knows—on a certain level—that she needs Stella. Desiree is the one who wants to go to New Orleans, which makes her seem like she’s courageous. In reality, though, she would never venture off on such a daring journey without Stella, since they’ve never been apart. Desiree isn’t sure she “could even survive the separation.” It’s clear, then, that Desiree depends on Stella to make her feel safe. Anything that would require true independence scares her, so she rules out the idea of striking out on her own, which is exactly what Stella ends up doing when she decides to run away to begin a new life as a white woman. Until this point, Stella and Desiree have lived as if they’re a single person, and Stella has always “allowed” Desiree to think of her as meek and dependent. In reality, though, she’s strong-willed and willing to break out on her own—and, in doing so, leave behind the constant companionship and support of her sister. In turn, her sudden independence reveals that mutual support and companionship shouldn’t be taken for granted, regardless of how close two people might seem.
Similar to how Stella keeps her ambitions secret from Desiree, she refuses to open up to Kennedy about her past, thus straining her ability to act as a supportive mother. In fact, even after Kennedy finds out about her mother’s past, Stella lies to her and won’t be forthright about the fact that she’s from Mallard and that she’s Black. Of course, it’s her choice whether or not she wants to keep her personal history a secret, but it’s worth noting that her past does have implications for Kennedy, who suddenly finds herself grappling with her own racial identity. At the same time, though, the reason Stella doesn’t want to tell Kennedy that she’s Black is because she wants Kennedy to have the opportunities and privileges that come along with being white in the United States. She has made an effort to raise Kennedy as a white person so that Kennedy doesn’t face the same racist challenges that Stella herself faced when she was growing up. Her good intentions, however, don’t change the fact that her dishonesty interferes with her ability to provide Kennedy with a more immediate kind of motherly support. When Kennedy pursues acting, for example, Stella can’t bring herself to encourage her daughter—after all, Stella gave up so much to give Kennedy a life in which she could attend college, so it’s painful for Stella to see Kennedy drop out of college to chase an unstable acting career. The problem, however, is that Kennedy doesn’t know the underlying reasons driving her mother’s disapproval, leaving her to assume that Stella is simply uncaring and unsupportive. In other words, Stella’s unwillingness to open up to her daughter undermines her broader attempt to support her.
To that end, the healthiest relationships in the novel are the ones in which people are open with each other and give each other equal amounts of support. Jude and Reese, for example, are honest with each other about who they are, how they feel, and what they want. Reese doesn’t keep his identity as a trans man a secret from Jude, and his openness makes it possible for Jude to support him by helping him save for gender-affirming surgery. In turn, Jude is open with Reese about her family’s turbulent past and her desire to track down Stella, and he supports her while also protectively urging her not to become too invested in establishing a relationship with Stella, which he thinks might end up hurting Jude. Their willingness to share with each other and turn to one another for help is, it seems, a good illustration of what healthy companionship can look like, making it quite clear that successful relationships require honesty and mutual support.
Companionship, Support, and Independence ThemeTracker
Companionship, Support, and Independence Quotes in The Vanishing Half
She wanted to go to college someday and of course she’d get into Spelman or Howard or wherever else she wanted to go. The thought had always terrified Desiree, Stella moving to Atlanta or D.C. without her. A small part of her felt relieved; now Stella couldn’t possibly leave her behind. Still, she hated to see her sister sad.
She was beginning to feel as if an escape door had appeared before her, and if she waited any longer, it might disappear forever. But she couldn’t go without Stella. She’d never been without her sister and part of her wondered if she could even survive the separation.
“Don’t you have something brown?” her mother had asked, lingering in the doorway, but Desiree ignored her, tying pink ribbons around Jude’s braids. Bright colors looked vulgar against dark skin, everyone said, but she refused to hide her daughter in drab olive greens or grays. Now, as they paraded past the other children, she felt foolish. Maybe pink was too showy. Maybe she’d already ruined her daughter’s chances of fitting in by dressing her up like a department store doll.
If she hadn’t believed, even a bit, that spending time with Early was wrong, why hadn’t she ever asked him to meet her at Lou’s for a malt? Or take a walk or sit out by the riverbank? She was probably no different from her mother in Early’s eyes.
This was how Desiree thought of herself then: the single dynamic force in Stella’s life, a gust of wind strong enough to rip out her roots. This was the story Desiree needed to tell herself and Stella allowed her to. They both felt safe inside.
Stella needed to find a new job, so she’d responded to a listing in the newspaper for secretarial work in an office inside the Maison Blanche building. An office like that would never hire a colored girl, but they needed the money, living in the city and all, and why should the twins starve because Stella, perfectly capable of typing, became unfit as soon as anyone learned that she was colored? It wasn’t lying, she told Stella. How was it her fault if they thought she was white when they hired her? What sense did it make to correct them now?
Now, as he watched the photo, she watched him, trying to picture Therese. But she couldn’t. She only saw Reese, scruffy face, shirtsleeves rolled up to his elbows, that loop of hair always falling onto his forehead. […] She’d always known that it was possible to be two different people in one lifetime […].
“You should take that thing off,” she said. “If it hurts you. You don’t have to wear it here. I don’t care what you look like.”
She thought he might be relieved, but instead, a dark and unfamiliar look passed across his face.
“It’s not about you,” he said, then he slammed the bathroom door shut.
She’d moved to Los Angeles for Blake’s job and sometimes she felt like she’d had no say in the matter. Other times, she remembered how thrilling the possibility of Los Angeles had seemed, all those miles between there and her old life. Foolish to pretend that she hadn’t chosen this city. She wasn’t some little tugboat, drifting along with the tide. She had created herself. Since the morning she’d walked out of the Maison Blanche building a white girl, she had decided everything.
She couldn’t share any memory of her youth without also conjuring Desiree; all of her memories were cleaved in half, her sister excised right out of them, and how lonely they seemed now, Stella swimming by herself at the river, wandering through sugarcane fields, running breathlessly from a goose chasing her down the road.
“I’m not one of them,” she would say. “I’m like you.”
“You’re colored,” Loretta would say. Not a question, but a statement of blunt fact. Stella would tell her because the woman was leaving; in hours, she’d vanish from this apart of the city and Stella’s life forever. She’d tell her because, in spite of everything, Loretta was her only friend in the world. Because she knew that, if it came down to her word versus Loretta’s, she would always be believed. And knowing this, she felt, for the first time, truly white.
Only a lazy girl would get caught, and her daughter was clever but lazy, blissfully unaware of how hard her mother worked to maintain the lie that was her life.
“You know I don’t mean anything by it. I’m just saying. Your men usually like the light girls, don’t they?”
Years later, she would always wonder what exactly pushed her. That sly smile, or the way she’d said your men so casually, as if it didn’t include her. Or maybe it was because Kennedy was right. She knew how lucky Jude felt to be loved. She knew, even though Jude tried to hide it, exactly how to hurt her.
But sometimes lying was an act of love. Stella had spent too long lying to tell the truth now, or maybe, there was nothing left to reveal. Maybe this was who she had become.
“You shouldn’t tell people the truth because you want to hurt them. You should tell me because they want to know it. And I think you want to know now.”