132. Margaret Mitchell, Gone With the Wind
- Rainey Knudson
- 1 day ago
- 2 min read
I have a joke I like to tell. It’s risky, like all good humor, and works best if I’m talking to a black person. I say: “You know, I don’t want to surprise you… And this may come as a shock, but… we have a huge problem with race in this country.” There’s almost always a split second of shocked silence—is she being serious?—followed by a loud guffaw. Because I know, and I have to assume my listener knows, that I can have no understanding in my bones about our huge race problem in our country, except at best from my own narrow experience.
But what I can do, and I try and sometimes succeed in doing, is make an effort—not to be an “ally,” none of that nonsense—but simply try to take every individual I meet as an undiscovered country, one that may prove to be warm and delightful, open-minded and full of unexpected commonality, or not. And to try, and sometimes succeed, to be that warm and welcoming undiscovered country for others.
Gone With the Wind is a great and problematic book for our country for many reasons. It’s a story about becoming beguiled and lost to the conveniently unattainable, whether that be an unsuitable fantasy romance that shields us from the difficult, dense, and real love all around us—the love that takes work—or whether it’s a deluded glossing-over of a past that never disappeared into the wind, because it never existed.
Special thanks to Danielle Brutsche for suggesting Gone With the Wind.
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This post is part of The American 250, a series featuring 250 objects made by Americans, located in America, in honor of the country's 250th anniversary. 250 words on 250 works, from January 1 to December 31, 2026.
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