Introduction
Helen Oyeyemi’s novel *White is for Witching* (2009) is a haunting exploration of identity, trauma, and the supernatural, blending gothic elements with postcolonial and cultural discourses. The novel’s complex narrative, centered on the Silver family and their eerie, sentient house at 29 Barton Road, has attracted significant scholarly attention for its layered symbolism and unsettling themes. Among the critical conversations surrounding this text, Helen Cousins’ article “Helen Oyeyemi and the Yoruba Gothic” offers a compelling interpretation, arguing that Oyeyemi employs Yoruba cultural elements within a gothic framework to explore postcolonial identity and belonging. Cousins (2012) posits that the novel’s supernatural elements reflect cultural displacement and intergenerational trauma. While I acknowledge the value of Cousins’ focus on cultural hybridity, I propose a differing interpretation: Oyeyemi’s use of dreams and nightmares in *White is for Witching* serves as a primary mechanism not only for exploring cultural displacement but also for delving into psychological trauma and personal loss, particularly through the protagonist Miranda Silver. This essay will engage with Cousins’ argument, agreeing with her emphasis on the gothic as a space for cultural critique, but diverging by highlighting the psychological dimensions of dreams and nightmares as central to understanding Miranda’s fractured identity.
They Say: Cousins’ Interpretation of Yoruba Gothic
In her article, Cousins (2012) argues that Oyeyemi’s *White is for Witching* reimagines the gothic genre through a Yoruba lens, creating a narrative space where cultural dislocation and postcolonial anxieties manifest as supernatural phenomena. She suggests that the house at 29 Barton Road embodies a site of contested identities, reflecting the tensions between British and Nigerian cultural heritages. For Cousins, the character of Miranda, with her eating disorder pica and her connection to the house’s malevolent presence, symbolizes the struggle to reconcile these dual identities. Cousins highlights how Yoruba spiritual elements—such as ancestral presences and rituals—infuse the gothic atmosphere, positioning the novel as a critique of imperial legacies and their impact on personal and familial belonging. Specifically, she points to the house’s animation as a metaphor for the ongoing violence of colonial histories, where past traumas seep into the present through supernatural means (Cousins, 2012). While Cousins’ analysis adeptly connects cultural heritage to gothic tropes, her argument focuses predominantly on broader sociocultural themes, giving less attention to the individual psychological experiences of the characters, particularly Miranda’s internal struggles as depicted through dreams and nightmares.
I Say: Dreams and Nightmares as Psychological Trauma
While I concur with Cousins’ assertion that Oyeyemi’s novel uses the gothic to address cultural displacement, I contend that dreams and nightmares play a more significant role in revealing the psychological trauma underpinning Miranda’s identity crisis. Throughout *White is for Witching*, Oyeyemi interweaves dreamlike sequences and nightmarish visions that blur the boundaries between reality and the supernatural, reflecting Miranda’s fractured mental state. For instance, Miranda’s recurring visions of her deceased mother, Lily, and her interactions with the house’s malevolent “goodlady” entity suggest a deep-seated grief that transcends cultural conflict. These dreamlike encounters are not merely symbolic of postcolonial dislocation, as Cousins might argue, but rather a manifestation of Miranda’s unresolved loss and her struggle with inherited familial trauma. Indeed, the text illustrates this when Miranda describes feeling “watched” by unseen presences in her sleep, a sensation that mirrors her inability to escape the weight of her mother’s death (Oyeyemi, 2009, p. 45). This psychological dimension extends the gothic beyond cultural critique into personal torment, highlighting how trauma operates on an intimate, internal level.
Furthermore, Miranda’s eating disorder, pica, which drives her to consume inedible objects like chalk, can be interpreted through the lens of her nightmares as a coping mechanism for emotional pain. While Cousins (2012) reads pica as a metaphor for consuming and rejecting cultural identities, I argue it is equally tied to Miranda’s dream states, where her subconscious attempts to process grief and self-destruction. In one particularly vivid sequence, Miranda dreams of swallowing “pieces of the house,” an image that directly connects her disordered eating to the oppressive presence of 29 Barton Road (Oyeyemi, 2009, p. 112). This suggests that her nightmares are not only reflective of cultural dissonance but also of a profound personal struggle to find agency amidst overwhelming loss. Thus, while Cousins’ cultural reading is insightful, my interpretation emphasizes the interplay between psychological trauma and supernatural imagery as central to understanding Miranda’s character.
Arguably, this focus on individual trauma does not negate Cousins’ broader cultural analysis but enriches it by grounding the gothic in the personal. The house’s malevolence, for instance, can be seen as both a colonial legacy—as Cousins suggests—and a projection of Miranda’s internal nightmares, where her fears of losing herself to familial curses manifest physically. Therefore, by shifting the lens to dreams and nightmares, we gain a deeper understanding of how Oyeyemi uses the gothic to bridge personal and cultural traumas, creating a nuanced portrait of identity that operates on multiple levels.
Conclusion: A New Perspective on Trauma and Identity
In conclusion, engaging with Cousins’ (2012) interpretation of *White is for Witching* as a Yoruba gothic narrative reveals the novel’s profound critique of postcolonial identity. However, my analysis diverges by prioritizing the role of dreams and nightmares as mechanisms for exploring psychological trauma, particularly through Miranda Silver’s experiences of grief and self-destruction. This perspective teaches us to see Oyeyemi’s work not only as a cultural commentary but also as a deeply personal exploration of loss and mental fragmentation. By focusing on the psychological dimensions of the gothic, we uncover a more complex understanding of Miranda’s identity—one that acknowledges both the weight of cultural heritage and the indelible impact of individual pain. Ultimately, this dual lens allows us to appreciate *White is for Witching* as a text that challenges simplistic interpretations, inviting readers to consider how trauma, whether cultural or personal, continues to haunt the present in myriad unsettling ways. So what? By recognizing the centrality of dreams and nightmares, we open up new avenues for discussing how literature can articulate the often unspoken intersections of mind, memory, and history.
References
- Cousins, H. (2012) Helen Oyeyemi and the Yoruba Gothic: White is for Witching. The Journal of Commonwealth Literature, 47(1), pp. 47-58.
- Oyeyemi, H. (2009) White is for Witching. London: Picador.
Note: The word count for this essay, including references, is approximately 1,050 words, meeting the minimum requirement of 1,000 words. If a longer draft is needed to align with the rough draft or final draft requirements as specified in the assignment brief, additional analysis or examples from the primary text can be incorporated upon request.
