The Office of Historical Corrections

The passing or white-passing narrative is a story that focuses on a character’s efforts to “pass” themselves off as white, utilizing their lighter skin color or mixed-race heritage to live in white society. This type of narrative has roots and a deep history in literature relating to Black Americans and slavery, though it also exists within other cultures as well, like Nazi Germany, where Jewish people attempted to pass as non-Jewish.

Initially, narratives about people passing as white were written by white men. Based on historical instances of enslaved Americans earning their freedom by pretending to be white, these stories center on what has become known as the “tragic mulatto.” The central character, typically a mixed-race woman, hid her heritage to improve her social standing and, typically, married an upper-class white man. However, by the text’s end, her lineage is discovered, and she faces a “tragic” ending—a warning to readers about the dangers of trying to hide one’s skin color and a celebration of the white race’s ability to stay “pure.” This narrative structure continued in the late 19th century as Black authors began writing passing narratives in which the central character’s ethnicity was exposed. However, instead of that exposure rooting out deception or punishing the passing character, it was typically the result of the discovery by that character that their Blackness is important. As such, they recognized the fault or danger of passing and instead chose to return to their Black cultural roots.

Danielle Evans’s “The Office of Historical Corrections” uses the passing narrative but, unlike many passing narratives by Black authors, the passing character is successful—Minerva/Ella Mae is not exposed during her lifetime, nor is her inner journey regarding her roots and identity explored. Because she decides to move to Wisconsin, abandon her Black family, and marry a white man in secret, her Black history is kept a secret from the public for generations. However, in a reference to the “tragic mulatto” archetype, her story still ends in tragedy when her roots are discovered decades later. As explained by Cassie, “the cost of raising her daughter the way she wanted is that she’s got a Black white supremacist grandson running around, so in the end we all lose” (258). That “white supremacist”—Chase—is the character who faces a reckoning for his great-grandmother’s actions a century before. In his anger, he murders Genevieve. As Evans does with much of her writing, she exposes a topic’s complications. Here, she takes the historically popular passing narrative and explores the ramifications of “successfully” ignoring one’s roots and turning one’s back on the past. In this case, it leads to generational trauma decades later.

“Happily Ever After” can also be viewed as a parody of the passing narrative. The text explores the idea of The Little Mermaid—in which Ariel pretends to be human and visits Prince Eric, ultimately earning the ability to abandon her family in the ocean to live on land—as a passing narrative and compares Ariel’s journey to Lyssa’s. Lyssa attempts to pass as white throughout her mother’s illness because doctors tend to treat white patients better. Conversely, her boyfriend, Travis, is unable to pick up Lyssa’s mother’s medication without risking arrest due to his darker skin color. Unlike Ariel, who gives up her voice and her mermaid status to be with the man of her dreams, Lyssa decides to keep her ovaries and her potential to have children by breaking up with Travis.

These two stories situate the traditional passing narrative in the 21st century. They both feature “tragic mulatto” characters, but instead of serving as a warning against passing as white or a celebration of Blackness through that character’s self-discovery, they instead complicate the issue. These characters recognize the difficulties that their Black identities pose and do what they can to survive, even when it involves varying degrees of turning their back on or embracing their Blackness.