From Clare to Rene

My Dearest Rene,

I’m sorry I had to jump out of that window. It was the only way to escape the mortal limitations that were forced upon my immortal and flexible identity. After my husband’s accusation I realized that I couldn’t hide my Negro eyes any longer – I couldn’t continue to mask my identity as a means of evading the legal classification of race that had been imposed upon me for so long. I also realized, in that instant, that I could no longer hide my love for you.

I’m sorry that I had to leave you. But please know that I am happy now. I am tranquil. I smiled as I left that window because I felt a distinct sense of empowerment – I had the power to escape our unjust world. I smiled because I knew I was on the threshold of a world where racial and sexual categories do not matter, a place where the beauty of my red lips and shining eyes will not be restricted by words like white, black, mixed; a place where I won’t have to hide from the bigotry of my husband and those who consider me a traitor to the black race; a place where I can embrace my unique sexual and racial identity.

As I commit my final act of passing—from one world to the next—please know that I am sorry for what I have done, but that I will always love you.

Yours,

Clare

Questions:

1) How can we interpret Clare Kendry’s act of passing? On the one hand, it is a socially beneficial act: she ridicules the supposed rigidity of American racial classifications by illuminating the fluidity and instability of racial identity and exposing race as a performance, thus undermining the power of the construction of racial categories. On the other hand, however, it could be viewed as detrimental: she reinforces the power of racial categories by ultimately succumbing to their control as she takes her own life at the end of the novel.

2) The end of Passing seems to suggest that death is the only level of existence on which race is irrelevant. Is this true? Will we ever live in a society where race is not constantly salient?