A Review of Krystal A. Sital’s Secrets We Kept: Three Women of Trinidad
August 2, 2019 § 1 Comment
By Anita Gill
I had the fortune of hearing Krystal A. Sital read from her debut memoir Secrets We Kept: Three Women of Trinidad at HippoCamp 2018 in Lancaster, PA. She spoke of her home, the island nation of Trinidad. She spoke of her family, generations of Trinidadians of Indian origin. But then she sometimes didn’t speak. Instead her mother and grandmother did, as evidenced by Sital’s smooth switch into a patois accent.
Framed around her grandfather’s fall and subsequent decline in health, Sital memorializes the man who had doted on her. But Sital is perplexed by her grandmother and other relatives who have reservations about approving additional procedures to extend her grandfather’s life. “My grandfather. The uncontested patriarch of our family. Did I see the true glimpses of who he was and, like everyone else, choose to pretend it didn’t happen?” she writes. “I wrestle with two images of this man, wanting to know more, need to discover as much as I can to make sense of him, of us all, for allowing him to dominate our lives.”
Over a variety of meal preparations that her mother executes without a glance at a recipe, Sital uncovers the stories of the women in her family and the abuse they suffered under the hands of their patriarch. In giving her mother and grandmother the space to share their stories verbally, Sital provides the same freedom on the page. One of the first sections is for Arya, Sital’s mother, whose story starts as a young girl. In a later section, Sital narrates her grandmother, Rebecca’s story. The two women from different generations are unified in one desire: to have a life better than the one they were born into.
Sital’s narration reveals insights into her complicated role as storyteller, specifically in terms of portraying some of her family members as antagonists. “As I learn about the men in my life—my father, my grandfather—men I’ve been enamored with and admired, they take on dimensions I’ve never imagined,” she writes. “I can no longer see them as just my father and grandfather; they are Dharmendra and Shiva. Fathers, yes. But also husbands. Perpetrators.” Though the men have few redeeming qualities, she examines the bigger picture, in how the country molded the men this way, to pass down the same habits in every generation. This observation is not intended to exonerate her father and grandfather. Rather, it elucidates the societal structure that permits this behavior.
Sital’s story is her mother’s story, as it is her grandmother’s story. They’re inextricably linked, the joys and traumas of a family passed down. It’s only through providing the accounts of her mother and grandmother that Sital can introduce herself into the story as the young daughter born in Trinidad and made to adapt to the U.S. as an adolescent. Like a bricklayer, Sital sets up this foundation with precision and purpose, allowing readers to better grasp the nuanced complications within the family upon migration into the U.S.
Since studying memoir, I had come to believe the narrative had to follow the character “I” throughout. Most of our craft books on memoir center around the individual (in most cases, the writer) and how they experience their unique past. When I think deeper about this, I understand how American individualism influences the way we’ve been taught to write memoir. It was no wonder I struggled when I attempted to capture my Indian family on the page. In a culture where we champion the family over individualism, I hit a roadblock. How could I tell my story when it is intertwined in the larger narrative of my family?
Sital’s expertly executed memoir accomplishes this feat with finesse and poise. Her memoir is a guidebook for how to capture the complex dynamics within a family. Through her arduous work to better understand her ancestry—to appreciate their stories and share in their grief—she is able to finally know herself.
Anita Gill is a writer and teacher based in Los Angeles. Her work has appeared in The Iowa Review, The Rumpus, McSweeney’s Internet Tendency, Prairie Schooner, and elsewhere.