The narrator of the novel, The Help, struggles with her own relationship with her mother, and observes both the brokenness and beauty of other characters in the novel.  This book engages issues of marginalization, being seen, and not being seen on a number of levels.  Listen to this description of “Skeeter”‘s experience as a child:

“Mother ate her breakfast early in the dining room, then moved to the relaxing room to do needlepoint or write letters to missionaries in Africa.  From her green wing chair, she could see everyone going almost anywhere in the house.  It was shocking what she could process about my appearance in the split second it took for me to pass by that door.  I used to dash by, feeling like a dartboard, a big red bulls-eye that Mother pinged darts at.  “Eugenia, you know there is no chewing gum in this house.’  ‘Eugenia, go put alcohol on that blemish.’  ‘Eugenia, march upstairs and brush your hair down, what if we have an unexpected visitor?’  I learned that socks are stealthier transportation than shoes.  I learned to use the back door.  I learned to wear hats, cover my face with my hands when I passed by.  But mostly, I learned to just stay in the kitchen.”

It was in the kitchen that she found the delight of the black maid who raised her, who taught her her own dignity:

“It was having someone look at you after your mother has nearly fretted herself to death because you are freakishly tall and frizzy and odd.  Someone whose eyes simply said, without words, ‘You are fine with me.’