The Safekeep, and the risk of authenticity
This LGBT History month, I read The Safekeep, a novel set in post-WW2 Holland. Alongside plenty of historical WLW sauciness, the novel touches on several much darker subjects, including loneliness, grief, sexism, antisemitism, the unspoken secret of homosexuality, and midnight spoon-polishing (this is not a euphemism). Particularly, it explores questions about authenticity, through the eyes of said spoon-polishing protagonist, Isabel.
When we meet Isabel, she’s the sole occupant of a house whose other inhabitants have long departed (either through choice or death). Her closest relationships are with her brothers, whom she sees infrequently, with varying degrees of emotional distance. Her only daily company is a study in passive-aggression with her housekeeper, Neelke. She’s dragged along on ‘dates’ with a neighbour, Johan, in which she carefully evades saying any actual words. She’s not exactly living her best life. In fact, she’s not exactly living ‘her’ life, at all.
Isabel’s treatment of the house mirrors her treatment of herself. Both are shut away, discouraging any prying visitors. The house almost seems to radiate the same perpetually spiky animosity that Isabel does. Although she’s alone in the house, she keeps it exactly as her mother had it, rather than make the space her own. She still dresses and styles her hair as her mother prescribed. Isabel is studiously avoiding herself entirely, deliberately choosing not even to investigate who she might be, let alone allow herself to inhabit it.
Why is she doing this? Unsurprisingly, Isabel’s mistrust of authenticity seems connected to fears of rejection. As a child, she experienced bullying, isolation, and being labelled ‘weird and boring’ (savage). In Isabel’s experience, being herself often led to exclusion, and being pigeonholed as ‘abnormal’. On top of that, she watched her mum reject her brother Hendrik after he came out - which definitely didn’t help discredit the idea that more alienation could follow. Clearly, authenticity is a dangerous prospect - so Isabel decides to pull the curtains closed, and hope nobody comes knocking.
Although, of course, someone does. Eva.
But let’s pause there for a moment. We’re talking about authenticity - how can we define it? Perhaps Simone de Beauvoir’s thoughts are helpful on this subject: she describes authenticity as an ongoing process of self-creation, in which we construct a sense of self via our choices and actions. She believed authenticity isn’t about returning to an ‘essential’, factory-setting past version of ourselves - instead, it’s something we actively build in the present. Authenticity isn’t just ‘who we are’, it’s what we do.
If we consider authenticity through this lens, we can contrast Isabel and Eva by the choices and actions they make. Isabel has chosen not to choose, continuing to live the life laid out by her mum instead of acting to create her own. Conversely, Eva chooses to actively shape space to fit her. She stamps her mark, re-decorating Louis’s flat, taking up space in the house’s master bedroom, and actually treating Neelke like a human instead of maintaining excruciatingly icy silence. Eva’s perceived ability to freely and fearlessly inhabit her own skin threatens Isabel’s campaign to hide, leaving Isabel both infuriated by Eva and deeply envious of her. The irony, of course, is that Eva is also hiding.
Isabel initially finds safety in the stasis of the house, hiding in her mother’s shadow - but as the story progresses, she starts to recognise it has become a prison. Through her relationship with Eva, Isabel begins to shift her stance on authenticity. In accordance with the de Beauvoir model, she makes choices and actions that enable herself to emerge. She cuts her hair, dumps Johan, pursues the inheritance of the house, and tracks Eva down (quite a lot of choosing and acting, tbf). She starts to ask for what she wants, acknowledging that she isn’t simply the ghost of her mother. Finally, she releases her hold – on the house, as well as on herself. Isabel has learned that her emotions, needs, and even her ‘weirdnesses’ can be accepted by others - and, most pertinently, by herself.
The arc of Isabel’s relationship with authenticity isn’t an unfamiliar one, particularly in the context of queer lives. Many of us have experienced self-policing, worrying what would happen if people saw what we’re trying to hide. Although Isabel sincerely believes secrecy and suppression will keep her safe, her ‘safety’ soon becomes suffocating. Like Isabel, we may believe that hiding is the best option - and yet, those beliefs may turn out untrue. Yes, it can be scary to open the door – but perhaps ultimately, it’s a lot less scary than staying stuck in the house.