The daughter has decided to change her name to an African one, while in her ignorance she doesn't know that her true heritage lies in the name she was given at birth. "Wangero said. I couldn't bear it any longer being named after the people that oppressed me. / You know as well as me that you was named after your aunt Dicie." (386) The daughter then goes on to continue the conversation and plead her case with no facts. The mother stating effortlessly that she is wrong and there isn't anything that will change that. .
The break down of education isn't a new problem in our nation. People from across the world feel that somebody could be wrong, or not as intelligent as himself or herself just because they do not speak the same way. In many cultures it is seen that people with heavy domesticated accents are deemed unintelligent, or even handicapped. If a person from Texas goes to New York they will be treated differently because their way to communicate is different. There might not be a difference in intelligence levels but the two citizens language will be broken down and communication will be depleted. When the daughter had been immersed into a different culture she experienced a different way of life. She then returns home to her mother and doesn't relate to her at all. She sees herself as different from her mother, and accordingly, acts like it.
While the daughter will try to talk her mother into something she wants, the mother stands fast and just answers with a simple "no". The daughter eyes for things that she will want to take from her mother and doesn't consider anybody else in her decision to first take a butter dish, then a butter churn. Her mother, in her wisdom, decides against confrontation and allows her daughter to take the household items. This action shows that her mother knows to choose the disagreement carefully and to not act out on any action of her daughter. There is a feeling that the mother is resentful to her daughter for taking these things, but it doesn't seem she can express her emotions.
