When the novel opens, Celie is a young black girl living in Georgia in the early years of the twentieth century. She is largely uneducated; her letters to God are written in non-standard dialect. Walker has called the dialect black folk language, and while it may not be polished English, it is raw and honest — and strong. Celie's letters are unusually strong; they are evidence of an unusual strength in a very young woman. They are evidence of Celie's painful struggle to hold on — despite all of the multiple horrors of her life.
Celie is about to go into adolescence, believing that she was raped by her father and that he killed both of their children. She writes to God because she has no one else to help her bear this terrible knowledge. What has happened to Celie is so terrible that she can talk about it only to someone who she feels loves her. Of course, her sister, Nettie, loves her, but Nettie is too young to understand what terrible things have happened to Celie. Only to God can Celie talk honestly and openly about the hell that she has suffered.
And this point is important: Celie is not complaining to God. She simply needs to talk to someone — someone whom she loves and trusts and someone who she feels loves her.
Celie's instinct for survival, however, is more solid than even Celie realizes. She was born into a poor family; her mother was ill much of the time (later, we find out that she was mentally ill as well); there were too many children in the family; and then Celie was victimized by the man who she believed was her father. Celie feels used, and she feels that she is a victim, and she doesn't understand why all this has happened to her. She doesn't complain; she simply wonders why. In fact, so many bad things have happened to Celie that she feels worthless. She has very little self-worth and self-esteem. You should notice that she doesn't even sign her letters to God. Normally, most people take pride in signing their names; our name is one of the first things we learn to write. This is not true of Celie. Her self-worth is so miniscule that she does not even sign her own name.
