Who was Paul Laurence Dunbar?
Paul Laurence Dunbar published his first book at the young age of 21 and died only 13 years later. In that brief time, his extensive writing included three volumes of poetry; four collections of short stories; and four novels. Perhaps his remarkable productivity was driven by the knowledge of his terminal tuberculosis, combined with his quest to win legitimacy as a mainstream writer.
Dunbar was born in Dayton, Ohio, of parents who were former slaves. At 13, he began reciting original poetry at church; at Central High School, where he was the only black student in his class, he was a member of a literary society and an editor of the High School Times. Unable to finance a college education, Dunbar worked as an elevator operator until 1893, when he found a job as the assistant to Frederick Douglass, who was supervising the Haiti exhibit at the world exposition in Chicago.
In that same year, Dunbar privately published his first volume of poetry, Oak and Ivy, followed by Majors and Minors in 1895. Dunbar marketed his books independently by reading and selling his poetry. After receiving a favorable review in Harper's by William Dean Howells, a prominent Caucasian writer, Dunbar gained the larger audience he desired. The audience was primarily made up of white readers familiar with the "Negro dialect" of literature depicting blacks through exaggerated, comical images. Although some of the Dunbar's work follows the dialect form, as Richard Barksdale and Kenneth Kinnamon suggest, "the general tone of ... [Dunbar's] dialect poetry is quite different ... These poems radiate a warm humanity ..."
Lyrics of Lowly Life, a selection of poems from his two earlier volumes, brought Dunbar national and international recognition and was praised for its dialect style. Yet Dunbar still hungered for an enthusiastic acceptance of his non-dialect prose. Ironically, Dunbar wrote most of his poetry in standard English, using conventional symbols, rhythms, and a rhyming patterns, but the popularity of his dialect poetry overwhelmed the appreciation of his skill with mainstream language and forms.
Dunbar avoided direct attacks on American racism in his writing, which some critics have interpreted as a thematic weakness in his body of work. However, certain poems and stories serve as emblems of Dunbar's racial consciousness and pride, such as poems "We Wear the Mask" and "Sympathy," which appear below.
Moving from poetry to fiction, Dunbar published several short story collections, including:
Folks from the Dixie
The Strength of Gideon and Other Stories
In Old Plantation Days
The Heart of Happy Hollow
For most critics, Dunbar's fiction possessed neither the mastery nor the impact of his poetry. Dismissed for an ineffective use of language and technique, all four of Dunbar's novels - The Uncalled, The Love of Landry, The Fanatics, and The Sports of the Gods - suffered the common weaknesses of sentimental fiction, and in only one of them, The Sports, did he create significant black characters.
With our short #sight we affect to take a comprehensive #view of #eternity. Our #horizon is the #universe. ~ #PaulLaurenceDunbar . . . Artwork by ART B.L.O.C □
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Of the poems recited below, the lilting "When Malindy Sings" demonstrates Dunbar's skillful use of dialect, while "We Wear the Mask" and "Sympathy" both display his haunting artistry in using standard language and a serious tone.
Unbelievable Facts About Malcolm X
Even before his assassination in 1965, civil rights leader Malcolm X had become a cultural and political legend, his philosophies inspiring various black artists, educators, and students who revered his life - and his ultimate sacrifice.
In 1992, the biographical feature film Malcolm X by directior Spike Lee turned the legendary figure into an American popular icon; his face and name appeared on T-shirts, bookcovers, jackets, and caps in a commercial rebirth of his legacy.
Although the omnipresent image of Malcolm X in the early 1990s was merely a trendy fashion for mainstream America, the black community accorded Malcolm X an honor and acclaim that had been intensifying over the decades since his death.
The greatest #mistake of the #movement has been trying to #organize a #sleeping people around specific #goals. You have to #wake the #people up first, then you'll get #action. ~ #MalcolmX . . . . . #ancestoralert #missingdcgirls #findourgirls □
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Born Malcolm Little in Omaha, Nebraska, the youngest of seven children, Malcolm X endured an unsettled childhood that took him from Nebraska to Milwaukee, Wisconsin, and then to Lansing, Michigan.
In Lansing, a white supremacist group burned down his family's house and was later suspected of killing Malcolm's father, and outspoken minister who supported the separatist ideas of Marcus Garvey.
Malcolm's mother could not support her family due to her psychological instability after her husband's death. When she was placed in the psychiatric institution, Malcolm and his siblings were separated into various detention homes. Malcolm remained in the custody of the state until he completed the eighth grade. He then moved to the Roxbury section of Boston to live with his half-sister. In this urban environment, the young Malcolm turn to criminal activities, and from 1946 to 1952, he served time for burglary in Charlestown State Prison.
Don't be in such a #hurry to #condemn a person because he doesn't #do what you do, or #think as you think. There was a #time when you didn't #know what you know #today. ~ #MalcolmX □
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Malcolm's imprisonment became a turning point in his life. During those six years, he educated himself by reading extensively, developing special interests in the history of racism in America and in the Nation of Islam (The Black Muslims).
Encouraged by his sister, Ella, to become a Muslim, he left prison in 1952 to work with Elijah Muhammed, leader of the Nation of Islam. With his charismatic leadership skills and feverent, insistent voice, Malcolm went to Detroit and New York to convey to the Muslims' message of black separation and black chauvinism to the urban masses. He subsequently changed his name to Malcolm X in repudiation of his family name, Little, which is considered a slave name.
Change is only a #goodthing if you #change in a #good way. ~ #MalcolmX . . . Artwork by Btoy □
In the early 1960s, following conflict with Elijah Muhammed and the Black Muslim organization and a visit to the holy city of Mecca, Malcolm X sought to develop his own organization, one that would emphasize international alliances and work for human rights. His journey to Mecca also led Malcolm to adopt a new name, El-Hajj Malik El-Shabazz, and A new openness toward working with other activities regardless of their race or religion. In the year before his death, Malcolm founded the organization of Afro-American Unity (OAAU), dedicated to exposing the political oppression of all people of color and the systematic destruction of their human rights. The promise of OAAU you died young, like its founder, when in 1965 Malcolm X was gunned down while giving a speech in Harlem.
In all our deeds, the proper #value and #respect for #time determines #success or #failure. ~ #MalcolmX ⌚ . . . Artwork by LUQMAN □
The following chapters from The Autobiography of Malcolm X, coauthored with Alex Haley just before Malcolm's death, tell much about his early and later life.
In chapter 2, which covers 1937 to 1940, Malcolm tells about his experiences in a Lansing detention home, including his discovery that racism could be fostered even in well-intention white Americans. Malcolm's letter from chapter 17 details the changes in his attitude toward race brought about by his visit to Mecca. Finally, chapter 19 clarifies Malcolm's position in 1965 on such issues as the use of violence, interracial cooperation, and the future of racial politics in America. The chapter ends prophetically with Malcolm's expectation of assassination.
The Biggest Contributions of Langston Hughes
Langston Hughes's great range and volume of work, which was published over a period of 40 years, has won praise from the black audiences he wrote for, in addition to artists, critics, and readers beyond the black community.
Most scholars would concur with critic, Arthur P. Davis's assessment, in that:
"Poet, fiction writer, dramatist, newspaper columnist, writer of autobiography, anthologist, compiler of children's works, and translator, Langston Hughes was by far the most experimental and versatile author of the [Harlem] Renaissance--and time may find him the greatest."
I am so #tired of waiting. Aren't you, for the world to become #good and #beautiful and #kind? Let us take a #knife and cut the #world in two - and see what #worms are eating at the #rind. ~ #LangstonHughes □ . . . . . ⁣⛅ ☁ ☁ ☁ □ ✈ □□_□_ / | \□□□□ _____□_□__□______ □⁣□□ / |□\ □□□ □□□ / |□\ □□ □ □ / | \ □□
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Hughes was born in Joplin, Missouri; however, his early childhood mobility was an indication of the restless lifestyle that would influence his writing throughout adulthood (e.g., he lived in seven different cities within only twelve years).
When he resided in Lincoln, Illinois with his divorced mother and stepfather, he was chosen as a class poet in junior high school; he became editor of his high school's yearbook in Cleveland.
The young writer's restless spirit led to an unsatisfying family life.
In 1921, during an emotionally disturbing visit with his father in Mexico, Hughes taught English in Mexican schools and published his first poem, which appeared in Crisis entitled, "The Negro Speaks of Rivers".
Life is for the #living. Death is for the #dead. Let #life be like #music. And #death a note unsaid. ~ #LangstonHughes □
Hughes set his sights on writing and traveling abroad after attending Columbia University for only a year. However by 1925, he settled back in America, in Washington DC, and worked as a waiter.
During the same year various key events occurred: Hughes received recognition from established white writers, won first prize for poetry from Opportunity Magazine, and entered Lincoln University in Pennsylvania, which is where he won the Wittier Bynner Prize for undergraduate poetry prior to earning his bachelor's degree in 1929.
Help me to shatter this #darkness, To smash this #night, To break this #shadow into a thousand #lights of sun, into a thousand whirling #dreams of #sun! ~ #LangstonHughes ('As I Grew Older') □
While still a student and with his growing reputation as a poet, Hughes began to visit Harlem during holidays and school breaks.
During 1926, he published his first volume of poetry, The Weary Blues, and was held as one of the most promising artist of the Harlem Renaissance.
In this and his earlier work, he displayed attributes that would distinguish poetry for life. (e.g., free verse forms, love of the blues and jazz, respect for black language and folkways, racial pride and survival themes, etc.).
"Go home and write / a page tonight. / And let that page come out of you - / Then, it will be true."
- Langston Hughes pic.twitter.com/jXKc5kieaD
— SeshatCDG (@SeshatCDG) May 22, 2017
In the 1930s, he went to Russia and Spain but he continued to write about experiences relevant to black people.
​The majority of his writing emphasize the American aspect of being black, particularly the rights of all black people to pursue their part of the American dream.
"America never was America to me And yet I swear this oath - America will be!"
- Langston Hughes pic.twitter.com/CKupNgA2so
— SeshatCDG (@SeshatCDG) December 12, 2016
Also, Hughes taught at Atlanta University and the University of Chicago; in addition, he traveled and lectured throughout the world, representing the US information agency and attending the Dakar Arts Festival in 1996.
His poetry output was remarkable.
Following the Weary Blues, he published numerous other volumes of poetry:
Fine Clothes to the Jew
The Dream Keeper
Shakespeare in Harlem
Fields of Wonder
Montage of a Dream Deferred
Selected Poems of Langston Hughes
Ask your mama: 12 Moods of Jazz
Panther and the Lash
Hughes's prose, which ranges from fiction and drama to autobiographical editorial works, includes the novels:
Not without Laughter
Tambourines the Glory
The Sweet Flypaper of Life, a collaborative work
​Many of his short stories are collected in:
The Ways of White Folks
Laughing to Keep from Crying
Something in Common
A unique series of sketches and stories that feature the fictional black everyman, Jesse B. Semple, (aka Simple) are unique among his fictional works.
These pieces are collected in five volumes and were published between 1950 and 1965.
​Hughes uses Semple to represent, according to Richard Barksdale in and Kenneth Kinnamon:
"A coolly comic view of Black and white America."
"Well, I like to eat, sleep, drink, and be in love. I like to work, read, learn, and understand life."
- Langston Hughes pic.twitter.com/gFi7khSHAC
— SeshatCDG (@SeshatCDG) November 21, 2016
In addition to writing two autobiographies:
The Big Sea
Hughes edited and collaborated on various books of American Black literature and history, such as:
The Best Short Stories by Negro Writers
The Poetry of the Negro, co-edited with Arna Bontemps
Fight for Freedom: The Story of the NAACP
​He also wrote full-length plays, one-act plays and a musical. In 1963, he published the collection Five Plays. It contains his most acclaimed drama, Mulatto, which had run on Broadway for a year.
The following poems come from various collections published in 1920s to the 1960s. The first few poems display Hughes's skill at employing the free verse form to create diverse tones and delineate different things.
The last poem uses discernible rhyming patterns and rhythm-shaping repetition. Enjoy.
Georgia Dusk
by Langston Hughes
Sometimes there's a wind in the Georgia dusk
That cries and cries and cries
Its lonely pity through the Georgia dusk
Veiling what the darkness hides
Sometimes there's blood in the Georgia dusk
Left by a streak of sun
A crimson trickle in the Georgia dusk
Whose Blood? …Everyone's
Sometimes a wind in the Georgia dusk
Scatters hate like seed
To sprout its bitter barriers
Where the sunsets bleed
You Oughta Know: Octavia E. Butler
Octavia Butler has been writing fantasy and science-fiction most of her adult life because she says,
"These seem to be the genres in which I could be freest, most creative."
#Kindness eases change. #Love quiets fear. And a sweet and powerful Positive #obsession Blunts pain, Diverts rage, And #engages each of us In the greatest, The most intense Of our #chosen struggles. . #OctaviaButler #ParableoftheTalents . Artwork by Robert Trujillo/ Tres □
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Born and educated in Pasadena, California, Butler began writing at the age of 10 as a way of dealing with loneliness and boredom. After graduating from California State University in 1969, she attended the Clarion Science Fiction Writers' Workshop in 1970 and soon began selling her stories to science fiction publications. Finding a literary home in the science-fiction genre, Butler won three of the field's most prestigious awards in 1985: A Nebula Award, a Hugo Award, and a Locus Award.
All that you #touch you change. All that you change #changes you. ~ #OctaviaButler
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The only black woman writer to receive such accolades for her field of writing, Butler explains:
"I remember that when I began reading science fiction ... I was disappointed at how little this creativity and freedom was used to portray many racial, ethnic, and class variations. Also, I could not help noticing how few significant women characters there were in science fiction. Fortunately, all of this has been changing over the past few years. I intend my writing to contribute to the change."
All struggles are essentially #power struggles. Who will #rule? Who will #lead? Who will #define, #refine, #confine, #design? Who will #dominate? All #struggles are essentially #powerstruggles, and most are no more intellectual than two rams knocking their heads together. ~ #OctaviaEButler
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Indeed, her intentions have been endorsed by both critics and readers.
Four of the Butler's novels - Patternmaster, Mind of My Mind, Survivor, and Wild Seed - belong to an intrrelated saga called the Patternist series. The connecting threads in the series is a "group of mentally superior beings who are telepathically connected to one another." Spanning time and space from 17th century Africa to a futuristic world, Butler's fiction infuses racism and sexism into the power struggles and social relationships of her imaginary world.
First forget inspiration. #Habit is more #dependable. Habit will #sustain you whether you're #inspired or not. Habit will help you finish and polish your #stories. Inspiration won't. Habit is #persistence in practice. ~ #OctaviaButler . . . Artwork by theartfulscientist □
Butler's other works include the novels:
Clay's Arc
Dawn: Xenogenesis
In the excerpt from Kindred below, the novel's protagonist, a modern-day black woman named Dana, finds herself mysteriously pulled back in time to an 1815 southern plantation.
Why We're So Obsessed With Maya Angelou
As an author of an autobiography, children's books, poetry, and screenplays Maya Angelou said she wrote:
"for the black voice and any ear which can hear it. As a composer writes for musical instruments and a choreographer creates for the body, I search for sound, tempos, and rhythms to ride through the vocal cord over the tongue and out the lips of black people... I write because I am a black woman, listening attentively to her talking people."
If I am not good to #myself, how can I expect anyone else to be #good to #me? ~ #MayaAngelou ~ #SelfCareSunday ☀️
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Angelou made history on January 20, 1993 when she became the first Black poet to write and read for the US presidential inauguration ceremonies.
Americans all over the country listened to her wonderful reading of "On the Pulse of the Morning," which is the poem she wrote for the occasion, and her call to action for the nation to celebrate and respect voices from different backgrounds including ethnic groups, generations and social classes.
Have the #courage to #trust #love one more time and always #onemoretime. ~ #MayaAngelou ~ #Hbd □
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Maya Angelou was born Marguerite Johnson in St. Louis, Missouri.
She lived her early life in Stamps, Arkansas where she was raised by a religious grandmother.
At the age of eight, while visiting her mother in St. Louis, Angelou was raped by her mother's male friend, and the experience sent the child into a traumatic five-year silence.
When Angelou resided with her mother in California, she discovered the responsibilities of motherhood herself by age sixteen.
"Look what you've already come through! Don't deny it. Say I'm stronger than I thought I was"
- Maya Angelou pic.twitter.com/lHguUZ5l1s
Angela demonstrated massive resilience as she went on to become an actress, dancer and singer.
She joined the civil rights movement, serving as a coordinator in the Southern Christian Leadership Conference (SCLC).
Later, she worked as a editor, reporter, and administrator in Cairo, in addition to an administrative assistant at the University of Ghana.
Also, she taught in the California State University System, at Wichita University and at Wake Forest University.
Crystal Gordon
Quote to live by
The multifaceted Angelou made her initial impact as a writer with the five volumes of her autobiography:
Gather Together in My Name
Swingin' and Singin' and Getting Merry like Christmas
The Heart of a Woman
All God's Children Need Travelin' Shoes
Her publications including two children's books,
Souls Look Back and Wonder
and several collection of poems:
Just Give Me a Cool Drink of Water 'for I Die
Oh Pray My Wings Are Gonna Fit Well
And Still I Rise
Shaker, Why Don't You Sing
Now Sheba Sings the Song
I Shall Not Be Moved
Wouldn't Take Nothing for My Journey Now
If you are always #trying to be #normal, you will never #know how #amazing you can be. ~ #MayaAngelou ~ Artwork by Mel Waters
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Her screenplay, Georgia, Georgia, was followed by the television movie scripts for:
Blacks, Blues, Blacks (a public television miniseries)
The following selection comes from I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings, which documents first 16 years of Angelou's life, including her experiences with racism in the South, the trauma of sexual assault, and sexual awakening and motherhood as an adolescent.
Awesome Information on Angela Davis
"Revolutionary" is a term aptly assigned to Angela Davis, whose personal life and intellectual pursuits are a contemporary model of revolt against the American status quo. A decade after events that marked her as one of the leading radical figures of the 1970s, Davis offered this perspective on her life:
"the same kind of problems exist today as they did 10 years ago ... I still attempt to participate in seeking solutions to these problems ... Hopefully I can apply some of the lessons that emerged from the struggles of the 60s or 70s to make a more substantial contribution today. But I still consider myself a revolutionary."
We are never assured of #justice without a #fight. □ - #AngelaDavis □ - #HBD □
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Born in Birmingham, Alabama, Davis grew up in a segregated neighborhood known as Dynamite Hill and went to segregated schools. At this age of 15, she moved to New York to attend a private high school in Greenwich Village on scholarship while living with a host family.
But she was no typical scholarship student: as a teenager, she joined a Marxist-Leninist group called Advance. Later, at Brandeis University, she majored in French and studied with social and political philosopher Herbert Marcuse, who taught the doctrines of resistance and rebellion. After earning her bachelor's degree from Brandeis in 1965, Davis studied at Goethe University in Frankfurt, Germany, where she also became active in socialist student groups demonstrating against the Vietnam War. Returning to the United States in 1957, she studied again with Marcuse at the University of California San Diego, receiving her master's in philosophy in 1969.
Davis's return to the United States also allowed her to participate in the struggle against racism. She met with activist in the Student Nonviolent Coordinating Committee (SNCC), the Black Panthers, and the Communist party, which she joined in 1968. In 1980 and in 1984, she served as the party's candidate for vice president of the United States.
You have to #act as if it were #possible to #radically #transform the #world. And you have to do it all the time. ~ #AngelaDavis□
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In 1969, administrator at the University of California Los Angeles and then - Governor Ronald Reagan attempted to dismiss Davis from the UCLA faculty because of her Communist Party membership, but she legally won the right to remain on staff.
However, in 1970, she found herself fired from UCLA after giving speeches in support of two Soledad Prison inmates - W.L. Nolen and George Jackson, also advocates of Marxism - whose killings by prison guards in separate incidents Davis denounced as conspiratorial.
Then, in the summer of 1970, Davis was marked for arrest by the FBI for her alleged involvement in the failed attempt to rescue a San Quintin inmate from a Marin County courthouse that resulted in a violent confrontation and the death of four people, including a white judge and George Jackson's brother. Going underground to avoid arrest, Davis was placed on the FBI's 10 Most Wanted list until she was apprehended two months later in New York. At her trial, she was found not guilty of kidnapping, conspiracy, and murder.
Since the mid-1970s, Davis has taught at Claremont College, Stanford University, the California College of the Arts and Crafts, the University of California at Santa Cruz, and San Francisco State University. In 1979, she received the Lenin Peace Prize. She also has been awarded honorary doctorates from Lenin University and the University of Leipzig.
We must always attempt to #lift as we #climb. ~ #AngelaDavis . . . Artwork by J. NiCole Hatfield □
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Along with her speeches, media appearances, and articles, Davis has published:
If They Come in the Morning: Voices of Resistance
Angela Davis: An Autobiography
Women, Race, and Class
Violence Against Women and the Ongoing Challenge of Racism
Women, Culture, and Politics [from which the following selection is taken]
In "We Do Not Consent: Violence Against Women in a Racist Society," Davis investigates the link between sexual violence and "race, gender, and class oppression" within American society.
Never Mess With Nikki! Here's Why.
Reflecting on her writing in the early 1980s, Nikki Giovanni said:
"I like to think that if the truth has any bearing on art, my poetry and prose is art because it's truthful ... We live now. As best we can. And we encourage others. We write because we believe that the human spirit cannot be tamed and should not be trained."
We go on. Because it is the #hard thing to do. And we owe ourselves the #difficulty. ~ #NikkiGiovanni . . . . . #JordanEdwards □ #EdwardCrawford □
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Giovanni merges her writing talents with her empathy with a respect for people unable to voice their own concerns and experiences. This poet who wants wrote "What 'always is' is not the answer. Whenever will be must come" has fashioned a distinguished literary career, categorized early on as a black revolutionary poet and now accorded the mainstream accolades of an American writer.
#Style has a profound meaning to #BlackAmericans. If we can't drive, we will invent walks and the #world will envy the #dexterity of our feet. If we can't have ham, we will boil chitterlings; if we are given rotten peaches, we will make cobblers; if given scraps, we will make quilts; take away our drums, and we will clap our hands. We prove the #human #spirit will #prevail. We will take what we have to make what we need. We need #confidence in our #knowledge of who we are. ~ #NikkiGiovanni ✍️
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Born in Knoxville, Tennessee, Giovanni graduated from Fisk University in 1967 before continuing her studies at the University of Pennsylvania and Columbia University. She has been awarded honorary doctorates for the various academic institution and has taught at Queens College, Livingston College of Rutgers University, and Virginia Polytechnic.
Early in her writing career, Giovanni was grouped with young black writers who sought to interpret the radical attitudes of the post- civil rights period.
Claudia Tate assesses Giovanni's development over the years in this way:
"Her later work also addresses contemporary issues, but the focus falls instead on human relationships rendered from the vantage point of a mother, a lover, and a woman. Giovanni's language remains startling, energetic, enraged, and loving."
Libraries...house our dreams. - Nikki Giovanni pic.twitter.com/80CnmtaJhN
— SeshatCDG (@SeshatCDG) July 19, 2017
Beginning with the publication of Black Feeling, Black Talk in 1967, Giovanni went on to write nine other popular books of poetry:
Black Judgment
Spin a Soft Black Song: Poems for Children
Ego Tripping and Other Poems for Young People
The Women and the Men
Cotton Candy on a Rainy Day
Vacation Time: Poems for Children
Those Who Ride the Night Winds
Sacred Cows and Other Edibles
"I prefer her [Nina Simone] jazz period much more so than her folk period."
- Nikki Giovanni pic.twitter.com/Er3KROMxE3
— SeshatCDG (@SeshatCDG) May 24, 2017
She also edited a poetry anthology, Nights Comes Softly: Anthology of Black Female Voices and written an autobiography, Gemini: An Extended Autobiographical Statement on my First Twenty-Five Years of being a Black Poet.
Giovanni has also published illuminating discussions with two other notable others, A Dialogue: James Baldwin and Nikki Giovanni and A Poetic Equation: Conversations between Nikki Giovanni and Margaret Walker. A more recent collection of hers is Racism 101.
Some #say we are #responsible for those we love. Others #know we are responsible for those who #love us. ~ #NikkiGiovanni
Considered one of the most revered contemporary authors, her numerous writings and recordings of poetry readings, national awards, civic and community work, and lectures and poetry readings throughout the United States, Africa, and Europe have won Giovanni critical and popular acclaim.
Everyone #understands that #love comes in many #different packages and is #used in many different ways. You cannot love beyond your #years, nor can you fail to love beneath them. In other #words, I #think you get the love you #need when you #open your #heart. ~ #NikkiGiovanni
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The four poems below demonstrate the breath of Giovanni's tones, themes, and language. The "True Import of Present Dialogue, Black versus Negro," originally published in Black Judgment, displays radical, incendiary views of ethnic identity and political action. The more personally reflective "Age" and "Adulthood II," taken from Cotton Candy, exhibit the poet's characteristic use of unconventional political structure. In "Love: Is the Human Condition", Giovanni experiments with a prose-like structure and prosaic language to ponder the need of love.
Love: Is a Human Condition
An amoeba is lucky it's so small ... else its narcissism would lead to war ... since self-love seems so frequently to lead to self-righteousness ...
I suppose a case could be made ... that there are more amoebas than people ... that they comprise the physical majority ... and therefore the moral right ... But luckily amoebas rarely make television appeals to higher Gods ... and baser instincts ... so one must ask if the ability to reproduce oneself efficiently has anything to do with love ...
The night loves the stars as they play about the Darkness ... the day loves the light caressing the sun ... We love ... those who do ... because we live in a world requiring light and Darkness ... partnership and solitude ... sameness and difference ... the familiar and the unknown ... We love because it's the only true adventure ...
I'm glad I'm not an amoeba ... there must be more to all our lives than ourselves ... and our ability to do more of the same ...
A lot of #people resist #transition and therefore never allow themselves to #enjoy who they are. #Embrace the #change, no matter what it is; once you do, you can #learn about the #newworld you're in and take #advantage of it. ~ #NikkiGiovanni . #Artwork by #LavettBallard □
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The History of Booker T. Washington
An inspiration to many black leaders - including Marcus Garvey - and an embarrassment to others, Booker Taliferro Washington assumed an unparalleled position of popularity and authority in late 19th century America.
He bore many labels - Negro cultural leader, accommodationist, educator, businessman, pragmatist - but irrespective of how favorably or unfavorably he was regarded, Washington played a primary role in shaping the relationship between the black community and mainstream America.
Washington was born into slavery on the Virginia plantation. His father was the white man whom he never knew, and his mother was a slave. In his autobiography, he praised his mother's strength, service, and nurturance, asserting:
"She, to me, will always remain the noblest embodiment of womanhood ... The lessons in virtue and thrift which she instilled into me during the short period of my life that she lived will never leave me."
#Character is #power. ~ #BookerTWashington ~ Artwork by Kadir Nelson □
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Washington and his mother, two siblings, and stepfather agonized through the Reconstruction era, living and working in West Virginia. In his mid-teens, Washington's hunger for education urged him to walk hundreds of miles to attend Hampton Institute. His work ethic and persistence got him through his schooling in 1875 and into his calling as a teacher.
In 1881, he founded Tuskegee in Institute in Alabama, developed around his belief in the importance of trade education and in preparing black people for marketable, practical jobs. In his famous 1895 address to the Atlanta Exposition, included below, Washington advocated racial segregation as a way of fostering a positive economic relationship between blacks and whites in America.
#Success waits patiently for anyone who has the #determination and #strength to #seize it. ~ #BookerTWashington ~ Artwork by Henry Ossawa Tanner
A post shared by Crystal D. Gordon, MSW (@seshat_cdg) on Sep 19, 2017 at 10:07am PDT
Among many other activities, Washington helped organize the National Negro Business League, became an active public speaker, served as a Negro advisor to the Roosevelt and Taft administrations, and received an honorary masters degree from Harvard University.
He also wrote numerous books, including:
The Future of this American Negro
Working with the Hands
Tuskegee and Its people
Life of Frederick Douglass
My Larger Education
The Man Farthest Down
"Nothing ever comes to one, that is worth having, except as a result of hard work."
-Booker T. Washington pic.twitter.com/UiTnj9zMmS
The following chapters from Washington's autobiography, Up from Slavery, highlight aspect of his success story - a story that celebrates the individual spirit, racial progress, and the possibilities of American capitalism.
A Slave among Slaves
I was born a slave on a plantation in Franklin County, Virginia. I am not quite sure of the exact place or exact date of my birth, but at any rate I suspect I must have been born somewhere and at some time. As nearly as I have been able to learn, I was born near a cross-roads post-office called Hale's Ford, and the year was 1858 or 1859. I do not know the month or the day. The earliest impressions I can now recall are of the plantation and the slave quarters - the latter being the part of the plantation where the slaves had their cabins.
My life had its beginning in the midst of the most miserable, desolate, and discouraging surroundings. This was so, however, not because my owners were especially cruel, for they were not, as compared with many others. I was born in a typical log cabin, about fourteen by sixteen feet square. In this cabin I lived with my mother and a brother and sister till after the Civil War, when we were all declared free.
Of my ancestry I know almost nothing. In the slave quarters, and even later, I heard whispered conversations among the coloured people of the tortures which the slaves, including, no doubt, my ancestors on my mother's side, suffered in the middle passage of the slave ship while being conveyed from Africa to America. I have been unsuccessful in securing any information that would throw any accurate light upon the history of my family beyond my mother. She, I remember, had a half-brother and a half-sister. In the days of slavery not very much attention was given to family history and family records - that is, black family records. My mother, I suppose, attracted the attention of a purchaser who was afterward my owner and hers. Her addition to the slave family attracted about as much attention as the purchase of a new horse or cow. Of my father I know even less than of my mother. I do not even know his name. I have heard reports to the effect that he was a white man who lived on one of the near-by plantations. Whoever he was, I never heard of his taking the least interest in me or providing in any way for my rearing. But I do not find especial fault with him. He was simply another unfortunate victim of the institution which the Nation unhappily had engrafted upon it at that time.
The cabin was not only our living-place, but was also used as the kitchen for the plantation. My mother was the plantation cook. The cabin was without glass windows; it had only openings in the side which let in the light, and also the cold, chilly air of winter. There was a door to the cabin - that is, something that was called a door - but the uncertain hinges by which it was hung, and the large cracks in it, to say nothing of the fact that it was too small, made the room a very uncomfortable one. In addition to these openings there was, in the lower right-hand corner of the room, the "cat-hole," - a contrivance which almost every mansion or cabin in Virginia possessed during the ante-bellum period. The "cat-hole" was a square opening, about seven by eight inches, provided for the purpose of letting the cat pass in and out of the house at will during the night. In the case of our particular cabin I could never understand the necessity for this convenience, since there were at least a half-dozen other places in the cabin that would have accommodated the cats. There was no wooden floor in our cabin, the naked earth being used as a floor. In the centre of the earthen floor there was a large, deep opening covered with boards, which was used as a place in which to store sweet potatoes during the winter. An impression of this potato-hole is very distinctly engraved upon my memory, because I recall that during the process of putting the potatoes in or taking them out I would often come into possession of one or two, which I roasted and thoroughly enjoyed. There was no cooking-stove on our plantation, and all the cooking for the whites and slaves my mother had to do over an open fireplace, mostly in pots and "skillets." While the poorly built cabin caused us to suffer with cold in the winter, the heat from the open fireplace in summer was equally trying.
The early years of my life, which were spent in the little cabin, were not very different from those of thousands of other slaves. My mother, of course, had little time in which to give attention to the training of her children during the day. She snatched a few moments for our care in the early morning before her work began, and at night after the day's work was done. One of my earliest recollections is that of my mother cooking a chicken late at night, and awakening her children for the purpose of feeding them. How or where she got it I do not know. I presume, however, it was procured from our owner's farm. Some people may call this theft. If such a thing were to happen now, I should condemn it as theft myself. But taking place at the time it did, and for the reason that it did, no one could ever make me believe that my mother was guilty of thieving. She was simply a victim of the system of slavery. I cannot remember having slept in a bed until after our family was declared free by the Emancipation Proclamation. Three children - John, my older brother, Amanda, my sister, and myself - had a pallet on the dirt floor, or, to be more correct, we slept in and on a bundle of filthy rags laid upon the dirt floor.
I was asked not long ago to tell something about the sports and pastimes that I engaged in during my youth. Until that question was asked it had never occurred to me that there was no period of my life that was devoted to play. From the time that I can remember anything, almost every day of my life had been occupied in some kind of labour; though I think I would now be a more useful man if I had had time for sports. During the period that I spent in slavery I was not large enough to be of much service, still I was occupied most of the time in cleaning the yards, carrying water to the men in the fields, or going to the mill to which I used to take the corn, once a week, to be ground. The mill was about three miles from the plantation. This work I always dreaded. The heavy bag of corn would be thrown across the back of the horse, and the corn divided about evenly on each side; but in some way, almost without exception, on these trips, the corn would so shift as to become unbalanced and would fall off the horse, and often I would fall with it. As I was not strong enough to reload the corn upon the horse, I would have to wait, sometimes for many hours, till a chance passer-by came along who would help me out of my trouble. The hours while waiting for some one were usually spent in crying. The time consumed in this way made me late in reaching the mill, and by the time I got my corn ground and reached home it would be far into the night. The road was a lonely one, and often led through dense forests. I was always frightened. The woods were said to be full of soldiers who had deserted from the army, and I had been told that the first thing a deserter did to a Negro boy when he found him alone was to cut off his ears. Besides, when I was late in getting home I knew I would always get a severe scolding or a flogging.
I had no schooling whatever while I was a slave, though I remember on several occasions I went as far as the schoolhouse door with one of my young mistresses to carry her books. The picture of several dozen boys and girls in a schoolroom engaged in study made a deep impression upon me, and I had the feeling that to get into a schoolhouse and study in this way would be about the same as getting into paradise.
So far as I can now recall, the first knowledge that I got of the fact that we were slaves, and that freedom of the slaves was being discussed, was early one morning before day, when I was awakened by my mother kneeling over her children and fervently praying that Lincoln and his armies might be successful, and that one day she and her children might be free. In this connection I have never been able to understand how the slaves throughout the South, completely ignorant as were the masses so far as books or newspapers were concerned, were able to keep themselves so accurately and completely informed about the great National questions that were agitating the country. From the time that Garrison, Lovejoy, and others began to agitate for freedom, the slaves throughout the South kept in close touch with the progress of the movement. Though I was a mere child during the preparation for the Civil War and during the war itself, I now recall the many late-at-night whispered discussions that I heard my mother and the other slaves on the plantation indulge in. These discussions showed that they understood the situation, and that they kept themselves informed of events by what was termed the "grape-vine" telegraph.
During the campaign when Lincoln was first a candidate for the Presidency, the slaves on our far-off plantation, miles from any railroad or large city or daily newspaper, knew what the issues involved were. When war was begun between the North and the South, every slave on our plantation felt and knew that, though other issues were discussed, the primal one was that of slavery. Even the most ignorant members of my race on the remote plantations felt in their hearts, with a certainty that admitted of no doubt, that the freedom of the slaves would be the one great result of the war, if the northern armies conquered. Every success of the Federal armies and every defeat of the Confederate forces was watched with the keenest and most intense interest. Often the slaves got knowledge of the results of great battles before the white people received it. This news was usually gotten from the coloured man who was sent to the post-office for the mail. In our case the post-office was about three miles from the plantation, and the mail came once or twice a week. The man who was sent to the office would linger about the place long enough to get the drift of the conversation from the group of white people who naturally congregated there, after receiving their mail, to discuss the latest news. The mail-carrier on his way back to our master's house would as naturally retail the news that he had secured among the slaves, and in this way they often heard of important events before the white people at the "big house," as the master's house was called.
I cannot remember a single instance during my childhood or early boyhood when our entire family sat down to the table together, and God's blessing was asked, and the family ate a meal in a civilized manner. On the plantation in Virginia, and even later, meals were gotten by the children very much as dumb animals get theirs. It was a piece of bread here and a scrap of meat there. It was a cup of milk at one time and some potatoes at another. Sometimes a portion of our family would eat out of the skillet or pot, while some one else would eat from a tin plate held on the knees, and often using nothing but the hands with which to hold the food. When I had grown to sufficient size, I was required to go to the "big house" at meal-times to fan the flies from the table by means of a large set of paper fans operated by a pulley. Naturally much of the conversation of the white people turned upon the subject of freedom and the war, and I absorbed a good deal of it. I remember that at one time I saw two of my young mistresses and some lady visitors eating ginger-cakes, in the yard. At that time those cakes seemed to me to be absolutely the most tempting and desirable things that I had ever seen; and I then and there resolved that, if I ever got free, the height of my ambition would be reached if I could get to the point where I could secure and eat ginger-cakes in the way that I saw those ladies doing.
Of course as the war was prolonged the white people, in many cases, often found it difficult to secure food for themselves. I think the slaves felt the deprivation less than the whites, because the usual diet for slaves was corn bread and pork, and these could be raised on the plantation; but coffee, tea, sugar, and other articles which the whites had been accustomed to use could not be raised on the plantation, and the conditions brought about by the war frequently made it impossible to secure these things. The whites were often in great straits. Parched corn was used for coffee, and a kind of black molasses was used instead of sugar. Many times nothing was used to sweeten the so-called tea and coffee.
The first pair of shoes that I recall wearing were wooden ones. They had rough leather on the top, but the bottoms, which were about an inch thick, were of wood. When I walked they made a fearful noise, and besides this they were very inconvenient, since there was no yielding to the natural pressure of the foot. In wearing them one presented and exceedingly awkward appearance. The most trying ordeal that I was forced to endure as a slave boy, however, was the wearing of a flax shirt. In the portion of Virginia where I lived it was common to use flax as part of the clothing for the slaves. That part of the flax from which our clothing was made was largely the refuse, which of course was the cheapest and roughest part. I can scarcely imagine any torture, except, perhaps, the pulling of a tooth, that is equal to that caused by putting on a new flax shirt for the first time. It is almost equal to the feeling that one would experience if he had a dozen or more chestnut burrs, or a hundred small pin-points, in contact with his flesh. Even to this day I can recall accurately the tortures that I underwent when putting on one of these garments. The fact that my flesh was soft and tender added to the pain. But I had no choice. I had to wear the flax shirt or none; and had it been left to me to choose, I should have chosen to wear no covering. In connection with the flax shirt, my brother John, who is several years older than I am, performed one of the most generous acts that I ever heard of one slave relative doing for another. On several occasions when I was being forced to wear a new flax shirt, he generously agreed to put it on in my stead and wear it for several days, till it was "broken in." Until I had grown to be quite a youth this single garment was all that I wore.
One may get the idea, from what I have said, that there was bitter feeling toward the white people on the part of my race, because of the fact that most of the white population was away fighting in a war which would result in keeping the Negro in slavery if the South was successful. In the case of the slaves on our place this was not true, and it was not true of any large portion of the slave population in the South where the Negro was treated with anything like decency. During the Civil War one of my young masters was killed, and two were severely wounded. I recall the feeling of sorrow which existed among the slaves when they heard of the death of "Mars' Billy." It was no sham sorrow, but real. Some of the slaves had nursed "Mars' Billy"; others had played with him when he was a child. "Mars' Billy" had begged for mercy in the case of others when the overseer or master was thrashing them. The sorrow in the slave quarter was only second to that in the "big house." When the two young masters were brought home wounded, the sympathy of the slaves was shown in many ways. They were just as anxious to assist in the nursing as the family relatives of the wounded. Some of the slaves would even beg for the privilege of sitting up at night to nurse their wounded masters. This tenderness and sympathy on the part of those held in bondage was a result of their kindly and generous nature. In order to defend and protect the women and children who were left on the plantations when the white males went to war, the slaves would have laid down their lives. The slave who was selected to sleep in the "big house" during the absence of the males was considered to have the place of honour. Any one attempting to harm "young Mistress" or "old Mistress" during the night would have had to cross the dead body of the slave to do so. I do not know how many have noticed it, but I think that it will be found to be true that there are few instances, either in slavery or freedom, in which a member of my race has been known to betray a specific trust.
As a rule, not only did the members of my race entertain no feelings of bitterness against the whites before and during the war, but there are many instances of Negroes tenderly carrying for their former masters and mistresses who for some reason have become poor and dependent since the war. I know of instances where the former masters of slaves have for years been supplied with money by their former slaves to keep them from suffering. I have known of still other cases in which the former slaves have assisted in the education of the descendants of their former owners. I know of a case on a large plantation in the South in which a young white man, the son of the former owner of the estate, has become so reduced in purse and self-control by reason of drink that he is a pitiable creature; and yet, notwithstanding the poverty of the coloured people themselves on this plantation, they have for years supplied this young white man with the necessities of life. One sends him a little coffee or sugar, another a little meat, and so on. Nothing that the coloured people possess is too good for the son of "old Mars' Tom," who will perhaps never be permitted to suffer while any remain on the place who knew directly or indirectly of "old Mars' Tom."
I have said that there are few instances of a member of my race betraying a specific trust. One of the best illustrations of this which I know of is in the case of an ex-slave from Virginia whom I met not long ago in a little town in the state of Ohio. I found that this man had made a contract with his master, two or three years previous to the Emancipation Proclamation, to the effect that the slave was to be permitted to buy himself, by paying so much per year for his body; and while he was paying for himself, he was to be permitted to labour where and for whom he pleased. Finding that he could secure better wages in Ohio, he went there. When freedom came, he was still in debt to his master some three hundred dollars. Notwithstanding that the Emancipation Proclamation freed him from any obligation to his master, this black man walked the greater portion of the distance back to where his old master lived in Virginia, and placed the last dollar, with interest, in his hands. In talking to me about this, the man told me that he knew that he did not have to pay the debt, but that he had given his word to the master, and his word he had never broken. He felt that he could not enjoy his freedom till he had fulfilled his promise.
From some things that I have said one may get the idea that some of the slaves did not want freedom. This is not true. I have never seen one who did not want to be free, or one who would return to slavery.
I pity from the bottom of my heart any nation or body of people that is so unfortunate as to get entangled in the net of slavery. I have long since ceased to cherish any spirit of bitterness against the Southern white people on account of the enslavement of my race. No one section of our country was wholly responsible for its introduction, and, besides, it was recognized and protected for years by the General Government. Having once got its tentacles fastened on to the economic and social life of the Republic, it was no easy matter for the country to relieve itself of the institution. Then, when we rid ourselves of prejudice, or racial feeling, and look facts in the face, we must acknowledge that, notwithstanding the cruelty and moral wrong of slavery, the ten million Negroes inhabiting this country, who themselves or whose ancestors went through the school of American slavery, are in a stronger and more hopeful condition, materially, intellectually, morally, and religiously, than is true of an equal number of black people in any other portion of the globe. This is so to such an extent that Negroes in this country, who themselves or whose forefathers went through the school of slavery, are constantly returning to Africa as missionaries to enlighten those who remained in the fatherland. This I say, not to justify slavery - on the other hand, I condemn it as an institution, as we all know that in America it was established for selfish and financial reasons, and not from a missionary motive - but to call attention to a fact, and to show how Providence so often uses men and institutions to accomplish a purpose. When persons ask me in these days how, in the midst of what sometimes seem hopelessly discouraging conditions, I can have such faith in the future of my race in this country, I remind them of the wilderness through which and out of which, a good Providence has already led us.
Ever since I have been old enough to think for myself, I have entertained the idea that, notwithstanding the cruel wrongs inflicted upon us, the black man got nearly as much out of slavery as the white man did. The hurtful influences of the institution were not by any means confined to the Negro. This was fully illustrated by the life upon our own plantation. The whole machinery of slavery was so constructed as to cause labour, as a rule, to be looked upon as a badge of degradation, of inferiority. Hence labour was something that both races on the slave plantation sought to escape. The slave system on our place, in a large measure, took the spirit of self-reliance and self-help out of the white people. My old master had many boys and girls, but not one, so far as I know, ever mastered a single trade or special line of productive industry. The girls were not taught to cook, sew, or to take care of the house. All of this was left to the slaves. The slaves, of course, had little personal interest in the life of the plantation, and their ignorance prevented them from learning how to do things in the most improved and thorough manner. As a result of the system, fences were out of repair, gates were hanging half off the hinges, doors creaked, window-panes were out, plastering had fallen but was not replaced, weeds grew in the yard. As a rule, there was food for whites and blacks, but inside the house, and on the dining-room table, there was wanting that delicacy and refinement of touch and finish which can make a home the most convenient, comfortable, and attractive place in the world. Withal there was a waste of food and other materials which was sad. When freedom came, the slaves were almost as well fitted to begin life anew as the master, except in the matter of book-learning and ownership of property. The slave owner and his sons had mastered no special industry. They unconsciously had imbibed the feeling that manual labour was not the proper thing for them. On the other hand, the slaves, in many cases, had mastered some handicraft, and none were ashamed, and few unwilling, to labour.
Finally the war closed, and the day of freedom came. It was a momentous and eventful day to all upon our plantation. We had been expecting it. Freedom was in the air, and had been for months. Deserting soldiers returning to their homes were to be seen every day. Others who had been discharged, or whose regiments had been paroled, were constantly passing near our place. The "grape-vine telegraph" was kept busy night and day. The news and mutterings of great events were swiftly carried from one plantation to another. In the fear of "Yankee" invasions, the silverware and other valuables were taken from the "big house," buried in the woods, and guarded by trusted slaves. Woe be to any one who would have attempted to disturb the buried treasure. The slaves would give the Yankee soldiers food, drink, clothing - anything but that which had been specifically intrusted to their care and honour. As the great day drew nearer, there was more singing in the slave quarters than usual. It was bolder, had more ring, and lasted later into the night. Most of the verses of the plantation songs had some reference to freedom. True, they had sung those same verses before, but they had been careful to explain that the "freedom" in these songs referred to the next world, and had no connection with life in this world. Now they gradually threw off the mask, and were not afraid to let it be known that the "freedom" in their songs meant freedom of the body in this world. The night before the eventful day, word was sent to the slave quarters to the effect that something unusual was going to take place at the "big house" the next morning. There was little, if any, sleep that night. All as excitement and expectancy. Early the next morning word was sent to all the slaves, old and young, to gather at the house. In company with my mother, brother, and sister, and a large number of other slaves, I went to the master's house. All of our master's family were either standing or seated on the veranda of the house, where they could see what was to take place and hear what was said. There was a feeling of deep interest, or perhaps sadness, on their faces, but not bitterness. As I now recall the impression they made upon me, they did not at the moment seem to be sad because of the loss of property, but rather because of parting with those whom they had reared and who were in many ways very close to them. The most distinct thing that I now recall in connection with the scene was that some man who seemed to be a stranger (a United States officer, I presume) made a little speech and then read a rather long paper - the Emancipation Proclamation, I think. After the reading we were told that we were all free, and could go when and where we pleased. My mother, who was standing by my side, leaned over and kissed her children, while tears of joy ran down her cheeks. She explained to us what it all meant, that this was the day for which she had been so long praying, but fearing that she would never live to see.
For some minutes there was great rejoicing, and thanksgiving, and wild scenes of ecstasy. But there was no feeling of bitterness. In fact, there was pity among the slaves for our former owners. The wild rejoicing on the part of the emancipated coloured people lasted but for a brief period, for I noticed that by the time they returned to their cabins there was a change in their feelings. The great responsibility of being free, of having charge of themselves, of having to think and plan for themselves and their children, seemed to take possession of them. It was very much like suddenly turning a youth of ten or twelve years out into the world to provide for himself. In a few hours the great questions with which the Anglo-Saxon race had been grappling for centuries had been thrown upon these people to be solved. These were the questions of a home, a living, the rearing of children, education, citizenship, and the establishment and support of churches. Was it any wonder that within a few hours the wild rejoicing ceased and a feeling of deep gloom seemed to pervade the slave quarters? To some it seemed that, now that they were in actual possession of it, freedom was a more serious thing than they had expected to find it. Some of the slaves were seventy or eighty years old; their best days were gone. They had no strength with which to earn a living in a strange place and among strange people, even if they had been sure where to find a new place of abode. To this class the problem seemed especially hard. Besides, deep down in their hearts there was a strange and peculiar attachment to "old Marster" and "old Missus," and to their children, which they found it hard to think of breaking off. With these they had spent in some cases nearly a half-century, and it was no light thing to think of parting. Gradually, one by one, stealthily at first, the older slaves began to wander from the slave quarters back to the "big house" to have a whispered conversation with their former owners as to the future.
The Atlanta Exposition Address
The Atlanta Exposition, at which I had been asked to make an address as a representative of the Negro race, as stated in the last chapter, was opened with a short address from Governor Bullock. After other interesting exercises, including an invocation from Bishop Nelson, of Georgia, a dedicatory ode by Albert Howell, Jr., and addresses by the President of the Exposition and Mrs. Joseph Thompson, the President of the Woman's Board, Governor Bullock introduce me with the words, "We have with us to-day a representative of Negro enterprise and Negro civilization."
When I arose to speak, there was considerable cheering, especially from the coloured people. As I remember it now, the thing that was uppermost in my mind was the desire to say something that would cement the friendship of the races and bring about hearty cooperation between them. So far as my outward surroundings were concerned, the only thing that I recall distinctly now is that when I got up, I saw thousands of eyes looking intently into my face. The following is the address which I delivered:--
Mr. President and Gentlemen of the Board of Directors and Citizens.
One-third of the population of the South is of the Negro race. No enterprise seeking the material, civil, or moral welfare of this section can disregard this element of our population and reach the highest success. I but convey to you, Mr. President and Directors, the sentiment of the masses of my race when I say that in no way have the value and manhood of the American Negro been more fittingly and generously recognized than by the managers of this magnificent Exposition at every stage of its progress. It is a recognition that will do more to cement the friendship of the two races than any occurrence since the dawn of our freedom.
Not only this, but the opportunity here afforded will awaken among us a new era of industrial progress. Ignorant and inexperienced, it is not strange that in the first years of our new life we began at the top instead of at the bottom; that a seat in Congress or the state legislature was more sought than real estate or industrial skill; that the political convention or stump speaking had more attractions than starting a dairy farm or truck garden.
A ship lost at sea for many days suddenly sighted a friendly vessel. From the mast of the unfortunate vessel was seen a signal, "Water, water; we die of thirst!" The answer from the friendly vessel at once came back, "Cast down your bucket where you are." A second time the signal, "Water, water; send us water!" ran up from the distressed vessel, and was answered, "Cast down your bucket where you are." And a third and fourth signal for water was answered, "Cast down your bucket where you are." The captain of the distressed vessel, at last heading the injunction, cast down his bucket, and it came up full of fresh, sparkling water from the mouth of the Amazon River. To those of my race who depend on bettering their condition in a foreign land or who underestimate the importance of cultivating friendly relations with the Southern white man, who is their next-door neighbour, I would say: "Cast down your bucket where you are" - cast it down in making friends in every manly way of the people of all races by whom we are surrounded.
Cast it down in agriculture, mechanics, in commerce, in domestic service, and in the professions. And in this connection it is well to bear in mind that whatever other sins the South may be called to bear, when it comes to business, pure and simple, it is in the South that the Negro is given a man's chance in the commercial world, and in nothing is this Exposition more eloquent than in emphasizing this chance. Our greatest danger is that in the great leap from slavery to freedom we may overlook the fact that the masses of us are to live by the productions of our hands, and fail to keep in mind that we shall prosper in proportion as we learn to dignify and glorify common labour and put brains and skill into the common occupations of life; shall prosper in proportion as we learn to draw the line between the superficial and the substantial, the ornamental gewgaws of life and the useful. No race can prosper till it learns that there is as much dignity in tilling a field as in writing a poem. It is at the bottom of life we must begin, and not at the top. Nor should we permit our grievances to overshadow our opportunities.
To those of the white race who look to the incoming of those of foreign birth and strange tongue and habits of the prosperity of the South, were I permitted I would repeat what I say to my own race: "Cast down your bucket where you are." Cast it down among the eight millions of Negroes whose habits you know, whose fidelity and love you have tested in days when to have proved treacherous meant the ruin of your firesides. Cast down your bucket among these people who have, without strikes and labour wars, tilled your fields, cleared your forests, builded your railroads and cities, and brought forth treasures from the bowels of the earth, and helped make possible this magnificent representation of the progress of the South. Casting down your bucket among my people, helping and encouraging them as you are doing on these grounds, and to education of head, hand, and heart, you will find that they will buy your surplus land, make blossom the waste places in your fields, and run your factories. While doing this, you can be sure in the future, as in the past, that you and your families will be surrounded by the most patient, faithful, law-abiding, and unresentful people that the world has seen. As we have proved our loyalty to you in the past, nursing your children, watching by the sick-bed of your mothers and fathers, and often following them with tear-dimmed eyes to their graves, so in the future, in our humble way, we shall stand by you with a devotion that no foreigner can approach, ready to lay down our lives, if need be, in defence of yours, interlacing our industrial, commercial, civil, and religious life with yours in a way that shall make the interests of both races one. In all things that are purely social we can be as separate as the fingers, yet one as the hand in all things essential to mutual progress.
There is no defence or security for any of us except in the highest intelligence and development of all. If anywhere there are efforts tending to curtail the fullest growth of the Negro, let these efforts be turned into stimulating, encouraging, and making him the most useful and intelligent citizen. Effort or means so invested will pay a thousand per cent interest. These efforts will be twice blessed - "blessing him that gives and him that takes."
There is no escape through law of man or God from the inevitable:--
The laws of changeless justice bind
Oppressor with oppressed;
And close as sin and suffering joined
We march to fate abreast.
Nearly sixteen millions of hands will aid you in pulling the load upward, or they will pull against you the load downward. We shall constitute one-third and more of the ignorance and crime of the South, or one-third its intelligence and progress; we shall contribute one-third to the business and industrial prosperity of the South, or we shall prove a veritable body of death, stagnating, depressing, retarding every effort to advance the body politic.
Gentlemen of the Exposition, as we present to you our humble effort at an exhibition of our progress, you must not expect overmuch. Starting thirty years ago with ownership here and there in a few quilts and pumpkins and chickens (gathered from miscellaneous sources), remember the path that has led from these to the inventions and production of agricultural implements, buggies, steam-engines, newspapers, books, statuary, carving, paintings, the management of drug-stores and banks, has not been trodden without contact with thorns and thistles. While we take pride in what we exhibit as a result of our independent efforts, we do not for a moment forget that our part in this exhibition would fall far short of your expectations but for the constant help that has come to our education life, not only from the Southern states, but especially from Northern philanthropists, who have made their gifts a constant stream of blessing and encouragement.
The wisest among my race understand that the agitation of questions of social equality is the extremest folly, and that progress in the enjoyment of all the privileges that will come to us must be the result of severe and constant struggle rather than of artificial forcing. No race that has anything to contribute to the markets of the world is long in any degree ostracized. It is important and right that all privileges of the law be ours, but it is vastly more important that we be prepared for the exercises of these privileges. The opportunity to earn a dollar in a factory just now is worth infinitely more than the opportunity to spend a dollar in an opera-house.
In conclusion, may I repeat that nothing in thirty years has given us more hope and encouragement, and drawn us so near to you of the white race, as this opportunity offered by the Exposition; and here bending, as it were, over the altar that represents the results of the struggles of your race and mine, both starting practically empty-handed three decades ago, I pledge that in your effort to work out the great and intricate problem which God has laid at the doors of the South, you shall have at all times the patient, sympathetic help of my race; only let this be constantly in mind, that, while from representations in these buildings of the product of field, of forest, of mine, of factory, letters, and art, much good will come, yet far above and beyond material benefits will be that higher good, that, let us pray God, will come, in a blotting out of sectional differences and racial animosities and suspicions, in a determination to administer absolute justice, in a willing obedience among all classes to the mandates of law. This, this, coupled with our material prosperity, will bring into our beloved South a new heaven and a new earth.
The first thing that I remember, after I had finished speaking, was that Governor Bullock rushed across the platform and took me by the hand, and that others did the same. I received so many and such hearty congratulations that I found it difficult to get out of the building. I did not appreciate to any degree, however, the impression which my address seemed to have made, until the next morning, when I went into the business part of the city. As soon as I was recognized, I was surprised to find myself pointed out and surrounded by a crowd of men who wished to shake hands with me. This was kept up on every street on to which I went, to an extent which embarrassed me so much that I went back to my boarding-place. The next morning I returned to Tuskegee. At the station in Atlanta, and at almost all of the stations at which the train stopped between that city and Tuskegee, I found a crowd of people anxious to shake hands with me.
The papers in all parts of the United States published the address in full, and for months afterward there were complimentary editorial references to it. Mr. Clark Howell, the editor of the Atlanta Constitution, telegraphed to a New York paper, among other words, the following, "I do not exaggerate when I say that Professor Booker T. Washington's address yesterday was one of the most notable speeches, both as to character and as to the warmth of its reception, ever delivered to a Southern audience. The address was a revelation. The whole speech is a platform upon which blacks and whites can stand with full justice to each other."
The Boston Transcript said editorially: "The speech of Booker T. Washington at the Atlanta Exposition, this week, seems to have dwarfed all the other proceedings and the Exposition itself. The sensation that it has caused in the press has never been equalled."
I very soon began receiving all kinds of propositions from lecture bureaus, and editors of magazines and papers, to take the lecture platform, and to write articles. One lecture bureau offered me fifty thousand dollars, or two hundred dollars a night and expenses, if I would place my services at its disposal for a given period. To all these communications I replied that my life-work was at Tuskegee; and that whenever I spoke it must be in the interests of Tuskegee school and my race, and that I would enter into no arrangements that seemed to place a mere commercial value upon my services.
Some days after its delivery I sent a copy of my address to the President of the United States, the Hon. Grover Cleveland. I received from him the following autograph reply:--
Gray Gables, Buzzard's Bay, Mass.,
Booker T. Washington, Esq.:
My Dear Sir: I thank you for sending me a copy of your address delivered at the Atlanta Exposition.
I thank you with much enthusiasm for making the address. I have read it with intense interest, and I think the Exposition would be fully justified if it did not do more than furnish the opportunity for its delivery. Your words cannot fail to delight and encourage all who wish well for your race; and if our coloured fellow-citizens do not from your utterances gather new hope and form new determinations to gain every valuable advantage offered them by their citizenship, it will be strange indeed.
Yours very truly,
Later I met Mr. Cleveland, for the first time, when, as President, he visited the Atlanta Exposition. At the request of myself and others he consented to spend an hour in the Negro Building, for the purpose of inspecting the Negro exhibit and of giving the coloured people in attendance an opportunity to shake hands with him. As soon as I met Mr. Cleveland I became impressed with his simplicity, greatness, and rugged honesty. I have met him many times since then, both at public functions and at his private residence in Princeton, and the more I see of him the more I admire him. When he visited the Negro Building in Atlanta he seemed to give himself up wholly, for that hour, to the coloured people. He seemed to be as careful to shake hands with some old coloured "auntie" clad partially in rags, and to take as much pleasure in doing so, as if he were greeting some millionaire. Many of the coloured people took advantage of the occasion to get him to write his name in a book or on a slip of paper. He was as careful and patient in doing this as if he were putting his signature to some great state document.
Mr. Cleveland has not only shown his friendship for me in many personal ways, but has always consented to do anything I have asked of him for our school. This he has done, whether it was to make a personal donation or to use his influence in securing the donations of others. Judging from my personal acquaintance with Mr. Cleveland, I do not believe that he is conscious of possessing any colour prejudice. He is too great for that. In my contact with people I find that, as a rule, it is only the little, narrow people who live for themselves, who never read good books, who do not travel, who never open up their souls in a way to permit them to come into contact with other souls - with the great outside world. No man whose vision is bounded by colour can come into contact with what is highest and best in the world. In meeting men, in many places, I have found that the happiest people are those who do the most for others; the most miserable are those who do the least. I have also found that few things, if any, are capable of making one so blind and narrow as race prejudice. I often say to our students, in the course of my talks to them on Sunday evenings in the chapel, that the longer I live and the more experience I have of the world, the more I am convinced that, after all, the one thing that is most worth living for - and dying for, if need be - is the opportunity of making some one else more happy and more useful.
The coloured people and the coloured newspapers at first seemed to be greatly pleased with the character of my Atlanta address, as well as with its reception. But after the first burst of enthusiasm began to die away, and the coloured people began reading the speech in cold type, some of them seemed to feel that they had been hypnotized. They seemed to feel that I had been too liberal in my remarks toward the Southern whites, and that I had not spoken out strongly enough for what they termed the "rights" of my race. For a while there was a reaction, so far as a certain element of my own race was concerned, but later these reactionary ones seemed to have been won over to my way of believing and acting.
While speaking of changes in public sentiment, I recall that about ten years after the school at Tuskegee was established, I had an experience that I shall never forget. Dr. Lyman Abbott, then the pastor of Plymouth Church, and also editor of the Outlook (then the Christian Union), asked me to write a letter for his paper giving my opinion of the exact condition, mental and moral, of the coloured ministers in the South, as based upon my observations. I wrote the letter, giving the exact facts as I conceived them to be. The picture painted was a rather black one - or, since I am black, shall I say "white"? It could not be otherwise with a race but a few years out of slavery, a race which had not had time or opportunity to produce a competent ministry.
What I said soon reached every Negro minister in the country, I think, and the letters of condemnation which I received from them were not few. I think that for a year after the publication of this article every association and every conference or religious body of any kind, of my race, that met, did not fail before adjourning to pass a resolution condemning me, or calling upon me to retract or modify what I had said. Many of these organizations went so far in their resolutions as to advise parents to cease sending their children to Tuskegee. One association even appointed a "missionary" whose duty it was to warn the people against sending their children to Tuskegee. This missionary had a son in the school, and I noticed that, whatever the "missionary" might have said or done with regard to others, he was careful not to take his son away from the institution. Many of the coloured papers, especially those that were the organs of religious bodies, joined in the general chorus of condemnation or demands for retraction.
During the whole time of the excitement, and through all the criticism, I did not utter a word of explanation or retraction. I knew that I was right, and that time and the sober second thought of the people would vindicate me. It was not long before the bishops and other church leaders began to make careful investigation of the conditions of the ministry, and they found out that I was right. In fact, the oldest and most influential bishop in one branch of the Methodist Church said that my words were far too mild. Very soon public sentiment began making itself felt, in demanding a purifying of the ministry. While this is not yet complete by any means, I think I may say, without egotism, and I have been told by many of our most influential ministers, that my words had much to do with starting a demand for the placing of a higher type of men in the pulpit. I have had the satisfaction of having many who once condemned me thank me heartily for my frank words.
The change of the attitude of the Negro ministry, so far as regards myself, is so complete that at the present time I have no warmer friends among any class than I have among the clergymen. The improvement in the character and life of the Negro ministers is one of the most gratifying evidences of the progress of the race. My experience with them, as well as other events in my life, convince me that the thing to do, when one feels sure that he has said or done the right thing, and is condemned, is to stand still and keep quiet. If he is right, time will show it.
In the midst of the discussion which was going on concerning my Atlanta speech, I received the letter which I give below, from Dr. Gilman, the President of Johns Hopkins University, who had been made chairman of the judges of award in connection with the Atlanta Exposition:--
Johns Hopkins University, Baltimore,
President's Office, September 30, 1895
Dear Mr. Washington: Would it be agreeable to you to be one of the Judges of Award in the Department of Education at Atlanta? If so, I shall be glad to place your name upon the list. A line by telegraph will be welcomed.
D.C. Gilman
I think I was even more surprised to receive this invitation than I had been to receive the invitation to speak at the opening of the Exposition. It was to be a part of my duty, as one of the jurors, to pass not only upon the exhibits of the coloured schools, but also upon those of the white schools. I accepted the position, and spent a month in Atlanta in performance of the duties which it entailed. The board of jurors was a large one, containing in all of sixty members. It was about equally divided between Southern white people and Northern white people. Among them were college presidents, leading scientists and men of letters, and specialists in many subjects. When the group of jurors to which I was assigned met for organization, Mr. Thomas Nelson Page, who was one of the number, moved that I be made secretary of that division, and the motion was unanimously adopted. Nearly half of our division were Southern people. In performing my duties in the inspection of the exhibits of white schools I was in every case treated with respect, and at the close of our labours I parted from my associates with regret.
I am often asked to express myself more freely than I do upon the political condition and the political future of my race. These recollections of my experience in Atlanta give me the opportunity to do so briefly. My own belief is, although I have never before said so in so many words, that the time will come when the Negro in the South will be accorded all the political rights which his ability, character, and material possessions entitle him to. I think, though, that the opportunity to freely exercise such political rights will not come in any large degree through outside or artificial forcing, but will be accorded to the Negro by the Southern white people themselves, and that they will protect him in the exercise of those rights. Just as soon as the South gets over the old feeling that it is being forced by "foreigners," or "aliens," to do something which it does not want to do, I believe that the change in the direction that I have indicated is going to begin. In fact, there are indications that it is already beginning in a slight degree.
Let me illustrate my meaning. Suppose that some months before the opening of the Atlanta Exposition there had been a general demand from the press and public platform outside the South that a Negro be given a place on the opening programme, and that a Negro be placed upon the board of jurors of award. Would any such recognition of the race have taken place? I do not think so. The Atlanta officials went as far as they did because they felt it to be a pleasure, as well as a duty, to reward what they considered merit in the Negro race. Say what we will, there is something in human nature which we cannot blot out, which makes one man, in the end, recognize and reward merit in another, regardless of colour or race.
I believe it is the duty of the Negro - as the greater part of the race is already doing - to deport himself modestly in regard to political claims, depending upon the slow but sure influences that proceed from the possession of property, intelligence, and high character for the full recognition of his political rights. I think that the according of the full exercise of political rights is going to be a matter of natural, slow growth, not an over-night, gourd-vine affair. I do not believe that the Negro should cease voting, for a man cannot learn the exercise of self-government by ceasing to vote, any more than a boy can learn to swim by keeping out of the water, but I do believe that in his voting he should more and more be influenced by those of intelligence and character who are his next-door neighbours.
I know coloured men who, through the encouragement, help, and advice of Southern white people, have accumulated thousands of dollars' worth of property, but who, at the same time, would never think of going to those same persons for advice concerning the casting of their ballots. This, it seems to me, is unwise and unreasonable, and should cease. In saying this I do not mean that the Negro should truckle, or not vote from principle, for the instant he ceases to vote from principle he loses the confidence and respect of the Southern white man even.
I do not believe that any state should make a law that permits an ignorant and poverty-stricken white man to vote, and prevents a black man in the same condition from voting. Such a law is not only unjust, but it will react, as all unjust laws do, in time; for the effect of such a law is to encourage the Negro to secure education and property, and at the same time it encourages the white man to remain in ignorance and poverty. I believe that in time, through the operation of intelligence and friendly race relations, all cheating at the ballot-box in the South will cease. It will become apparent that the white man who begins by cheating a Negro out of his ballot soon learns to cheat a white man out of his, and that the man who does this ends his career of dishonesty by the theft of property or by some equally serious crime. In my opinion, the time will come when the South will encourage all of its citizens to vote. It will see that it pays better, from every standpoint, to have healthy, vigorous life than to have that political stagnation which always results when one-half of the population has no share and no interest in the Government.
As a rule, I believe in universal, free suffrage, but I believe that in the South we are confronted with peculiar conditions that justify the protection of the ballot in many of the states, for a while at least, either by an education test, a property test, or by both combined; but whatever tests are required, they should be made to apply with equal and exact justice to both races.
The longer I #live and the more #experience I have of the #world, the more I am convinced that, after all, the one thing that is most worth #living for-and #dying for, if need be-is the #opportunity of making someone else more #happy. ~ #BookerTWashington □