LITR 5731 UHCL 2003 sample student midterm

LITR 5731: Seminar in American Minority Literature
University of Houston-Clear Lake, Fall 2001
Sample Student Midterm

Virginia Hilton

Dr. Craig White

LITR5731: Seminar in American Minority Literature

19 February 2003

Dream Weavers: Visibility through Education and Memories

African American writers sing with a unified central voice. It is a blended voice of freedom crying out against physical, emotional, and social oppression; it is a unique voice that perpetuates from silent screams to the deafening roar of desegregated buses. The power of their sagacious song erupts in rivers of the past. Dreams of self-identity, self-worth, and self-exploration, once stifled and smothered by society’s inequities, remain a pertinacious pursuit against continuing odds. Borne by the innate desire to explore, to learn, and to become visible individuals who wear the sacred and protective shields of American equality, unalienable rights, and freedom, their common threads of hopes and dreams weave in and out of the formidable fabric of African American literature. Langston Hughes defines the minority dream as “A Dream Deferred” – one without a satisfying ending: “Does it dry up / like a raisin in the sun? / Or fester like a sore -- / And then run? / Does it stink like rotten meat? / Or crust and sugar over -- / like a syrupy sweet? / Maybe it just sags like a heavy load. / Or does it explode?” It is a dream without fruition; a dream that could wither up and die or smother in sweet, sickening layers of crusty falsehoods; it is a heavy dream and a volatile dream without destiny. The weaver of the Dream is Education; the threads of the Dream are memories. The educational thrust of the Dream in Frederick Douglass’ Narrative of the Life of Frederick Douglass: An American Slave and Sapphire’s Push revolves around Douglass and Precious learning how to read and write, while Toni Morrison's Song of Solomon demonstrates the impact memory imparts in Milkman's identity education.

Ironically, education and understanding is a taunting double-edged sword reflecting the American Dream and only intermittently perforating and tugging at the minority’s Dream. Michelle Stephenson defines the two dreams as follows: “The dominant American Dream…involves voluntary participation, forgetting the past, and privileging the individual while the alternative Dream…of American minorities involves forced participation, connecting to the past, and privileging the group” (Internet). So, the minority stands on the outside perimeter of the American Dream, looking in with eyes dragging from the “heavy load” (Hughes) of intemperate dreams and tapping their feet in impotent but perfect harmony.

Douglass gets to take a small step inside the circle of the American Dream by learning how to read and understanding terms such as "abolition and abolitionist" (Douglass 56). He painfully realizes the double meaning of how reading brings knowledge of his powerless situation, yet nudges him one step closer to the American Dream. He could choose to live with his situation, not live at all, or escape to freedom. Rather than accept his fate, Douglass is motivated and “eager to hear any one [sic] speak of slavery. [He]…was a ready listener (56). He is eager to be visible, and he burns with frustration. Amiri Barake’s poem “An Agony, As Now” illustrates how Douglass’ pain burns the thing / inside…And that thing / screams.” In other words, he reacts to the pain; it pushes him, silently screaming, onward. His dream is that one day he will be free. Like Dr. Martin Luther King’s “I Have a Dream” speech delivered on August 28, 1963 (100 years later) wherein he repeats the phrase “I have a dream that one day” (King) meaning the Dream is yet to come, the Dream is still deferred as Hughes’ poem likewise elucidates. Further, Dr. King emphasizes that his dream is “a dream deeply rooted in the American Dream” (King) which further emphasizes how the Dream stems from the dominant American Dream. From Douglass’ dream to Dr. King’s dream, the dreamers remain still dreaming, still on the outside of the privileged circle, still looking in. Today, The Dream remains a constant challenge still reflecting Douglass’ persistence to his “right to the whole” (107) and Dr. King’s challenge to fellow dreamers to persist in the Dream regardless of the setbacks or obstacles.

In a more modern perspective, Precious in Push has "been out of the picture so long…[she was] used to it" (Sapphire 32) but, like Douglass, contemplates the prospect of dying rather than suffering. The pain of despair is both Precious and Douglass’ catapult toward the Dream. They are both twelve years old when their first pain is born: Douglass’ pain is knowledge while Precious' pain is childbirth. Precious feels a "light fly through [her] heart (42) and, like Douglass, the pain pushes her toward her Dream. Despite the incest, abuse, pregnancies, and illiteracy, she knows she has "gotta get there" (40) instead of merely existing in what Douglass refers to as “mental darkness” (52). Precious’ dream is to learn how to read and write, so she can escape from her incestuous, abusive home. She knows the key is education when she says, “School something (this nuthin’!) School gonna help me get out dis house” (Sapphire 35).

In addition, Precious is exposed to more of the circle of hope than Douglass; therefore, her push is even stronger. Like Douglass, she feels the double edge sword of knowledge as she learns how to read. On the other hand, she realizes her position in the circle of hope. She feels a sense of loneliness as she stands on the outside, looking in: “since I sit in circle I realize all my life, all my life I been outside of the circle” (62). She is bombarded everyday with a daily dose of the American Dream from television; she fantasizes about being one of the “pritty people, girls with little titties like buttons and legs like long white straws” (31). Precious has no identity and feels invisible to the dominant culture: “I wanna say I am somebody. I wanna say it on subway, TV, movie, LOUD. I see the pink faces in suits look over top of my head. I watch myself disappear in their eyes, their tesses. I talk loud but still I don’t exist” (31). Her vision of herself is like a vampire in the movies whose image does not exist in photographs: “They eats, drinks, wear clothes, talks…and stuff but when you git right down to it they don’t exist” (31). On the other hand, she sees the dreamless and the lost dreamers with their scarred arms sitting in alleys “lost in the hells of norf america” (37). Nevertheless, she is determined to discover who she is in a world full of pain. It drivers her onward “to get up to the level of high school kids, then college kids. I know I can do this” (139). Once she gains entrance into the American Dream through the power of reading and writing, she wants more.

Similarly, Douglass’ pain of education also pushes him forward. He learns to write by copying letters on the timber at Durgin and Bailey's shipyard, challenging literate white boys with word contests, and "copying the Italics in Webster's Spelling Book" (Douglass 58). He dreams of someday writing his own pass as a means of escape (57). Motivated by the Dream of freedom, Douglass takes advantage of every opportunity to educate himself. In fact, reading opens his eyes and "the thought of being a slave for life began to bear heavily upon [his] heart" (54). In response to his thirst for knowledge, he repeatedly reads "The Columbian Orator" article by Sheridan that "gave tongue to interesting thoughts of [his] own soul" (55). Consequently, he experiences an "unutterable anguish…[that] learning to read had been a curse rather than a blessing" (55). He connects reading with slave songs; it verifies the anguish of the slave songs he used to hear. He knows “the deep meaning of those rude and apparently incoherent songs. I was myself within the circle” (31) – the circle of the African American Dream. The songs not only reflect the Dream but also the root of the Dream in a larger, controlling power. This is obvious when “[i]nto all of their songs they would manage to weave something of the Great House Farm” (31) which is their repressing element – something greater than themselves. Later, Douglass reflects back on all of these memories, or the threads of the Dream, to define who he is.

Besides the inner drive Douglass possesses, he has several key people validate his existence along the way as do Milkman and Precious. Would they succeed otherwise? The Dream of freedom for Douglass was perpetuated by an Irishmen on the docks who told another Irishman, "that it was a pity so fine a little fellow as…[Douglass] should be a slave for life…and from that time…[he] resolved to run away" (57). Other people help Douglass such as David Ruggles and Nathan Johnson whose “human hand” (112) and generosity help him gain confidence in himself. Once Douglass' existence is validated - once he becomes visible as a human being - the Dream is triggered. Likewise, Ms. Rain helps Precious through positive reinforcement and encouragement toward Precious’ journal writing. She also encourages Precious to face her past in order to become free: “Ms Ran say we can nt escap the pass. The way free is hard” (101). When Precious wants to ignore her past, Ms. Rain pushes her to write about it because “telling your story git you over that river” (97). Once Precious no longer feels invisible, she begins her journey into reading and writing.

Like Douglass, her knowledge is also a double-edged sword. She realizes she is lonely and that she exists "outside of the circle" (62) - outside of what is normal. Nevertheless, those feelings make her more powerful. She vows, "I gonna be queen of those ABCs - readin' 'n writing'. I not gonna stop going to school 'n I not going to give Abdul up and I is gonna get Little Mongo back one day, maybe" (75). She knows it will be a struggle to continue her education, but without an education, she knows life will continue to be a struggle.

Precious will become a part of the American Dream, but it is not the part she hopes for. Instead, she will be taking care of the elderly. Likewise, Corinthians in Song of Solomon has a college education but works as a maid. The dream is still deferred. W.E.B. DuBois emphasizes how “the doors of opportunity [are] closed roughly in his [the Negro’s] face” which is what happens to both Precious and Corinthians. They are standing at the doorway, but are not allowed entrance. However, Douglass passes through the door and eventually becomes “secretary of the Santo Domingo Commission, Recorder of Deeds in the District of Columbia, and United States Minister to Haiti” (preface). Likewise, Milkman accomplishes his Dream of self-identification when he merges with Guitar and becomes a unified person. So, he flies through the doorway of dreams. Douglass and Milkman succeed in the Dream whereas Precious is just beginning.

Contrary to Douglass and Precious, Milkman has a high school education, so he does not lack reading and writing skills. However, like Douglass and Precious, he lacks visibility. His reflection “looked all right. Even better than all right. But it lacked coherence, a coming together of the features into a total self” (Morrison 69). He has to learn from the past in order to define who he is in the present especially since no one in his immediate family helps him understand who he is. Ruth, his mother, defines him as “only a passion…something to hold [Ruth and Macon] together and reinstate their sex lives” (131). He is regarded “as a beautiful toy, a respite, a distraction, a physical pleasure as she nursed him” (132). Therefore, from conception to adulthood, he only serves as an erotic outlet for his mother. Like Douglass and Precious, he is invisible. Moreover, he is ignored by his sisters who view him with “rosy lips…swollen in hatred…[and] vaguely alarmed blandness” (68). Even more tragic is that his father resents the fact that he was born. He makes Ruth try several abortion tactics (131) as well as “punched her in the stomach” (131). Consequently, Milkman feels invisible, undefined, and confused. His sense of reality is draped in darkness just as Douglass and Precious’ sense of reality. Douglass and Milkman’s darkness is sinful and lawful, but Precious’ darkness is sinful and unlawful. Doubt and fear of the unknown plague all three; however, their compelling desire to break free and become the person they should be – to claim their own identity – to become visible - motivates them to keep pushing toward the Dream.

Milkman, like Douglass and Precious, has several people help him in his discovery. Whereas Douglass travels North toward his Dream, Milkman travels South. Rev. Cooper and his elderly friends tell him about his father and grandfather and the secret that his grandfather could fly. Milkman feels the same pain of the double edged sword of understanding that Precious and Douglass feel because “the more the old men talked…the more he missed something in his life” (Morrison 234). Again, the double-edged sword of knowledge is reflected as the men “yearned for something. Some word from him [Milkman] that would rekindle the dream and stop the death they were dying” (236). (Ironically, the name of Macon Dead sounds like “making death” or “make them dead,” and that is exactly what his life accomplishes.) Milkman’s curiosity lights up the old men’s lost dreams just as their words enflame Milkman’s dream of discovering who he is. Another person who helps Milkman is Circe when she tells him how his grandfather’s body lies in a cave (245). In addition, the men on the hunting trip expose him to his natural abilities to communicate with nature. Milkman connects to the earth as he “tried to listen with his fingertips, to hear what, if anything, the earth had to say, and it told him quickly that someone was standing behind him” (279). Finally, when he listens to the children singing and interprets the words, “[h]e was as eager and happy as he had ever been in his life” (304). By unlocking the past and putting all the pieces of the puzzle together, Milkman, no longer undefined and invisible, is genuinely satisfied with his identity and his life. By learning “what Shalimar knew” (337), the threads of memories intertwine into a whole self .

His learning experience is painful just as Douglass and Precious’ learning experiences. Milkman’s pain stems from the death of Pilate which is symbolic of his “pilot” dying and the trip ending. In other words, with the knowledge of his past through memories and pain, Milkman flies into his Dream of knowing who he is and no longer needs a pilot. Ironically, Song of Solomon begins with Robert Smith's flight toward freedom in death and ends with Milkman’s flight towards freedom and life. Milkman’s dreams are an impetus toward “a sense of lightness and power ” (298) which holds true in the final pages as he leaps as “free and bright as a lodestar” (337) toward the knowledge that “[i]f you surrendered to the air, you could ride it” (337). The word “ride” implies that he is on top of the air – he is on top of the stifling muffle of his voice once held captive in the present and successfully confronts the present rather than fly away from it. As a result, he is no longer invisible; he is no longer a peacock unable to spread his wings and fly; the load is lifted.

Even though Milkman's education is an oral experience, the power is in the knowledge he gains from interpreting the song and listening to memories. It is just as powerful as the knowledge Douglass and Precious gain through learning how to read and write. Once knowledge is attained, either written or oral, freedom follows. Clearly, memories are an important freedom factor. To move forward toward the Dream, Douglass, Milkman, and Precious have to face their past, learn from it, push on, and do something positive with their knowledge. And they do: Douglass escapes slavery but has to return through his memory to the South in order to enlighten the North; Precious has to face her wretched past in order to move forward with her dreams of a better life for her and her children; and Milkman has to become exposed to his past in order to understand who he is.

The intertextuality of both education and memory through the lives of Frederick Douglass, Milkman, and Precious yields the pathway to the Dream. Underneath the dark fabric of the African American Dream lurks the message of the rights of all mankind written by free white hands. Douglass, Morrison, and Sapphire demand attention, activate emotion, expose unknown or ignored worlds of defeated humanity, and resolve to continue the message of the Dream. Just as Push and “A Dream Deferred" have no ending, the Dream has no ending. No, there is not an American Dream to be found at the end of their quest; instead, it is a never-ending journey backward to the past that keeps their Dream in perpetual motion.

Although the grip on the mouth of African American voices is strong and covers the entire mouth, methods of communication manage to break through allowing bursts of voices and giving life to unheard and unspoken dreams. Even if the dreamer steps into the circle, the American Dream, instead of standing on the outside looking in, there is always a catch of some sort. In the case of Milkman, the price paid was Pilate's life. Through education and memories, the African American voice becomes louder and louder. In other words, the past must be revisited, confronted, and appeased in order for the Dream to begin. By remembering the pain, translating the pain into words, and finding an outlet to vocalize the pain, the Dream can be heard and be made visible. Modeled by the dominant culture, it can never completely be achieved by the minority culture because as long as pain exists, the search for visibility continues.

Works Cited

Baraki, Amira. "An Agony, As Now." Class notes.

Douglass, Frederick.. Narrative of the Life of Frederick Douglass, an American Slave, Written by Himself. 1845. New York: Penguin Books, 1968.

DuBois, W.E.B. Class notes.

Hughes, Langston. "Dream Deferred." Literature, Reading Fiction, Poetry, Drama & The Essay. 4^th Edition, Published by McGraw Hill, 1998.

King, Martin Luther. "I Have a Dream." A Testament of Hope: The Essential Writings of Martin Luther King, Jr., ed. J.M. Washington. San Francisco: Harper & Row, 1986. 217-220.

Morrison, Toni. Song of Solomon. New York: The Penguin Group, 1977.

Sapphire. Push. New York: Vintage, 1996.

Stephenson, Michelle. The Dream vs. The American Dream: The African-American Experience. Online. University of Houston - Clear Lake. Internet. 11 Feb. 2003.