LITR 5731: Seminar in American Minority Literature
University of Houston-Clear Lake, Fall 2004
Sample Student Midterm

James R. Hood

7 October, 2004

Keeping “the Dream” Alive: Gaining Visibility and Vision through Literacy

While many of us are in various stages of realizing the American Dream—some of us having certainly already done so by some standards—the African-American version of that vision, known simply as “the Dream,” has arguably never been obtained. Part of the reason that “the Dream” has yet to come to fruition is the fact that its fulfillment requires an entire cultural group (African-Americans) to realize that dream as a collective effort. According to Objective 3(a) in the course syllabus, while “the American Dream emphasizes immediate individual success, ‘the Dream’ factors in setbacks, the need to rise again, and a quest for group dignity” (White 4). In this quest for group dignity, African-Americans have certainly endured setbacks, yet they illustrate that “the Dream” still lives as they rise to overcome every obstacle in that path to their collective Dream, and, as we have discovered in our readings this semester, one means for reaching that Dream is through literacy.

Literacy has many meanings and values, however, and we find that there are two very important aspects of that enigmatic concept that are at work in the texts that we have been studying—functional literacy and cultural literacy. Functional literacy is described as having the rudimentary reading and writing skills that are necessary to survive in a given society, while cultural literacy might be defined as having a knowledge, among other things, of the symbols, myths, images, beliefs, and canon of one’s culture (Diepenbrock 1). These two forms of literacy, as we will discover, contribute to a person’s “visibility” and “vision,” both of which are vital elements for keeping the Dream alive.

Of the two types of literacy at work in keeping the Dream alive, functional literacy provides not only “visibility” but a “voice,” and this addresses the concern of Course Objective 1(b), wherein minorities, for the most part, believe themselves to be “voiceless and choiceless” with respect to society at large.  Since functional literacy empowers individuals, allowing them to effect changes in society through the agency that this “voice” provides, that aspect of literacy appears to be “future-oriented.” Cultural literacy, on the other hand, reconnects those whose historical narratives have been disrupted to a past that only becomes “visible” through acquiring that sometimes esoteric knowledge of one’s own culture. The ghostlike images of a forgotten heritage now gain form and substance. This aspect of literacy thus seems to be “past-oriented,” but it also is a means for looking to the future, since a knowledge and pride in one’s cultural heritage is meant to be shared with future generations, lest they “forget” from whence they came, and become culturally “illiterate” themselves.

Unfortunately, for many African-Americans, gaining an historical perspective and awareness of their culture requires them to confront a past that includes one of the most shameful periods in American history—that of the slavery years. During this dark era, slaveholders considered their slaves to be not only a means of production, but a commodity as well. Referring to Karl Marx’s observations on this sort of paradox, Scott Donaldson writes that “The worker himself became a thing to be bought and used, like the objects produced by his labor” (Donaldson 200). While the buying and selling of slaves seems contrary to the ideals set forth in The Declaration of Independence, the author of that document, Thomas Jefferson, himself sends conflicting messages with regards to that issue. Although Jefferson states that “all men are created equal,” he is a slaveholder himself, and even designed Monticello, his home, with the slave quarters hidden away from view, using a series of passageways and dumbwaiters to make the slaves “invisible” to his guests, even while they were serving their master.

As we discover in some of the later slave narratives, however, this “invisibility” sometimes worked to the slaves’ advantage, particularly when attempts to become literate were made by those who entertained thoughts of escaping their oppression and becoming visible, vocal members of society. “Invisibility” served as a cloak that shielded slaves from their masters’ ever-watchful and distrusting eyes while the slaves slowly but surely became functionally literate, usually due to the efforts of the female members of the slaveholder’s family, who were themselves somewhat “invisible” members of society. Some slaves were more keenly aware of the importance of gaining these rudimentary skills, having the foresight to see that if they were to attempt an escape from their oppression, they could supply forged documents if confronted. Since it was almost unheard of for a slave to be able to read and write, those challenging the runaway slave’s intentions would be more inclined to believe that a slave “with papers” was merely acting as an agent or emissary on behalf of his or her “owner,” and thus be allowed to continue on the journey.

One slave who particularly understood the value of literacy was Frederick Douglass. In the Narrative of the Life of Frederick Douglass, we witness the power of literacy to alter not only one’s own life, but the lives of those in generations to come who find inspiration in Frederick Douglass’s account of having risen from slavery to become an outspoken opponent of that horrible institution. In an essay entitled “Dream Weavers: Visibility through Education and Memories,” former student Virginia Hilton discusses Douglass’s desire to become one of the “visible” members of society, as illustrated in the following passage: “He could choose to live with his situation, not live at all, or escape to freedom. Rather than accept his fate, Douglass is motivated . . .” (Hilton 2003). She later observes of Douglass that ”He is eager to be visible, and he burns with frustration” (Hilton 2003).

            Douglass, who has already suffered through much of the abuse and many of the indignities associated with slavery—beatings, being separated from a traditional family unit, and not knowing who his father is, for example—uses his newly acquired literacy skills to effect an escape from his oppressors, and then uses those same skills to speak out against the institution of slavery on behalf of others who were still “voiceless and choiceless.” Many of these voiceless and choiceless individuals are struggling with the issue raised by Course Objective 4, which asks the following question: “Do you fight or join the culture that oppressed you?” (White 4), which certainly creates a paradox with regards to the “value” of literacy—on the one hand, to resist literacy is to reject one’s oppressors, but to assimilate into society by embracing literacy puts at one’s disposal the very means to effect the types of social changes that keep the Dream alive.

            This paradox of placing oneself within the context of another’s culture is illustrated as well in W.E.B. Du Bois’s The Souls of Black Folk. Du Bois writes that

It is a peculiar sensation, this double-consciousness, this sense of always looking at one’s self through the eyes of others, of measuring one’s soul by the tape of a world that looks on in amused contempt and pity. One ever feels his two-ness—an American, a Negro; two souls, two thoughts, two unreconciled strivings; two warring ideals in one dark body, whose dogged strength alone keeps it from being torn asunder. (Du Bois 946)

Douglass must reconcile his hatred for one aspect of the culture that oppresses his own people—slavery—with his desire to use another element of that culture—literacy—as a means to obtain “visibility,” and he does so, although he states that

I would at times feel that learning to read had been a curse rather than a blessing. It had given me a view of my wretched condition, without the remedy. It opened my eyes to the horrible pit, but to no ladder upon which to get out. In moments of agony, I envied my fellow-slaves for their stupidity. (Douglass 370).

Douglass later realizes, however, that literacy might just provide that “remedy,” and goes on to state that “I wished to learn how to write, as I might have occasion to write my own pass” (Douglass 371). This slave narrative does, therefore, illustrate that literacy provides a means for escape from one’s oppressors, thus keeping “the Dream” alive.

            Like Douglass, the protagonist in Sapphire’s Push, Claireece Precious Jones, finds herself wanting to escape the nightmare of a personal situation that serves as an antithesis to “the Dream,” and, just as we have seen in the slave narratives, she suffers both physically and mentally at the hands of her oppressors. Not only is she functionally illiterate, but there is the element of a dysfunctional family unit with which she must contend. She most certainly qualifies as one of the “voiceless and choiceless” members of society, and she, too, believes that she is “invisible.” Again, former student Virginia Hilton concurs, stating that “Precious has no identity and feels invisible to the dominant culture” (Hilton 2003). Hilton continues her observations concerning Precious, stating that “Her vision of herself is like a vampire in the movies whose image does not exist in photographs” (Hilton 2003). Hilton further points out that “she [Precious] sees the dreamless and the lost dreamers with their scarred arms sitting in alleys” (ibid), which indicates that Precious, like other disenfranchised members of society, finds herself living the American nightmare rather than “the Dream.”

            In taking her first steps towards escaping this nightmare, Precious pushes herself to embrace literacy, albeit cautiously at first, as a means for beginning that journey to “the Dream,” thereby gaining both a measure of “visibility” as well as a “voice” with which to be heard. In doing so, she displays a newfound respect for herself and begins making choices that echo her newly discovered voice. Like Douglass, she has become “future-oriented,” and her choices reflect a desire to put her troubled past behind her—to make it “invisible” even as she becomes more visible herself through functional literacy and assimilation into the very society that has created the paradox with which she and other minorities must struggle.

            While Precious and Douglass both have pasts that are, unfortunately, all too present to them, Toni Morrison’s novel, Song of Solomon, has at least one character, Milkman, whose past is not immediately “visible” to him—it is, in fact shrouded in mystery. Although Milkman does not have to contend with the issue of becoming functionally literate in order to move away from a troubled past, he does not realize the significance of his name, nor that of his father, Macon Dead, and this “cultural illiteracy” is therefore “making him dead” because he has neither a past nor a future, drifting aimlessly through life with no real Dream.

Milkman does begin to muse about his future as he grows older, however, and sees the gold that his father believes is still cached away in a cave that Macon and his sister Pilate had used as a hideout when they escaped certain death at the hands of the person who had killed their own father as a means for “writing” Milkman’s future story. In searching for the gold, Milkman discovers and reconnects with his family’s “traditional but disrupted” past, and although he does not find gold, he obtains another treasure—a wealth of cultural literacy. With his newfound cultural literacy, he not only comes to understand the significance of the myth of the “flying African,” but he takes flight himself—even literally so at the end of the novel.

Flight, as a theme in these works, carries with it many connotations. In the literal sense, it might refer to a flight or escape from persecution, as illustrated in the Narrative of the Life of Frederick Douglass. In the figurative sense, it evokes the image of a dream taking flight, much as we see in Song of Solomon. Sapphire’s novel, Push, draws on both connotations of the word, however. Not only does Precious take flight from her dysfunctional and abusive family—her past—but her dreams of using literacy as a means to start a new life begin to take flight and she discovers that she has a future. I think that we have seen, however, that for either of these flights to take place in the “Dream” narrative, literacy is again the overriding factor.

Take, for example, the situation of Milkman’s illiterate grandfather in Song of Solomon. In an essay entitled “Literacy and Assimilation: The Necessary Evil,” former student Toni Sammons writes that “It did not take long for Blacks to realize that literacy was the pathway to change. They understood that if they were to have a voice, they must learn to speak with the voice of the dominant culture” (Sammons 2003). She also points out that Macon Dead (Milkman’s father) “speaks of his father’s illiteracy as the primary cause of his downfall” (Sammons 2003), as seen in the following passage:

Papa couldn’t read, couldn’t even sign his name. Had a mark he used. They tricked him. He signed something, I don’t know what, and they told him they owned his property. He never read nothing. I tried to teach him, but he said he couldn’t remember those little marks from one day to the next. Wrote one word in his life—Pilate’s name; copied it out of the Bible. That’s what she got folded up in that earring. He should have let me teach him. Everything bad that ever happened to him happened because he couldn’t read. (Morrison 53)

Sammons continues with her interpretation of the passage, stating that

Macon Dead’s assessment of his father’s illiteracy is accurate as far as it goes. His father was a former slave, the first generation to live the life of a free man after the Emancipation Proclamation. But a piece of paper does not guarantee the end of racial prejudice nor equal standing within the dominant culture. (Sammons 2003)

This observation focuses, however, on just one aspect of literacy—that of being able to read and write—and we have now seen that this ability alone does not necessarily keep the Dream alive.

            Milkman, for example, illustrates that case in point. He not only takes for granted his own functional literacy—having never been subjected to the types of hardships that slaves endured—but is unaware that he is culturally illiterate with regards to his own heritage. To him, the past is invisible and shrouded in mystery, until his musings on his future lead him circuitously to his past, which he then embraces. Compare this to Douglass’s wonderings as to who his own father might be, and we find that Douglass uses his literacy instead to embrace the future, rather than a past.

            I believe that literacy, both as traditionally defined as having the ability to read, write, and “function” in society and in the sense of meaning cultural literacy, which creates an awareness of self—even if it is a self defined by one’s “two-ness”—both contribute to a type of visibility and vision. The “voiceless and choiceless” are the invisible members of our society, but we have discovered that acquiring a voice through functional literacy makes one visible, and gaining a measure of cultural literacy reconnects one with his or her past, thus making it possible to celebrate one’s heritage—in effect, making it visible as well.

            Langston Hughes’s 1925 poem “I Too” celebrates that heritage, even as it hints at the “invisibility” that African Americans have had to endure:

I, too, sing America.

I am the darker brother.
They send me to eat in the kitchen
When company comes,
But I laugh,
And eat well,
And grow strong.

Tomorrow,
I'll be at the table
When company comes.
Nobody'll dare
Say to me,
"Eat in the kitchen,"
Then.

Besides,
They'll see how beautiful I am
And be ashamed—

I, too, am America. (Hughes 1605)

 

The poem describes a person who is made to eat in the kitchen, out of sight, yet growing stronger and more proud of his or her heritage in hopes of one day seeing the Dream come true. Hughes realizes, however, that there are certain to be obstacles encountered in that path to the Dream, and, in the 1951 poem “Harlem (A Dream Deferred),” mulls over what might happen as a result of that Dream being postponed:

What happens to a dream deferred?

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? (Hughes 1606)

 

While it is uncertain, from this poem at least, exactly what might happen when this dream is deferred, the fact remains that “the Dream” still exists, even if it does so only by virtue of the fact that it has never been fulfilled. Literacy, both traditional and cultural, nourishes “the Dream” and keeps it alive, even if it is sometimes, as Hughes suggests, “A Dream Deferred.”

 

Works Cited

Diepenbrock, Chloé. “Literacy Definitions.” LITR 5131, Fall 2004.

Donaldson, Scott. “Possessions in The Great Gatsby.” Southern Review 37.2 (Spring 2001) 187-210.

Douglass, Frederick. Narrative of the Life of Frederick Douglass. The Classic Slave Narratives. Ed. Henry Louis Gates, Jr.. New York: Signet, 1987.

Du Bois, W.E.B. The Souls of Black Folk. The Heath Anthology of American Literature. 4th ed. Ed. Paul Lauter. New York: Houghton Mifflin, 2002.

Hilton, Virginia. “Dream Weavers: Visibility through Education and Memories.” LITR 5731 Midterms, Spring 2003.

Hughes, Langston. “Harlem (A Dream Deferred).” The Heath Anthology of     American Literature. 4th ed. Ed. Paul Lauter. New York: Houghton Mifflin,      2002.

---. “I Too.” The Heath Anthology of American Literature. 4th ed. Ed. Paul Lauter. New York: Houghton Mifflin, 2002.

Morrison, Toni. Song of Solomon. New York: Plume 1987.

Sammons, Toni. “Literacy and Assimilation: The Necessary Evil.” LITR 5731 Midterms, Spring 2003.

White, Craig. “Course Syllabus.” LITR 5731, Fall 2004.

 

 

 

Work Referenced

Sapphire. Push. New York: Random House, 1997.