LITR 5731: Seminar in American Minority Literature
University of Houston-Clear Lake, fall 2001
Student Research Project

Jill Reioux
LITR 5731: Seminar in American Minority Literature
Research Journal
December 4, 2001

Repressed Voices Speak Out:

A Comparison Between the Poetry of

White Women and Black Men

in the Early Twentieth Century

 There has to be a connection between the different minority experiences. I wanted to study the poetry of writers from the early twentieth century because they are writing before the civil rights movement, or even during the movement. Racial and gender issues are being voiced publicly, making it the perfect time for budding poets. I decided to narrow my scope down to black men and white women, regretfully omitting poetry by black women. After reading an anthology of poetry by black Americans and then reading an anthology of poetry by women, I began to see drastic similarities. For one, these poets are all writing in an effort to define themselves. Howe wrote in the introduction to her anthology that "[f]or young feminists the poem... defines them as women in a hitherto male world" (3). In the same way, black poets use poetry to define themselves as black men. They consider their roles in society, not only what society expects of them but also what they could be and do if society would give them the freedom. Identity is a big issue for the minority because the white man has for so many years stripped away the minority identity and reduced it to practically nothing.

Many of the women’s poems talk about how to "survive in a male world" (Howe 5). This can be compared to the black man writing about how to survive in a white man’s world. Both give advice, tell stories of bad choices, and confess reality while dreaming of possibilities that are not open to them. The minority world is totally different from the white man’s world. Women and black men experience physical and mental repression that the white man cannot understand. Black poets often use their poetry to react "to what has become known as the black experience" (Breman 19). Being able to react through poetry gives the minority a voice, a way to release their feelings without feeling threatened for their expression. The woman poet does this as well. She writes her poetry to react to the woman’s experience, letting the man know that she has her own point of view.

Finally, it is interesting to see that the minority poets of the early twentieth century are giving their group a voice. By writing high quality poetry, these groups are forcing the white, male-dominated intellectual groups to take a look at them. They are showing that they can have a significant voice in society. Johnson wrote in his 1922 preface to The Book of American Negro Poetry that "The final measure of the greatness of all peoples is the amount and standard of the literature and art they have produced" (9). He feels that "the world does not know that a people is great until that people produces great literature and art. No people that has produced great literature and art has ever been looked upon by the world as distinctly inferior" (9). It’s easy to see why it was so important for poets like Langston Hughes and Phyllis McGinley to have their works read and published. Johnson went on to mention that "the status of the Negro in the United States is more a question of national mental attitude toward the race than of actual conditions" (9). Society is so prejudiced in the early twentieth century that they can’t accept the fact that black men and white women have as much mental potential as the white man. Johnson adds "and nothing will do more to change that mental attitude and raise his status than a demonstration of intellectual parity by the Negro through the production of literature and art" (9).

While I read through the anthologies, I noted specific poems that reminded me of both minority experiences. I analyzed the poems and found striking resemblances between the two. I narrowed down my scope to four different comparisons and titles each comparison according to the common theme. I hope you enjoy the following sections.

 

I Want To Live My Life!

Two particular poems, "Housing Shortage" and "Dream Variations", by Replansky and Hughes demonstrate similar structure and theme. They both begin with a depressing mood because they are both frustrated with their lives; however they end victoriously with the speakers mentally conquering their repressors.

Housing Shortage by: Naomi Replansky

I tried to live small.

I took a narrow bed.

I held my elbows to my sides.

I tried to step carefully

And to think softly

And to breathe shallowly

In my portion of air

And to disturb no one.

Yet see how I spread out and I cannot help it.

I take to myself more and more, and I take nothing

That I do not need, but my needs grow like weeds,

All over and invading; I clutter this place

With all the apparatus of living.

You stumble over it daily.

And then my lungs take their fill.

And then you gasp for air.

Excuse me for living,

But, since I am living,

Given inches, I take yards,

Taking yards, dream of miles,

And a landscape, unbounded

And vast in abandon.

You too dreaming the same.

[1952]

 

 

 

Dream Variations by: Langston Hughes

To fling my arms wide

In some place of the sun,

To whirl and to dance

Till the white day is done.

Then rest at cool evening

Beneath a tall tree

While night comes on gently,

Dark like me—

That is my dream!

To fling my arms wide

In the face of the sun,

Dance! Whirl! Whirl!

Till the quick day is done.

Rest at pale evening...

A tall, slim tree...

Night coming tenderly

Black like me.

 

The first stanza of "Housing Shortage" can be compared to the first stanza of "Dream Variations." Replansky describes the way she lived (past tense)—"small" (1). Her life was a box that she was not supposed to step out of. She had to watch the way the moved, thought, and even breathed because she was not supposed to "disturb" her husband’s dominion. Her life was dictated by what her husband wanted her to do. She could not think about her wants and needs because they might have interfered with her husband’s. She tried and she tried to live this unnatural way, denying herself just because her husband wouldn’t consider her happiness.

The same theme is presented in Hughes’s first stanza. He doesn’t talk directly about his situation, but the reader can infer what his life is like because he tells about what he wishes. He doesn’t want to be kept in a narrow box either; he wants to "fling" his "arms wide", "(t)o whirl and to dance" (3). His tone is wistful, wishing of how his life should be. This is a poem written by a man, and it is assumed that men can do what they want. So, why can’t Hughes live his life to the fullest? His dream is to be free to live how he wants, even in the face of the "white day." While Replansky is repressed by her husband, Hughes is repressed by the white man. Just like Replansky’s husband, the white man dictates the thoughts and movements of the black man. The black man thinks that all he can do is dream of a real life. They both feel stuck, and so they dream of freedom.

Both Replansky and Hughes break free and choose to live for themselves, even taking pride in their own selves. Replansky speaks of how she "spread(s) out", and she "cannot help it" (9). She begins to experience life more fully, thinking about herself rather than her husband. She mentions that as she grows, she knows that her husband does not like it. He feels like she is taking the "air" away from him, but she doesn’t care. The more freedom she gets, the more she likes it. The second stanza visually spreads out on the paper to represent how her life is expanding. In the fourth stanza she talks about how this newfound freedom makes her feel. Every new life experience makes her want more. She never realized how much she was missing until she begins living for herself. She wants to eventually be living "unbounded" (21) like her husband. That is her dream.

In the same way, Hughes begins to realize his dream in his second stanza. He decides to live his life, even "in the face" (11) of white repression, just as Replansky has to do in the face of her husband. Hughes is no longer dreaming about life; he’s acting out his dream: "Dance! Whirl! Whirl!" (12). The variations in word choice and the way he writes them indicate action rather than passive dreaming. Now that he’s active in life, he’s finding out how things really are. The sun now has a face; the day is quick rather than white; the evening is pale; the tree is tall and slim. At the end, the night embraces him, and he finally experiences pleasure in regards to his blackness. Instead of letting his dark skin be the reason for his oppression, he decides to make it the reason for self-celebration. Life is no longer a dream; it is real.

Replansky and Hughes look deep into their life situations. They are not satisfied with their limited possibilities and dreams. They both decide to make the effort to have their dreams come true and overcome their repressors.

 

 

 

 

At Least I’m Not a White Man!

White women and black men often compare themselves to the white man. The white man is the social standard to whom everyone is compared. Sometimes it is frustrating because it is impossible for a white woman or a black man to be the same as a white man. In the end, it is better to celebrate being different rather than to try to live up to an unnatural standard.

 

 

Why, Some of My Best Friends Are Women

by: Phyllis McGinley

 

I learned in my credulous youth

That women are shallow as fountains.

Women make lies out of truth

And out of a molehill their mountains.

Women are giddy and vain,

Cold-hearted or tiresomely tender;

Yet, nevertheless, I maintain

I dote on the feminine gender.

For the female of the species may be deadlier than the male

But she can make herself a cup of coffee without reducing

The entire kitchen to a shambles.

Perverse though their taste in cravats

Is deemed by their lords and their betters,

They know the importance of hats

And they write you the news in their letters.

Their minds may be lighter than foam,

Or altered in haste and in hurry,

But they seldom bring company home

When you’re warming up yesterday’s curry.

And when lovely woman stoops to folly,

She does not invariably come in at four A.M.

Singing "Sweet Adeline."

Oh, women are frail and they weep.

They are recklessly given to scions.

But, wakened unduly from sleep,

They are milder than tigers or lions.

Women hang clothes on their pegs

Nor groan at the toil and the trouble.

Women have rather nice legs

And chins that are guiltless of stubble.

Women are restless, uneasy to handle,

But when they are burning both ends of the scandal,

They do not insist with a vow that is votive,

How high are their minds and how noble the motive.

As shopping companions they’re heroes and saints;

They meet you in tearooms nor murmur complaints;

They listen, entranced, to a list of your vapors;

At breakfast they sometimes emerge from the papers;

A Brave Little Widow’s not apt to sob-story ‘em,

And they keep a cool head in a grocery emporium.

Yes, I rise to defend

The quite possible She.

For the feminine gend-

Er is O.K. by me.

Besides, everybody admits it’s a Man’s World.

And just look what they’ve done to it!

[1932]

 

 

 

 

 

For black poets who think of suicide

by: Etheridge Knight

Black Poets should live—not leap

From steel bridges (like the white boys do).

Black Poets should live—not lay

Their necks on railroad tracks (like the white boys do).

Black Poets should seek—but not search too much

In sweet dark caves, nor hunt for snipes

Down psychic trails (like the white boys do).

For Black Poets belong to Black People. Are

The Flutes of black Lovers. Are

The Organs of Black Sorrows. Are

The Trumpets of Black Warriors.

Let all Black Poets die as trumpets,

And be buried in the dust of marching feet.

 

 

McGinley’s title for her poem is clever. Usually we hear people defend themselves against being prejudice by saying, "Why, some of my best friends are black." McGinley turns it around to show that people have prejudices against women, too. The reader knows, just from the title, that McGinley is speaking tongue in cheek. McGinley is unique in her defense for women because she admits their faults (though most are stereotypical). She says that she learned these stereotypes while she was young, which is sad but true for most people. Each stanza lists out womanly faults, some quite harsh. For example, she says that women are shallow (2), are liars (3), have "lords" and "betters" (13), and have minds "lighter than foam" (16). A woman reader could easily be offended by these insults. McGinley makes these horrible comments about women, but the reader knows that she does not necessarily agree with them. Her point is that she has had good experiences with women; it’s the men who she has had problems with, especially because they are the ones who create the stereotype. Each stanza ends with a positive aspect or comment about women, or it ends with a roundabout stab against the stereotypical male. The italicized stanzas are saved just for that purpose: to get back at man and point out some of his faults. McGinley’s voice is both bold and sarcastic, saying that men have their faults too, so they need to worry about themselves before they are so enthusiastic to point out the faults in women.

While McGinley’s poem compares women to men, Knight’s poem compares black poets to white poets. He stereotypes the "white boys" as being melodramatic in their poetry. They do things like "leap from steel bridges" (2) and "lay their necks on railroad tracks" (3-4). Knight encourages black poets to live, live, and seek. He doesn’t want them to commit suicide. What is suicide for a black poet? Knight believes that it would be like committing suicide if a black poet tried to write as if he were white. In essence, the poet would be killing himself, his true self, because he would be trying to live up to a false standard. Knight believes that the black poet has his purpose, and that purpose is not the same for the white poet. In the second stanza, Knight explains what he believes to be the purpose of a black poet. They need to be writing for a black audience, not trying to cater to the white man: "Black Poets belong to Black People" (8). They should be writing about black love, black sorrows, and black battles. Knight wants black poets to quit comparing themselves to the white man because the black people need their own poets. The second stanza gives the image of the black poet as a trumpet, sounding off for the warriors to march forward in the black revolution.

Both Knight and McGinley are frustrated with being compared to the white man. They know that they are different; they know that they are stereotyped. But, neither wants to be associated with the white man. They are glad to be different because they see the downfalls of the white man and aren’t afraid to point them out.

 

 

 

Home Sweet Terrible Home

Many women and black poets write about where they live. "The Suburb" by Anne Stevenson and "The southern road" by Dudley Randall explore what it’s like at home and its effects on their lives. Sometimes when we take a closer look at our place of residence, we see it for what it really is. For a woman and a black man, home can be something terrible.

The Suburb by: Anne Stevenson

No time, no time,

and with so many in line to be

born or fed or made love to, there is no

excuse for staring at it, though it’s spring again

and the leaves have come out looking

limp and wet like little green new born babies.

The girls have come out in their new bought dresses,

carefully, carefully. They know they’re in danger.

Already there are couples crumpled under the chestnuts.

The houses crowd closer, listening to each other’s radios.

Weeds have got into the window boxes. The washing hangs,

helpless. Children are lusting for ice cream.

It is my lot each May to be hot and pregnant,

a long way away from the years when I slept by myself—

the white bed by the dressing table, pious with cherry blossoms,

the flatteries and punishments of photographs and mirrors.

We walked home by starlight and he touched my breasts.

"Please, please!" Then I let him anyway. Cars

droned and flashed, sucking at the cow parsley. Later

there were teas and the engagement party. The wedding

in the rain. The hotel where I slept in the bathroom.

The night when he slept on the floor.

 

 

 

 

The ache of remembering, bitterer than a birth. Better

to lie still and let the babies run through me.

To let them possess me. They will spare me

spring after spring. Their hungers deliver me.

I grow fat as they devour me. I give them my sleep

and they absolve me from waking. Who can accuse me?

I am beyond blame.

[1964]

 

 

The southern road by: Dudley Randall

There the black river, boundary to hell,

And here the iron bridge, the ancient car,

And grim conductor, who with surly yell

Forbids white soldiers where the black ones are.

And I re-live the enforced avatar

Of desperate journey to a savage abode

Made by my sires before another war;

And I set forth upon the southern road.

To a land where shadowed songs like flowers swell

And where the earth is scarlet as a scar

Friezed by the bleeding lash that fell (O fell)

Upon my fathers’ flesh. O far, far, far

And deep my blood has drenched. None can bar

My birthright to the loveliness bestowed

Upon this country haughty as a star.

And I set forth upon the southern road.

This darkness and these mountains loom a spell

Of peak-roofed town where yearning steeples soar

And the holy holy chanting of a bell

Shakes human incense on the throbbing air

Where bonfires blaze and quivering bodies char.

Whose is the hair that crisped, and fiercely glowed?

I know it; and my entrails melt like tar

And I set forth upon the southern road.

O fertile hillsides where my fathers are,

From which my griefs like troubled streams have flowed,

I have to love you, though they sweep me far.

And I set forth upon the southern road.

 

Home is supposed to be a happy place where love and laughter flow, but for Stevenson, home is the suburb. The poem has a depressing tone; the words are carefully chosen to describe the suburb through the eyes of a woman trapped in her home, trapped in her life. In the first stanza there’s the comparison of the new leaves to new born babies—but the words "limp," "wet," and "green" are disturbing. The girls in their new dresses are in danger. Of what? Of getting their dresses dirty, of being seduced by a man, of ending up in the suburb when they are women. Couples are "crumpled" (9), the laundry is "helpless" (12), and the children are "lusting" (12). Stevenson uses these disturbing words on purpose to set the mood and tone.

Every day seems the same, filled with busy work: tending the children and the husband and doing the laundry. The woman has lost herself. When she looks at where she lives, it makes her remember the past. She remembers her childhood room, getting married, having fights with her husband, and being pregnant. The contrasting images continue. In line 16 "flatteries" are contrasted with "punishments"; the wedding is contrasted with the rain (20-21); the honeymoon is spent sleeping in the bathroom (21). The most distressing images of all, though, are in the last stanza where the woman allows herself to be devoured by her children. In line 24 she describes a birth, something that should be beautiful and miraculous, as being bitter. The babies "run" through her while she lies "still" (24). They "possess" her (25), a word associated with demonic possession or material ownership. Line 27 has contrasting images of the woman growing "fat" as the babies "devour" her. Why does the woman allow this to happen to her? She is in her place, in the home, raising babies. If she does this, she does not have to take any risks in life. No one can blame her for anything because she does nothing. Her body is simply a baby-making machine and food to fill the sexual appetite of her husband. Her mind is useless because it is never used. The suburb becomes a symbol for the monotonous, meaningless life of a woman.

The southern road is also a symbol. It symbolizes the past and present lives of black men. Randall wrote this poem about a black soldier coming home after World War II. As he comes home, he is thrust back into the south’s prejudice lifestyle. He’s probably riding the bus home, but suddenly he’s not good enough to sit by the white soldiers. He imagines his forefathers making the same journey home, fighting prejudice every inch of the way, but not wanting to leave the south. The speaker feels drawn down the southern road even though he knows what life is like here. He knows that "the earth is scarlet as a scar" (10) from the blood of his people, his fathers. Yet he feels as if his fathers’ blood has purchased this southern land, that the land is his birthright. His contrasting feelings are echoed in the contrasting images of the south. The "holy holy chanting" (19) of a church bell is contrasted with the "bonfires" and "quivering" charred bodies of his people, his friends (21). And the feeling of homecoming is attacked by feelings of disgust for his home. The last stanza contrasts the grief he feels at home with the love he has for it. Why does he stay in the south? He is a soldier; he has seen many places, yet he chooses to come back home. He feels obligated to stay so that his fathers’ hard labors would not be in vain. His ties to the south are strong, and he must fight the essence of the south just to live there.

Randall and Stevenson both express contrasts in regards to their homes. In the end, it is the same entity that negatively affects their home life—white man. The white man has put both the woman and the black man in their places, daring them to step out. Neither of these poems expresses a need to fight back. They both seem to crumple and give in to the domination of the white man.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Shut Up and Mind Your Place!

Diane Di Prima and Sterling Brown introduce the theme of voice and choice in their poems "The Quarrel" and "Old Lem." White man has invariably shut the mouths of women and blacks. There are things that a woman is not supposed to say to her husband, just as during Brown’s time a black man was not allowed to disrespect a white man.

The Quarrel by: Diane Di Prima

You know I said to Mark that I’m furious at you.

No he said are you bugged. He was drawing Brad who was asleep on the bed.

Yes I said I’m pretty god damned bugged. I sat down by the fire and stuck my feet out to warm them up.

Jesus I thought you think it’s so easy. There you sit innocence personified. I didn’t say anything else to him.

You know I thought I’ve got work to do too sometimes. In fact I probably have just as fucking much work to do as you do. A piece of wood fell out of the fire and I poked it back in with my toe.

I am sick I said to the wood pile of doing dishes. I am just as lazy as you. Maybe lazier. The toe of my shoe was scorched from the fire and I rubbed it where the suede was gone.

Just because I happen to be a chick I thought.

Mark finished one drawing and looked at it. Then he put it down and started another one.

It’s damned arrogant of you I thought to assume that only you have things to do. Especially tonight.

And what a god damned concession it was for me to bother to tell you that I was bugged at all I said to the back of his neck. I didn’t say it out loud.

I got up and went into the kitchen to do the dishes. And shit I thought I probably won’t bother again. But I’ll get bugged and not bother to tell you and after a while everything will be awful and I’ll never say anything because it’s so fucking uncool to talk about it. And that I thought will be that and what a shame.

Hey hon Mark yelled at me from the living room. It says here Picasso produces fourteen hours a day.

[1961]

 

 

Old Lem by: Sterling Brown

I talked to old Lem

And old Lem said:

               ‘They weigh the cotton

               They store the corn

                              We only good enough

                              To work the rows;

               They run the commissary

               They keep the books

                              We gotta be grateful

                              For being cheated;

               Whippersnapper clerks

               Call us out of our name

                              We got to say mister

                              To spindling boys

               They make our figgers

               Turn sumersets

                              We buck in the middle

                              Say, "Thankyuh, sah."

                                            

                                             They don’t come by ones

                                             They don’t come by twos

                                             But they come by tens

‘They got the judges

They got the lawyers

They got the jury-rolls

They got the law

               They don’t come by ones

They got the sheriffs

They got the deputies

               They don’t come by twos

They got the shotguns

They got the rope

We git the justice

In the end

               And they come by tens.

‘Their fists stay closed

Their eyes look straight

Our hands stay open

Our eyes must fall

               They don’t come by ones

They got the manhood

They got the courage

               They don’t come by twos

We got to slink around,

Hangtailed hounds.

They burn us when we dogs

They burn us when we men

               They come by tens...

‘I had a buddy

Six foot of man

Muscled up perfect

Game to the heart

               They don’t come by ones

Outworked and outfought

Any man or two men

               They don’t come by twos

He spoke out of turn

At the commissary

They gave him a day

To git out the county.

He didn’t take it.

He said ‘Come and get me.’

They came and got him.

               And they came by tens.

He stayed in the county—

He lays there dead.

               They don’t come by ones

               They don’t come by twos

               But they come by tens.’

In "The Quarrel", Prima sketches out a mental argument that a woman has with her husband. The woman goes to her husband and tells him that she is "furious" (1) at him. Furious is a very strong word, but her husband brings her feelings down a notch by defining her as being "bugged" (2), the whole time never taking his eyes off the drawing in front of him, never truly validating her feelings. The woman answers that she is "pretty god damned bugged" (3). This should be a sign to the husband to stop what he is doing and pay attention to his wife. But he never asks her why she is upset; he chooses not to have a quarrel, and as a result he quiets his wife’s voice. The husband gets to choose whether or not to have a discussion, not the wife. So the woman, not getting a response from her husband, must have the quarrel within her mind. She says things, not to her husband, but to herself, the woodpile, or to the back of his neck. All the while, Mark is continuing to draw as if his wife never mentioned that she was furious at him. The woman is feeling typical woman feelings: that she is unappreciated, that it is unfair for her to have to do the household chores while he does things he wants to do, that she has other things that she wants to do, but since she’s the woman, she must sacrifice them to the dishes. The woman is using strong, emotional language to express her thoughts to herself, but she keeps her mouth shut and doesn’t say them to Mark. A woman is not supposed to tell her husband that he is "damned arrogant;" she has to think it. Prima is making a point about a woman’s voice and choice. The woman’s voice is silenced because the husband will not listen or talk to her or show any sign that he is even interested in her feelings. She doesn’t have a choice but to do the dishes because it is her place, and certainly no one else is going to get in there and do them. The ultimate slap in the face comes at the end when, after the woman has gone in the kitchen to do the dishes, Mark yells something about Picasso—totally off the subject and invalidating her earlier comment. Her voice is swallowed up in the male dominance.

Brown’s poem raises the issue of voice in regards to the black man. The black man is not allowed to say what he thinks. One example is if the black man thinks he is being cheated, he can’t object. He must "be grateful / For being cheated" (9-10). Even a white boy takes the black man’s voice away. The black man must speak respectfully to the white boy and allow the boy to cheat him: "We got to say mister / To spindling boys" (13-14) and "Say, ‘Thankyuh, sah’" (18). The story Lem tells about his buddy is a perfect example of how the black man’s voice is silenced. The buddy was a hardworking, strong man, but one day "He spoke out of turn / At the commissary" (57). The white man was determined to silence the buddy’s voice and show him his place, and in the end they killed him. What happens if a black man refuses to be silent and keep his place? The white man will take physical action to ensure his own dominance.

How does the killing of the buddy compare to Prima’s woman? The woman is not physically killed, but she is mentally and emotionally dead by the end of the poem. Her husband, a person who is supposed to love and support her, does not validate any of her feelings. He acts like she is a non-entity and thus kills her spirit in the process. One might ask why the woman does not just leave the husband and solve all her problems that way. The reader must remember that this poem was written in 1961, a time before women were encouraged to be independent. This woman had to think about herself and her child. If she left, she would have no way to support herself and would be rejected by society. Lem’s buddy chose to go against society when he chose not to leave the county. He suffered the consequences.

Brown, like Prima, discusses the minority’s status as compared to the white man. The black man is not allowed to have jobs like being a judge, a lawyer, or a sheriff. Those positions are reserved for white men. The black man must "work the rows" (6) and walk around with their hands open and their eyes on the ground (37-38). It doesn’t matter if a black man wants to be a deputy or run a farm because he doesn’t have a choice. Just like in Prima’s poem, the minority has its place, and the majority has its ways of keeping them there.

 

Concluding Remarks

Through writing this journal, I have learned about the unity of the minority experience. Johnson saw this too. He says that the Negro "has the emotional endowment, the originality and artistic conception, and, what is more important, the power of creating that which has universal appeal and influence" (10). Later in the preface Johnson makes the point again: "This power of the Negro to suck up the national spirit from the soil and create something artistic and original, which, at the same time, possesses the note of universal appeal, is due to a remarkable racial gift of adaptability; it is more than adaptability, it is a transfusive quality" (20). He believes that the black poets create a voice "not only [for] the soul of their race, but for the soul of America" (20). I feel, as a woman, more connected to the black experience now that I have compared their poetry. I am in awe of the racial and gender conditions of the early twentieth century where these extremely intelligent poets had to struggle to have their voices heard. The only way I can appreciate my status today is to study and analyze the literature of the minorities from the past. I am so glad that these poets were brave enough to write their feelings in the face of oppression from the white man.

I also learned that I could not include the black women in my comparison. They are black before they are women, yet their experiences as women separate them from the black men. I regret that I could not use them in my study, but they have their own unique characteristics.

The English language is a wonderful, unifying tool. It brings together seemingly opposite types of individuals so that they are able to express common ideas and themes.

Now, when I teach poetry I will be much more sensitive to the issues of minority writers. I will make an effort to provide for my students a variety of authors to study so that they can learn to appreciate diversity while at the same time understanding unity. I might like to have my students write poems about situations from different points of view so that they can see that everyone has feelings; we just need to open up our minds and listen to their voices.

 

Works Cited

Breman, Paul. You Better Believe It: Black Verse in English From Africa, the West Indies and the United States. Penguin Books: Baltimore, 1973.

Howe, Florence. No More Masks! An Anthology of Poems by Women. Anchor Press / Doubleday Anchor Books: NewYork, 1973.

Johnson, James Weldon. The Book of American Negro Poetry. Harcourt, Brace and World, Inc.: NewYork, 1922.