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.