In the south dude got a scholarship
it was thru the fight won the knowlegship
years went past he was doin good
till norton showed up and brought him to the hood
it was bledsoe threw him out,
up north he moved, it was mad sad
in the city of dreams he found no way
ran into blu who took him back to the golden day
came away with a messed up view,
got even worse wen emerson spew-d
bledsoe didnt want him anymore so he got in his head settle that score
wanted to kill that D-bag soe
btw narrators name was Joe
not really.
Tuesday, October 5, 2010
I cannot rap to save me
I cannot rap to save my life
But I can at least try this time
No more living under anyone’s thumb,
I have an animal inside
I once thought pride
Was something distrified
Thought that I had all I needed of it
In order to survive
Never thought I’d be strung along
Or kept from succeeding
Or picked clean like Poor Robin
Picked and cleaned for the picking
But here I was all along
In an endless cycle
Which I did not know how
To break free from
It’s ironic how
I find the strength in myself
From people
Less than edified
They’re crazy, yes
But am I not crazy, too
Not to know the difference between
Imprisonment and freedom
Not to know
The definition
Of pride
Scribe Post 10/5/10
Today in class we discussed the latter part of Chapter 10 in Invisible Man, and we talked about making making invisible things visible.
We discussed three events.
1)The narrator walking in on the meeting at the paint factory. Mr. Neal pointed out that this party that he walked in on will come to symbolize the communist and socialist parties of the time.
2) The next event in the chapter we covered was the narrator's fight with Mr. Brockway. The invisible man thought that Mr. Brockway had stabbed him; when in reality, he had merely bitten him. This is an example of the black on black racism that goes on throughout the book, as well as demonstrating the invisible mans anger issues. It can also connect back to his fight in the prologue-he believed the man was trying to kill him, when he really was not.
3)The third event we discussed was Mr. Brockway setting up the accident in the paint factory. This was a symbol for manipulation of power. People in power often manipulate it so that the lower people fight amongst themselves-this accident was a symbol and an example of that.
The next thing we did was discuss how to make things that are invisible, visible. For five minutes, we looked for things that were made in china. We found 34 things. The point was to take an abstract idea-China is the world's factory-and make it visible. We started reading George Orwell's "Down the Mine", which takes an invisible group-coal miners-and makes them visible.
And the next scribe is Sam!
Invisible Man Chapters 8-10 Class Discussion
On a sleepy Monday morning, the 11th grade English class came together. Taus started the questions rolling by asking Mr. Neal what his favorite element was. Lets just say Mr. Neal had a difficult time answering. First siding with Au (gold) and ending with Barium. As a class we then discussed the chapters 8-10 in Invisible Man that were read over the weekend. We analyzed those chapters by going over thoughts or questions us students had come up with. We particularly went into depth of young Mr. Emerson, Taus giving us the lead, “Is there something wrong with him?”, he asked. Mr. Neal replied with, “There is nothing wrong with him per say, but there is definitely something invisible that Ellison is trying to make visible”. With that question said and put out into the minds of us students, books were torn into trying to find the answer.
We began analyzing young Mr. Emerson’s ways and some came up with answers. We first described him, he was nervous, odd, that there was something up with him. Imogene gave a wild guess “He is gay”, Alexys connected the gold cuff links that young Mr. Emerson wore back to Dr. Bledsoe.
In the end as a class we decided that young Mr. Emerson is exotic and probably gay, but was trying to help Invisible Man the whole way by telling him that he did not in fact want to meet with his father because he was a cruel soul. At the end of his spiel he tells the Invisible Man that he already was his fathers prisoner and that the Invisible man should not follow into his footsteps.
We began analyzing young Mr. Emerson’s ways and some came up with answers. We first described him, he was nervous, odd, that there was something up with him. Imogene gave a wild guess “He is gay”, Alexys connected the gold cuff links that young Mr. Emerson wore back to Dr. Bledsoe.
In the end as a class we decided that young Mr. Emerson is exotic and probably gay, but was trying to help Invisible Man the whole way by telling him that he did not in fact want to meet with his father because he was a cruel soul. At the end of his spiel he tells the Invisible Man that he already was his fathers prisoner and that the Invisible man should not follow into his footsteps.
Thats it folks....!
The next Scribe-r (?) is EMMY...good luck.
-Imogene Edson
Invisible Man Chapter 8-10.
Reactions on Ch 8-10 of IM
Bruna: Narrator never says his name.
Why? Because he is invisible; symbolism behind every African American person-he could be anyone.
Noah: More of a positive sections.
Jay: Going to NY, how he describes Harlem.
Courtney: Homeless man and the dog?
Reactions to the letter:: "Not fair, game is exposed"
"Vail is being lifted"
Recognizing his invisibility. He is starting to realize the hypocrisy of the social structure.
Kike-Racial slur for a Jewish person.
Mr. Emerson: Nice, polite, how he says; "Have a seat please", he is different.
What is odd? Something he might be hinting at?--
Descriptions of eyes. Mr. Emerson vs. Bledsoe
Symbolism-Exotic bird in the cage. People that have important things to say are often trapped in a cage.
Page 180-Description of office
Foreshadowing what is about to come.
First Paragraph-Jay-"Same as all other white people, foreshadowing it will be different"
Page 187-
"Going to tell the truth"
Bottom of 187-anything odd?; "Jim and Huck Finn; Why go back; So much you can do here where there is more freedom; My father considers me as one of the unspeakables; curious about what lies behind the face of things?"
Ellison makes him seem like he is above every one else-Karan
Beating around the bush, wants to tell IM about Bledsoe's intentions, is he trying to be professional by not speaking directly?-Sara
Everyone's following what they think should be the norm-David
Hiding something from his past that we don't know about-Sarah Jane
Mysterious person in higher power-Amanda
More equal rights, bring out liberties, Emerson does not agree with his father, does not want to follow in his footsteps-Bruna
Mr. Emerson is a homosexual. Mr. Neal is stating it "because he is a professional reader".
Swing his hips, touches his knee, 'unspeakable'
Famous book by Sigmund Freud-Totem and Taboo
Symbols in ch 10 tomorrow.
Next scribe is.... Jake!
UNTITLED
rap about the book
500 hundred pages i wonder how long it’ took
im mean take
hope you dont mind if i toss it in the lake
sever it to my dog on a plate
i mean a platter
your ego gotta shatter
you must become invisible
thats the principle
and be divisible
by 1
amongst each other
holding hands like brother and brother
cause we are 1 people like a family
i dnt look like you, and you not me
but you treat me the way you want to be
together forever
no matter the weather
become invisible and the world will be better
just listen to the speak of lippmans class
slow down life cause i be over in a flash
take a breath of fresh air your movin to fast
500 hundred pages i wonder how long it’ took
im mean take
hope you dont mind if i toss it in the lake
sever it to my dog on a plate
i mean a platter
your ego gotta shatter
you must become invisible
thats the principle
and be divisible
by 1
amongst each other
holding hands like brother and brother
cause we are 1 people like a family
i dnt look like you, and you not me
but you treat me the way you want to be
together forever
no matter the weather
become invisible and the world will be better
just listen to the speak of lippmans class
slow down life cause i be over in a flash
take a breath of fresh air your movin to fast
Friday, October 1, 2010
THE GALEANO PROJECT: INVISIBLE MAN
NI**ER
Dark as the midnight sky the oh so esteemed doctor said.
This Bledsoe character believes he knows everything about the world. Knows everything about the man that walked in his office.
Saying Nigger as if it does not hurt himself. Bledsoe is weak and insecure.
Saying Nigger was supposed to bring pain to another but his words backfire, the bullets new destination is Dr. Bledsoe.
Saying Nigger was meant to pierce the soul.
Saying Nigger means oh so much more to Dr. Bledsoe, he knows the pain of the word, he has fought the good fight, but continues to fight while climbing the ladder all the way to the top
The man in his office is just another rung.
Saying Nigger, Bledsoe hopes that this brand new and pesky rung will not stay for long.
Saying Nigger is the first step in his long road of self-destruction.
When the man leaves for a bright future. Bledsoe sits in his office waiting for the next rung in the ladder of his life to appear.
Ikey Chafkin
LIGHTBULBS
In the city of blinding lights, he hides himself away in a basement. It is a hole in the ground, this basement, but is not dark, not damp and dank and musty like you would expect; it is warm and bright. It is brighter than the entire city. There is more light than he knows what to do with, but he knows that without the light, he would be visible. Only in the light of his basement can he truly be invisible. When one is in the darkness, one is truly seen for who they are- in the light, there are simply whoever you want them to be. He loves the light, for he loves his invisibility. The light confirms that although he is invisible, he has by no means vanished. It reminds him that he is alive.
Christina Leleon
Bledsoe
Bledsoe stands where he wants on the line, does what he wants to the line and defines the line. He knows how the line works, every weak spot, every point where he can warp and bend it to reflect his image in the greatest way. Bledsoe has stood on the line between black and white to get where he is and to maintain that position, but he doesn't care about the line. He lives by his own rules and everyone else does too. He lives by his own rules under the rules of the white men. He controls them as much as they control him, his mask of greed and lies used to deceive them. Though he's become many things the one thing he isn't is bitter. He keeps his cool and stays calm while standing on the line, warping the line, controlling and getting his way. Bledsoe defines the line.
--Omari Spears
Norton
A man of prestige and a man of great power. In the middle of the 19th century he lived. The founder of a college for blacks. The protagonist's relationship with him is limited to being his driver.
Unfortunately for the protagonist, While he was driving Mr Norton one day, things went wrong. It started with Norton requesting to be driven out of the way because he was curious about what lay in that direction. From there Norton asked to stop the car. All was still well until Norton spoke to a certain black man in the area they had stopped.
Before long Norton was a changed man. He was torn apart from the inside out and was losing control. The protagonist did what he could, but was physically unable to make things better for Norton. It wasn’t until he had witnessed several more traumatic experiences that he finally began to recover from his meeting with the black man.
Upon return to the school, Norton went back to his quarters and summoned the headmaster. He assured the protagonist that he would not be blamed for his bad experiences that day, but the headmaster was not so understanding. The protagonist was expelled from the school that night.
--Diego Fiori
THE BLIND TRUTH
The Reverend spoke, and the community listened.
In Alabama, a college, at that church, stories were told. Reverend Homer A. Barbee talked about a man. This man was not like many of his counterparts, for example he was black. However this black man was educated, and led his people to education like Moses led his to the promise land. Another thing about this man was that he was blind. This happened when a cousin splashed him with lye.
Despite all of the adversity, this man becomes self educated, goes north and furthers his education. Yet he returns only to start a college and help out his fellow black brothers and sisters.
There is a man in that room. He listens to the sermon, and remembers. He remembers the words that his Grandfather had told him before he died. This man thinks about those words, and then thinks about the sermon. That man becomes deeply moved by the sermon, and is remorseful of his previous actions with Mr. Norton, a man who is on the board of directors.
Then this man looks at the Reverend. He sees that the Reverend cannot see.
--Zeke Satloff
And Beginning of Ends
The train steamed North, The narrator heading for Harlem, for work, for closer . Beside him sat the Vet, the instigator, bound for Washington and his own sense of closer. He talks to him as if an old friend, the words which shattered the protagonist's dream spilling out to challenge the narrators confidence a second time. Wise from the past, little penetrates the narrators mind, much like his grandfathers words remaining undigested. Filling the narrators head for space, not thought. The vet talks much like the grandfather too. referring always to the glory of white men and, the acceptance of black repression. He departs, " Offering fatherly advice," advising to leave Norton alone. In a simple sentence he broke the only white bound our narrator had and, in a simple second he was gone with the life our narrator wished he still had.
-Ben Logan
My Win?
I won a fight three days ago. Even though it took place in a ring, I do not call it a boxing match. This is because no boxing match would take place like this. I won the fight. All ten of us were payed for our performance. I won the fight. We were blindfolded to the point of no sight. They let us go like wild animals at the sight of a long overdue meal. It’s too bad that we couldn’t see. Throwing; everybody throwing. Bleeding; everybody bleeding. I won the fight. I was hit by their punches that they thought to be arrant, but I thought to be dead on. The ring was slippery from the whiskey spilled from the mindless viewers who saw entertainment, where we saw torture. I won the fight. As the slug-fest waged on, I could feel the dropping of several of my teammates through my bare, trembling feet on the mat. Four left, but I won the fight. It came down to two men after several minutes of blood in mouth and smoke filled lungs from the ever seemingly fiendish-like men who stood and yelled behind the ropes. Round one had ended. Not due to time, but to eliminations. Only two. Blindfolds stripped and back to the brawl. We hit each other. The boy whispered meaningless tries to end the slaughter that I was raining upon him. I won the fight. I won the money. When I was walking home that cold night and wondering why I had signed up for the fight, I asked myself if I had really won the fight.
--Connor Laubenstein
A VIGNETTE TO FIGHTING
I happens at the end of the year. A fight, to decide dominance, for the right to speak. The blacks fight like animals, fighting for a bone. Fists swinging wildly, a duel of blind animals, clawing and scratching. I sit back, relax and enjoy the sport. This is all that niggers are good for, sport and work, they show only enough intelligence to plow a field or throw a fist. The fight ends on a abrupt note, the blacks stop to rest, their tongues hand out like the family dogs. One steps up to speak, we ignore him. He says a dirty word, and is quickly put down. Animals don’t have the right to talk.
--Tim King
The Power is Lost
No one can control them.
Chaos, they move amongst madness. Un-phased by the mayhem, confusion, and anarchy of the uncontrolled crowd the usual suspects keep with their daily routine. The protagonist looks on in horror as the uncontrollable brawl continues; the white man watching from what would seem afar. Up close he shares no comparisons to them except in location. They can not be control nor are they in control; they just wander and react, not act, but rather feed off of each other as a group.
Fear or anger takes over the the majority as the power is lost and the supreme look on. The one in control will never be control and the one watching will never see.
--Nick Laycox
Death Bed
There was a lamp burning at the end of its wick the curtains were drawn there he lay with his son crouched next to him.
His lips moved and all that came out was what seemed like nonsense he had lost it or had he been saner then ever with death lurking in the shadows.
“Keep up the good fight.”
He was the timid and quiet one how had never caused trouble in his whole life but as has his mortality faded everything came out.
“Our life is a war and I have been a traitor all my born days.”
Who had he betrayed that will always be an unanswered question.
“ Live with your head in the lion’s mouth.”
With his dyeing breath he whispered fiercely.
“Learn it to the younguns.”
Now gods knows what he meant he repented for his past sins in his last minutes and left unknown wisdom to his family and it will always lurk in the shadows of their minds.
--Annie Mangone
Journey to Harlem
It happens in the mid nineteen hundreds, when racism is still a very true reality, and almost a quintessential part of American society. Prejudice and power are ideals entitled to a certain people, those of lighter skin, and liberation existed only in the dream of a man, though he never woke-up to remember it.
While departing Tuskegee, Alabama, he is forced to ask himself, whatever happens to a dream deferred? Better to ruminate on that question than to relive the past series of events and consequences that brought him here. Mr. Norton (does it dry up like a raisin in the sun?), the Golden Day (or fester like a sore—then run?), the veteran, who is now sitting inches away from him (does it stink like rotten meat?), Dr. Bledsoe and the word he used to degrade him (or crust and sugar over—like a syrupy sweet?). Ripe with idealism despite having just lost a part of himself, he remained there trying to comprehend the alien feeling that was freedom.
When the cart jerked suddenly, he found himself tangled-up with a white woman. Maybe a dream just sags like a heavy load, he thought as the idea of the woman calling out entered his mind. He struggled to break free from this taboo interaction. Taboo was how he regarded his being so physically so close to her in this moment, but no one else seemed to stir or make a fuss. Not even the woman standing next to him in such close proximity that he could kiss her if he dared. Whatever happens to a dream deferred? He found himself wondering again as the train made a stop that he hastily took advantage of. Feeling overwhelmed by the last twenty-four hours, only a city like Harlem, a city of dreams where everyone runs to, made him realize that a dream deferred does, in fact, explode.
--Nizzie Aswad
Into the Melting Pot
It was in the middle of the nineteenth century. The train was empty, but only the rear was reserved for his colored type. He moved to the back of the train. Enduring his journey out of the fire and into the melting pot of Harlem he was equipped only with his bags, his shiny prize briefcase, and the wise words of the vet:
“Come out of the fog young man. And remember you don’t have to be a complete fool in order to succeed. Play the game but don’t believe in it-- that much you owe yourself. Even if it lands you in a strait jacket or a padded cell. Play the game, but play it your way.”
Even with the oppression of the South shackling you to the roots of its abundant cotton fields, he found the only identity he had ever owned. As the train bent around the hills, the brick low set buildings of Tuskegee disappeared, dissipating behind the precipice of the green earth.
Arriving in Harlem, optimism set in his eyes made him see double vision. He vowed to work hard. He vowed that if any of the important gentlemen should begin a topic of conversation, which he found unfamiliar, he would smile and agree. The freedom of the North not yet to stay set in his bones. When he observed the local laxity, the humble and bustle of the North, he realized he had a small voice here in the North, that he would barely be audible in the buzz of the city sounds.
--Kelsey Taylor
Dark as the midnight sky the oh so esteemed doctor said.
This Bledsoe character believes he knows everything about the world. Knows everything about the man that walked in his office.
Saying Nigger as if it does not hurt himself. Bledsoe is weak and insecure.
Saying Nigger was supposed to bring pain to another but his words backfire, the bullets new destination is Dr. Bledsoe.
Saying Nigger was meant to pierce the soul.
Saying Nigger means oh so much more to Dr. Bledsoe, he knows the pain of the word, he has fought the good fight, but continues to fight while climbing the ladder all the way to the top
The man in his office is just another rung.
Saying Nigger, Bledsoe hopes that this brand new and pesky rung will not stay for long.
Saying Nigger is the first step in his long road of self-destruction.
When the man leaves for a bright future. Bledsoe sits in his office waiting for the next rung in the ladder of his life to appear.
Ikey Chafkin
LIGHTBULBS
In the city of blinding lights, he hides himself away in a basement. It is a hole in the ground, this basement, but is not dark, not damp and dank and musty like you would expect; it is warm and bright. It is brighter than the entire city. There is more light than he knows what to do with, but he knows that without the light, he would be visible. Only in the light of his basement can he truly be invisible. When one is in the darkness, one is truly seen for who they are- in the light, there are simply whoever you want them to be. He loves the light, for he loves his invisibility. The light confirms that although he is invisible, he has by no means vanished. It reminds him that he is alive.
Christina Leleon
Bledsoe
Bledsoe stands where he wants on the line, does what he wants to the line and defines the line. He knows how the line works, every weak spot, every point where he can warp and bend it to reflect his image in the greatest way. Bledsoe has stood on the line between black and white to get where he is and to maintain that position, but he doesn't care about the line. He lives by his own rules and everyone else does too. He lives by his own rules under the rules of the white men. He controls them as much as they control him, his mask of greed and lies used to deceive them. Though he's become many things the one thing he isn't is bitter. He keeps his cool and stays calm while standing on the line, warping the line, controlling and getting his way. Bledsoe defines the line.
--Omari Spears
Norton
A man of prestige and a man of great power. In the middle of the 19th century he lived. The founder of a college for blacks. The protagonist's relationship with him is limited to being his driver.
Unfortunately for the protagonist, While he was driving Mr Norton one day, things went wrong. It started with Norton requesting to be driven out of the way because he was curious about what lay in that direction. From there Norton asked to stop the car. All was still well until Norton spoke to a certain black man in the area they had stopped.
Before long Norton was a changed man. He was torn apart from the inside out and was losing control. The protagonist did what he could, but was physically unable to make things better for Norton. It wasn’t until he had witnessed several more traumatic experiences that he finally began to recover from his meeting with the black man.
Upon return to the school, Norton went back to his quarters and summoned the headmaster. He assured the protagonist that he would not be blamed for his bad experiences that day, but the headmaster was not so understanding. The protagonist was expelled from the school that night.
--Diego Fiori
THE BLIND TRUTH
The Reverend spoke, and the community listened.
In Alabama, a college, at that church, stories were told. Reverend Homer A. Barbee talked about a man. This man was not like many of his counterparts, for example he was black. However this black man was educated, and led his people to education like Moses led his to the promise land. Another thing about this man was that he was blind. This happened when a cousin splashed him with lye.
Despite all of the adversity, this man becomes self educated, goes north and furthers his education. Yet he returns only to start a college and help out his fellow black brothers and sisters.
There is a man in that room. He listens to the sermon, and remembers. He remembers the words that his Grandfather had told him before he died. This man thinks about those words, and then thinks about the sermon. That man becomes deeply moved by the sermon, and is remorseful of his previous actions with Mr. Norton, a man who is on the board of directors.
Then this man looks at the Reverend. He sees that the Reverend cannot see.
--Zeke Satloff
And Beginning of Ends
The train steamed North, The narrator heading for Harlem, for work, for closer . Beside him sat the Vet, the instigator, bound for Washington and his own sense of closer. He talks to him as if an old friend, the words which shattered the protagonist's dream spilling out to challenge the narrators confidence a second time. Wise from the past, little penetrates the narrators mind, much like his grandfathers words remaining undigested. Filling the narrators head for space, not thought. The vet talks much like the grandfather too. referring always to the glory of white men and, the acceptance of black repression. He departs, " Offering fatherly advice," advising to leave Norton alone. In a simple sentence he broke the only white bound our narrator had and, in a simple second he was gone with the life our narrator wished he still had.
-Ben Logan
My Win?
I won a fight three days ago. Even though it took place in a ring, I do not call it a boxing match. This is because no boxing match would take place like this. I won the fight. All ten of us were payed for our performance. I won the fight. We were blindfolded to the point of no sight. They let us go like wild animals at the sight of a long overdue meal. It’s too bad that we couldn’t see. Throwing; everybody throwing. Bleeding; everybody bleeding. I won the fight. I was hit by their punches that they thought to be arrant, but I thought to be dead on. The ring was slippery from the whiskey spilled from the mindless viewers who saw entertainment, where we saw torture. I won the fight. As the slug-fest waged on, I could feel the dropping of several of my teammates through my bare, trembling feet on the mat. Four left, but I won the fight. It came down to two men after several minutes of blood in mouth and smoke filled lungs from the ever seemingly fiendish-like men who stood and yelled behind the ropes. Round one had ended. Not due to time, but to eliminations. Only two. Blindfolds stripped and back to the brawl. We hit each other. The boy whispered meaningless tries to end the slaughter that I was raining upon him. I won the fight. I won the money. When I was walking home that cold night and wondering why I had signed up for the fight, I asked myself if I had really won the fight.
--Connor Laubenstein
A VIGNETTE TO FIGHTING
I happens at the end of the year. A fight, to decide dominance, for the right to speak. The blacks fight like animals, fighting for a bone. Fists swinging wildly, a duel of blind animals, clawing and scratching. I sit back, relax and enjoy the sport. This is all that niggers are good for, sport and work, they show only enough intelligence to plow a field or throw a fist. The fight ends on a abrupt note, the blacks stop to rest, their tongues hand out like the family dogs. One steps up to speak, we ignore him. He says a dirty word, and is quickly put down. Animals don’t have the right to talk.
--Tim King
The Power is Lost
No one can control them.
Chaos, they move amongst madness. Un-phased by the mayhem, confusion, and anarchy of the uncontrolled crowd the usual suspects keep with their daily routine. The protagonist looks on in horror as the uncontrollable brawl continues; the white man watching from what would seem afar. Up close he shares no comparisons to them except in location. They can not be control nor are they in control; they just wander and react, not act, but rather feed off of each other as a group.
Fear or anger takes over the the majority as the power is lost and the supreme look on. The one in control will never be control and the one watching will never see.
--Nick Laycox
Death Bed
There was a lamp burning at the end of its wick the curtains were drawn there he lay with his son crouched next to him.
His lips moved and all that came out was what seemed like nonsense he had lost it or had he been saner then ever with death lurking in the shadows.
“Keep up the good fight.”
He was the timid and quiet one how had never caused trouble in his whole life but as has his mortality faded everything came out.
“Our life is a war and I have been a traitor all my born days.”
Who had he betrayed that will always be an unanswered question.
“ Live with your head in the lion’s mouth.”
With his dyeing breath he whispered fiercely.
“Learn it to the younguns.”
Now gods knows what he meant he repented for his past sins in his last minutes and left unknown wisdom to his family and it will always lurk in the shadows of their minds.
--Annie Mangone
Journey to Harlem
It happens in the mid nineteen hundreds, when racism is still a very true reality, and almost a quintessential part of American society. Prejudice and power are ideals entitled to a certain people, those of lighter skin, and liberation existed only in the dream of a man, though he never woke-up to remember it.
While departing Tuskegee, Alabama, he is forced to ask himself, whatever happens to a dream deferred? Better to ruminate on that question than to relive the past series of events and consequences that brought him here. Mr. Norton (does it dry up like a raisin in the sun?), the Golden Day (or fester like a sore—then run?), the veteran, who is now sitting inches away from him (does it stink like rotten meat?), Dr. Bledsoe and the word he used to degrade him (or crust and sugar over—like a syrupy sweet?). Ripe with idealism despite having just lost a part of himself, he remained there trying to comprehend the alien feeling that was freedom.
When the cart jerked suddenly, he found himself tangled-up with a white woman. Maybe a dream just sags like a heavy load, he thought as the idea of the woman calling out entered his mind. He struggled to break free from this taboo interaction. Taboo was how he regarded his being so physically so close to her in this moment, but no one else seemed to stir or make a fuss. Not even the woman standing next to him in such close proximity that he could kiss her if he dared. Whatever happens to a dream deferred? He found himself wondering again as the train made a stop that he hastily took advantage of. Feeling overwhelmed by the last twenty-four hours, only a city like Harlem, a city of dreams where everyone runs to, made him realize that a dream deferred does, in fact, explode.
--Nizzie Aswad
Into the Melting Pot
It was in the middle of the nineteenth century. The train was empty, but only the rear was reserved for his colored type. He moved to the back of the train. Enduring his journey out of the fire and into the melting pot of Harlem he was equipped only with his bags, his shiny prize briefcase, and the wise words of the vet:
“Come out of the fog young man. And remember you don’t have to be a complete fool in order to succeed. Play the game but don’t believe in it-- that much you owe yourself. Even if it lands you in a strait jacket or a padded cell. Play the game, but play it your way.”
Even with the oppression of the South shackling you to the roots of its abundant cotton fields, he found the only identity he had ever owned. As the train bent around the hills, the brick low set buildings of Tuskegee disappeared, dissipating behind the precipice of the green earth.
Arriving in Harlem, optimism set in his eyes made him see double vision. He vowed to work hard. He vowed that if any of the important gentlemen should begin a topic of conversation, which he found unfamiliar, he would smile and agree. The freedom of the North not yet to stay set in his bones. When he observed the local laxity, the humble and bustle of the North, he realized he had a small voice here in the North, that he would barely be audible in the buzz of the city sounds.
--Kelsey Taylor
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