<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2352899248949999696</id><updated>2011-07-07T20:27:43.890-07:00</updated><category term='w'/><title type='text'>The Harlem Renaissance</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://squiguis.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2352899248949999696/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://squiguis.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Sarah Quigley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05678694788358443008</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1430/1324633116_6d6a45a5ba_o.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>27</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2352899248949999696.post-3984467643938506272</id><published>2009-11-03T07:26:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-27T16:29:37.633-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Journal #28</title><content type='html'>"Albert Barnes was convinces that African Americans had unique artistic powers to contribute to the nations." He even says that African Americans are naturally more gifted in the arts than Caucasians. He proclaims that art is exotic, an indulgence. Facing adversity allows  Negro artists to tap into a creative flow of mind that those who have not experienced it cannot compete with artistically.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Art is a reflection of race and civilizations. Take spirituals for example, they are so innately part of the Negro culture, rooted from their culture as slaves, teeming with bitterness and sadness. These powerful songs are expressions of art in its purest form. "The cultured white race owes to the soul-expressions of its black brother too many moments of happiness not to acknowledge ungrudgingly the signficant fact that what the Negro has achieved is of tremendous civilizing value." Barnes is confident that if Negroes were given the same education and opportunities of whites that works will emerge out of the next generation beyond the capacity that Negro art has ever experienced.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I disagree with Barnes when he says that African Americans are superior artistically because of their deep spiritual endowment. I do not mean to say that this art does not hold value, only that art is totally subjective. No race is superior to another in an artistic sense.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As Bearden says, modern art has been heavily influenced by Negro sculpture. Art changes and evolves as influences progress. The vitality of Negro sculpture and design was very popular and so set the framework for future representations. It is almost impossible for any artist not to be influenced by a previous one. Bearden states that there are several factors that hunder the development of Negro art. There is no valid standard for criticism, encouragement can sometimes be a crutch and it has no social philosophy. I'm not really sure what he means by social philosophy, maybe he means that art needs to meet a certain social expectation for people to like it. He actually welcomes negative criticism from white critics regarding Negro art. One such critic claimed that the sculptures were quite backward and primitive.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When you don't have anything worthwhile to say through your art, it becomes impossible to make it. Bearden says that no artist should be content with merely recording a scene as a machine. They should not confine themselves or conform to racial stereotypes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Works Cited&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Barnes, Albert. "Negro Art and America." The Portable Harlem Renaissance Reader. Ed. David Lewis. New York: 1995. 128-133.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Bearden, Romare. "The Negro Artist and Modern Art." The Portable Harlem Renaissance Reader. Ed. David Lewis. New York: 1995. 138-141.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Locke, Alain. "The Negro Takes His Place in American Art ." The Portable Harlem Renaissance Reader. Ed. David Lewis. New York: 1995. 134-137.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2352899248949999696-3984467643938506272?l=squiguis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://squiguis.blogspot.com/feeds/3984467643938506272/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://squiguis.blogspot.com/2009/11/journal-28.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2352899248949999696/posts/default/3984467643938506272'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2352899248949999696/posts/default/3984467643938506272'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://squiguis.blogspot.com/2009/11/journal-28.html' title='Journal #28'/><author><name>Sarah Quigley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05678694788358443008</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1430/1324633116_6d6a45a5ba_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2352899248949999696.post-4667371355795961473</id><published>2009-11-03T07:25:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-27T16:00:07.014-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Journal #27</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;In Leslie Collins's interview with Aaron Douglas, readers can actually experience the Harlem Renaissance from the perspective of one of it's famed paritipants. Douglas recounts the biggest moments of the renaissance, including his participation in Fire!! He was a famed illustrator during that time period, working with many of it's famed artists such as Zora Hurston, Hughes and Claude Mckay.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Douglas recounts the excitement that he experienced being a part of America's first all black society. He believes that young African Americans today share some of the passion that existed then. Douglas emphasizes that it was a movement that began with them, but they only lit the fire so-to-say. It is up to future generations to maintain that excitement, to have bold ideas and make them known. Fire!!'s creation disappeared quickly, as their hearts were bigger than their minds, they should have realized the funds involved in developing such a magazine. Although the magazine literally went up in flames, the ideas behind it remained and impacted the Harlem Renaissance culture.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The last couple of readings actually makes me think of talking to my grandfather about events from long ago, the way life used to be. He would talk about people I've never met and places I've never seen, all I could do was imagine, but never really know what it was like. McKay similarly attempts to set up a scene, telling readers how he used to admire James Weldon Johnson and how Hubert Harrison encouraged his work because it was for the good of the race. I prefer the short stories to the biographies of the people involved in the Renaissance (with the exception of Zora Neale Hurston's biography, she is such a fascinating woman!) because I can engage in the text without knowing the background story of all of the characters involved.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;McKay was obviously a very important writer/poet during the Harlem Renaissance and he has a lot to tell about his life. But even he decided to get out and explore what the rest of the world had to offer, traveling across Europe to pursue new meaning. I think that McKay definitely comes off as a tough critic and even egotistic at times. He constantly judges the work of the other contributers of the renaissance.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Works Cited&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;Douglas, Aaron. "Chats About the Harlem Renaissance." The Portable Harlem Renaissance Reader. Ed. David Lewis. New York: 1995. 118-127.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;McKay, Claude. "The Harlem Intelligentsia and The New Negro in Paris." The Portable Harlem Renaissance Reader. Ed. David Lewis. New York: 1995. 157-172.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2352899248949999696-4667371355795961473?l=squiguis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://squiguis.blogspot.com/feeds/4667371355795961473/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://squiguis.blogspot.com/2009/11/journal-27.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2352899248949999696/posts/default/4667371355795961473'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2352899248949999696/posts/default/4667371355795961473'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://squiguis.blogspot.com/2009/11/journal-27.html' title='Journal #27'/><author><name>Sarah Quigley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05678694788358443008</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1430/1324633116_6d6a45a5ba_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2352899248949999696.post-4828538118058565769</id><published>2009-11-03T07:16:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-27T14:17:01.685-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Journal #26</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;The 1920's began the class struggle and the real social instigation of "inferior and superior races and civilizations." Obviously there were racial problems before this era, but they didn't seem as significant because the blacks were not even considered people, only slaves to be bought and sold. In the 1920's they were people, and a lot of people disagreed with this. This discourse became a national problem concerning all people. The Renaissance was important because in the years prior to this intellectual Negro movement few black people could properly express the emotional turmoil of the race and help to make the nation realize that Negros are no different than anyone else. Blacks were always capable of achieving the same intelligence as whites, but not given the education or opportunity to prove it up until this point. The Harlem Renaissance provided black people the chance to express themselves and although it was accompanied by much white criticism, they were able to show the nation the struggles and strife that the race endured.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Johnson overviews many of the contributors to the Harlem Renaissance in "The Negro Renaissance and Its Significance." Cullen, Toomer, McKay, Du Bois, Dunbar, Hughes, Locke and others are quoted in this selection. These writers brought grace, style and beauty to the movement, boldly inviting readers of any color to engage in their stories and poems, to grasp the hardships of the race.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Black No More" is a very interesting concept. A fictional piece about black people being able to turn white, Schuyler reveals all of the problems that might unfold without the African American race. The NAACP declines, the KKK has nothing to do (I'm not sure why he thought that was a problem; I think it's more comical imagining them twittling their thumbs and trying to figure out a real purpose), Garvey's literature&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think that Schuyler's scenario examines the idea of societal status, race was a determining factor of status during this time. This idea of turning everyone into Caucasions plays a detrimental role in how social status was viewed. Can a society function without the class system?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why is it that the Dr. Grone character is doubly respected by the Negroes because he is respected by the whites? Schuyler is challenging the Negroe view of white society. Just because the high class white people think that they are better doesn't mean that they actually are, it's as if the black people truly believe it and therefore put more stock and respect into those who are accepted by Caucasions. All in all this story was very strange and confusing to me, maybe because it was just so irrational or because there were so many different characters with different motives within 10 pages of reading.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Works Cited&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Johnson, Charles. "The Negro Renaissance and Its Significance." The Portable Harlem Renaissance Reader. Ed. David Lewis. New York: 1995. 206-218.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Schuyler, George. "Black No More." The Portable Harlem Renaissance Reader. Ed. David Lewis. New York: 1995. 655-666.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2352899248949999696-4828538118058565769?l=squiguis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://squiguis.blogspot.com/feeds/4828538118058565769/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://squiguis.blogspot.com/2009/11/journal-26.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2352899248949999696/posts/default/4828538118058565769'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2352899248949999696/posts/default/4828538118058565769'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://squiguis.blogspot.com/2009/11/journal-26.html' title='Journal #26'/><author><name>Sarah Quigley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05678694788358443008</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1430/1324633116_6d6a45a5ba_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2352899248949999696.post-6946866828497529316</id><published>2009-11-02T15:54:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-02T17:35:19.108-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Journal #25</title><content type='html'>Du Bois's "Criteria of Negro Art" discusses the value of Negro art and the way that it has been accepted into American culture. The work of blacks has always been highly criticized and often been called inferior. Du Bois proposes that the only solution to this is to act as if there is no color line. After years and years of suppressing the true Negro talent, it is tragic to imagine how many artistic geniuses have been silenced simply because of skin color. African Americans were denied the right to learn their crafts. White America has stifled the efforts of many black artists which poses the question, is the only surviving Negro image the one that was supported by White America? There were and still are many forms of Negro art that have survived racial discrimination, but they may not have had the recognition or spotlight that they deserved. There is no telling how many African American art forms have been created and shut down before the Civil Rights Movement. It is the duty of Black America to preserve what they still have and to make known the creations that have been overlooked in the past.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Blue Print" provides an overview to black literature and the criticism that it underwent in the early years. White critics didn't offer blacks any serious criticism, most were simply astonished that they could write at all. The stereotypes were heavily ingrained into most white critics and this is why they had no real expectations for any African American literature. Wright questions whether or not Negroes take advantage of their minority status because their situations are unique. I think that in most cases the answer is yes, just like every writer strives to be set apart from the rest, to create an original work. We all have to take advantage of our differences in order to provide something fresh to the audience, otherwise all of literature would be monotonous and boring. There is no harm in taking advantage of culture unless the situation is fabricated. People care about what is true and real to the author, and if the author does not include his/her culture in the material, his/her identity can be lost and lose the reader's attention as well. Negroes have a rich culture centering around church, folklore and their struggles for basic human rights.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Works Cited&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Du Bois,W.E.B. "Criteria for Negro Art." The Portable Harlem Renaissance Reader. Ed. David Lewis. New York: 1995. 100-105. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Wright, Richard. "Bluepringt for Negro Writing." The Portable Harlem Renaissance Reader. Ed. David Lewis. New York: 1995. 194-205. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2352899248949999696-6946866828497529316?l=squiguis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://squiguis.blogspot.com/feeds/6946866828497529316/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://squiguis.blogspot.com/2009/11/journal-25.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2352899248949999696/posts/default/6946866828497529316'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2352899248949999696/posts/default/6946866828497529316'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://squiguis.blogspot.com/2009/11/journal-25.html' title='Journal #25'/><author><name>Sarah Quigley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05678694788358443008</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1430/1324633116_6d6a45a5ba_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2352899248949999696.post-1985062852770918302</id><published>2009-10-28T15:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-28T16:48:43.281-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Journal #24</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;"The White Witch"draws attention to the white race that deceives other races. There is no "ancient hag and snaggle tooth... the witch appears in all the glowing charms of youth." The poem's sends the message, do not trust the white witch, alluding to the white race as a whole. Johnson works with adjectives that are opposites, describing the white witch as a seemingly beautiful, graceful and soft character. She is none of these things, her lips burn and sear, she has the spirit of a vampire, she is fierce and her glance is a snare. What we see on the surface is not what we get. External beauty cannot match internal kindness. This poem is meant to show minority groups, mainly African Americans, that the white race cannot be trusted. No matter how beguiling they may be, the hatred and contempt for other races does not show on the outside, but it does exist. I think that this poem is a little stereotypical, if the witch does represent the white race as a whole I would say that not every white person is appealing, or racist and not every white person hides their true feelings about their beliefs. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;"Go Down Death" is a funeral sermon in honor of Sister Caroline. Today, we might assume 'Sister' meant that she was a nun, but in this time period the terms 'sister' and 'brother' were extremely common terms that African Americans used for those of their race to identify gender. Sister Caroline was probably a slave who dies because she is over worked. I think it is important to reference the strong presence of religion in this poem, God's presence, as well as the presence of Jesus, Angels and Death itself. Death is characterized as a pale being on a white horse. Death is not something to be feared, but instead a relief from Caroline's toils in life. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;"Go Down Death" is an appropriate name for this poem because he has to descend to earth and go south to Georgia in order to collect Sister Caroline. Through heaven's pearly gates death rode, on and on and on. The poem calls attention several times the journey that Death must take to get Sister Caroline. Perhaps Johnson is telling the audience that Georgia is far far away from Heaven, in physical distance maybe, but more certainly farther away in terms of morals. Georgia is a slave state, a violent and terrible place for these brothers and sisters of god. No place so immoral could be a close distance from Heaven. "Death didn't frighten Sister Caroline" because she was relieved to go.  Finally at the poem's end, Caroline gets her rest. At first I thought that this poem might be more appropriately named "Rest Sister Caroline," or something related to that. But then I realized that the title "Go Down Death" is meant to draw more attention to the fact that death must travel a great distance to get to Georgia. Down, down, down alludes to the depths of hell itself, and at that time Georgia might not have been far from it, at least according to African Americans. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;"The Creation" describes God's creation of the world, but with the aid of metaphors, Johnson reveals a twist to this age old story. God made darkness first. The darkness represents the black race, creating images of the beginning of time. Next came the light. The light seemed to have invaded the dark, taking away the things that the dark had first. The light stole God's attention in a way that the dark had never had before.  It is important to note that when God made the light he smiled and rolled darkness up on one side. Whites invaded black territory, they became the center of the universe, they were given the power and the privileges.  The light was considered good, evolving ideas that all that is white is pure.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The sun represents the white race while the moon represents the black. The stars are their mixed children. The contrast between the dark and the light and the sun and the moon appear often in the poem. Johnson attempts to show the deep contrasts between the two races, that have existed since man's beginning through the story of Creation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Works Cited&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Johnson, James. "Poetry Selections." The Portable Harlem Renaissance Reader. Ed. David Lewis. New York: 1995. 279-288. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2352899248949999696-1985062852770918302?l=squiguis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://squiguis.blogspot.com/feeds/1985062852770918302/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://squiguis.blogspot.com/2009/10/journal-24.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2352899248949999696/posts/default/1985062852770918302'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2352899248949999696/posts/default/1985062852770918302'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://squiguis.blogspot.com/2009/10/journal-24.html' title='Journal #24'/><author><name>Sarah Quigley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05678694788358443008</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1430/1324633116_6d6a45a5ba_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2352899248949999696.post-2957944166367055670</id><published>2009-10-26T20:08:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-28T15:46:00.732-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Journal #23</title><content type='html'>It all started with an invitation. An invitation for Hughes and his brethren to Moscow to shoot a film titled "Black and White." Some of the entourage only had enough money for the ticket. The Russians were astonished to behold twenty-two Negroes of all shades and were not prepared for their arrival. Three weeks passed and Langston was finally given a translation of the script from Russian to English. Russia was experiencing economic hard times, but the cast was still paid as promised. Langston found he was treated differently for being a foreignor. Unlike in America, their color was seen as a badge of honor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They were seeking adventure on this trip, but also understanding. Learning about the communist system and filming was supposed to expand their knowledge. But this was not the case, as the film was rejected and it was an outrage to Negros. However, it was only the begining for Hughes, as he spent many months in intensive contact and study of the customs, culture and economy of the Turkiman and Uzbeck peoples.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Langston learned a lot from his travels to Russia. How fast a country can turn from a majority of the population being illiterate to educating all children, exchanging serfdom for wages and getting rid of segregation altogether in less than a decade! If anything, Hughes got hope from this, that change can occur.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Patterson, Louise. "With Langston Hughes in the USST." &lt;u&gt;The Portable Harlem Renaissance Reader&lt;/u&gt;. Ed. David Lewis. New York: 1995. 182-189.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Frazier, E. Franklin. "La Bougeoisie Noire." &lt;u&gt;The Portable Harlem Renaissance Reader&lt;/u&gt;. Ed. David Lewis. New York: 1995. 173-181.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2352899248949999696-2957944166367055670?l=squiguis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://squiguis.blogspot.com/feeds/2957944166367055670/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://squiguis.blogspot.com/2009/10/journal-23.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2352899248949999696/posts/default/2957944166367055670'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2352899248949999696/posts/default/2957944166367055670'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://squiguis.blogspot.com/2009/10/journal-23.html' title='Journal #23'/><author><name>Sarah Quigley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05678694788358443008</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1430/1324633116_6d6a45a5ba_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2352899248949999696.post-4928124503318508148</id><published>2009-10-26T13:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-26T20:07:38.306-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Journal #22</title><content type='html'>The Negro Digs Up His Past&lt;br /&gt;Negros need to become motivated to strive for the good of the race. Such a dark history is painful to be 'dug up' yet it must be done in order for blacks to face the future. Understanding and learning from the past is how people move on. Repairing the social damage that slavery had upon Negros is not easily done, the only way to move past it is to look for the good moments, moments of pride and moments of determination that led to a revolution. "The work our race students now regard as important, they undertake very naturally to overcome in part certain handicaps of disparagement and omission too well-known to particularize."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"The Negro has been a man without history because he has been considered a man without a worthy culture." There is no way to forget the past or to change it. Slavery will always be a black mark on our nation's history. The only way to move on from it is to accept that it did happen, and hopefully the world learned a harsh lesson from it, in order to progress.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;McDougald similar to Schomburg, fights for the image of Negroes past, except McDougald focuses her analysis on women. She urges the public, no longer should black women be ridiculed, used simply a tool to portray feminine viciousness or vulgarity. There is a softer side that has yet to be discovered. Why is it that what is left of chivalry is not directed towards them? Negro women are often times less confident and in doubt when it comes to the portrayal of themselves. Getting beyond this lack of self-esteem, these women are making progress, overcoming occupational and educational obstacles to establish a firm place in American society.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"We find the Negro woman, figuraively struck in the face daily by contempt from the world about her. Within her soul, she knows little of peace and happiness." It is a constant struggle, but accomplishing a sense of hope and pride to the long stereotyped and mistreated African American woman, it is worth the struggle.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Both authors have experienced their frustrations with the African American past. Yet both write to prove that there is hope, there is a chance to forget the evils of the past and still learn from the mistakes of generations long gone. The African American race has accomplished a lot since the days of slavery, and has so much more to achieve.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                                                                          Works Cited&lt;br /&gt;Schomburg, Arthur. "The Negro Digs Up His Past." &lt;u&gt;The Portable Harlem Renaissance Reader&lt;/u&gt;. Ed. David Lewis. New York: 1995. 61-67.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;McDougald, Elise. "The Task of Negro Womanhood." &lt;u&gt;The Portable Harlem Renaissance Reader&lt;/u&gt;. Ed. David Lewis. New York: 1995. 68-75.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2352899248949999696-4928124503318508148?l=squiguis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://squiguis.blogspot.com/feeds/4928124503318508148/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://squiguis.blogspot.com/2009/10/journal-22.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2352899248949999696/posts/default/4928124503318508148'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2352899248949999696/posts/default/4928124503318508148'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://squiguis.blogspot.com/2009/10/journal-22.html' title='Journal #22'/><author><name>Sarah Quigley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05678694788358443008</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1430/1324633116_6d6a45a5ba_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2352899248949999696.post-7748176524278562469</id><published>2009-10-18T14:50:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-19T20:10:11.819-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Journal #21</title><content type='html'>The ill-fated "Mule-Bone" by Langston Hughes and Zora Neal Hurston was finally performed on stage in 1991 for the first time after years of controversy over the rights to the play. Knowing a little about its history, I think that readers who are aware of it approach this text differently. I found myself thinking "that's so Zora," and also imagining Hughes writing in certain parts. This play is very comical, full of irony, satire and even an unexpecected theme of brotherhood at the end.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Although it never tells us for sure, I think that Dave was white, Jim was black and Daisy must have been a mix because both desired her, and she desired them, but she could not decide which man to choose. (When Daisy tells Dave "I ain't done nothin' to you but treat you white," I wasn't sure if that was revealing his race, or if in her mind, she was treating him better than a black man should be treated). If Daisy had been white, keeping in mind the cultural context, it seems like a no-brainer. Dave would have been selected without question, because frankly, life would have been very rough for a white woman and a black man at this time. And yet, she could not have been very dark in her skin tone if Dave was white and not afraid to call her his wife.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We enter the scene in the middle of the controversy. Jim is kicked out of town, we don't find out why until the end. Apparently he hit Dave with a mule-bone when they fought over Daisy in town. As each man professes his undying love for Daisy, they promise ridiculous things in order to out-do each other and to win her affection. Daisy is a complete air-head, relying not on her love for either of them, but on their abilities to win her over with their words.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The ridiculous lengths the men go from promising Daisy trains and boats, to walking on water, make the ending even more ironic. After all of these lies Daisy chooses Jim. They discuss their future together and Daisy tells him that he could get a job doing outside labor. Abandoning his dedication to Daisy, Jim says that he simply cannot go around lifting anything heavier than his box. Daisy is very annoyed and decides that maybe Dave is the one for her. Dave tells her that he can barely carry his feet forward, much less work a job to support her. This really sets her off and she announces that there are plenty of men who would. This leaves Dave and Jim to salvage their friendship that was temporarily broken because of Daisy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The dynamic change in the story is just so abrupt and surprising it really is comical to engage in the dialogue and realize how quickly things can change. One moment Jim was alone and kicked out of town, the next Daisy decided to marry him, shortly after she leaves them both, Dave convinces Jim that he can return to town, and everything falls right back into place.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Works Cited&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hughes Langston and Hurston, Zora. "Mule-Bone." &lt;u&gt;The Portable Harlem Renaissance Reader&lt;/u&gt;. Ed. David Lewis. New York: 1995. 729-738.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bontemps, Arna. "Poetry." &lt;u&gt;The Portable Harlem Renaissance Reader&lt;/u&gt;. Ed. David Lewis. New York: 1995. 224-226.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2352899248949999696-7748176524278562469?l=squiguis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://squiguis.blogspot.com/feeds/7748176524278562469/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://squiguis.blogspot.com/2009/10/journal-21.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2352899248949999696/posts/default/7748176524278562469'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2352899248949999696/posts/default/7748176524278562469'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://squiguis.blogspot.com/2009/10/journal-21.html' title='Journal #21'/><author><name>Sarah Quigley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05678694788358443008</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1430/1324633116_6d6a45a5ba_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2352899248949999696.post-6767738102429720923</id><published>2009-10-18T14:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-18T14:50:15.618-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Journal #20</title><content type='html'>Zora autobiography "Dust Tracks on a Road" tells us a little about where she came from and how those experiences helped her get to other places. Growing up in Eatonville, Fl Hurston wrote stories about her roots and eventually made a name for herself through them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Zora is far from a typical writer, even by Harlem standards, she travelled a long road in order to establish her place among the famed Harlem Literati. She left home as a teenager and when she finally decided to get her high school degree she was already 26, so she lied about her birthday and remained 10 years older than the date on her school records. With a lot of help from her friends, Zora succeeded in her education. Provided with free room and board, given loans and votes of confidence from influential people, Zora attended Howard University (the black equivalent of Harvard), worked several jobs and wrote many wonderful stories and poems.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She was offered a job as a manicurist at an all white barbershop and established many important connections with its patrons. One specific memory she recalls in her biography is when a black man asked for a haircut. The owners threw him out, even though they too were colored. Zora wanted him out as well because a black customer threatened the success of the shop, meaning her own welfare. It was only later thinking back that she questioned their actions. She had been only thinking of herself when that man walked in, but really her race was enforcing and implementing the Jim Crow laws that they should be resisting. She learned a lesson that day, people will think of themselves first, making sure that they can make a living before making any moves to benefit their race.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Zora's biggest influence at Howard was Dr. Lorenzo Dow. He inspired her to become an English teacher. Illness and insubstantial funds led her to drop out after 1 1/2 years. After she left Charles Johnson took her under her wing and published her story "Spunk." Later she travelled to New York, became Fannie Hurst's secretary and enrolled at Barnard as the first African American student in the college.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hurston was approached by an editor from the J.B. Lippincott Co, they were interested in publishing a book. She told them she was working on one (even though she did not have one word written for it at the time). She spent three months barely scraping a living until she finished "Jonah's Gourd Vine." Zora was infamous for her money troubles and sure enough when she completed her book she did not have the funds to type it. A friend who read her novel agreed to do her the favor after determining that they would surely publish the book. After it was typed Zora only had to send it to the publishing company, however she could not afford the postage. She was lent the money from another friend on the condition she pay it back. Once Zora needed a nickel to go downtown. She took it from a blind beggar on the street saying "I need this more than you do today," and headed on her way. She has no problem borrowing money from anyone. Luckily, she recieved a wire telling her that Lippencott wanted to publish the book and Hurston had her very first book under her belt.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hurston, Zora. "Dust Tracks on a Road." &lt;u&gt;The Portable Harlem Renaissance Reader&lt;/u&gt;. Ed. David Lewis. New York: 1995. 142-155.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2352899248949999696-6767738102429720923?l=squiguis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://squiguis.blogspot.com/feeds/6767738102429720923/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://squiguis.blogspot.com/2009/10/journal-20.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2352899248949999696/posts/default/6767738102429720923'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2352899248949999696/posts/default/6767738102429720923'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://squiguis.blogspot.com/2009/10/journal-20.html' title='Journal #20'/><author><name>Sarah Quigley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05678694788358443008</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1430/1324633116_6d6a45a5ba_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2352899248949999696.post-3375874638265326975</id><published>2009-10-17T16:28:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-25T09:11:07.711-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Journal #19</title><content type='html'>I was especially interested in reading the work of Zora Neal Hurston. I have been working on a biography of her for class and she seems like an amazingly outgoing, friendly and bizarre woman who won the affection of most of the most noble artists of the Renaissance. I was not disappointed when I finished "Drenched in Light."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I thought Isis was a phenomenal character, she had me laughing aloud numerous times in the short section. Zora has a flair and a hilarity that I have not seen so far in the literature of the renaissance, it was very refreshing to read Drenched In Light. The whole part about shaving grandma and then wearing grandma's table cloth as a dress is so funny, it is hard not to love the characters or the plot. I want to know more about the white couple, what is their story? Their instant attraction to Isis makes me think that they tried to have kids of their own and failed. The wife even says at the end "I want a little sunshine to soak into my soul. I need it." There is definitely some tragedy of her past and she tries to use Isis to forget it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why was grandma so easy to lend Isis to the white couple? Was she really so enamored by the 5 dollars that they gave her that she willingly gave her granddaughter to them for the night? Obviously things were different back then. People were more trusting. Kids were given free reign to run around and get into trouble. The childish innocence that dominates this piece is so endearing. This quality is something that the Harlem Renaissance lacks on the whole, that Zora Neal Hurston lends to the period.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Color Struck" really does strike the issues of skin tone, similarly to "The Blacker the Berry." Emma deals with an inferiority complex because her skin tone is very dark. She is so jealous of the mulattoes that she loses the love of her life in her crazy assumptions that he would leave her for someone of a lighter skin tone. At first she just appears as a jealous psycho, fearing any woman the John spoke to was a threat, but eventually it becomes evident that she only fears the mixed race women because she thinks that they are more attractive.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No matter what John tells her, she cannot get over her jealousy. He tells her "the blacker the berry, the sweeter the juice," but she pays no attention to his adoration. She is consumed in her jealousy of Effie, the mulatto woman who attended the cake walk with them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When twenty years pass and John returns to her in hopes that she will see that he has loved her all along. She returns his love, but her obsession with skin color prevents them from reconnecting. Her daughter, who is half white, is deathly ill when John returns. Why doesn't she go to the doctor? Why is she so afraid to leave her daughter in order to make her better? John begs and begs her to go and all she can think about is if he is going to leave her again. We aren't told details about the daughter, but it is strange that Emma would have born a child with a man of lighter color, knowing her jealousy issues. She is jealous of her own daughter, and she hates the color of her skin so much, she cannot imagine why anyone would think it beautiful. When the doctor finally arrives he admonishes her, why didn't she call sooner? She may have allowed her daughter to die by her stubbornness. She sees John giving her daughter water and comforting her and she slaps him, outraged thinking that he wants to be with her daughter because she is so fair. She has gone beyond the breaking point, the daughter is near death, and still she is 'color struck' and can think of nothing but those shades that separate her from her daughter. John leaves realizing that she never could get over her color issues.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Works Cited&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Hurston, Zora. "Drenched in Light." &lt;u&gt;The Portable Harlem Renaissance Reader&lt;/u&gt;. Ed. David Lewis. New York: 1995. 695-728.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hurston, Zora. "Color Struck."  &lt;u&gt;The Portable Harlem Renaissance Reader&lt;/u&gt;. Ed. David Lewis. New York: 1995. 695-728.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2352899248949999696-3375874638265326975?l=squiguis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://squiguis.blogspot.com/feeds/3375874638265326975/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://squiguis.blogspot.com/2009/10/journal-19.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2352899248949999696/posts/default/3375874638265326975'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2352899248949999696/posts/default/3375874638265326975'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://squiguis.blogspot.com/2009/10/journal-19.html' title='Journal #19'/><author><name>Sarah Quigley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05678694788358443008</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1430/1324633116_6d6a45a5ba_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2352899248949999696.post-6636837219594973678</id><published>2009-10-17T13:18:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-18T14:49:11.022-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Journal #18</title><content type='html'>Sterling Brown's poetry has a very different style and feel than the poetry I have read so far in the Harlem Renaissance Reader. She really uses the African slang in almost every word she writes. Her language seems similar to Zora Neale Hurston's in that regard.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Southern Road" is a very sad and almost spiteful poem that tells about the hardships of slavery. Every stanza is repeated, and I'm not really sure why she wrote it that way. If I were to guess I would say that she repeats the lines to signify a slave's life and repetition that their lives consisted of. Day in and day out, swinging that hammer, a hard life, but also dull and monotonous. The lines that I found most significant were "Double shackled-hunh, guard behin; Ball and chain bebby on my min'."  The image of chains is very vivid, you can almost hear the clang and although very few readers could ever empathize with the horrible life of slavery, she lets you live it in her brief poem.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was kind of disturbed by the poem "Frankie and Johnny." The story of the white girl's love afair with the black slave is always a sad tale. I noticed that Frankie is almost demonized in the story, as if her behavior was all her own fault as well as her love affair with Johnny. She was beaten and treated horribly by her family, obviously her life could not have compared to Johnny's. They knew their actions would have to lead them down a very tragic path, and so it did. Sterling's words are graphic and she leaves out few details. This is usually the sign of a great poet, unafraid to speak the truth, but it doesn't make the poem any less morose. If she had told this story in a different way, that did not include any visuals of Johnny's death, would it have made the same impact? Would we be reading this poem in class if it did not have the shock value that it does?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Ma Rainey" feels like more of a song to me than a poem. There is a definite rhythm to it even though the poem is seperated in sections. I'm not sure why it is arranged that way, but I think it gives her words more flavor and keeps the reader interested with the different patterns instead of the same old thing. "Ma Rainey" makes you feel at home, like you know this woman and join in on the contagious laughs. So much different than her previous poems, "Ma Rainey" makes you feel like you belong.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Brown, Sterling. "Poetry." &lt;u&gt;The Portable Harlem Renaissance Reader&lt;/u&gt;. Ed. David Lewis. New York: 1995. 227-237.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2352899248949999696-6636837219594973678?l=squiguis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://squiguis.blogspot.com/feeds/6636837219594973678/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://squiguis.blogspot.com/2009/10/journal-18_17.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2352899248949999696/posts/default/6636837219594973678'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2352899248949999696/posts/default/6636837219594973678'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://squiguis.blogspot.com/2009/10/journal-18_17.html' title='Journal #18'/><author><name>Sarah Quigley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05678694788358443008</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1430/1324633116_6d6a45a5ba_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2352899248949999696.post-8616218618647548889</id><published>2009-10-15T20:11:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-17T16:21:17.287-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Journal #17</title><content type='html'>Schuyler is extremely cynical of the "Negro Arts" movement, which he believes is still yet to make an appearance in Harlem. He believes that with every piece considered 'Negro' there is some European, Anglo-Saxon influence. Negroes cannot shake off the influence of the white man. The artworks should not be created to please the white man, or the black man, they should be authentic representations of the culture if that is what they are going to label it. Negroes even during the Renaissance, did not live so differently than Caucasians. Most work in similar places, attended similar schools, practice the same religion, live in the same types of houses, drive the same types of cars and spend their time and money on the same types of entertainment. Beyond skin color, what separates the Negro from the Caucasian?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If art is an expression of identity, and the artist claims that it is his/her racial identity, how can they make that claim? Schuyler is obviously unhappy with the way black artists advertise their art as Negro. "How can the black American be expected to produce art and literature dissimilar to that of the white American" (98)? Schuyler at least acknowledges that coming up with artistic movements that are solely of the black culture is difficult when surrounded by white influence. He ends the piece by saying that only intelligent people reject this art, knowing the reasoning behind it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Works Cited&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Schuyler, George. "The Negro Art-Hokum." &lt;u&gt;The Portable Harlem Renaissance Reader&lt;/u&gt;. Ed. David Lewis. New York: 1995. 96-99.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2352899248949999696-8616218618647548889?l=squiguis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://squiguis.blogspot.com/feeds/8616218618647548889/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://squiguis.blogspot.com/2009/10/journal-18.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2352899248949999696/posts/default/8616218618647548889'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2352899248949999696/posts/default/8616218618647548889'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://squiguis.blogspot.com/2009/10/journal-18.html' title='Journal #17'/><author><name>Sarah Quigley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05678694788358443008</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1430/1324633116_6d6a45a5ba_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2352899248949999696.post-6058418575251465033</id><published>2009-10-14T19:58:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-14T20:16:24.161-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Journal #15</title><content type='html'>Cordelia the Crude&lt;br /&gt;Cordelia is one of those rebellious and lost teenage souls. She is willing to sell her body to strangers in order to make cash rather than to hold a decent job. She rejects her responsibilities and resents the fact that she probably plays the role of the mother of the household to her 6 younger siblings while her actual mother is at work. All Cordelia wants is to have a good time and to turn heads to get some attention. She rarely gets attention from her parents because they have 6 other kids to worry about, the only attention she seems to get is the negative kind which she is all too happy to give them. If her family had listened to her please to stay would her life have turned out differently? Would she have married John Stokes the pig farmer and live happily ever after as she seems to fantasize? Maybe. Maybe not. Her wild and reckless side would have probably emerged regardless of her location, however, she is bitter about the move to Harlem and upset that her parents don't seem to listen to her opinion or regard her needs at all in the decision. The Joneses were all labeled to have 'bad mixed bloff in em' according to Mrs. Stokes. Maybe Cordelia's behavior was less influenced by her environment and more influenced by her genes. Did her parents have a wild side?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As her methods for prostituting are described the details are kind of blurry. She goes to the theatre and waits for a man to approach her. Using her 'skills' to identify which ones were worth her time, she made her selections. The narration that started out as 3rd person becomes 1st person as we witness this transaction through the eyes of one of her 'customers.' As they kiss and flirt their way to her house he decides not to go through with it. Giving her 2 dollars he takes his leave. When they run into each other months later, even in her drunken state she soberly recognizes him. "The guy who gimme ma' firs' two bucks..." Is that really all he is to her? I think that he broke some of her confidence when he rejected her and she may even have been insulted that he gave her money. She could have been looking for something more than that, she realized that he was different than most men. She puts on an emotionless facade and tries to come off to her friends as if she didn't care about him, only about his money.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Works Cited&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Thurman, Wallace. "Cordelia the Crude." &lt;u&gt;The Portable Harlem Renaissance Reader&lt;/u&gt;. Ed. David Lewis. New York: 1995. 629-633.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2352899248949999696-6058418575251465033?l=squiguis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://squiguis.blogspot.com/feeds/6058418575251465033/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://squiguis.blogspot.com/2009/10/journal-15.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2352899248949999696/posts/default/6058418575251465033'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2352899248949999696/posts/default/6058418575251465033'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://squiguis.blogspot.com/2009/10/journal-15.html' title='Journal #15'/><author><name>Sarah Quigley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05678694788358443008</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1430/1324633116_6d6a45a5ba_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2352899248949999696.post-1714372307079975069</id><published>2009-10-12T16:27:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-14T09:13:57.186-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Journal #14</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;Alex is a very frustrated young boy who's thoughts are being told exactly as how he thinks them through a 3rd person narrator. Readers experience the death of Alex's father's through the broken and fragmented pieces of his thoughts. He is angry that other people show more grief during the funeral than he shows, they don't have the right to be as sad or even to cry unless he cries himself. His sadness turns to angry tears as he witnesses these people grieve. He gets even more angry when he is compared to his father because he knows that he is not like him and he is bitter about that too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"A fine feeling that... to be misunderstood... it made him feel tragic and great" (574) Alex is always misunderstood, even by himself as he cannot chose a profession or even what sexuality he is. He is constantly conflicted and attempting to figure out his own voice among the many brilliant ones that surround him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;Alex felt the music within his soul, it helped him to see colors and to feel them. I found it interesting that this story was not about crossing racial boundaries but crossing the boundaries of sexuality. The images of red lilies seem to arise constantly, symbolizing his desire for a woman (Melva). The black poppies symbolize his desires for men (Adrian aka Beauty). He is confused, he has no idea what he really wants. His thoughts are all jumbled together almost as if he enters in and out of consciousness. The blue smoke is ever present in this short story, leading me to think that he is doing some type of drugs beyond cigarettes. He finally accepts in the end that he can love men and women, and not be ashamed of that. This does make me question how homosexuality was viewed during the Harlem Renaissance. Was it accepted as long as the couples were of the same race? What did they think was more important, racial values or sexual preferences? Today, I would say sexuality is more of a hot topic of discussion as compared to inter-racial couples.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;"Song" by Gwendolyn Bennet is both uplifting and depressing. I see a girl speaking the words at the beginning, with no recollection of the terrible history of her race, only optimistic words of sweetness, mirth and dark lips. But then a darker side follows. I see a woman who has known deep pain and heavy burdens, a woman who wants to remember the old forgotten bano songs. She is "the cry of a soul." The past weighs down on her to "make my singing sad." She represents the praying slave. The girl represents the jazz band after.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The poem kind of sounds like what white people back then thought of black people. During the Harlem Renaissance  associated black people with merely slavery and jazz. Those who do not delve deeper can never understand the song.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hatred stings the reader, although we don't know who it is directed towards we can take a guess. Hating has become a "game played with cool hands" which means that finally after years of oppression black people can stand up and retaliate, after decades of losing the game they can not have a shot. I think the most important part of the poem is "Memory will lay its hands upon your breast and you will understand my hatred." As though memory itself is a living thing, a beast that has been captivated and finally freed to seek its revenge. This is a very powerful poem that calls out the enemy and says "you will pay!" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Works Cited&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Nugent, Richard. "Smoke, Lilies and Jade." &lt;u&gt;The Portable Harlem Renaissance Reader&lt;/u&gt;. Ed. David Lewis. New York: 1995. 569-583.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bennet, Gwendolyn. "Poems." &lt;u&gt;The Portable Harlem Renaissance Reader&lt;/u&gt;. Ed. David Lewis. New York: 1995. 221-223.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2352899248949999696-1714372307079975069?l=squiguis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://squiguis.blogspot.com/feeds/1714372307079975069/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://squiguis.blogspot.com/2009/10/journal-14.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2352899248949999696/posts/default/1714372307079975069'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2352899248949999696/posts/default/1714372307079975069'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://squiguis.blogspot.com/2009/10/journal-14.html' title='Journal #14'/><author><name>Sarah Quigley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05678694788358443008</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1430/1324633116_6d6a45a5ba_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2352899248949999696.post-2473780360743451737</id><published>2009-10-06T14:16:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-06T15:07:46.995-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Journal #13</title><content type='html'>Gwendolyn Bennet&lt;br /&gt;A woman of many talents, she was a poet, a writer, an artists, a widow, a mother, a teacher and even an antique salewoman. She was the first black person elected to the school's honor society. She used her talents to write for the Crisis, and eventually becaome the director of the Harlem arts center. She was constantly being investigated for Communist activity and was eventually let go because of these suspicions. She became a teacher after she was let go. She wrote "Wedding Day," which was one of our class readings. She used her life experiences to become an authentic writer. Wedding Day opens up a discourse, if Paul could marry a white woman, isn’t he capable of getting over his prejudice of white people? Paul sought acceptance, and he became willing to sacrifice his stubborn prejudice for her. All it takes is love to unravel a lifetime of hate.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Langston Hughes&lt;br /&gt;Bennet and Hughes shared a lot of similarities. Born in 1902, his parents split up shortly afterwards. They moved a lot and his childhood was very unstable. His relationship with his grandmother was very important to him and she inspired him. He wrote for the Crisis (along with Bennet) and attended Columbia University (also like Bennet) and decided to leave. He quit school altogether, he wanted to get away from the US, visiting Africa and experiencing first hand the effects of Colonialism in Africa which would later influence his writing. He wrote and revised the Weary Blues, one of his most famous poems. When he finally returns to America and works as a busboy. When Vachel Lindsay ate there he read his poems and was “discovered” by Lindsay. Both writers felt that it was important to write about the real “black experience.” He and Zora Neale Hurston worked on a play together, but had a falling out when they argued over ownership of the work.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dorothy West&lt;br /&gt;Encouraged by Jackie Kennedy to finish her novel the Wedding. She was 88 years old when she finished that novel. Oprah Winfrey supported her efforts and Halle Berry starred in the movie. She died in the same year that it was published.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2352899248949999696-2473780360743451737?l=squiguis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://squiguis.blogspot.com/feeds/2473780360743451737/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://squiguis.blogspot.com/2009/10/journal-13.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2352899248949999696/posts/default/2473780360743451737'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2352899248949999696/posts/default/2473780360743451737'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://squiguis.blogspot.com/2009/10/journal-13.html' title='Journal #13'/><author><name>Sarah Quigley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05678694788358443008</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1430/1324633116_6d6a45a5ba_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2352899248949999696.post-2604866531299862687</id><published>2009-10-03T14:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-03T14:56:13.609-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Journal #12</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;The Wedding Day&lt;/span&gt; is a story that gives hope and then takes it away. Paul was about as racist as they come. He looked forward to having the chance to beat up on those "white American crackers." All they had to do was utter the 'nigger' and he would unleash his fury and hatred. Paul's feelings were known throughout the bars in France that he frequented. Once he shot two white men and was sentenced to jail. He was released to fight in the war, but during all of these years he had not changed his attitude and malice still filled his heart.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Paul was so full of hatred that he couldn't even entertain the idea of being with a woman. The thought of someone whispering sweetly into his ear did not sound appetizing in the least. One day he is caught completely off his guard when he meets Mary. She is a white woman, lost and hungry, who claims to have not qualms against black people. Paul's first reaction is to walk away, can't trust Americans or women, and she was both! Yet there was something about her urgent pleading that made him want to help her. Since then they became a couple. Even though she had made a lot of mistakes in the past, Paul was willing to look past her years of prostitution.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They were to be married that day. No one could believe that the Paul they knew was about to wed a white woman. It went against everything that he stood for. But this story shows that anyone can change, racisim is not something that we are born with, it can be thrown away. It is possible to open your heart to someone, to trust. Paul wakes up on his wedding day to a letter, the content is not revealed until the end as he boards a subway. He is slightly delusional, convincing himself that a beautiful day will protect the marriage when all along he knew that she had left him. She just couldn't do it, we do not know the real reason. I suspect it was because she knew that she couldn't settle down, she wasn't the type. She knew she wouldn't make Paul happy and he would not have been able to make her happy either. Race could have had something to do with it, or it could have played no part at all. But Paul's heart was broken, and with that he may have come to adapt his old ways and continue to hate.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Typewriter reminded me of the last chapters of Quicksand. Like Helga, this janitor was stuck in a job, a family and a life that he realized he had no desire to have. He wanted an escape from all of the nagging and the responsibilities. When his daughter Millie needs a typewriter to acquire the skills for a job, he concedes to buy her one. At first he loathed the terrible clacking. But then he began to use it as a means of escape. Living vicariously through the names of 'big time' lawyers he could imagine that he was something more than just a janitor. He put all of himself into his letters, imagining multi-million dollar business deals and accomplishing important transactions that would impact the nation. He grew to love the typewriter, and used Millie as a means for his fantasies.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When Millie gets the job that she wants, she sells the typewriter. Her father is stunned at it's disappearence and realizes that she has sold it. His outlet to his dream is gone, and he is left with the same life without accomplishment. Not willing to continue his dismal existence and unable to appreciate what he does have in life, his life ends. Why can't he appreciate what he has? Did he ever really try to make something of himself or did he resign to the life of a husband and a father thinking that he would never be able to achieve anything?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Works Cited&lt;br /&gt;Bennet, Gwendolyn. "Wedding Day." &lt;u&gt;The Portable Harlem Renaissance Reader&lt;/u&gt;. Ed. David Lewis. New York: 1995. 363-369.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;West, Dorothy. "The Typewriter." &lt;u&gt;The Portable Harlem Renaissance Reader&lt;/u&gt;. Ed. David Lewis. New York: 1995. 501-509.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2352899248949999696-2604866531299862687?l=squiguis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://squiguis.blogspot.com/feeds/2604866531299862687/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://squiguis.blogspot.com/2009/10/journal-12.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2352899248949999696/posts/default/2604866531299862687'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2352899248949999696/posts/default/2604866531299862687'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://squiguis.blogspot.com/2009/10/journal-12.html' title='Journal #12'/><author><name>Sarah Quigley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05678694788358443008</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1430/1324633116_6d6a45a5ba_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2352899248949999696.post-4835703084591978659</id><published>2009-10-03T13:52:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-03T14:56:56.857-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Journal #11</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Luani of the Jungles&lt;/span&gt; by Langston Hughes&lt;br /&gt;Poets share an intellectual bond that non-poets cannot fully grasp. The poet in this story is comfortable telling another poet about his love. Luani was a natural, wild beauty from an African tribe. The poet was a white Frenchmen. When they met they were fascinated with each other. This fascination quickly grew to obsession when he accompanies her to her homeland. "The jungle will take you and you'll stay there forever," she warns him. She is his jungle, as he never wants to leave.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He becomes transfixed by Luani and succumbs to her every wish. When he accompanies her to her village in the junfle hecannot understand her language or lifestyle. She takes off her European languages as she does her European clothes. She is multi-lingual and multi-cultured with the power to be able to transition between the two very different worlds that her lovers cannot possibly do. The Frenchmen represents the side of her that is refined, elegant and materialistic. He is the world of structure and order. But Awa Unabo, the chief's son, is a part of her first culture and language. Though she is fascinated by the poet, she cannot turn her back on her home or Ana Unabo because she is bonded with them. The poet cannot reason with himself or get over his attraction to her. She is every poem he writes and the torturous reminder that he cannot have her. Thus, he destroys his poems, for they are only bitter reminders of his loss. Neither can truly fit in to the other's life due to race and cultural differences. Did Luani know that she would never end up with him? Or did she think that she could possibly become a part of his world? Did she think that he would fit in to her own tribe? What might have happened if she had stayed with him?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Works Cited&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hughes, Langston. "Luami of the Jungle." &lt;u&gt;The Portable Harlem Renaissance Reader&lt;/u&gt;. Ed. David Lewis. New York: 1995. 585-627.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2352899248949999696-4835703084591978659?l=squiguis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://squiguis.blogspot.com/feeds/4835703084591978659/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://squiguis.blogspot.com/2009/10/journal-11.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2352899248949999696/posts/default/4835703084591978659'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2352899248949999696/posts/default/4835703084591978659'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://squiguis.blogspot.com/2009/10/journal-11.html' title='Journal #11'/><author><name>Sarah Quigley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05678694788358443008</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1430/1324633116_6d6a45a5ba_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2352899248949999696.post-3638481363416819566</id><published>2009-09-28T11:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-28T15:49:28.851-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Journal #10</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;This short excerpt tells very little about what is going on in the story, yet even this small slice provides the background of a very prejudiced setting and a time when blacks were so ill-regarded whites did not even want to look at them. The stereotypes are very prominent as the teacher refuses to believe that Angela could be anything but white. "She dresses in better taste than anyone in the room," according to Mr. Shields a black girl would not be able to do that. The model refuses to pose for a black girl, even though she does not even look black, knowing that she has African American blood angers the model.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When Mr. Shields discusses the situation with his wife they focus not on the rudeness and barbaric attitude of the model, but instead on the more pressing matter of Angela's racial profile. You can be a perfectly nice, smart student, yet if you were suspected to be anything other than Caucasian you are judged very harshly. The model, who's attitude was completely atrocious receives none of the scorn that a black person would in those days. It is outrageous. When Angela is questioned by Mr. Shields about her race, she says "Of course I never told you that I was coloured, why should I?" From this excerpt alone, we cannot determine Angela's race because that her response would be typical of a white or a black student. If she were white she of course would not contradict it by saying she was black. If she were black, she would surely not volunteer that information as well because she didn't want to be treated differently. As  a black girl she may not even be allowed to attend school. If Mr.Shields wondered why she did not say anything, he should know better.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The fact that Angela did not get worried or upset when the model came in makes me think that she is white, she would have feared the model exposing her true identity if she was black. Her association with black people is also well known, as she proudly brings in a picture of Hetty Daniels, a black woman who works for their family. Esther (the model) clearly hates Angela, possibly enough to make up a lie, and definitely enough to expose her if it is true. Why is her race such a big deal if it's not even noticable? Would she get kicked out of school? Would her friends disown her is it is true? There is a lot of information the reader needs to know to come to conclusions.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Being the only black person in an all white school is no picnic. "The Blacker the Berry," shows us another side to being black. Emma Lou's greatest wish is to have lighter skin. She tries everything she can think of to be less dark, because the darker you are the more you are judged. In the first paragraph Emma refers to her skin as both 'luscious' and 'a curse.' Obviously it is very hard for her to accept her own skin tone because she is surrounded by white people, or less dark people. Even her mother is white. Her mother tried to prepare her, to warn her that life would be especially difficult because not only was she black, she was also a girl. Black boys can 'get along' alright, but it's even harder to be accepted as a black girl.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When Emma Lou graduates she can't appreciate her accomplishment, she doesn't think about her diploma, she doesn't even go to recieve it when they first call her name. Why isn't she proud of graduating? Because she is only focusing on the fact that she is the only black student in her school and she is wearing a white graduation gown which makes her stick out even more against her dark skin. She feels all eyes on her and is so self conscious she can only see graduation as a release.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Even her friend Alva is ashamed to be seen with her. He never let her do anything with his friends because he was afraid of being teased. However, when he invites her to a party she cannot wait to come. The attendants are not his real, white, friends but other African Americans. When the guests discuss skin color Emma Lou is silenced. According to some of the guests, the lighter you skin tone, the more pure you are. So if you are very dark in color, you will be judged more harshly as a Negro than mulattos and other African Americans who are not quite so dark. As if Emma Lou wasn't self conscious enough! How can people who are prejudiced for their skin color be prejudiced at others of their race just because they are darker? It's a dreaded cycle, people who get bullied or pushed around often want to get out their anger and resentment on weaker individuals. This could be the reason that the lighter skinned African Americans felt fine with judging people who are darker. So ingrained was the white prejudice, that even the black people believed that they were lesser.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Works Cited&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Fauset, Jessie. "From Plum Bun." &lt;u&gt;The Portable Harlem Renaissance Reader&lt;/u&gt;. Ed. David Lewis. New York: 1995. 348-350.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Works Cited&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Thurman, Wallace. "The Blacker the Berry." &lt;u&gt;The Portable Harlem Renaissance Reader&lt;/u&gt;. Ed. David Lewis. New York: 1995. 636-649.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2352899248949999696-3638481363416819566?l=squiguis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://squiguis.blogspot.com/feeds/3638481363416819566/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://squiguis.blogspot.com/2009/09/journal-10.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2352899248949999696/posts/default/3638481363416819566'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2352899248949999696/posts/default/3638481363416819566'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://squiguis.blogspot.com/2009/09/journal-10.html' title='Journal #10'/><author><name>Sarah Quigley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05678694788358443008</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1430/1324633116_6d6a45a5ba_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2352899248949999696.post-598831496448091399</id><published>2009-09-26T16:21:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-28T11:09:51.494-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Journal #9</title><content type='html'>Jean Toomer's work is said to be heavily influenced by Sherwood Anderson and Waldo Frank, well known writers during the Harlem Renaissance. Song of the Son makes you think of the sun almost every word is about nature. Red soil, sweet-gum trees, velvet pines all create a peaceful, serene picture. The images of nature are a disctraction from the poem's real purpose, to tell the tale of the sons that slave away in this nature so unnaturally forced. The sun has set, but the sons have not, their work is never done. Compared  to dark purple plums, negro slaves are squeezed and bursting from their toil.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Georgia Dusk was almost eerie. This poem tells of "a feast of men and moon and barking hounds, blood-hot eyes and blue ghosts or trees." I think that this poem is recalling what Africa used to be as it mentions high priets, ostriches and a juju-man. The singers whisper memories and the ghosts of a society before they were made slaves.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Blue Meridian makes connections with Toomer's other poems. Once again nature is prevelant, "the blood of earth and the blood of man course swifter and rejoice when we spiritualize." Toomer brings out that man is connected with the earth through his words. Although it is a burden to sustain it, it in turn sustains us. The people of this poem have given up hope. Toomer speaks of an "inverted Christ, a moulting Thunderbird" as they wait for a new God (a God that is more merciful and benovelent.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I question the lines "We must keep keep keep the watermelon." What exactly does that mean? Watermelon is a common stereotypicall African American favorite, maybe the reason is that it represented something more important. In this poem it seems as one of the last things that these brothers can hold onto, and they intend to protect it at great costs. One thing is for sure, the victims of this poem are waiting and hoping for a change. "A new people. For the joining of men to men and man to God."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cullen's poetry fits in with the stereotypical works of the Harlem Renaissance full of sexual passion, psychic woe and jungles.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;For A Lady I Know&lt;/span&gt; is short and to the point. I'm sure that a lot of people could relate to that frustration even after slavery. I think the importance of this poem is that some people are incapable of changing or thinking differently. EVEN IN HEAVEN, the lady of the poem feels superior to black people.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Incident&lt;/span&gt; once again expresses the terrible frustrations and humiliation that negroes endured. We always remember the bad things that happen, they eat at us even if we've had a perfectly good day, week or month.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Heritage&lt;/span&gt; is more idealistic and dreamy than the other poems that focus on the life of a black man in America. Africa holds so much promise to Cullen, and therefore is more pleasurable to read. It is not so much about harsh reality than it is about what could have been. By the end of the poem his bitterness sets in as he implies that there is a fire kindling in his heart and soul, of anger that has not been unleashed. "Quench my prude and coold my blood...lest a hidden ember set, timber that I thought was wet."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I liked &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;To A Brown Boy&lt;/span&gt; because it forces readers to realize that whether you are black or white, after you're gone color does not matter. "Men will not ask if that earth was white flesh once or brown."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All of Cullen's poems seem to ring with bitterness and none fail to mention the persecution that he as a black man has suffered.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Works Cited&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Toomer, Jane. "Poetry." &lt;u&gt;The Portable Harlem Renaissance Reader&lt;/u&gt;. Ed. David Lewis. New York: 1995. 301-307.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Works Cited&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Cullen, Countee. "Poetry." &lt;u&gt;The Portable Harlem Renaissance Reader&lt;/u&gt;. Ed. David Lewis. New York: 1995. 242-251.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2352899248949999696-598831496448091399?l=squiguis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://squiguis.blogspot.com/feeds/598831496448091399/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://squiguis.blogspot.com/2009/09/journal-9.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2352899248949999696/posts/default/598831496448091399'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2352899248949999696/posts/default/598831496448091399'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://squiguis.blogspot.com/2009/09/journal-9.html' title='Journal #9'/><author><name>Sarah Quigley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05678694788358443008</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1430/1324633116_6d6a45a5ba_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2352899248949999696.post-2561302842421199997</id><published>2009-09-25T10:27:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-25T10:27:40.125-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Journal #8</title><content type='html'>"Jazz at Home" offers an interesting synopsis of the creation of jazz. It's name originated with Jasbo Brown, a renown musician during the early sensation contributed to turning what started out as ragtime into a musical genre of its own. Details about other famous jazz musicians as well as dances that thrived during that era are discussed briefly. There is the question of what group of people claim this legacy of music. Is it to be considered a Negro artform or something that is Contemporary American? In my opinion, a genre cannot belong to one racial group. Music is a gift that should be shared from culture to culture to create a connection and an understanding between them. We learn from each other, take an idea from someone else and put our own creative spin on it. Jazz is no exception, it may have begun in Harlem but it belongs to everyone who has a love and appreciation for it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"The Closing Door" tells the story of the terrible life that the south had to offer African Americans. Agnes is fragile with a heart of gold. She waits and waits to hear news of Bob until she finally receives a telegram. "Bob died suddenly. Under no circumstances come. Father." I think that the purpose of this message was to give the family some closure without knowing the horrible details of Bob's death. It was meant to help them forget, so that they would never know what Bob suffered. Agnes's brother Joe finally arrives and provides some news from the real world that Agnes had not been a part of in a long time. For example, he says he is hungry from travelling in the Jim Crow cars and Agnes replies she had forgotten about them and asks if things are really still as bad as they were. Joe has not been home in a long time and realizes that Agnes is pregnant so he takes careful precautions that she does not overhear Bob's fate. As Bob, Jim and Lucy discuss the true nature of Bob's death which was the result of a dispute with white men. Bob refused to get off the sidewalk to please a white man. "An orderly mob in an orderly manner," the papers said broke into the jail and slung Bob to a tree, and there he still hangs, Joe said. The brutality of the murder is cruel and disgusting enough to make anyone sick. Lucy lost her composure and Agnes sees her and faints as the reality sinks in. When Agnes wakes she says she is an instrument of child birth, so that orderly mobs on Sunday mornings can hunt her colored children. It seems an inescapable fate, North or South brutality, not mercy was shown to African Americans.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When Agnes gives birth to her child she cannot appreciate the life she has given, only the death that most assuredly followed her child. Should she let him grow up in this cruel world only to die at the hands of lynchers? She cannot face the facts so she refuses to see the baby. She pretends that she has no child and Lucy takes care of the baby instead. Agnes does not want to get too attatched to the child because she knows that death is waiting for both of them. She is repulsed by her own baby's cooing and his smiles because she can only think about how rarely he will have this ignorant happiness. Finally, Agnes knows what she has to do to save her child. She smothers him to death, in her mind, protecting him from the horrible reality that she must face of torture and loss.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The closing door represents the finality of death in this story. The door notably closes when the telegram comes informing of Bob's death. It also closes when Joe arrives to tell them the excruciating details. The door closes after Agnes sneaks in to suffocate her child and it closes one final time when Agnes Milton was no more.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Works Cited&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Works Cited&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Grimke, Angelina. "The Closing Door." &lt;u&gt;The Portable Harlem Renaissance Reader&lt;/u&gt;. Ed. David Lewis. New York: 1995. 486-500.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Works Cited&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Rogers, Joel. "Jazz At Home." &lt;u&gt;The Portable Harlem Renaissance Reader&lt;/u&gt;. Ed. David Lewis. New York: 1995. 52-57.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2352899248949999696-2561302842421199997?l=squiguis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://squiguis.blogspot.com/feeds/2561302842421199997/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://squiguis.blogspot.com/2009/09/journal-8_25.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2352899248949999696/posts/default/2561302842421199997'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2352899248949999696/posts/default/2561302842421199997'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://squiguis.blogspot.com/2009/09/journal-8_25.html' title='Journal #8'/><author><name>Sarah Quigley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05678694788358443008</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1430/1324633116_6d6a45a5ba_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2352899248949999696.post-8825695769228610222</id><published>2009-09-22T21:16:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-24T09:21:03.674-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Journal #7</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal"  style="text-indent: 0.5in;font-family:georgia;"&gt;The Migration presents the dilemma that many African Americans dealt with as they gained their freedom from slavery, but must now adapt to American society as a free race. Despite family connections, staying in the south was unappealing because racial discrimination was extremely prevalent and it was dangerous to live there. &lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;The white southerners planned to “keep the Negroes down,” and they did so in any way they could think of. Negroes were constantly humiliated and talked down to. Segregation in schools obviously favored the whites, as the black children only received a fourth of the funding that white children got. On the other hand, the north could at least offer political freedom, however moving during those times was a huge risk because jobs were not guaranteed. Chicago became a popular place for African Americans to migrate to because it was more of a middle ground, easy to find work and not too far from home for many people. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" face="georgia" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"&gt;There is Confusion was very confusing. Many characters appeared in this slice of the play and complicated relationships and past events were evident, but exactly what happened is hard to determine from this one scene. Philip dies from war injuries, but not before he is reunited with the love of his life. His sister played a crucial role in keeping them apart but she apologizes for her wrongdoings. Joanna finds happiness in the simple things in life after her success as a singer.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; font-family: georgia;"&gt;Slavery has thrown the Byes into confusion. Old man Meriwether wishes to include his illegitimate son in his will, but Peter insists that Meriwether reveal the truth and claim his son. When Meriwether refuses Peter also refuses to accept any offerings to them on his son’s behalf. He has an obvious pride in refusing handouts from these white people that have so wronged them. Meriwether’s behavior seems arrogant as he expects the family to take his gifts without condition, he does not realize that black people can have pride. No one involved is particularly keen that white and black blood runs in the young Meriwether’s veins. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; font-family: georgia;"&gt;The Fire in the Flint is the 2nd novel written during the Harlem Renaissance. Kenneth Harper is a struggling, young negro physician in a small Georgia town. Most people refuse to go to him because “he’s just a negro” and everyone knows that white doctors are better than black ones. Kenneth was very aware of the fact that democracy stops at the color line and he saw his race as a societal handicap. Dr. Williams, the only other negro doctor was old and set in his ways and did not help pave the way for young Kenneth to start his practice. When Kenneth’s mother insists he check on Mrs. Bradley though she only trusted white doctors. Dr. Bennet, her white doctor, claimed she simply had a stomach ache, but Kenneth knew immediately that she was suffering from appendicitis, despite her insistence that she did not have her appendix. After arguing with another white physician to give her anesthesia, Kenneth finally convinced him to help out with the surgery and he was able to operate. Kenneth saved Mrs. Bradley’s life and built his firm up from her wonderful reviews. &lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Bennet, the white doctor, refused to give Kenneth credit for his diagnosis or even to admit that he was wrong about the stomach ache. The idea of white superiority is evident in this story. The arrogance of those who put down the black race is actually ignorance. I think the lesson here is that whites needed to accept that blacks were just as capable of practicing medicine or doing anything else. Stubbornness can threaten your life, as Mrs. Bradley learned. She took a chance on the black doctor and he saved her life while the white doctor would have let her die.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; font-family: georgia; text-align: center;"&gt;Works Cited&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;Faucet,  Jessie. "There is Confusion." &lt;u&gt;The Portable Harlem Renaissance Reader&lt;/u&gt;. Ed. David Lewis. New York: 1995. 340-348.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;White, Walter. "The Fire and the Flint." &lt;u&gt;The Portable Harlem Renaissance Reader&lt;/u&gt;. Ed. David Lewis. New York: 1995. 351-362.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Woodsen, Carter. "The Migration of the Talented Tenth." &lt;u&gt;The Portable Harlem Renaissance Reader&lt;/u&gt;. Ed. David Lewis. New York: 1995. 6-9.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2352899248949999696-8825695769228610222?l=squiguis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://squiguis.blogspot.com/feeds/8825695769228610222/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://squiguis.blogspot.com/2009/09/journal-7.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2352899248949999696/posts/default/8825695769228610222'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2352899248949999696/posts/default/8825695769228610222'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://squiguis.blogspot.com/2009/09/journal-7.html' title='Journal #7'/><author><name>Sarah Quigley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05678694788358443008</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1430/1324633116_6d6a45a5ba_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2352899248949999696.post-6112591509881900143</id><published>2009-09-13T14:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-22T21:12:02.752-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='w'/><title type='text'>Journal #6</title><content type='html'>Among the drunken conversation throughout this piece McKay's "Home to Harlem" tells the story of the black men who don't necessarily feel the connection with their race that is expected of them. Ray is too smart for his own good, as he can not relate to the other Negroes. Very much related to "Passing," this piece is about kinsmenship or the lack there of. Just as Clare cannot embrace her heritage, neither can Ray admit to his roots. It's more than the lack of education, the ignorance and the bad language, what he truly detests is the level of society reserved for African Americans. The prejudice and oppression makes him sick to his stomach just thinking about it. He longs to have the confidence of a white person, to be free to speak his mind and be able to read a book without being teased or mocked. Ray knows that he cannot willingly belong to a race that is so far down on the food chain. He refuses to be one link in the chains of bondage that is black America. To Ray, being white is a passport to glory. He feels like black swine being hunted by the white canaille. Not all negroes are the same.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Both men seem to be searching for something, or someone to make their lives complete. This is how they justify constantly travelling for work and frequenting shady places. Though they both might want to settle down, they can't until they find their place in the world. Ray suffers from a violent stroke when he takes drugs to try and flee his environment mentally since he seems to be incapable of doing so physically. This is where I see a relation between Ray and the character of Will from Good Will Hunting. Both characters know that they are above the work and the people that they surround themselves with, but for some reason cannot get the guts to pick up and leave. I think that in Ray's case he feels that the color of his skin sets him up for failure.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In class you asked: Do Jake and Ray reject society's institutions or are they outside of them?&lt;br /&gt;I think that Ray is outside of society's institutions while Jake rejects them. Ray is educated, from Haiti and is familiar with other cultures. He has seen how other societies function, and this one in particular is not his native culture. As for Jake, he has always been a part of this society, and he wishes that he is not.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Works Cited&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;McKay, Claude. "From Home to Harlem." &lt;u&gt;The Portable Harlem Renaissance Reader&lt;/u&gt;. Ed. David Lewis. New York: 1995. 371-388.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2352899248949999696-6112591509881900143?l=squiguis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://squiguis.blogspot.com/feeds/6112591509881900143/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://squiguis.blogspot.com/2009/09/journal-6.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2352899248949999696/posts/default/6112591509881900143'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2352899248949999696/posts/default/6112591509881900143'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://squiguis.blogspot.com/2009/09/journal-6.html' title='Journal #6'/><author><name>Sarah Quigley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05678694788358443008</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1430/1324633116_6d6a45a5ba_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2352899248949999696.post-8579526921734399111</id><published>2009-09-12T19:06:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-12T15:04:37.050-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Journal # 5</title><content type='html'>Larsen's "Passing" focused on the how African Americans chose to cope with racial oppression in the Harlem Renaissance. At first I did not understand what Irene meant by "passing." When she first describes it she talks about Christianity and being saved so I thought that passing might have meant embracing the lord into one's life. As Clare kept prodding Irene about passing and suggested that she and her friends might be able to pull it off as she had done I realized that passing actually meant converting from the being black to being white. Clare's life is a sham, her marriage is a sham because she is hiding her race and therefore her identity in order to attain status, security and wealth. But what kind of security did she really attain? And at what cost? She was forced to give up everything and to live a lie in order to hold on to her marriage.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Irene's dislike towards Clare is complex, because she obviously admires her on some level, yet I think that she could never accept Clare because Clare rejects the heritage that the two women share. Irene also envies Clare's beauty and confidence, this envy turns to suspicion when her husband reveals that he invited Clare to a party. I can not understand why Clare would even go to such a party, I don't understand how all of the people can treat her like one of them when she has clearly rejected their nationality. Irene is the only one that we know dislikes her, and that dislike became so strong that she was driven to reveal Clare's true identity to her husband. John Bellow was able to realize his situation, that his wife was not who he thought she was. When he confronts her at the party alot of tension arises. Did Clare fall through the window? No. When she was confronted by her husband for being a Negro, she retained a confident smile, and Irene could not take it anymore. Maybe she didn't truly mean to do it, but I think she knew exactly what she was doing when she pushed Clare. Brian's reaction to Clare's death told Irene that there really was an affair going on between the two, and through her confused, bitter, anguish she is glad that the deed is done.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The conflicts surrounding this event are racial insecurity (by Clare), prejudice (by her husband) and jealousy (Irene). I thought this was a very interesting story, my favorite so far in the Reader.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Works Cited&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Larsen, Nella. "Passing." &lt;u&gt;The Portable Harlem Renaissance Reader&lt;/u&gt;. Ed. David Lewis. New York: 1995. 460-485.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2352899248949999696-8579526921734399111?l=squiguis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://squiguis.blogspot.com/feeds/8579526921734399111/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://squiguis.blogspot.com/2009/09/journal-5_12.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2352899248949999696/posts/default/8579526921734399111'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2352899248949999696/posts/default/8579526921734399111'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://squiguis.blogspot.com/2009/09/journal-5_12.html' title='Journal # 5'/><author><name>Sarah Quigley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05678694788358443008</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1430/1324633116_6d6a45a5ba_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2352899248949999696.post-6088521095470491270</id><published>2009-09-12T18:54:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-12T19:04:05.480-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Journal #4</title><content type='html'>&lt;p style="text-align: left; font-family: georgia;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;I am glad I waited to post on Paul Robeson until after yesterday's class because we actually got to witness some of his work as an actor. Now that I can put a face to this author and also can identify with the talent he possessed to play such important roles not only in O'Neill's plays but in the equal rights movement as a whole. When he speaks of his role as Emperor Jones he seems to identify with the character saying that he suffers as we all suffer, "re-living all the sins of his past-experiencing all the woes and wrongs of his people-throwing off one by one the layers of civilization until he retyrns to the primitive soil from which he (racially) came" (58). Robeson takes pride in his part in the play's success, although he has had his fair share of criticism. "All God's Chillun'' created a huge uproar and negative attention, until most of the opposition saw the play and walked away in tears from the dramatic plot. Robeson knows that there will always be critics, but he is above most of it because those who object most strenously knew nothin about the play and had no just cause to chastise it. His comments make me wonder what type of criticism he recieved for his roles, there most have undoubtedly been violent threats made during those particularly prejudiced times. Robeson could have done a lot of different things with his career, we learned in class about his wide range of talent, from being a star athlete to a law school student and also acting. True dedication to his work is evident in his recollections of the plays and his resistance to being silenced during such a dynamic era.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: left; font-family: georgia;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;In Garvey's "Africa for the Africans," I detected a lot of anger and frustration with the racial disupute. He covers a variety of topics so I will pick some specific areas to comment on. Garvey wants to break away from the America which holds forever the terrible past of African enslavement. He even agreed with some of the white supremicist groups that blacks did not belong in America. He sought to bring all of the African Americans back to Africa in order to start their own nationality. I think that Garvey's opinions are very strongly based on his experiences in the U.S. and understandably many African Americans during that time felt that they did not belong in America. I feel however that Garvey's "evacuation plan" was just giving up on all of the progress on racial equality that was happening at the time. The speech was meant to be motivational, he declares that it is time for the race to do something for themselves and that a great future is in store for them.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: center; font-family: georgia;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;Works Cited&lt;/p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;  Garvey,  Marcus. "Liberty Hall Emancipation Day Speech." &lt;/span&gt;&lt;u style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;The Portable Harlem Renaissance Reader&lt;/u&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;. Ed. David Lewis. New York: 1995. 17-28.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p style="font-family: georgia;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;Robeson, Paul. "Reflection On O'Neill's Plays." &lt;u&gt;The Portable Harlem Renaissance Reader&lt;/u&gt;. Ed. David Lewis. New York: 1995. 58-60.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="font-family: lucida grande;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="font-family: lucida grande;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="font-family: lucida grande;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2352899248949999696-6088521095470491270?l=squiguis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://squiguis.blogspot.com/feeds/6088521095470491270/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://squiguis.blogspot.com/2009/09/i-am-glad-i-waited-to-post-on-paul.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2352899248949999696/posts/default/6088521095470491270'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2352899248949999696/posts/default/6088521095470491270'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://squiguis.blogspot.com/2009/09/i-am-glad-i-waited-to-post-on-paul.html' title='Journal #4'/><author><name>Sarah Quigley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05678694788358443008</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1430/1324633116_6d6a45a5ba_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2352899248949999696.post-5707931070772988355</id><published>2009-09-10T16:21:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-10T16:22:01.883-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Journal #3</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;"I came to tell you brother, that white faces are petals of roses. That dark faces are petals of dusk. That I am going out and gather petals" (318).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Toomer begins her story with a beautiful woman named Karintha. Karintha has learned to control men and they beg to be at her beck and call. She has married many times and has had a child. Yet, exposed to this lifestyle she knows that "men do not know that the soul od her was a growing thing ripened to soon. She may be stunningly beautiful, but she lost her virginity too soon as a fruit that was picked before it was ripe. She knows that she is not truly living, just surviving and watching men throw themselves at her in the desperate, yet impossible hope to make her love them. It's a sad story ending with the sun going down...&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Fern has a strange beauty, a mixture of races and "weird eyes." Once again the sunset is referenced, as her eyes are compared to its glory. There is something mysterious about her, but what is revealed is that she suffers unknown pain, so furiously she faints when she is on a walk with an admirer. Both women in the story are constantly compared to aspects of nature, but the significance is that both are flowers, "I came to tell you brother, that white faces are petals of roses. That dark faces are petals of dusk. That I am going out and gather petals" (318). This exerpt encourages humanity to embrace nature for what it is, to gather the petals of roses and of dusk, all are beautiful.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;The story of Bona and Paul weaves around the fact that Bona is white and Paul is black. Race is interestingly not the central issue. The rose is a prominant symbol in this plot. Crimson Gardens appears repeatedly, referred ti as "a part of life," "a body whose blood flows to a clot," and "gives a glow of immediacy to white faces." As the two tango from infatuation, to cold heartedness to possibly love, the images of red roses and crimson gardens appear again and again. The crimson gardens seem a metaphor for a woman's private parts, they both desire eachother, Bona tries to hide it, but when Paul makes his intentions known she is gone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Why were the stories of these 3 women intertwined in Toomer's contribution to the book? All were lovely as the roses that are so often mentioned. One white, one black and one of a mixed race. Different flowers, yet all desirable and beautiful. The purpose of these stories may have been to demonstrate that every woman, evert race has it's own beauty and grace.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: center;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;Works Cited&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Toomer, Jean. "Cane." &lt;u&gt;The Portable Harlem Renaissance Reader&lt;/u&gt;. Ed. David Lewis. New York: 1995. 318-332.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2352899248949999696-5707931070772988355?l=squiguis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://squiguis.blogspot.com/feeds/5707931070772988355/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://squiguis.blogspot.com/2009/09/journal-3.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2352899248949999696/posts/default/5707931070772988355'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2352899248949999696/posts/default/5707931070772988355'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://squiguis.blogspot.com/2009/09/journal-3.html' title='Journal #3'/><author><name>Sarah Quigley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05678694788358443008</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1430/1324633116_6d6a45a5ba_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2352899248949999696.post-8536045726895599531</id><published>2009-09-06T10:16:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-08T08:32:22.763-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Journal #2</title><content type='html'>After reading O'Neill's Emperor Jones I found myself pretty lost and confused. At first I thought my confusion stemmed from reading the selected scenes from the middle of the play, but the language was also a huge distraction for me. I was focusing so much on trying to decipher what they were saying I was not paying enough attention to the actual plot. Truthfully, the black dialect always seemed like the language of ignorance to me because it's basically slaughtering proper English. Now that I see it prominently in published literature I think that there are other ways of looking at it. The dialect has a purpose, to establish linguistic identity to the culture, to set them apart from others and enables them to recognize "their own." On another note I think that there is a lot to be said about language through Helga's identity search in Quicksand (but I will save discussion of that for a later post). Back to the O'Neill work, I think that once again the theme is fear. Jones is runnning from the soldiers, gets lost in the woods and encounters a witch doctor and a crocodile. Both seem to terrify him, but he meets his end when he is shot and killed by the silver bullet.  I struggled to understand the significance of the silver bullet, I know it's supposed to represent something important because it is mentioned several times. There is definitely a connection to the supernatural in this play, as displayed by the witchdoctor's presence as well as the fact that Jones has a "strong charm." I would be interesting to read the entire play to find out what is really going on here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;     T.S. Stribling's "Birthright" depicts the story told by a white men about a black men, a rare occurrence for a white writer to feature a black protagonist. The main character, Peter Siner lays out the scene describing the train and the Jim Crow car in comparison to the rest of the train. The was not shabby, but unkept, as opposed to the rest of the train that was nicer for the white passengers. The purpose of this story however is not to point out the injustice of the segregation on the train, but he does consider other similar instances of injustice such as when his mother worked for Miss Molly Brownell and was never given a biscuit when they were served for dinner. When Peter's thoughts are interrupted by a big brute that obviously recognizes him Peter is startled to find that he was acquainted with the man. As Pack tells Peter of his time in the army and the medal that he had been given for killing four white men, a strange sense of irony unfolds. A black man was REWARDED for killing white men. This is an instance completely unheard of at this time when blacks were severely punished if they were even accused of violence towards anyone who was white. Pack even exclaims, "Yas-suh, I never wuz mo' surprised in all my life dan when I got dis medal fuh stoppin' fo' white men" (Stribling 338) The two reflect on this tremendous turning of the tables and Peter reassures his childhood friend that he was fighting for his country. So why is this piece called Birthright? Possibly because everyone should have the same rights as everyone else. If a white man has the right to take a black man's life, than the black man should also have the right to kill a white man.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Works Cited&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;O'Neill, Eugene. "The Emperor Jones." &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;The Portable Harlem Renaissance Reader&lt;/span&gt;. Ed. David Lewis. New York: 1995. 311-317.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stribling, T.S. "Birthright." &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;The Portable Harlem Renaissance Reader&lt;/span&gt;. Ed. David Lewis. New York: 1995. 333-338.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2352899248949999696-8536045726895599531?l=squiguis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://squiguis.blogspot.com/feeds/8536045726895599531/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://squiguis.blogspot.com/2009/09/journal-2.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2352899248949999696/posts/default/8536045726895599531'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2352899248949999696/posts/default/8536045726895599531'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://squiguis.blogspot.com/2009/09/journal-2.html' title='Journal #2'/><author><name>Sarah Quigley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05678694788358443008</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1430/1324633116_6d6a45a5ba_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2352899248949999696.post-8793660986420270464</id><published>2009-09-02T09:16:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-08T08:31:34.628-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Journal #1</title><content type='html'>"Returning Soldiers" is a powerful piece that has a strong rhythm of outrage and anger regarding the country that oppresses the Negroes. Examining the beat and the patterns of the sentences it is very much like a poem, and this poem’s purpose is to call out the country that the Negroes have been at war with. The voice behind the soldiers is untouchable, the logic and the argument is all clearly laid out. W.E.B. Du Bois identifies the enemy as the country as a whole, referring to America saying, “it lynches,” and “it steals from us,” as though it is the nation that is to blame and not the people. The purpose of this chapter is to appeal to all of the Negroes that have been oppressed and to send the message to anyone that stands in the way of their freedom and rights will have to fight them, because it is a never ending fight for democracy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"If We Must Die" is not so much about fighting the oppressors but instead stresses the need to die honorably if we must die. The main idea here seems to be comparing the oppressed race to animals. They are “hunted and penned,” but even though Claude McKay can relate to being treated like an animal, he turns it around and says that it is their hunters that are the monsters, they are the real animals. “Like men we’ll face the murderous, cowardly pack” Only at the end of the poem does McKay express the need to fight back. This may be because at the beginning they were outnumbered and it seemed like they were completely hopeless. But even just one blow against their countless blows can give them the strength to fight back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"From Black Manhattan" tells the story that we should all be familiar with. The time period when Negroes were beginning to have more rights, and ownership was the most important right for many of them. We don’t know what it’s like to own nothing, to have nothing to take pride in. Having one’s own land, not relying on someone else for survival is the reason that Negroes sought this prized possession. When taking Harlem Johnson asks “Will the Negroes of Harlem be able to hold it?” (36) Having enough money was one thing, but resisting all of the attacks from anti-black groups was another obstacle altogether.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The central theme that I observed from these readings revolves around resistance. Resisting those who want you out of their town, those who want you to stay quiet and know your place and those who want you dead, was a very difficult struggle during this time period. Dubois, McKay, Johnson and Garvey gave a voice to the frustrations that African Americans struggled with but feared to publicize.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had a couple of questions while writing this journal. What terms for African Americans are inappropriate? I just don’t understand why black people are called African Americans, but most white people don’t even know that we are termed Caucasians.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;                                     Works Cited&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dubois, W.E.B. "Returning Soldiers." &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;The Portable Harlem Renaissance Reader&lt;/span&gt;. Ed. David Lewis. New York: 1995. 3-5.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Johnson, J.W. "Black Manhattan." &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;The Portable Harlem Renaissance Reader&lt;/span&gt;. Ed. David Lewis. New York: 1995. 34-45.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;McKay, Claude. "If We Must Die." &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;The Portable Harlem Renaissance Reader&lt;/span&gt;. Ed. David Lewis. New York: 1995. 290.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2352899248949999696-8793660986420270464?l=squiguis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://squiguis.blogspot.com/feeds/8793660986420270464/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://squiguis.blogspot.com/2009/09/journal-1.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2352899248949999696/posts/default/8793660986420270464'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2352899248949999696/posts/default/8793660986420270464'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://squiguis.blogspot.com/2009/09/journal-1.html' title='Journal #1'/><author><name>Sarah Quigley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05678694788358443008</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1430/1324633116_6d6a45a5ba_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
