Another day, another poet
April 2, 2008
Langston Hughes was an African-American poet whose writings were a much treasured part of the Harlem Renaissance. In his work, he paints a picture of black America with little displacement of his own personal experiences, but rather explored the voice of his people as he heard it from them. The poem, “I, Too, Sing America“, is simple in its phrasing, but complex in emothion and undertones. It is a simple song of hope. It looks past the bigotry all black of the time faced, and looked to a day when the poet could see humanity rising to the challenge of its own ignorance.
I, Too, Sing America
I, too, sing America.
I am the darker brother.
They send me to eat in the kitchen
When company comes,
But I laugh,
And eat well,
and grow strong
Tomorrow,
I’ll be at the table
When company comes.
Nobody’ll dare
Say to me,
“Eat in the kitchen,”
Then.
Besides,
They’ll see how beautiful I am
And be ashamed–
I, too, am America.
Hughes’s poem – at least its title – was a take-off on the famous “I Hear America Singing,” by Walt Whitman. Reading it today evokes an America more at once simpler, more agrarian, and more self-assured in its work:
I HEAR America singing, the varied carols I hear;
Those of mechanics—each one singing his, as it should be, blithe and strong;
The carpenter singing his, as he measures his plank or beam,
The mason singing his, as he makes ready for work, or leaves off work;
The boatman singing what belongs to him in his boat—the deckhand singing on the steamboat deck;
The shoemaker singing as he sits on his bench—the hatter singing as he stands;
The wood-cutter’s song—the ploughboy’s, on his way in the morning, or at the noon intermission, or at sundown;
The delicious singing of the mother—or of the young wife at work—or of the girl sewing or washing—Each singing what belongs to her, and to none else;
The day what belongs to the day—At night, the party of young fellows, robust, friendly,
Singing, with open mouths, their strong melodious songs