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Let America Be America Again - Poem by Langston Hughes

Let America be America again. Let it be the dream it used to be. Let it be the pioneer on the plain Seeking a home where he himself is free.

(America never was America to me.)

Let America be the dream the dreamers dreamed– Let it be that great strong land of love Where never kings connive nor tyrants scheme That any man be crushed by one above.

(It never was America to me.)

O, let my land be a land where Liberty Is crowned with no false patriotic wreath, But opportunity is real, and life is free, Equality is in the air we breathe.

(There’s never been equality for me, Nor freedom in this “homeland of the free.”)

Say, who are you that mumbles in the dark? And who are you that draws your veil across the stars?

I am the poor white, fooled and pushed apart, I am the Negro bearing slavery’s scars. I am the red man driven from the land, I am the immigrant clutching the hope I seek– And finding only the same old stupid plan Of dog eat dog, of mighty crush the weak.

I am the young man, full of strength and hope, Tangled in that ancient endless chain Of profit, power, gain, of grab the land! Of grab the gold! Of grab the ways of satisfying need! Of work the men! Of take the pay! Of owning everything for one’s own greed!

I am the farmer, bondsman to the soil. I am the worker sold to the machine. I am the Negro, servant to you all. I am the people, humble, hungry, mean– Hungry yet today despite the dream. Beaten yet today–O, Pioneers! I am the man who never got ahead, The poorest worker bartered through the years.

Yet I’m the one who dreamt our basic dream In the Old World while still a serf of kings, Who dreamt a dream so strong, so brave, so true, That even yet its mighty daring sings In every brick and stone, in every furrow turned That’s made America the land it has become. O, I’m the man who sailed those early seas In search of what I meant to be my home– For I’m the one who left dark Ireland’s shore, And Poland’s plain, and England’s grassy lea, And torn from Black Africa’s strand I came To build a “homeland of the free.”

The free?

Who said the free? Not me? Surely not me? The millions on relief today? The millions shot down when we strike? The millions who have nothing for our pay? For all the dreams we’ve dreamed And all the songs we’ve sung And all the hopes we’ve held And all the flags we’ve hung, The millions who have nothing for our pay– Except the dream that’s almost dead today.

O, let America be America again– The land that never has been yet– And yet must be–the land where every man is free. The land that’s mine–the poor man’s, Indian’s, Negro’s, ME– Who made America, Whose sweat and blood, whose faith and pain, Whose hand at the foundry, whose plow in the rain, Must bring back our mighty dream again.

Sure, call me any ugly name you choose– The steel of freedom does not stain. From those who live like leeches on the people’s lives, We must take back our land again, America!

O, yes, I say it plain, America never was America to me, And yet I swear this oath– America will be!

Out of the rack and ruin of our gangster death, The rape and rot of graft, and stealth, and lies, We, the people, must redeem The land, the mines, the plants, the rivers. The mountains and the endless plain– All, all the stretch of these great green states– And make America again!

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Is this blog dead?

//’Fraid so.  I’ve been burnt out on creating original content since well before I started reblogging my own stuff and I have neither the motivation nor the time to keep it going.

I still open tumblr from time to time so if submissions come in I’ll publish them as I see them, and I don’t intend to delete.  All the same, don’t wait on me.

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[image:  newspaper clipping, reading:

Proper Aloofness.

“If you’re not afraid of germs, why do you wear a face shield?”

“To make them keep their distance.  The fact that I’m not afraid of them is no reason for my desiring to make intimate acquaintance.”]

The Evening Star, Washington DC, October 21, 1918

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[image:  newspaper clipping, reading:

There’s no place like home, but a lot of folks get awfully tired of it during a quarantine.]

The Des Moines Register, Iowa, October 28, 1918

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[image:  newspaper clipping, reading:

The “flu” menace isn’t over.  Wear your mask.  It is the only effective precaution yet devised to combat the epidemic.  It may be uncomfortable, but an attack of the “flu” is more so.]

Red Bluff Daily News, California, November 10, 1918

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[image:  a black-and-white photograph with text above and below.

The text above:  A group of trans activists in 1921.

The photograph:  In the background is a large building with a marble-like facade.  Several people gather around on the steps and in the paved street in front of it.  Directly in front of the camera are four (4) people, left to right:

A short man with dark hair and fair skin,  He wears a dark three-piece suit with a white shirt and a black tie and holds a folded or rolled paper, like a newspaper or diploma, at his side.

A tall woman with fair skin and dark hair just visible beneath a broad brimmed white hat, which may have a veil over her face.  She wears a calf-length dress of a lighter color than the man’s suit, which has a flower at the side of her waist.  She wears white gloves and a long white necklace that hangs past her waist, and dark shoes with a small heel.

A shorter woman with fair skin and dark hair.  She wears a white hat like a cloche that has a feather or decorative strip hanging down to her shoulder.  She wears a light tunic-like shirt with dark trim around the v-shaped neck and the hem around her knees, an even lighter skirt of pleated material, and dark shoes with an ankle strap and heels.

A tall woman with fair skin.  She wears a large broad-brimmed hat with a decoration on the side like a feather or similar.  The hat and her outfit are all a dark color.  She wears a coat or wrap with a large, puffy collar in the same dark color, with a wide white lapel.  Her blouse has a tall white collar that covers her neck, and a dark band like a choker necklace on it.  The dark material of her dress has a v-shaped neck.  Her skirt falls to mid-calf.  Her shoes have a slight heel and are a lighter color than her outfit.  She carries a medium sized purse in a slightly lighter color than her outfit.

Below the photo, the text:  Transvestites in front of the Institute for Sexual Science during the First International Congress for Sex Reform on the Basis of Sexology, 1921.  Photograph by Willy Römer.  Bildarchiv Preußischer Kulturbesitz.]

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[image:  newspaper clipping, reading:

In another store not one person had a mask in evidence any place, and in only on e establishment were orders carried out strictly.

Are we wholly selfish so that we can not do a thing, which is manifestly uncomfortable, for the sake of our fellowmen? (sic)]

Moline Daily Dispatch, Illinois, December 5, 1918

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[image:  newspaper clipping, reading:

A flapper is a girl who looks, talks, and dresses the way her grandmother longed to do.]

Oroville Daily Register, California, January 10, 1925

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[image:  newspaper clipping, reading:

The worst thing about the flapper is the noise the goody goodies make about her.]

Southtown Economist, Chicago, Illinois, May 19, 1922

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[image:  newspaper clipping, reading:

A newly discovered comet passed the earth at 1000 miles a second and shot off into space never to return.

Considering the condition of the world, you can hardly blame it. (sic)]

The Ventura County Star, California, November 7, 1935

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[image:  newspaper clipping, reading:

But how can you be tolerant of the intolerant?]

St Louis Globe-Democrat, Missouri, April 7, 1931

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[image:  newspaper clipping, reading:

A cook book is full of delicious dishes which it is too much trouble to prepare.]

St Louis Globe-Democrat, Missouri, April 6, 1931

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Observe a meeting between suspicious characters you most definitely were not supposed to see

Receive a cryptic phone call from an old friend

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[image:  newspaper clipping, reading:

WHITE EGOTISM

The white man has always been afflicted with this big-headed-ness.  He writes the world’s histories, leaving out the larger portion of the race.  He lists great names, omitting the profound thinkers of the non-white nations.  He thinks that the fuming and sputtering of the white man, his wars and his crimes, his art and his science, his philosophy and his institutions are of such eternal importance.]

The Ventura County Star, California, November 2, 1935

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Trust your gut that something seems off & hide instead

Receive a cryptic phone call from an old friend

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Carry out a long-distance love affair through the newspaper

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[image:  newspaper clipping of two columns.

The first is titled:  The Literary Work

It reads:

Or let my lamp, at midnight hour,

Be seen in some high lonely tower,

Where I may oft out- watch the Bear,

With thrice-great Hermes, or un- sphere

The spirit of Plato. --Milton.

The second column is titled:  The Author’s Real Thoughts

It reads:  I must get to bed early tonight. Haven’t been getting enough sleep lately.]

The Evening Public Ledger, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, May 1, 1919