الفهرس 
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Abstract
History has proved that nothing in the whole world remains the same
forever. However, with racial discrimination, history, especially of the United
States, seems to have failed to prove the validity of this theory. For, despite all
the trials exerted for centuries to abolish it, racial discrimination has continued
its way, safe and sound, well into the twentieth century. The black-white conflict
in America is a striking manifestation of the cunning and persistence of this
pejorative term—racism. African Americans have had to wage a long-lasting
struggle for their social, economic, political, and civil rights—a battle not yet
fully won.
In the twentieth century, blacks have continued their protest against
discrimination fighting zealously in the political field, in the courts, and
ultimately in the streets. In the early years of the century, whether in the North
or the South, the problems facing blacks were multifaceted and closely related to
economics and racism: they lived a slavish life, and many of them even lived at
the margin of subsistence. During the 1950s and 1960s, blacks took to the
streets, the courts, and the halls of Congress and state legislatures to win their
rights, making this decade an era of struggle for equality.
During the mid-century years, despite the dramatic victories the civil rights
movement has brought to the South, civil rights laws have done little for blacks
in northern and western cities as they still felt an overshadowing deprivation.
And, in spite of their endeavor to resolve the social, political, and economic
discrepancies between themselves and whites, blacks have not fully succeeded.
“After comparing census data from 1970 to 1980, two researchers concluded,
„blacks are still frozen out of the American dream…[and] the segregation of
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blacks in large cities has hardly changed” (Dinnerstein, David, and Roger, eds.
311-12).
Despite all the trials and expectations, the end of the twentieth century has
disappointingly witnessed, not the ending of racism, prejudice, discrimination,
and segregation but, the emergence of more subtle forms. Wolves could hide
behind lambs‟ wool. Racial animosities and conformities that could not be
explicitly promulgated have been disguised under masks of race-neutral assaults
on welfare waste, crime, and the slums. Jim Crow racism might seem to have
been ubiquitously defeated, but, in fact, it has merely given birth to a new covert
racist ideology known as laissez-fair racism. This new pattern of belief, as
Lawrence Bobo and Ryan A. Smith say, involves “staunch rejection of an active
role for government in undoing racial segregation and inequality, an acceptance
of negative stereotypes of African Americans, a denial of discrimination as a
current societal problem, and attribution of primary responsibility for black
disadvantage to blacks themselves” (Higham ed. 42). Not only are these new
racial subtexts tantamount to the previous forms of racial oppression and
inequity, they are commonly more subtle, bitter, and extreme. They are,
therefore, harder to confront than the unequivocal racism of the Jim Crow era. It
is, for this reason, quite predictable that blacks, whose anger is escalating due to
the spreading indifference of the government and most whites to the injuries of
both race and poverty, will have to continue their struggle, even harder than
before.
The heightened self-awareness that has evolved from the political and social
changes that have taken place during the twentieth century and changed the lives
of African Americans has demanded artistic expression whether to express anger
at racism or hope for the future, or to explore the nature of the black experience
and its influence on individual black Americans. One of the writers who has
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truly dedicated his whole creative efforts to the struggle against racism and all
the other forms of racial oppression, to the expression of hope for the future, and
to the investigation of the nature and impact of the black experience on
individual black Americans is Langston Hughes. And since no one other than
Hughes has so marvelously and forcefully expressed, more than he has done, the
life of the black masses—their pain and suffering, their battles and strivings,
their hopes and aspirations—the thesis makes use of some of his major works.
Langston Hughes (1902-1967), “Poet Laureate of the Negro” and “Dean of
American Negro writers,” has begun his literary career with a commitment to
black folk and cultural resources. His poetry is a real manifestation of his
people: their strivings, their lifestyles, their music, and their dialects. The
American dream and its possibilities for the black people, “the economic
depression, the issue of justice for the Negro, and the burden of poverty” are
dominant themes in his poetry (Bloom ed. 120).
Langston Hughes‟s Not without Laughter (1930) is a striking evidence of the
persistence of racial discrimination in the twentieth century. The novel portrays
a family that is close to the folk, unmasks the bitterness of the disorder and
chaos confronting Negroes in a white-dominated society, and is full of the hope
arising from the folk sense of making something out of oneself. Aunt Hager
wants Sandy Williams, her grandson, to be a Booker Washington and a
Frederick Douglass: “I wants him to know all they is to know, so ‟s he can help
this black race of our ‟n to come up and see de light and take they places in de
world” (136; Ch. xii).
Conspicuously, Sandy Williams in Not Without Laughter represents the
younger black generation in whom the elder blacks put hope and faith. Sandy‟s
family think the best of him and believe that, slavery being abolished, his chance
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for better life is much better than theirs. However, nothing in Sandy‟s past
indicates that his learning or even his native intelligence will make any
difference to his future. Hughes has skillfully implied that although it had long
been abolished, slavery still affected the lives of blacks and whites as well
because its seeds have been deeply impeded in society. Sandy Williams, a boy
of promise, may acquire education, learning, religion, good manners, but in a
white society he will find no place—the sinister effect of his dark skin in a white
society is insurmountable.
Langston Hughes hits once more on the theme of racial discrimination in his
collection of short stories, The Ways of the White Folks. More than any other
story in the collection, “The Blues I‟m playing” holds a unique position. It
demonstrates the deception of whites and the absurd notion of their paternalistic
philanthropy and discloses the hypocrisy and falseness of white patronage.
Indeed, Oceola Jones‟s ultimate refusal to subscribe to her patroness‟
domination over her private life reflects her refusal of enslavement, for, deep
behind its glittering frame, white patronage, the story implicitly suggests, is a
bypass of the long, vicious road of slavery—not merely do the white patrons
want to help their protégés, they want to impose their way of life upon them as
well.
In addition, the black-white conflict is maintained throughout the story. It is
transparent in the powerful comparison Hughes has drawn between the housing
of both black and white folks; between the wretchedness and poverty of the lives
of the former, and the luxurious and splendid lives of the latter. It is also obvious
in the assertion that “Mrs. Ellsworth couldn‟t recall ever having known a single
Negro before in her whole life;” in Oceola‟s “sheer love of jazz” and the blues,
and Mrs. Ellsworth‟s hatred of them; in Oceola‟s desire to live in Harlem or
Atlanta “where there are lots of colored people” like her, and Mrs. Ellsworth‟s
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wondering “why any one insisted on living in Harlem;” in the discrepancy
between Oceola‟s and Mrs. Ellsworth‟s views concerning art and love; and,
finally, in the break away of Oceola and her patroness, hence implying that the
gap between black and white people still persists and that both the black and
white folks will continue their separate ways.
Hughes‟s Emperor of Haiti (1936) is a striking manifestation of colonial
slavery and its harsh codes. The play relates the story of Jean Jacques
Dessalines‟s progress from slave to emperor and investigates the reasons leading
to his failure as a leader. Dessalines fails because of his reliance on his military
and physical skills whilst neglecting the art of government and diplomacy, his
move away from the common people whom he disparages and calls peasants,
and his arrogance and pride:
DESSALINES. I‟m king! I‟m on top! I‟m the glory of Haiti!
MARTEL. The glory of Haiti lies in no one man, Jean Jacques…[it lies] in the .
. people‟s love for freedom. (39; Act 2, Scene 1)
Moreover, Emperor of Haiti analyzes the reasons leading to the fall of the
Haitian empire for the significance the Haitian revolution represents for African
Americans. One reason is that the black leaders knew how to fight but not how
to rule—after all, the school of slavery was not designed to teach the slaves a
course of politics and government. The arrogance of the emperor and the treason
set around him, are other reasons. However, the Haitian empire has mainly
collapsed because, in their trial to be civilized, black leaders have not acted like
themselves and ridiculously imitated the ways of those whom they have
considered their white enemies. In addition, the slaves have had no will to
earnestly help themselves, and this has constituted the chief cause of their
misfortunes. They want a better life, but they are unwilling to work to get it:
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DESSALINES. If only we had people who would help, Martel. It seems nobody cares.
Nobody wants to work.
MARTEL. That is our problem, son… when we was slaves, lots of us thought if we
was free, we‟d never have to work again …(35; Act 1, Scene1)
In Emperor of Haiti, although Hughes has not witnessed the time when
slaves were being tortured by whipping and burning, he has portrayed these
operations in a way that not only visualizes the picture but also transcends the
pain and anguish of those being tortured—something that proves that, although
Negroes in the twentieth century have been redeemed from many of the
outrageous forms of physical torture, blacks still kept the memories of their
ancestors‟ experience of them. In short, the duality of being black in a white
America has been deeply rooted in the consciousness of African Americans in
the twentieth century that, despite the political advances they have achieved, the
legacy of racism still dominated their lives—socially, politically, and, most of
all, psychologically.
The thesis is, without blarney, tremendously concerned with the history of
black struggle against all the forms of racial oppression. Yet, it is far more
concerned with the investigation of the true state of twentieth century African
Americans. As such, the thesis tackles such issues as the problem of the color
line, the reality and the dream. It unravels the secrets behind the fragile bonds in
the American society: between blacks and whites, between blacks and mulattos,
and between middle and low-class blacks. It also attempts to ferret out some
discrepancies that appear in different accounts between the living of the black
and white people. The thesis thoroughly handles the devastating effects of the
identification with, and idealization of, the white man and his culture as seen in
Not Without Laughter and Emperor of Haiti. Yet, in the “Blues I‟m Playing,”
Hughes could, as always, announce to the world that the streets of black
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America contain a culture that may even be more rich, vibrant, and thriving than
the white culture. However, being no extremist, Hughes does not stress this view
as we see him, in all the works studied in the thesis, mocking his beloved people
as much as he mocks those who sneer at them.
Like all black Americans, Hughes has been confronted with the dilemma of
dual-consciousness. Yet, unlike many of them, he has been well aware of this
dilemma and used his poetry as an outlet and a means of salvation to it. Between
the American and Negro identities, Hughes has always assumed a third identity
for himself: that of a “singer” or a poet—a black poet. In all his works, poetry as
well as prose, we see him struggling to resolve his true identity, so do all the
black characters in his works. However, Hughes‟s outlet has always been to
stick to his race and to take pride in his cultural heritage—particularly the blues
and jazz of which he is a terribly gifted lover and spokesman. In almost all of his
works, whenever a character is finally able to figure out its way through the
hardships and complexes of being black in a white society, there is presented a
blues line—one that admits temporary defeat and, yet, hope for the future. For
instance, in Not Without Laughter, only when Harriett Williams pursuits her
love of the blues can she find her way and even become a great blues singer or,
as she is referred to in the novel, a “princess of the blues;” something that
suggests that assuming the identity of a singer is an outlet for such a longstumbling
Negro soul. Moreover, when the black children are given their
greatest disappointment on the Children‟s Day and are implicitly told that they
are members of a despised group, and a discussion over the troubled black-white
relation takes place, a blues song is chanted—a song that so much admits the
hardships for Negroes and expresses hope for the future:
from this world o’ trouble free,
Stars beyond!
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Stars beyond!
There’s a star fo’ you an’ me,
Stars beyond! (200;Ch. xviii)
Hughes, who believes that only through democratic process can Negroes
become fully accepted members of the society, combines in his writings—
poetry and prose—the realistic admission of temporary and past defeat for his
people along with the conviction that the United States will soon fulfill the
Negro‟s hopes and dreams. Although seemingly sad, Hughes‟s writings, through
his humanity which mellows the rigid comprehensiveness of the real world he
conveys, pulse with hope as life, love, and laughter blow a clean wind of it (Hall
ed. 148). Both Oceola Jones, in “The Blues I‟m Playing,” and Sandy Williams,
in Not Without Laughter, are determined to live first. Oceola wonders “why did
they or anybody argue so much about life or art? Oceola merely lived—and she
loved it”(1277). And Sandy, giving up the idea of “staying poor and meek,
waiting for heaven,” is determined to live first “I want to live first”(236; Ch.
xxvi).
Black people‟s love of life is also transparent in their unrelenting stress on
the assenting and virile nature of music. Oceola has a unique perception of
music, one that “demanded movement and expression, dancing and living to go
with it”(1278). She “never liked those fashionable colored churches where
shouting and movement were discouraged and looked down upon, and where
New England hymns instead of spirituals were sung”(1278). Neither do all the
other low-class black characters in Hughes‟s works. They do not like the
churches where dancing and movement are shunned. Aunt Hager says, “I told
her I didn‟t think much o‟ joinin‟ a church so far away from God that they didn‟t
want nothin‟ but yaller niggers for members, so full o‟ forms an‟ fashions that a
good Christian couldn‟t shout” (23; Ch. ii).
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Another important issue that Hughes has implicitly conveyed in almost all of
his works is the issue of integration versus separation. Being moderate himself,
he seems to come into line with the fusion and even melting of these seemingly
irreconcilable trends. Throughout his career, Hughes has been well aware of
injustice and oppression and used his creative efforts to oppose or mitigate them;
and from an enraged heart, he has cried out against such evil implanted in the
American society. His writings, despite their apparent pessimism, adhere to a
tenacious thread of an unshakable hope for the fulfillment of the American
ideal—not only for black people, but for all the oppressed people of the land.
All the amiable characters in Hughes‟s work, like Aunt Hager and Sandy
Williams, in Not Without Laughter, and Martel, in Emperor of Haiti, plead for
love and tolerance as the response to the frustrations encountered by both the
races in their daily relationships. Sandy Williams favors the advocates of
integration and separation as symbolized in his love for Booker T. Washington,
and Frederick Douglass respectively. Aunt Hager and Martel both share the
view that white folks and black folks cannot do without each other and both
believe that all that matters is love. To impose the power of their belief, both of
them use the power of time when they mention their age as if to show that no
matter what one has seen, this should not hamper one‟s vision of love and
tolerance. Martel says to Jean Jacques Dessalines, “Jean Jacques, I‟m an old
man. But in my old age, I dream of a world where no man hurts another, where
all know freedom, and black and white men alike will share this earth in
peace”(36; Act 1, Scene 1). Like Martel, Aunt Hager sees the importance of
each race to the other. She tells Sandy:
white folks is white folks, an‟ colored folks is colored, an‟ neither one of ‟em is as bad
as t‟ other make out. For mighty nigh seventy years I been knowin‟ both of ‟em, an‟ I
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ain‟t never had no room in ma heart to hate neither white nor colored. .. And I‟s kept a
room in ma heart fo‟ ‟em, ‟cause white folks needs us, honey, even if they don‟t know
it… I‟s been livin‟ along time in yesterday, Sandy chile, an‟ I knows there ain‟t no
room in de world for nothin‟ mo‟n love. (177,181-82; Ch. XVI).
Indeed, twentieth-century African Americans have not felt the same sense of
irrevocable separation that saddened their forefathers. Yet, race relations in
America have always been unstable, governed by underlying conflict since most
white Americans have never practically supported the idealized goals of full
equality and social justice. Hence, the need for protest has not died out, but has
been reshaped by changing opportunities—“economic prosperity and decline,
unemployment and labor shortage, war and peace, changing international
climates, and competition from other issues” (Blumberg 2). Black protest has
begun to roll back the shade of separation between black and white citizens.
However, the road has been extremely rough, the costs enormously high. The
pressures of social animosity and the economic, social, and political advantages
occurring to those who sustain the color line make it continue to exist in spite of
the valuable gains done in this domain; and for this reason, a new day of racial
equality and integration in America is a far-fetched dream (Rose 114). In the
words of Douglass S. Massey:
If segregation is permitted to continue, poverty inevitably will deepen and become
more persistent within a large share of the black community, crime and drugs will
become more firmly rooted, and social institutions will fragment further under the
weight of deteriorating conditions. As racial inequalities sharpen, the fears of whites
will grow, racial prejudices will be reinforced, and hostility toward blacks will
increase, making the problems of racial justice and equal opportunity even more
insoluble. Until we decide to end the long reign of American apartheid, we cannot
hope to move forward as a people and a nation. (Higham ed. 116)
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However, Hughes, who clutches to the belief that the United States will soon
fulfill the Negro‟s hopes and dreams through democratic process, tends not to
admit this bleak vision rather than to express hope for the future. He, a
representative of blacks and their unwavering hopefulness despite the incredible
inhumanity displayed towards them, is inclined to reflect a tenacious thread of
hope to which most, if not all, of the black people utterly cling. He says:
We want a new and better America, where there won‟t be any poor, where there
won‟t be any more Jim Crow, where there won‟t be any lynching, where there won‟t
be any munition makers, where we won‟t need philanthropy, nor charity, nor the New
Deal, nor Home Relief.
We want an America that will be ours, a world that will be ours—we Negro
workers and white workers, black writers and white! We‟ll make that world.
. (qtd. in Henry ed. 20)
In this way, black struggle will continue. Black protest, like any other social
movement, is not linear; it revolves into circles, and will never die out as long as
its grievances persist. Even if it sometimes looks quiet, it merely waits till the
environment becomes conducive to open protest. Now the question that comes
to the fore is: when, where, and in what form will the struggle resurface.