He was Frederick Douglass' clerk. Frederick Douglass. Who does that? After plans of becoming a lawyer, Paul Laurence Dunbar simply changed his mind. He wanted to "prove to the many that we were more human than African."

Isn't it ironic that the same devotion would bear a wall of criticism from Harlem Renaissance leaders for his "black folk" dialect usage. The southern slave language is rampant and rhythmic in An Ante-Bellum Sermon. It bears a distinctive meter that begs to be read in a dominant voice or even attached to the chords of a hymn. It read like a sermon story with the reflective comparison of Moses. I admire Dunbar's choice to display "without apology" the words the way they were. I'm certain there are better resting places for the shame of slavery.

We Wear a Mask is a clustered title that historically suggests a connection between the constant oppression of a slave to their master. The entire poem bears the metaphor of a mask without a direct word that would relate it to slavery or race. It uses repetitive constanats and as I read it felt heavy, moderate, and flowing. It has a theme that lingers.

The mask of a slave was worn with dire consequence. It wasn't just about what others might think, but what penalty would come. Their minds and hearts were silenced to the degree of possible death. It's bigger than I'll ever comprehend.

But, this piece doesn't recognize skin color. It talked to me. Mask, grins, and lies are three words huddled together in the first sentence like a truth we all know and continue to abide. I wonder if the mask is for protection or some attempt at social propriety? I haven't seen evidence in my society of strict penalties for bawling at the bus stop, or bellowing in the park. Although, it does sound awkward and there is an ordinance about disturbing the peace. I imagine our behavior results from a concoction brimming with mixed intent. It's a fixture all humans tend to wear in different degrees.


"We smile, but, O great Christ, our cries" Don't we all have the private moments of supplication, of falling apart and letting it all go, whether it be to a divine source or just the sky? We "let the world dream otherwise." Dream seems significant in relation to the imaginary fantasies that they are. We let the world see lies. And, without even realizing it, we stride out of our closets, again, with a smile plastered across our face that is sometimes real. I think that's what we're all looking for.