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Somewhere in the dead of the southern night my life had switched onto the wrong track and without my knowing it.

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Dead Know might Something Southern Switch Track Wrong

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Each day when you see us black folk upon the dusty land of your farm or upon the hard pavement of your city streets.
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All literature is protest.
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Pity can purge us of hostility and arouse feelings of identification with the characters, but it can also be a consoling reassurance which leads us to believe that we have understood, and that, in pitying, we have even done something to right a wrong.
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I endowed it with unlimited potentialities, redeemed it for the sake of my own hungry and cloudy yearning.
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Kill them, turn back time to the moment before I had talked so that I could have another chance to save myself.
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It had been only through books-at best, no more than vicarious cultural transfusions-that I had managaed to keep myself alive in a negatively vital way.
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I was not leaving the south to forget the south, but so that some day I might understand it
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Day Forget Learn Leaving might Some South Understand
I was taking a part of the South to transplant in alien soil, to see if it could grow differently, if it could drink of new and cool rains, bend in strange winds, respond to the warmth of other suns and, perhaps, to bloom
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I made things happen within. Because my environment was bare and bleak,
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You usually take it for granted and think you know us, but our history is far stranger than you suspect, and we are not what we seem.
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We had our own civilization in Africa before we were captured and carried off to this land.
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The locomotive of my heart was rushing down a dangerously steep slope, heading for a collision, heedless of the warning red lights that blinked all about me, the sirens and the ells and the screams that filled the air.
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Ait Blink Collision Down Fill Heading Heedless Red Rush Scream Steep
I could think of nothing. And, slowly, it was upon exactly that nothingness that my mind began to dwell, that constant sense of wanting without having, of being hated without reason.
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It was not a matter of believing or disbelieving what I read, but of feeling something new, of being affected by something that made the look of the world different.
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We invented a medium of exchange, mined silver and gold, made pottery and cutlery, we fashioned tools and utensils of brass, bronze, ivory, quartz, and granite.
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Brass Bronze exchange Fashion Granite Made Medium Silver Utensil
Somewhere in the dead of the southern night my life had switched onto the wrong track and without my knowing it.
RICHARD WRIGHT

Dead Know might Something Southern Switch Track Wrong

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