Oates, Joyce Carol. Joyce Carol Oates Replies. Walker, Alice. Woolf, Virginia. Burke, M. Burke, Marion C. The newsletter highlights recent selections from the journal and useful tips from our blog. Inquiries Journal provides undergraduate and graduate students around the world a platform for the wide dissemination of academic work over a range of core disciplines.
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Moreover, the views expressed here do not necessarily represent the views of Inquiries Journal or Student Pulse, its owners, staff, contributors, or affiliates. Forgot password? Reset your password ». By Marion C. Burke , Vol. Cite References Print. Abstract Zora Neale Hurston is the author of the acclaimed short story Sweat. It merely astonishes me.
How can anyone deny themselves the pleasure of my company? It's beyond me. Hurston, Zora Neale. Ruthven, K. Feminist Literary Theory: A Reader. Marion C. From the Inquiries Journal Blog. African-American Studies » African-american Literature.
African-American Studies » Black History. Theology » Black Church. Monthly Newsletter Signup The newsletter highlights recent selections from the journal and useful tips from our blog.
Follow us to get updates from Inquiries Journal in your daily feed. Within the cultural framework of America, the systemic structure is characterized by White male patriarchy that allows for Black males to have the ability to negotiate the way in which they have been socialized and institutionalized to think, act, and behave because they are men. However, the reality of race and the lack of diversity MORE ».
People love a good story. A good story can be intriguingly informative, a good story can well up deep emotions and a good story can carry culture, history and tradition. It was through storytelling that many ancient cultures With such a slogan, many historians regarded this In the days of past, the clarion call and mission of the black church was two-fold: it served as a beacon of hope for the lost-soul seeking grace and mercy, but it also functioned as an oasis for all issues affecting the community.
The black church served as a voice in the wilderness, crying out that equality and justice belonged Follow IJ. This paper investigates the convoluted societal processes to which the individual is exposed from an early age in order to form and acquire their sense of identity, and aims at dismantling these very processes by exhibiting their flimsy and unsubstantiated Read Article ».
By Aimiel Trisha W. Centuries of subjugation under Spanish and American colonial rule have embedded an idealistic view of white beauty in the minds of Filipinos. It continues to be deeply rooted in Philippine culture due to the constant exposure of Filipina bodies Women's Studies. The volume also includes the essay ""Characteristics of Negro-Expression"", with excerpts from her autobiography ""Dust Tracks on the Road"" - with critical commentary.
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Women writers New Brunswick, N. Print book : Fiction : English View all editions and formats. Hurston, Zora Neale. View all subjects. User lists Similar Items. A Selection of Blues and Spirituals. Genesis Home About Help Search. His wife gave a little scream of dismay, and quickly gathered them together again. Anyhow, Ah done promised Gawd and a couple of other men, Ah aint gointer have it in mah house.
She was on her feet; her poor little body, her bare knuckly hands bravely defying the strapping hulk before her. Sweat, sweat, sweat! Work and sweat, cry and sweat, pray and sweat! She seized the iron skillet from the stove and struck a defensive pose, which act surprised him greatly, coming from her. It cowed him and he did not strike her as he usually did.
A little awed by this new Delia, he sidled out of the door and slammed the back gate after him. He did not say where he had gone, but she knew too well. She knew very well that he would not return until nearly daybreak also. Her work over, she went on to bed but not to sleep at once. Things had come to a pretty pass! She lay awake, gazing upon the debris that cluttered their matrimonial trail. Not an image left standing along the way.
Anything like flowers had long ago been drowned in the salty stream that had been pressed from her heart. Her tears, her sweat, her blood. She had brought love to the union and he had brought a longing after the flesh.
Two months after the wedding, he had given her the first brutal beating. She had the memory of his numerous trips to Orlando with all of his wages when he had returned to her penniless, even before the first year had passed. She was young and soft then, but now she thought of her knotty, muscled limbs, her harsh knuckly hands, and drew herself up into an unhappy little ball in the middle of the big feather bed.
Too late now to hope for love, even if it were not Bertha it would be someone else. This case differed from the others only in that she was bolder than the others. Too late for everything except her little home. She had built it for her old days, and planted one by one the trees and flowers there.
It was lovely to her, lovely. Sometime or ruther, Sykes, like everybody else, is gointer reap his sowing. His shells could no longer reach her. She went to sleep and slept until he announced his presence in bed by kicking her feet and rudely snatching the covers away.
Delia went clear to the rail without answering him. A triumphant indifference to all that he was or did. The week was as full of work for Delia as all other weeks, and Saturday found her behind her little pony, collecting and delivering clothes. It was a hot, hot day near the end of July. They did not hurl the cane-knots as usual. They let them dribble over the edge of the porch. Even conversation had collapsed under the heat. The rusty buckboard was heaped with baskets of crisp, clean laundry.
Not to huh he aint. Yessir, mah wife! She wuz ez pritty ez a speckled pup! Dat wuz fifteen yeahs ago. Dey never wuz de same in de mind. Clarke spoke for the first time. Dey throws em away. A grunt of approval went around the porch.
But the heat was melting their civic virtue, and Elijah Moseley began to bait Joe Clarke. Ah chooses dat long, bowlegged Floridy favorite. Heah, everybody chip in. The money was quickly subscribed and the huge melon brought forth. At that moment, Sykes and Bertha arrived. A determined silence fell on the porch and the melon was put away again.
Got to git on home. Just then Delia drove past on her way home, as Sykes was ordering magnificently for Bertha. It pleased him for Delia to see. Wait a minute, Joe. With all this they left the store, with Sykes reminding Bertha that this was his town and she could have it if she wanted it. Bertha had been in town three months now. You kin git anything you wants. She avoided the villagers and meeting places in her efforts to be blind and deaf.
Delia and Sykes fought all the time now with no peaceful interludes. They slept and ate in silence. Two or three times Delia had attempted a timid friendliness, but she was repulsed each time. It was plain that the breaches must remain agape. The sun had burned July to August. The heat streamed down like a million hot arrows, smiting all things living upon the earth.
Grass withered, leaves browned, snakes went blind in shedding and men and dogs went mad. Dog days! Delia came home one day and found Sykes there before her. She wondered, but started to go on into the house without speaking, even though he was standing in the kitchen door and she must either stoop under his arm or ask him to move.
He made no room for her. She noticed a soap box beside the steps, but paid no particular attention to it, knowing that he must have brought it there. As she was stooping to pass under his outstretched arm, he suddenly pushed her backward, laughingly.
She nearly fell upon the box in her stumbling, and when she saw what it held, she all but fainted outright. Syke, mah Gawd! You gottuh. Oh, Jesus, have mussy! Thass de biggest snake Ah evah did see. Naw, Ah aint gonna kill it. The village agreed with Walter, but the snake stayed on.
His box remained by the kitchen door with its screen wire covering.
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