American culture_Freedom-William Edward Burghardt Du Bois

W. E. B. Du Bois

On Being Crazy

William Edward Burghardt Du Bois (1868–1963) was born in Massachusetts. In the course of his life he became a major influence on American blacks. By 1903 he had written The Souls of Black Folk which stated his major objections to the attitudes found in the writings of Booker T. Washington, the most influential black figure in the early twentieth century. In 1909 he helped found the National Association for the Advancement of Colored People. He edited Crisis, the magazine of the NAACP, and also founded the influential quarterly Phylon at Atlanta University. In this brief sketch (1907), Du Bois, in a series of conversation, touches ironically on the insanity of the relations between blacks and whites in the early days of the twentieth century. It might be instructive to consider just how different the relations between the races are today.

                It was one o’clock and I was hungry. I walked into a restaurant, seated myself, and reached for the bill of fare. My table companion rose.

                “Sir,” said he, “do you wish to force your company on those who do not want you?”

                No, said I, I wish to eat.

                “Are you aware, sir, that this is social equality?”

                Nothing of the sort, sir, it is hunger—and I ate.

                The day’s work done, I sought the theatre. As I sank into my seat, the lady shrank and squirmed.

                I beg pardon, I said.

                “Do you enjoy being where you are not wanted?” she asked coldly.

                Oh no, I said.

                “Well you are not wanted here.”

                I was surprised. I fear you are mistaken, I said, I certainly want the music, and I like to think the music wants me to listen to it.

                “Usher,” said the lady, “this is social equality.”

                “No, madam,” said the usher, “it is the second movement of Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony.”

                After the theatre, I sought the hotel where I had sent my baggage. The clerk scowled.

                “What do you want?”

                Rest, I said.

                “This is a white hotel,” he said.

                I looked around. Such a color scheme requires a great deal of cleaning, I said, but I don’t know that I object.

                “We object,” said he.

                Then why, I began, but he interrupted.

                “We don’t keep niggers,” he said, “we don’t want social equality.”

                Neither do I, I replied gently, I want a bed.

                I walked thoughtfully to the train. I’ll take a sleeper through Texas. I’m a little bit dissatisfied with this town.

                “Can't sell you one.”

                I only want to hire it, said I, for a couple of nights.

                “Can't sell you a sleeper in Texas,” he maintained. “They consider that social equality.”

                I consider it barbarism, I said, and I think I’ll walk.

                Walking, I met another wayfarer, who immediately walked to the other side of the road, where it was muddy. I asked his reason.

                “Niggers is dirty,” he said.

                So is mud, said I. Moreover, I am not as dirty as you—yet.

                “But you’re a nigger, ain't you?” he asked.

                My grandfather was so called.

                “Well then!” he answered triumphantly.

                Do you live in the South? I persisted, pleasantly.

                “Sure,” he growled, “and starve there.”

                I should think you and the Negroes should get together and vote out starvation.

                “We don’t let them vote.”

                We? Why not? I said in surprise.

                “Niggers is too ignorant to vote.”

                But, I said, I am not so ignorant as you.

                “But you’re a nigger.”

                Yes, I’m certainly what you mean by that.

                “Well then!” he returned, with that curiously inconsequential note of triumph. “Moreover,” he said, “I don’t want my sister to marry a nigger.”

                I had not seen his sister, so I merely murmured, let her say no.

                “By God, you shan’t marry her, even if she said yes.”

                But—but I don’t want to marry her, I answered, a little perturbed at the personal turn.

                “Why not!” he yelled, angrier than ever.

                Because I’m already married and I rather like my wife.

                “Is she a nigger?” he asked suspiciously.

                Well, I said again, her grandmother was called that.

                “Well then!” he shouted in that oddly illogical way.

                I gave up.

                Go on, I said, either you are crazy or I am.

                “We both are,” he said as he trotted along in the mud.

Suggestions for Discussion

1.       Why has Du Bois chosen these specific scenes for his conversations with white people?

2.       In what way is the final conversation different from those preceding it?

3.       Discuss some of the examples of Du Bois’ use of irony.

Suggestions for Writing

1.       Write an essay in which you examine the areas of racism dealt with in this selection from today’s perspective. What significant differences would you find? What similarities? In what way is “On Being Crazy” relevant for our time?