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'The neighbors and churchfolk came in for their share of her all embracing hatred. She hated their raucous laughter, their stupd acceptance of all things, and their unfailing trust in 'de lawd'.'' - Nella Larsen, Quicksand.
So I am ashamed for the black poet who says, "I want to be a poet, not a Negro poet," as though his own racial world were not as interesting as any other world. I am ashamed, too, for the colored artist who runs from the painting of Negro faces to the painting of sunsets after the manner of the academicians because he fears the strange un-whiteness of his own features. An artist must be free to choose what he does, certainly, but he must also never be afraid too what he might choose.
black skin no mask
black skin white mask
