Juneteenth by Ralph Ellison Page A

kinsman no doubt to many of our colleagues here—in the words of Yeats—these enemies have become all too full of passionate intensity! Though fluent and often multilingual, they have not learned to speak in the true spirit of our glorious tongue—and yet, they strive to destroy it! They have not earned the right to harbor such malice, for this country has been kind to them. It has demanded little of them, and yet, they declare us decadent, deceptive, immoral and arrogant. Nor has our social life given them justification for such cynical disillusionment, such loss of confidence. Indeed, the country has strengthened them. It has freed them of the past and its terror. Yes, we have given them the strength which they would use against us. They have not the right even when most sincere to criticize us in the name of other so-called democracies. For they believe in no democracy! For there are those among us who yearn for the tyrant’s foot upon their necks! They long for authority, brutal and unyielding. It is their nature to lick the boots of the strong and to spit in the faces of those weaker than themselves.This is their conception of the good life. This is their idea of security! This is their way, the way they would substitute for our principle of individual freedom, the way in which man faces nature, society and the universe with confidence. Moving from triumph to triumph, ever increasing the well-being of all … Each and every true American is the captain of his fate, the master of his own conscience.
    Ah, yes! But somewhere we failed. We let down the gates and failed to draw the line, forgetting in our democratic pride that there were men in this world who fear our freedom; who, as they walk along our streets, cry out for the straitjacket of tyranny. They do not wish to think for themselves and they hate those of us who do. They do not desire to make—they tremble with dread at the very idea of making—their own decisions; they feel comfortable only with the whip poised ever above their heads. They hunger to be hated, persecuted, spat upon and mocked so that they can justify their overwhelming and destructive pride and contempt for all who are different, for they are incapable of being American. They are false Americans, for to be an American is truly to accept the hero’s task as a condition of our everyday living and to bring it off with conscious ease! It is to take the risk of loneliness with open eyes; to face the forest with empty hands but with stout heart. To face the universal chaos in the name of human freedom and to win! To win even though we die but win and win again each day! To win and take the suffering that goes with winning along with the joy. To look any man in the face, unhindered by Europe’s deadweight of vicious traditions. It is to take a stand, a man alone … going West.
    Ah, it holds hard. Camera! Lights! Lights! Never cut call—now action .
    Bliss, he said, there’s but one thing keeping you from being a great preacher—you just won’t learn to sing! A preacher just has got to sing, Bliss. But I guess whoever it was give you that straight hair and white skin took away your singing voice. Of course you’re still pretty young. I just don’t know, Bliss. I guess I have to do a lot of praying over you, ’cause you’re definitely a preacher.…
    Preach, cried the King, and forty thousand strained out the words.
    Mr. Speaker … How far the heights?
    Yes, preach! But how could I sing the Lord’s song, a stranger man?
    Mr. Speaker, I will be recognized.…
    I took her for a walk under the cottonwood trees. The sticky buds lay on the ground. Spring warned me but I was young and foolish and how could I not go on and then go on? How make progress with her along? I had nothing, I was a bird in flight. And it was as though I mounted her in midair, and we were like a falcon plummeting with its prey. Pray for me—now. No, I was gentle then. She melted me. She poised me in time tenderly.