Black Boy :: essays research papers

Childhood is a time of sunny days. Sweet breezes blow friendly cloud shapes across the deep blue sky. The days are never-ending-joy—a black canvas to paint with beautiful memories - - unless your childhood was Richard Wright’s. His youth was a cold bleak existence, carved with hatred and overlaid with hunger. There seemed to be little hope for one born to such a lot. For it was not to the caring bosom of his family that Richard could turn. And the hard, unfeeling eyes of the world were turned away from him. It was a great feat that could struggle through life’s battles with his conscience unscathed. It was his experience that provided the color which enhanced the sketch of his personality he was given at birth. Richard’s family despaired of him. They believed him to only be on the wide path go hell as was evidence by the family confrontations Richard constantly found himself in. There was the time Aunt Addie punished an innocent Richard in school, and the fight raged on even once they were home. After pulling a knife on her and being thrown to the floor, eternal hate was born between the two relatives. He believed him to be devilish and would have nothing to do with him while Richard regarded her with untarnished enmity. He also fought with Uncle Tom. Richard pulled razor blades on Uncle because he was gong to be beaten for an unknown reason. This event constructed an impenetrable wall between the two that was never to come down. It was here Richard learned not to trust. For who would offer kindness towards him if family members did not. And finally, Richard fought with Granny over working on the Sabbath . She did not understand what he needed, reasoned Richard. That boy is a hopeles s case, felt Granny. They completely misunderstood one another, and each one’s pride was too great to do anything about the damaged relationship. So between Aunt Addie, Uncle Tom, and Granny, Richard existed in a place of hard and in indifferent stares which would cause him to search for brighter colors elsewhere. He first turned to the streets. He found no solace there but rather a malice between races that surpassed the hostility at home. He saw this when he was he was bitten by the brickyard owner’s dog. The man cared nothing for Richard and didn’t care if he lived or died because all blacks were trash in the white man’s eyes.