Raisin in the Sun-Dreams Deferred
...ough her late husband’s insurance money replenishes the desolate condition of their shared, worthwhile dream (Marre 454). Her revelation to Travis of having bought a new home for his eventual inheritance, her description to Walter of how there are three bedrooms and a yard where she can grow some flowers, and her affirmative response to Ruth’s question of whether there is a whole lot of sunlight there act as clear indicators of her happiness for this accomplishment and progress from her family’s current socio-economic position (Hansberry 91-92; 94). Additionally, as the anonymous author speaks of the play’s signaling of a “new era for the role of the black artist in the American civil rights struggle,” in the article “Lorainne Hansberry: 1930-1965,” so does the author indirectly speak of Mama Younger’s reflected approach of “direct actions and protests […] against racism and discrimination in American life” as seen in the play and her talk with Travis (277). Then, there is the matter of dreams crusting and sugaring over like a syrupy sweet. Hughes prompts, “Does it stink like rotten meat / Or crust and sugar over— / Like a syrupy sweet?” (Hansberry 6-8). Certainly for Mama Younger and her family, in the minute scheme of things, much of that was happening. Take Walter as an example. For much of his adult life, he has been a chauffeur (Hansberry 34). Like his late father, he has long dreamed of making his family’s condition better, of giving them something worthwhile that goes beyond the miniscule ability of his obviously low-class, low-rate, and low-paying, job. He wishes “to invest the money in a liquor store so he can leave his ‘nothing’ job as a white man’s chauffeur and go into business” because he feels “trapped and desperate” (Marre 454). At the dining table in Act I he expresses to his wife, “I’m thirty-five years old; I been married eleven years and I got a boy who sleeps in the living room—and all I got to give him is stories about how rich white people live” (34). So is his dream rotten smelling and crusted and sugared-over like a syrupy sweet? The answer is yes and no. In terms of him having have worked as a chauffeur for at least the past fifteen years and still having nothing to show—monetarily, prestigiously, and the like—for it, yes, his dream has crystallized. However, when one considers his continuous efforts to try and attain a better life for his family—through his alcohol store venture and just working in general—then one sees that his dream is not forsaken and old because each moment he thinks of it and keeps faith, he in essence keeps that dream alive, well, and hardly anywhere close in the fermentation stage. He, Walter Younger, “supported by a culture of hope and aspiration, survives and grows” (Robinson and Barranger, “Hansberry, Lorraine Vivian: (1930-1965)” 527-8). Despite his mama’s “I don’t aim to have to speak on that again,” attitude, he yet continues pressing the issue (Hansberry 71). Then, finally, gives in because of her love for him. She confides, “I ain’t never stop trusting you. Like I ain’t never stop loving you,” and tells him to take the three thousand, deposit it for Beneatha’s schooling, and to place the rest in a checking account for his personal use (Hansberry 107). As for Mama Younger, the case is similar. For as much as she has lived and has had Walter and Beneatha, her dream of owning a house has been on hold. She focused her energies on what she called her “beginning again,” her “harvest” (Hansberry 144). Because of that, owning a home as a young woman went to the back of her mind and her children to the front. In essence, she allowed that dream to crust and sugar over. Yet again, as is the peculiar character of paradoxes, her bigger dream lying within that other one of passing on her sense of value, strength and love stay with her and in that way keep it from getting ill, old, and replaceable. She places the value of owning a home for her family on pause, and instead plays and focuses on instilling her ethical codes onto her beloved children as seen in her confrontation with Beneatha about Walter in Act III and what she and her husband has taught her (Hansberry 144). In her true moment of wisdom and glory, she orders Travis to stay and witness what his father, Walter, is going to say to Mr. Linder, who is returning thinking that he will be able to repurchase the Youngers’ property (that Mama Younger initially bought) that day: “No. Travis, you stay right here. And you make him understand what you doing, Walter Lee. You teach him good. Like Willy Harris taught you. You show where our five generations done come to” (Hansberry 147). Her message marks the transference of power and wisdom to the next generation. How is that? Well, what is Walter’s response? Is it not that he showed to Mr. Linder that he valued his family’s integrity and honor more than the money that had so greatly changed them? Additionally, that he would not undermine those noble things for temporary possession of money and permanent disgrace and dishonor? Yes, I think so, too. In fact, he plainly says, “We don’t want your money” and that “we have decided to move into our house because my father—my father—he earned it for us brick by brick” (Hansberry 148). In this way, his actions prove that Mama Younger has managed, after all, to fulfill her greater dream of the preservation of her family’s values, ethics, love, and sense of responsibility. It appears that in the “big picture” view of her life in the play, she has managed to attain a dream that never really was like the possible, negative interpretation of Hughes’ rhetorical questions. Moreover, that the money she wishes she could stretch to satisfy everybody, turns out to be a blessing after all, since they will not have to put “with high rent and overcrowding,” as Marre says, and because she has managed to instill in her children her most important values after all (454). So what do all of these speculations, conjectures, and interpretations of text on Lorraine Hansberry’s A Raisin in the Sun have to do with real-life participators in living? If anything, it is the learning of the lesson that no matter what life experiences come in each person’s way he must learn to see and work towards its oftentimes hidden, positive embodiment. Additionally, as only Mama Younger says it best, that: There is always something left to love. And if you ain’t learned that, you ain’t learned nothing. [And, …] when do you think is the time to love somebody the most? When they done good and made things easy for everybody? Well then, you ain’t through learning—because that ain’t the time at all. It’s when he’s at his lowest and can’t believe in hisself ‘cause the world done whipped him so! When you starts measuring somebody, measure him right, child, measure him right. Make sure you done taken into account what hills and valleys he come through before he got to wherever he is. (Hansberry 145) Moreover, that he should stop seeing things in “black” and “white” because life just does n...