a raisin in the sun - syllabus...

A Raisin in the SunLorraine Hansberry’s play A Raisin in the Sun

opened on March 11, 1959, at the Ethel Barry-

more Theatre on Broadway and ran for 530

performances. Directed by Lloyd Richards and

starring Sidney Poitier in the role of Walter, it

was the first play ever written by an African

American woman to be produced on Broadway.

Its overwhelming success led to a New York

Drama Circle Award for Hansberry, who also

became the youngest person to win in the

1958–1959 season. A Raisin in the Sun is a domes-

tic drama set in an apartment building on the

South Side of Chicago sometime between 1945

and 1959. The play’s title refers to a line from the

Langston Hughes poem ‘‘Harlem,’’ also known as

‘‘A Dream Deferred’’: ‘‘What happens to a dream

deferred? / Does it dry up / like a raisin in the sun?’’

The play examines the ‘‘deferred dreams’’ ofthe Younger family, who live in a tenementbuilding on the South Side of Chicago. Mama

and her daughter-in-law Ruth both dream of a

better place to live than their cramped apart-

ment, while Walter hopes for the financial inde-

pendence he believes will come if he can open a

liquor store. Beneatha, the only formally edu-cated member of the family, hopes to become

a doctor. All these dreams hinge on a ten-

thousand-dollar insurance check that comes to

the family as a result of Big Walter Younger’s

death, but as is soon shown, not everyone’s

dream can survive. Events within the family as

LORRAINE HANSBERRY

1959

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well as outside of it cause each person to make achoice that none of them could imagine makingat the beginning of the play.

Set between the end of World War II in 1945and the full momentum of the civil rights move-ment of the 1960s, A Raisin in the Sun examinesracial prejudice and discrimination from severalperspectives. When the Youngers buy a house inthe white neighborhood of Clybourne Park, theyare subjected to racist neighbors who try to keepthe black family out of their neighborhood. Inaddition to this external racism, the Youngersalso grapple with prejudice and racial identitywithin their own family. From Beneatha’s desireto communewith herAfrican heritage toWalter’srejection of what he calls ‘‘the world’s most back-ward race of people,’’ the expectations of racewithin the Younger family are complex and var-ied. Each character sees his or her responsibilityto their race differently, which creates tension anddisagreement until they are able to, temporarily,unite against Karl Lindner, who has come tomake a racist offer to the family on move-in day.

The play was significantly cut before its firststaging in 1959 to reduce its runtime. TheVintage Book edition of the play restores thecut scenes that were initially excluded. It is con-sidered the most complete edition available.Hansberry is also the author of several otherplays, including The Drinking Gourd (1960) andThe Sign in Sidney Brustein’s Window (1965),and an autobiography: To Be Young, Giftedand Black: Lorraine Hansberry in Her OwnWords (1970).

ARaisin in the Sun continues to be one of themost performed and anthologized plays in thehistory of American theater. A revival was per-formed on Broadway in the summer of 2004,starring Sean ‘‘Diddy’’ Combs as Walter andPhylicia Rashad as Mama. The success of the

revival and the four Tony Award nominations itreceived underscore the enduring truth presentin Hansberry’s play.

PLOT SUMMARY

Act 1, Scene 1The play begins with lengthy stage directions.It is set on Chicago’s South Side ‘‘sometimebetween World War II and the present,’’ whichat the time was 1959. The scene opens atthe Youngers’ house, in what ‘‘would be a

WALTER LEE SAY COLORED PEOPLE AIN’T

NEVER GOING TO START GETTING AHEAD TILL THEY

START GAMBLING ON SOME DIFFERENT KINDS OF

THINGS IN THEWORLD.’’

BIOGRAPHY

LORRAINE HANSBERRY

Lorraine Hansberry was born in Chicago onMay 19, 1930. She was the youngest of fourchildren born to schoolteacher and civil rightsactivist Nannie Perry and her husband, promi-nent real-estate broker Carl Hansberry. WhenHansberry was eight, the family moved intothe all-white neighborhood of Woodlawn inChicago. Despite vicious acts of vandalism andvisits from angrymobs,Mr.Hansberry defendedhis family’s right to live there—even taking thematter as far as the Supreme Court (he won inHansberry v. Lee, 1940). This transition periodand the experiences of racism and sexism thatfollowed it played a significant role in Hansberry’schildhood, growing up as an African Americanchild in a white, middle-class neighborhood.

Hansberry attended the University ofWisconsin from 1948–1950 and later studiedAfrican culture and history with legendary scho-lar W. E. B. Du Bois at the Jefferson School forSocial Sciences in New York. During that time,she also wrote for Paul Robeson’s Freedommagazine. In 1953, Hansberry married RobertNemiroff, a Jewish literature student, songwri-ter, and activist. The couple divorced in 1964.

Just six years after her initial success with ARaisin in the Sun, Hansberry died of lung canceron January 12, 1965, at the age of thirty-four.

A R a i s i n i n t h e S u n

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comfortable and well-ordered [living] room’’ thatis beginning to show its wear. While it is apparentthat at one time the objects in the room werecarefully selected and cared for, it is clear nowthat ‘‘Weariness has, in fact, won in this room.’’Concern about decorum and comfort has givenway to the simple act of living. Hansberry estab-lishes this space as one that represents financialstruggle, strain, and depression.

It is early on a Friday morning when RuthYounger, a woman in her thirties with a look of‘‘disappointment [that] has already begun tohang in her face,’’ wakes to assist her family ingetting prepared for the day’s activities. Sherouses her ten-year-old son Travis from the liv-ing room couch where he sleeps. He headstoward the washroom that the Youngers mustshare with other families in their apartmentbuilding. Next, Ruth goes to the bedroom towake her husband, Walter Lee Younger.Walter is described as an ‘‘intense young manin his middle thirties, inclined to quick nervousmovements and erratic speech habits.’’ WhileTravis is bathing, Walter and Ruth chat as sheprepares his breakfast. Shortly thereafter, Travis

emerges from the bathroom and his father hur-ries to take his place. Travis reminds his motherthat he needs fifty cents to bring to school, butRuth tells him, ‘‘I ain’t got it.’’ When Walterreturns, he disagrees with Ruth’s decision notto give Travis the money. He gives the boy thefifty cents he requested for school, and an addi-tional fifty cents for ‘‘fruit . . . or [to] take a taxi-cab to school.’’

After Travis leaves, Ruth and Waltercontinue arguing about their precariousfinancial situation. The Younger family isexpecting a life insurance check for ten thou-sand dollars as a result of Walter’s father’sdeath. The money is due to arrive the nextday and everyone in the household is antici-pating the relief it will bring. Walter works asa chauffeur for a man named Mr. Arnold,and he hopes to use some of the money toput a down payment on a liquor store. Ruthreminds Walter that the check is really hismother’s to spend and encourages her hus-band to finish his breakfast and get towork. It is clear from their dialogue thatWalter is dissatisfied with his job and is look-ing for a way out, but his idea to co-own aliquor store with his friends Bobo and Willyis a risky one that conflicts with Ruth’s morecautious approach to survival. Walter equateshis wife’s hesitance to sabotage and tells her,‘‘That is just what is wrong with the coloredwoman in this world . . . Don’t understandabout building their men up and making‘em feel like they somebody. Like they cando something.’’

Walter’s sister Beneatha enters, ‘‘abouttwenty, [and] as slimand intense as her brother . . .[but] not as pretty as her sister-in-law.’’ Sheand Walter engage in morning banter and thetopic of conversation quickly turns to Beneatha’sambition to be a doctor. Both Walter and Ruthmuse at the rarity of Beneatha’s aspirations, not-ing there ‘‘Ain’t many girls’’ who decide tobecome doctors. The sibling rivalry continueswhen Walter accuses Beneatha of ‘‘acting holy‘round here,’’ because she is in school whilethe rest of the adult household must work gruel-ing, thankless jobs just to make ends meet.Beneatha responds to Walter’s accusation bydropping to her knees and pleading, ‘‘forgiveme for ever wanting to be anything at all!’’It seems that everyone has a reason to wanta portion of the money to come—Walter to

Lorraine Hansberry The Library of Congress


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become an entrepreneur and Beneatha to becomea doctor.

The argument comes to a halt when Walterand Beneatha’s mother enters the room. Mama,

‘‘a woman in her early sixties, full-bodied andstrong,’’ wants to knowwhat the ruckus is about.Her first act of the day is to tend to a ‘‘feeble little

plant growing doggedly in a small pot on thewindowsill.’’ Ruth and Mama discuss all thepossibilities that the ten-thousand-dollar check

allows the family. After listening to Ruth’s sug-gestions, Mama reminisces about her late hus-

band, Big Walter, whose lifelong struggle toprovide for his family makes her decision regard-ing how to spend the money that much more

challenging. She tells Ruth that Big Walteronce said to her, ‘‘Seem like God didn’t see fit

to give the black man nothing but dreams—butHe did give us children to make them dreamsseem worth while.’’ This leads Beneatha to

denounce the existence of the God, telling hermother that she gets ‘‘tired of Him getting credit

for all the things the human race achievesthrough its own stubborn effort.’’ Beneatha’soutburst sends her mother reeling. She tells

Ruth that her household is changing, withWalter always thinking about money and

Beneatha talking about things Mama does notunderstand. Mama daydreams of owning ahouse with a garden in the back she can tend.

While looking out the window, she does notnotice that Ruth has fainted.

Act 1, Scene 2The following morning, the Youngers arecleaning the house. They are interrupted by avisit from Joseph Asagai, a Nigerian studentwhom Beneatha has recently met on campus.Asagai, who is referred to by only his last name,senses tension in the household. When he asksBeneatha why she looks so ‘‘disturbed,’’ she jok-ingly responds, ‘‘we’ve all got acute ghetto-itis.’’In truth, Ruth has just returned from the doctor,having learned that she is two months pregnant.The information is not good news, especially con-sidering the family’s already cramped livingarrangements. Ruth’s pregnancy reveals the direnature of theYoungers’ financial situation.Asagaihas come to court Beneatha, bringing somerecords of Nigerian folk music as well as a tradi-tional Nigerian woman’s robe from his sister’sown wardrobe. Beneatha is thrilled with the giftsand accepts the compliments Asagai gives her.

His only criticism involves Beneatha’s ‘‘mutilatedhair’’—so called because it has been straightenedand is therefore unnatural. Beneatha disagreeswith Asagai’s use of the word ‘‘mutilation’’ todescribe her hair, defending her decision tostraighten her hair because ‘‘it’s so hard to managewhen it’s, well—raw.’’ The two of them discusshow assimilation and identity relate to bothAfrican and African American cultures. Asagaiattempts to convey his romantic intentionstowards Beneatha, telling her, ‘‘Between a manand a woman there need be only one kind offeeling. I have that for you.’’ The feeling is notreciprocated, and she tells him, ‘‘I’m not interestedin being someone’s little episode in America.’’ AsAsagai prepares to leave, Mama enters the roomand exchanges pleasantries with Asagai. Havingalready been warned by Beneatha to avoid seem-ing ignorant to their guest, Mama casually men-tions, ‘‘I would love to hear all about . . . yourcountry. I think it’s so sad the way our AmericanNegroes don’t know nothing about Africa ‘ceptTarzan and all that.’’ Asagai bids Beneatha fare-well, calling her ‘‘Alaiyo.’’ He tells her it means‘‘One for Whom Bread—Food—Is Not Enough.’’

After Asagai leaves, the mailman deliversthe much-anticipated insurance check. Mama isreminded that her husband had to die in orderfor the family to have this money. Walterarrives shortly thereafter, excited by the pro-spect of his latest endeavor. The first wordsfrom his mouth are, ‘‘Did it come?’’ Mamainforms him that she will not be using any ofthe money to help him open a liquor store, nomatter what the arrangements are between him,Bobo, and Willy. Outraged by what he believesto be a betrayal of their relationship, Walterasks his mother, ‘‘Do you know what thismoney means to me? Do you know what thismoney can do for us?’’ Mama tries to consoleher son, but his frustration and hopelessnesspersist. Unsure of how to reconcile the disagree-ment, Mama tells Walter that Ruth is expectinganother baby and considering having an abor-tion. Walter reacts to the news with disbelief:‘‘You don’t know Ruth, Mama, if you think shewould do that.’’

Ruth, whose voice the stage directions indi-cate is ‘‘beaten,’’ tells Walter that she would, infact, have an abortion. Mama, who clearly doesnot support this option, turns toWalter. She tellshim she is waiting to hear him act like his fatherand tell Ruth that their family is not the kind



that would ‘‘destroy’’ a child. Walter says noth-ing and leaves. Mama continues, saying that heis a disgrace to his father’s memory.

Act 2, Scene 1Later that same day, Beneatha dons the tradi-tional Nigerian robes Asagai brought for her.While she is listening to her new folk musicrecords, Walter enters the room, drunk.Beneatha is dancing what she says is the tradi-tional dance of welcome that Nigerian womenuse upon their men’s return from the hunt.Beneatha and Walter engage in an impromptuperformance celebrating their African heritage.Ruth watches disapprovingly, ‘‘embarrassed forthe family.’’ George Murchison arrives to takeBeneatha out to the theater. Beneatha’s enthu-siasm for her African heritage is cut short byGeorge’s comment: ‘‘Look honey, we’re goingto the theatre—we’re not going to be in it.’’

Beneatha takes off the headdress and revealsher new hairstyle—a short, natural afro.Shocked by Beneatha’s decision to change herhair, Ruth asks her, ‘‘You expect this boy to goout with you with your head all nappy like that?’’Beneatha responds by telling Ruth that she hates‘‘assimilationist Negroes.’’ Then Walter startstalking to George about business ideas and saysthat they should get together to talk about them.George reacts to the suggestion with indiffer-ence. Infuriated, Walter insults George, callinghim a ‘‘busy little boy,’’ too preoccupied with hisown privileged college life to ‘‘be a man.’’ Georgeand Beneatha manage to leave before Walter’sanger escalates to the boiling point. Ruth reas-sures her husband by telling him that ‘‘life don’thave to be like this.’’

When Mama returns, she announces thatshe has placed a down payment on a house at406 Clybourne Street in Clybourne Park, anall-white, working-class neighborhood. Ruth isthrilled at the prospect of moving, but worriedabout moving into an all-white neighborhood.She embraces the joy of the news and goes to seeto Travis. Walter feels completely defeated andaccuses his mother of shattering his dreams: ‘‘Soyou butchered up a dream of mine—you—whoalways talking ‘bout your children’s dreams.’’

Act 2, Scene 2A few weeks later, on Friday night, Beneathaand George return to the apartment after adate. He tries to kiss her but she wants to talk.

They argue about the nature of their relation-ship. Mama returns as George leaves, and thewomen talk about Beneatha’s feelings forGeorge. Beneatha explains that she is unableto continue her relationship with him becausehe refuses to engage her as an equal. Beneathaappreciates her mother’s understanding.

Mrs. Johnson, a gossipy neighbor, knocks onthe door. Her perspective about blacks is notice-ably limited, as she makes statements like, ‘‘Ialways thinks like Booker T. Washington saidthat time—‘Education has spoiled many a goodplow hand.’’’ Her antagonism is most apparentwhen she suggests that the family’s impendingmove to a white neighborhood, although ‘‘won-derful,’’ will result in headlines like ‘‘NEGROSINVADE CLYBOURNE PARK—BOMBED!’’This bigoted attitude leads Beneatha to tell hermother, ‘‘if there are two things we, as a people,have got to overcome, one is the KuKlux Klan—and the other is Mrs. Johnson.’’

After Mrs. Johnson’s visit, the familylearns that Walter has not been to work forthree days. When he says that he has spent thetime drinking in a jazz club, his mother feels badfor ruining his dreams. She gives Walter thesixty-five hundred dollars she has left overfrom the house down payment. She tells himto put aside three thousand dollars forBeneatha’s schooling and spend the rest as hewants. Walter, who is shocked by his mother’sunexpected support, tells Travis, ‘‘Daddy ain’tgoing to never be drunk again.’’ Walter andTravis discuss manhood and their own dreamsfor the future. The scene ends with Walter tell-ing him, ‘‘You just name it, son . . . and I handyou the world!’’

Act 2, Scene 3It is one week later on moving day. The curtainopens on Ruth and Beneatha discussing theirplans for their new home. Even Walter is agree-able, dancing with his wife as the excitementspreads. In the midst of everyone’s happiness,a white man who identifies himself as KarlLindner of the Clybourne Park ImprovementAssociation, comes to the door. Mr. Lindnerexplains that as chairman of the welcoming com-mittee, it is his job to ‘‘go around and see the newpeople who move into the neighborhood andsort of give them the lowdown on the way wedo things out in Clybourne Park.’’ He tells theYoungers that the community in Clybourne



Park would rather that blacks stay in their ownneighborhood. To encourage this, they havepooled their money to buy the Youngers’ newhouse back from them at a price higher than theypaid for it. Mr. Lindner reminds the Youngers‘‘of some of the incidents which have happenedin various parts of the city when colored peoplehave moved into certain areas’’—a commentreferring to acts of violence, the equivalent of apolitely worded threat.

Bymentioning that the community he repre-sents is made up of those who are ‘‘not rich andfancy people; just hard-working, honest people,’’Mr. Lindner hopes that the racist agenda of hisvisit will be instead thought of as a means toachieve ‘‘the happiness of all concerned.’’ Evenafter Walter tells Mr. Lindner to leave, the manprotests, saying, ‘‘You just can’t force peopleto change their hearts, son.’’ As the only whitecharacter in the entire play, one might expectMr. Lindner to be unnecessarily demonized.However, the script notes much to the contrary,indicating that Mr. Lindner is not a tyrant but,‘‘a gentle man; thoughtful and somewhatlabored in his manner.’’

When Mama returns, Beneatha informs herof Mr. Lindner’s visit. Mama asks if he threa-tened the family. Beneatha tell her, ‘‘they don’tdo it like that any more. . . . He said everybodyought to learn how to sit down and hate eachother with good Christian fellowship.’’ BeneathaandRuth speculate as to why the community hasa problem with black neighbors, suggesting sar-castically that the whites are afraid they might‘‘eat ‘em’’ or ‘‘marry ‘em.’’ As Mama carefullyprepares her little plant for the trip, the familyteases her for even wanting to bring it to the newhouse.

Ruth,Walter, and Beneatha present a gift ofgardening tools to Mama in preparation for herdream house, and Travis gives her a large gar-dening hat. The family tries to recapture theexcitement that Mr. Lindner’s visit had inter-rupted earlier. Bobo arrives at the door withmore bad news. Willy, Bobo andWalter’s friendand would-be business associate, has apparentlyfled with all their money. Walter reveals thatinstead of following Mama’s directions and set-ting aside money for Beneatha’s schooling, hegave all sixty-five hundred dollars to Willy asan investment on the liquor store. The familyis shocked and silent at Walter’s revelation.Mama ‘‘looks at her son without recognition,’’

hitting him in the face. She speaks of her latehusband, saying, ‘‘I seen him grow thin and oldbefore he was forty . . . working and working andworking like somebody’s old horse . . . and you—you give it all away in a day.’’ Mama looks up tothe heavens, begging God to give her strength.

Act 3, Scene 1One hour later, Asagai enters, ‘‘smiling broadly,striding . . . with energy and happy expectation,’’unaware of what has just transpired. He hascome to help with the packing and asksBeneatha what is wrong. Beneatha tells himthat Walter gave away the insurance money inan investment not even Travis would have made.Beneatha explains to Asagai why she has wantedto be a doctor since she was a child and how nowit is pointless because ‘‘it doesn’t seem deepenough, close enough to what ails mankind!’’Disillusioned by her brother’s betrayal andAsagai’s attempt to put it in perspective withidealism, she tells Asagai that his idealism isuseless, and that he thinks he can ‘‘Cure theGreat Sore of Colonialism . . . with thePenicillin of Independence.’’ Asagai attempts torestore Beneatha’s optimism by inviting her tocome live with him in Africa. He leaves her tocontemplate his offer.

When Walter enters the room, Beneatha,disgusted, calls him ‘‘Monsieur le petit bourgeoisnoir (Mr. little middle-class black). . . . Symbol ofa Rising Class! Entrepreneur!’’ Walter leaves ashis sister hurls insults after him.Mama andRuthdiscuss whether or not to call and cancel with themovers. Mama thinks they cannot afford thehouse now, but Ruth insists that the four ofthem can. Walter announces that the family is‘‘going to do business’’ with Mr. Lindner (whomhe also refers to here as ‘‘The Man,’’ ‘‘CaptainBoss,’’ ‘‘Mistuh Charley,’’ and ‘‘Mr. Bossman’’).Walter demonstrates how he plans to ‘‘get downon [his] black knees’’ and begMr. Lindner for themoney he had offered. His mother and sister areappalled at his ‘‘groveling and grinning’’ beha-vior because they feel that accepting the payoffis the same as admitting that they are notgood enough. Mama agrees to let him acceptMr. Lindner’s offer as long as he does so in hisson’s presence so the boy understands whatWalter is doing and why. When Mr. Lindnerreturns, Walter shocks everyone by refusing hisoffer, telling him ‘‘we come from people who hada lot of pride,’’ and that the Youngers ‘‘don’twant to make no trouble for nobody or fight



no causes, and we will try to be good neighbors.’’Mr. Lindner leaves and the Youngers celebratethe reemergence of Walter’s pride. As the familyleaves the apartment to meet the movers, whohave arrived downstairs, Beneatha tells Mamaof Asagai’s proposal. While the family goesdownstairs, Mama returns to get her plantfrom the window.

THEMES

Internalized RacismWhile scholars debate the meaning of interna-lized racism, critics agree that this concept is keyto a complete understanding of A Raisin in theSun. In ‘‘Internalized Racism: A Definition,’’Donna Bivens, co-director of the BostonTheological Institute, defines internalized racismas ‘‘the situation that occurs in a racist system,’’when members of an oppressed group maintain

or participate in ‘‘the set of attitudes, behaviors,

social structures and ideologies that undergird

the dominating group’s power.’’ In other words,

when characters such as Walter, George, and

Beneatha start to believe the stereotypes about

their own race, they have internalized racism.

In act 2, scene 1 ofARaisin in the Sun, George

tells Beneatha that her African heritage ‘‘is nothing

but a bunch of raggedy-assed spirituals and some

grass huts.’’With this statement, he clearly demon-

strates his own internalized racism. Amember of a

well-to-do black family, George distances himself

from his African heritage, preferring instead to

adopt the attitudes and tastes of affluent white

Americans. Beneatha describes George’s family

as ‘‘honest-to-God-real-live-rich colored people,

and the only people in the world who are more

snobbish than rich white people are rich colored

people.’’ Emphasis on George’s wealth accompa-

nies his presence throughout the play. Presumably,

Sidney Poitier and Claudia McNeil in a stage production of A Raisin in the Sun AP Images



George’s status as both ‘‘rich’’ and ‘‘colored’’ sethim apart from other characters, who see him as a

fake.

The echo of internalized racism continues toresonate when Walter, a poor chauffeur, com-plains to his wife, ‘‘we all tied up in a race ofpeople that don’t know how to do nothing butmoan, pray, and have babies!’’ This statementreveals Walter’s own internalization of anti-black/pro-white racism. In an article titled,‘‘Levels of Racism: A Theoretical Frameworkand a Gardener’s Tale,’’ Camara Phyllis Jonesinsists, ‘‘It is important to note that the associa-tion between socioeconomic status and race inthe United States has its origins in discrete his-torical events,’’ and that ‘‘Institutional racismmanifests itself both in material conditions andin access to power.’’ In this way, one can see thatregardless of their differing economic positions,both Walter and George are affected, and con-sequently defined, by their own internalizedracism.

External RacismThough the dynamics within the Younger

household indicate various levels of internalized

racism, racism from external forces also finds its

way into their living room.WhenMama receives

the insurance check from her husband’s death,

she uses part of the money to put a down pay-

ment on a house with a garden, which is her

dream. The family is excited to be moving into

a house with more room and in a nicer neighbor-

hood. That happiness is temporarily dashed

when Karl Lindner from the Clybourne Park

Improvement Association pays them a visit on

the day they are set to move. He tells the family

that he is there to ‘‘give them the lowdown on the

way we do things out in Clybourne Park.’’ That

‘‘way’’ turns out to be striving to keep the neigh-

borhood all white. Though Lindner tells the

Youngers he is here to talk to them ‘‘friendly

like,’’ his message is anything but friendly. In

order to keep the black Youngers out of white

Clybourne Park, the neighbors have pooled their

money together to try and buy out the Youngers’

house:

I want you to believe me when I tell you that

race prejudice simply doesn’t enter into it. It

is a matter of the people of Clybourne Park

believing, rightly or wrongly, as I say, that for

the happiness of all concerned that our Negro

families are happier when they live in their own

communities.

Although Lindner is careful to point outthat the actions of Clybourne Park residentsare not a matter of ‘‘race prejudice,’’ that isexactly the case. The neighbors fear the prospectof blacks moving into their white neighborhood,and do everything they can to stop it. WhenWalter throws Lindner out of the house,Lindner tells the family that they have nothingto gain ‘‘by moving into a neighborhood where[they] just aren’t wanted.’’ Soon after, Walterlearns that Willy has run off with the rest of theinsurance money. He suddenly thinks the familyshould take Lindner up on his offer after all. ButMama refuses: ‘‘ain’t nobody in my family neverlet nobody pay ‘em no money that was a way oftelling us we wasn’t fit to walk the earth.’’ WhenWalter meets Lindner again, he tells him that theYoungers will be moving into their new housebecause their father ‘‘earned it for [them] brickby brick.’’ Selling out to the Clybourne Parkneighbors might otherwise have seemed a wind-fall, but the option is untenable because it wouldmake the Youngers complicit in their ownoppression.

African HeritageAfrican heritage and culture play a significantrole in A Raisin in the Sun. The Nigerian Asagairepresents the entire continent and culture ofAfrica for the Younger family. When Beneathafirst mentions Asagai to Mama, she reminds hernot to ‘‘ask him a whole lot of ignorant ques-tions,’’ like ‘‘do they wear clothes and all that’’because Beneatha is acutely aware that popularconceptions of Africans are often negative.Beneatha says, ‘‘All anyone seems to knowabout when it comes to Africa is Tarzan.’’Upon learning that Asagai is Nigerian, Mamamistakenly assumes, ‘‘that’s the little countrythat was founded by slaves way back.’’Beneatha corrects her mother’s mistake, indicat-ing that it is Liberia, not Nigeria that wasfounded by slaves. Mama responds, ‘‘I don’tthink I never met no African before,’’ revealingan extremely limited understanding of Africa.

With the character of Asagai, the authorcreates an avenue through which to educateboth her characters and her audience about cer-tain details of African culture. By doing this, shealso points out the fact that many AfricanAmericans have the desire, but not the resources,to reconnect with their African ancestry.Because slavery largely prevented AfricanAmericans from preserving their various



African cultures, assimilation became the pri-mary method of survival for black African slavesand their descendants in America. Beneatha,who has a strong interest in African heritageand appears in act 2, scene 1 dressed in tribalclothing and singing traditional songs, tells Ruththat she ‘‘hate[s] assimilationist Negroes!’’ Shedefines an assimilationist as ‘‘someone who iswilling to give up his own culture and submergehimself completely in the dominant, and in thiscase oppressive culture.’’ This assessment doesnot acknowledge why one might employ assim-ilationist tactics to survive. For example, GeorgeMurchison, who embodies this ‘‘assimilationist’’viewpoint, is depicted in a negative light in theplay—however, he is the play’s most socio-economically successful character. George’s dis-dain for his own African ancestry is set in starkcontrast to Beneatha’s embrace of it.

This dynamic plays out in act 2, scene 1,when Beneatha emerges ‘‘grandly from the door-way . . . thoroughly robed in the (Nigerian) cos-tume Asagai brought,’’ and she and Walterenthusiastically enact what they imagine to bescenes from their African heritage. The perfor-mance includes much dancing, yelling, postur-ing, and references to such things as warriors,drums, flaming spears, lions, and chiefs—all ofwhich call to mind the image of ‘‘the noblesavage,’’ a people unspoiled by civilization,which has often been romanticized in literatureand film. This cultural reclamation highlightsBeneatha and Walter’s limited knowledge oftheir ancestral past. It is Asagai who representsthe true Africa, and Beneatha’s attempts toclaim her identity by connecting with him seemabsurd in the light of the overtly dramatic por-trayal of African-ness that dominates this scene.

HISTORICAL OVERVIEW

Chicago and the Great Black MigrationIn the wake of the Civil War and subsequentReconstruction, hundreds of thousands ofblack Southerners moved north to escape thelegalized oppression of Jim Crow laws and findwork in industrialized cities. Chicago became amain destination for these migrants in the earlytwentieth century. The so-called ‘‘Great BlackMigration’’ of the early twentieth century changedthe makeup of Chicago, which until then hadbeen largely inhabited by Irish and other

European immigrants. According to Encyclopediaof African-American Culture and History, theblack population in Chicago was 44,000 in1910. After World War II and during the timein which A Raisin in the Sun is set, the blackpopulation had increased tenfold. By 1960,there were nearly 813,000 blacks residing inChicago.

Despite their optimism about life in theNorth, African Americans discovered thatracism and prejudice were not strictly southernproblems. Discrimination and rapid populationgrowth soon created separate black neighbor-hoods, including the South Side of Chicago.While many blacks flourished in the communityand became entrepreneurs and business owners,those who could not find suitable work fell intopoverty. The South Side, also known as the‘‘Black Belt,’’ became a cultural, musical, andeducational capital for African Americans inthe 1940s, much like New York’s Harlem in the1920s.

In the mid-1960s, Congress passed open-housing laws that helped give blacks and otherminorities a greater choice of neighborhoodsin which they could live. As I. F. Stone notesin an article entitled ‘‘The Rat and Res Judicata,’’prior to this legislation, residents of Chicago’sBlack Belt had been paying some of the highestrent in the city relative to income. Because theywere not entitled to live wherever they pleased,there was a crunch for available housing that ledto exorbitant rents. This reality is reflected inMama’s choosing a house in Clybourne Park—a white neighborhood—over a house in anAfrican American neighborhood. As Mamaexplains, ‘‘Them houses they put up for coloredin them areas way out all seem to cost twice asmuch as other houses.’’

Hansberry v. LeeAs a child, Hansberry’s family moved to a whiteneighborhood in Chicago known as Woodlawnonly to be faced with racist mobs. Upon learningof the race of her new neighbors, whiteWoodlawnresident Anna M. Lee filed suit against theseller of the house and the Hansberrys for onehundred thousand dollars, alleging that bothhad violated the restrictive race covenant inthe neighborhood designed to keep blacksout the area. This covenant was not unique toWoodlawn; it is estimated that at the time,some eighty percent of Chicago housing was



controlled by similar covenants. Both a circuitcourt and the Supreme Court of Illinois upheldthe covenant and found in Lee’s favor. TheIllinois Supreme Court even called for theHansberrys’ property to be confiscated.Hansberry’s father took his family’s right tolive in this neighborhood all the way to theU.S. Supreme Court in Hansberry v.Lee (1940), which reversed the decision of theIllinois courts. It did not, however, find faultwith the existence of restrictive covenants. Thiswas nearly thirty years before the Federal FairHousing Act outlawed such restrictions.Hansberry v. Lee rocked the perception that theNorth was any more welcoming to blacks thanthe South had been.

CRITICAL OVERVIEW

When Lorraine Hansberry’s play A Raisin in theSun opened on Broadway in 1959, no one knewit would become such a huge success. In a 1959

article for the New York Times, Sam Zolotownotes that all seven major New York drama

critics endorsed the play; however, many criticswere not as positive in their assessments. In hisarticle ‘‘ARaisin in the SunRevisited,’’ J. Charles

Washington points out that

In the eyes of some critics ... [the play] was

passe almost before it closed, because they

saw it only as a protest play or social drama

about a Black family’s struggle to buy a house

in a white neighborhood.

Washington also cites critic C.W. E. Bigsby’sreview of the play, quoting, ‘‘[A Raisin in theSun] is an unhappy crossbreed of social protestand reassuring resolution.’’ The negativity ofthese reactions was hardly unusual, and stemmedfrom a general discomfort surrounding poli-tical and racial issues at the time. Washingtonalso refers to critic Harold Cruse’s evaluationthat the play is ‘‘the most cleverly written pieceof glorified soap opera’’ that he had ever seen.From this feedback, one might be surprisedthat A Raisin in the Sun is considered a classicof American theater. However, aside from theless-than-exultant response to the play’s obviouspolitical message, many critics praised the play’suniversality, noting the far-reaching appeal ofthe individual characters, whose eloquenceand dignity make them accessible to a diverseaudience.

In ‘‘ARaisin in the Sun’s Enduring Passion,’’Amiri Baraka notes that at the time of its sta-

ging, the play itself was ‘‘political agitation,’’explaining, ‘‘It dealt with the very same issues

of democratic rights and equality that were being

aired in the streets.’’ In this way, A Raisin in the

Sun has come to represent not only the humanist

ideals embodied by the Younger family, but also

the far-reaching socio-political conflicts that con-

tinue to affect life in America. In ‘‘Hansberry’s

A Raisin in the Sun,’’ David Cooper surmises

that at its heart, this play is about ‘‘the humancondition, human aspiration and human rela-

tionship—the persistence of dreams, of the

bonds and conflicts between men and women,

parents and children, old ways and new.’’

With these timeless themes, A Raisin in the

Sun has continued to thrive both on and off

the stage.

That the play continues to be performedis a testament to its universal and lasting

qualities. As Robert Nemiroff notes in his

introduction to the Vintage Books edition of

the play, the revivals staged on the twenty-

fifth anniversary of the play were warmlyreceived. He quotes a New York Times review

that says, ‘‘The events of every passing year add

resonance to A Raisin in the Sun. It is as if

history is conspiring to make the play a classic.’’

Nemiroff also quotes aWashington Post review

that calls it ‘‘one of a handful of great American

dramas.’’ In a 1999 review of the play for

Curtain Up, Elyse Sommer notes, ‘‘The play’s

surface issues may have changed but ... thiscompassionate human drama still works its

magic on our emotions.’’ David Chadderton’s

review of a London staging for The British

Theatre Guide applauds Hansberry’s ability to

create ‘‘a number of characters—none of which

is portrayed as wholly good or wholly bad—

that represent radically different points of view

convincingly.’’ A 2004 Broadway revival of A

Raisin in the Sun, starring Phylicia Rashad andSean ‘‘Diddy’’ Combs, also met with critical

praise. In a review of the revival, Anna

Deavere Smith of the New York Times writes

in ‘‘Two Visions of Love, Family and Race

Across the Generations’’ that A Raisin in the

Sun offers ‘‘a new and refreshing lens on our

history and on the theater’s potential.’’ The

production was nominated for four Tony

Awards in 2004, including Best Revival ofa Play.



CRITICISM

Robin BernsteinIn the following excerpt, Bernstein provides afavorable evaluation of the play, and discussesthe dynamic of universalism in the critical recep-tion of A Raisin in the Sun.

When Lorraine Hansberry’s A Raisin in theSun opened on Broadway in 1959, the vastmajority of white critics praised the play’s ‘‘uni-versality.’’ One reviewer wrote, ‘‘A Negro wrotethis show. It is played, with one exception, byNegroes. Half the audiences here are Negroes.Even so, it isn’t written for Negroes . . . It’s ashow about people, white or colored . . . I seeA Raisin in the Sun as part of the general cultureof the U.S.’’ The phrase ‘‘happens to be’’appeared with remarkable frequency amongreviews: the play was ‘‘about human beings,who happen to be Negroes’’ (or ‘‘a family that

happens to be colored’’); Sidney Poitier played‘‘the angry young man who happens to be aNegro.’’

Other white reviewers, however, praised theplay not for its universality, but for its particu-larity. ‘‘The play is honest,’’ wrote BrooksAtkinson, critic for the New York Times.‘‘[Hansberry] has told the inner as well as theouter truth about a Negro family in the south-side of Chicago at the present time.’’ ‘‘ThisNegro play,’’ wrote another reviewer, ‘‘cele-brates with slow impressiveness a triumph ofracial pride.’’

How can a play be simultaneously specificand universal? This apparent paradox is easilyresolved with the assertion that African-Americans are precisely as human—andAfrican-American cultures just as universal orparticular—as any other group. Hansberry her-self pointed out the non-existence of theparadox:

Interviewer: The question, I’m sure, is asked

you many times—you must be tired of it—

someone comes up to you and says: ‘‘This is

not really a Negro play; why, this could be

about anybody! It’s a play about people!’’

What is your reaction? What do you say?

Hansberry: Well[,] I hadn’t noticed the contra-

diction because I’d always been under the

impression that Negroes are people . . . One of

the most sound ideas in dramatic writing is that

in order to create the universal, you must pay

very great attention to the specific.

Hansberry’s solution to the apparent para-dox did not go unnoticed or unremarked.Novelist John Oliver Killens, for example,wrote,

Lorraine believed that . . . the literary road to

universality is through local identity. Many

critics said of Raisin that it is ‘‘universal,’’ that

it isn’t specifically about Blacks. ‘‘It is about

people. It could be about anybody.’’ But a play

that could be about anybody would most prob-

ably be about nobody at all. Lorraine was very

clear on this point [in the above-quoted

interview].

Historian and editor Lerone Bennett Jr.found precisely the same solution to the appar-ent paradox:

From my reading of Lorraine Hansberry, I get

the feeling that she struggled all her life with the

whole question of ‘‘universality.’’ And I inter-

pret her as having struggled against false defi-

nitions of ‘‘universality.’’ . . . To my way of

thinking, an artist is most universal when he’s

MEDIAADAPTATIONS

ARaisin in the Sunwas adapted as a film directedby Daniel Petrie, starring Sidney Poitier,Claudia McNeil, and Ruby Dee in 1961. It isavailable on DVD from Sony Pictures.

A Raisin in the Sun was adapted as aBroadway musical in 1973 produced byHansberry’s ex-husband Robert Nemiroff, andstarring Joe Morton, Ernestine Jackson, andRalph Carter. The original cast recording isavailable from Sony.

A Raisin in the Sun was adapted as a made-for-television film in 1989 directed by Bill Duke,starring Danny Glover, Esther Rolle, and sev-eral members of the original Broadway cast. It isavailable on VHS from Monterey Video.

An audio version of the play is availablefrom Caedmon on audio cassette. It is narratedby Ossie Davis.



discussing the concrete issues of his own cul-

ture. It’s the task of the artist to take the con-

crete and make it universal . . . She was

universal in her particularity.

The paradox, then, is that a paradox wasperceived at all, or that it continued to be per-

ceived after Hansberry (and later, Killens,

Bennett, and others) had publicly resolved it.

Why did critics persistently categorize Raisin as

universal or specifically black?Why, when critics

noted the fact that the play successfully commu-

nicated both universal and particular concerns,

did they remark on this fact as a paradox or

contradiction? In other words, why was the

appearance of a paradox created and

maintained?

The claim that the play’s characters are uni-versal ‘‘people’’ without specific ties to African-

American culture appears simply racist (‘‘This is

a well-written play; white people can relate to it;

therefore it cannot be a black play’’). Conversely,

the assertion that the play is not universal but

exclusively specific to African-Americans—that

is, that the characters exist outside the category

of ‘‘human’’—seems equally racist. Upon closer

examination, however, it is possible to discern

both racist and anti-racist impulses in each

claim.

The ‘‘particularizing’’ assertion can be sepa-rated into several different strands. In the most

racist form, critics in this mode refused to

acknowledge any difference between Hansberry’s

characters and stereotyped images of blacks.

A few months after the play opened, Lorraine

Hansberry noted ‘‘some of the prior attitudes

which were brought into the theatre from the

world outside. For in the minds of many, [the

character of] Walter remains, despite the play,

despite performance, what American racial tra-

ditions wish him to be: an exotic.’’ If audiences

went to the theatre to see ‘‘the simple, lovable,

and glandular ‘Negro,’’’ they would find him,

regardless of what actually occurred on stage.

Hansberry wrote,

My colleagues and I were reduced to mirth and

tears by that gentleman writing his review of

our play in a Connecticut paper who remarked

of his pleasure at seeing how ‘‘our dusky breth-

ren’’ could ‘‘come up with a song and hum their

troubles away.’’ It did not disturb the writer in

the least that there is no such implication in the

entire three acts. He did not need it in the play;

he had it in his head.

Such blatant racism is related to the moresubtle ‘‘people’s culture’’ approach Eric Lottattacked in Love and Theft: BlackfaceMinstrelsy and the American Working Class.Lott defined the ‘‘people’s culture’’ position asone that views minstrelsy as a more-or-less accu-rate reflection or aspect of ‘‘authentic’’ Negroculture. Lott’s attack on this approach’s ahis-toricity and inaccuracy might seem not to applyto Raisin, which was obviously and deliberatelylocatable in black culture. However, the ‘‘peo-ple’s culture’’ stance resembled that of some ofthe reviewers in that both approaches sought—or demanded—access to ‘‘authentic’’ black cul-ture, as evidenced in critics’ repeated praising ofRaisin as ‘‘honest drama’’ with ‘‘vigor as well asveracity.’’ In other words, the ‘‘people’s culture’’approach and that of some of Raisin’s criticsshared a common impulse to access perceivedauthentic black culture. And in doing so, theyre-asserted whiteness as the norm.

The play’s ability to appear to encapsulate‘‘Negro experience’’ in the readily knowable,digestible, and non-threatening form of theatri-cal realism arguably satisfied this impulse andthus constituted the primary reason for theplay’s success among white audiences. In otherwords, the play’s realism satisfied its white view-ers in much the same way that minstrelsy satis-fied its viewers by providing them with easyaccess to consumable perceived ‘‘Negro culture.’’A Raisin in the Sun, then, by making blackexperiences appear understandable to and con-sumable by white audiences, simultaneouslymade those experiences collectable. The bour-geois white viewer could display his or her new-found knowledge much as one might displaya collection of ‘‘primitive’’ art; as James Cliffordargues, ‘‘cultural description [can be] presentedas a form of collecting.’’

Collecting is a performance of power.To collect is to construct, limit, contain, display,and define. As Clifford observed, collections(even nonmaterial ones such as collected experi-ences of theatregoing) are necessarily organizedtaxonomically and hierarchically; thus collectorsassert power over their possessions (which serveas menonyms for cultures). The impulse forthe white theatregoer to collect knowledge of‘‘authentic’’ black experiences—through min-strelsy or Raisin’s realism—is therefore animpulse to perform (and thus actualize) whitepower.



Collecting is closely related to conservation,another performance of power to which Clifforddevoted some attention: ‘‘Collecting—at least inthe West, where time is generally thought to belinear and irreversible—implies a rescue of phe-nomena from inevitable historical decay or loss.’’Clifford described the collecting of ‘‘primitive’’visual art and the anthropological collecting ofnonmaterial knowledge as similarly conservativeprojects: ‘‘both discourses assume a primitiveworld in need of preservation, redemption, andrepresentation.’’ White audiences’ nonmaterialcollecting of minority experiences through thea-tre attendance, then, could involve a similar con-servative impulse. And as Clifford’s colleagueDonna Haraway noted, conservation is alwaysintertwined with subjugation: ‘‘Once dominationis complete, conservation is urgent.’’

Finally, the assertion that A Raisin in theSun was specifically and exclusively black effec-tively erased from the play Hansberry’s classanalysis. Many African-American critics andscholars have noticed and commented on thisaspect of the play, but almost no white commen-tators have. Hansberry complained,

Some writers have been astonishingly incap-

able of discussing [the character of Walter’s]

purely class aspirations and have persistently

confounded themwith what they consider to be

an exotic being’s longing to ‘‘wheel and deal’’ in

what they consider to be (and what Walter

never can) ‘‘the white man’s world.’’

The erasure of Hansberry’s class analysissuggests white critics’ unwillingness to engagewith a black writer’s intellect. In other words,white audiences who came to the theatre to see(and collect the experiences of) the ‘‘simple, lova-ble, and glandular ‘Negro’’’ (and encountering,to their disappointment, non-stereotyped char-acters) could have preserved their mission bywillfully ignoring anything that did not contri-bute to that project. Even the FBI, which inves-tigated Lorraine Hansberry as a possible‘‘danger to the Republic,’’ labeled the play ‘‘notpropagandistic.’’ This description, regarded asflattering by the FBI, revealed an unwillingnessto engage with—or even recognize—the politicsof the play.

By ignoring Hansberry’s politics and recog-nizing only the play’s specificity to black culture,white critics erased Hansberry’s authority tospeak about anything but herself. This actionpositioned blacks as if in a fishbowl: they couldlook at each other, but not at anything beyond

their immediate context. This fishbowl could sitcomfortably, decoratively, on a shelf in a whitehousehold; white people could peer through theglass (which contained and controlled the exoticsand simultaneously kept the white spectatorsafely separated from the creatures) and enjoytheir collection. In other words, erasingHansberry’s authority to speak about anythingbut her (white-defined) culture created a ‘‘glass’’barrier which separated white audiences fromthe play’s black creators and characters and ren-dered the subaltern collectable—and thus pro-duced white power.

Furthermore, this ‘‘fishbowl’’ dynamic cre-ated a unidirectional gaze; that is to say, it posi-tioned blacks as the object of both blacks’ andwhites’ gazes, and simultaneously positionedwhites as the empowered, invisible inspector.This action reified blacks’ lives and experiencesas collectable and simultaneously precluded thepossibility of blacks inverting the dynamic andcollecting (and thus disempowering) whites andtheir experiences. The fish cannot collect thehuman outside the bowl.

Black audiences apparently also read theplay in the context of racist stereotypes.According to James Baldwin, the play drewunprecedented numbers of African-Americansto the theatre because ‘‘never before inAmerican theater history had so much of thetruth of black people’s lives been seen onstage.’’ Overlap occurred, then, between theracist impulse to collect black experiences andthe anti-racist impulse to see one’s own experi-ence reflected on stage (and to see stereotypesextirpated): both impulses hinged on the highlysuspect notion of authenticity. The fact that twoopposing impulses could exist in the same spacecontributed to the appearance of a paradox.

The play itself emphasized particularitywithin particularity through the character ofJoseph Asagai, a Nigerian. According to AlexHaley, Hansberry achieved two goals throughthe character of Asagai. First, she helped to dis-pel the myth of the ‘‘cannibal’’ with a bone in hishair. Her educated African character . . . wascertainly the first time a large audience hadseen and heard an African portrayed as carryinghimself with dignity and being, moreover, a pri-mary spokesman for sanity and progress. It mustalso have been the first time a mass audience hadever seen a black woman gracefully don Africanrobes or wear an ‘‘afro’’ hairstyle.



Asagai, then, continued Hansberry’s projectof creating individual, specifically black charac-ters who testified against stereotypes. Second,as Haley noted, A Raisin in the Sun was the firstartistic work to popularize (on a large scale) theconcept of a relationship between African-Americans and Africans. By teasing out thisrelationship that specifically separated African-Americans from all other Americans, Hansberryagain employed the particularizing approach—but to anti-racist ends.

Source: Robin Bernstein, ‘‘Inventing a Fishbowl: WhiteSupremacy and the Critical Reception of LorraineHansberry’s A Raisin in the Sun,’’ in Modern Drama,Spring 1999, pp. 1–4.

SOURCES

‘‘African-American Population Data,’’ in Vol. 6 ofEncyclopedia of African-American Culture and History,2d edition, edited by Colin Palmer, Macmillan ReferenceUSA, 2006, p. 2567.

Baraka, Amiri, ‘‘ARaisin in the Sun’s Enduring Passion,’’in A Raisin in the Sun; The Sign in Sidney Brustein’sWindow, by Lorraine Hansberry, edited by RobertNemiroff, New American Library, 1987, pp. 9–20.

Bivens, Donna, ‘‘Internalized Racism: A Definition,’’Women’s Theological Center, www.thewtc.org/Internalized_Racism.pdf (1995).

Chadderton, David, Review of A Raisin in the Sun, TheBritish Theatre Guide, www.britishtheatreguide.info/reviews/raisininsun-rev.htm (January 16, 2006).

Cooper, David D., ‘‘Hansberry’s A Raisin in the Sun,’’ in

The Explicator, Fall, 1993, pp. 59–61.

Hansberry, Lorraine, A Raisin in the Sun, Vintage, 1994,

originally published in 1959.

Jones, Camara Phyllis, ‘‘Levels of Racism: A Theoretical

Framework and a Gardener’s Tale,’’ in American Journal

of Public Health, Vol. 90, No. 8, August 2000, pp. 1212–

15.

Nemiroff, Robert, Introduction, in A Raisin in the Sun,

Vintage, 1994, p. 5.

Sommer, Elyse, ‘‘A Curtain Up Berkshire Review:

A Raisin in the Sun,’’ Curtain Up, www.curtainup.com/

raisininthesun.html (July 22, 1999).

Smith, Ana Deavere, ‘‘Two Visions of Love, Family and

Race Across the Generations,’’News and Reviews AboutA

Raisin in the Sun on Broadway, www.raisinonbroadway.

com/news.html (January 16, 2006), originally published

in New York Times, May 29, 2004.

Stone, I. F., ‘‘The Rat and Res Judicata,’’ in Nation, Vol.

151, No. 21, November 23, 1940, pp. 495–96.

Trotter, Joe, Jr., ‘‘U.S. Migration/Population,’’ in Vol. 4

ofEncyclopedia of African-American Culture andHistory,

2d edition, edited by Colin Palmer, Macmillan Reference

USA, 2006, p. 1442.

Washington, J. Charles, ‘‘A Raisin in the Sun Revisited,’’

in Black American Literature Forum, Vol. 22, No. 1,

Spring, 1988, pp. 109–124.

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Critics Welcome Play by Miss Hansberry,’’ in New York

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