Embedded Files
The Great Migration refers to the movement of Black Americans from southern states to urban cities in the North. Millions of people in the early part of the twentieth century escaped the limited opportunities and oppression imposed by Jim Crow laws and social restrictions. African Americans hoped for a better life and a real chance to experience the “American Dream.” So, they worked hard, made difficult choices, and forged new lives in cities like Chicago, Detroit, Philadelphia, and most famously, Harlem New York where art, philosophy, music, and literature flourished in what became known as The Harlem Renaissance.
I am proud to present the imaginative narratives of students in my African American Literature class. Enjoy, and let them take us back in time to the longing and hope of individuals living in this vibrant era in American history.
Mr. Hope
When my mother wakes up in the morning I will be gone. I’ve had the thought of leaving the South and fleeing the North on my mind for a while now. The only thing keeping me from leaving is my family. I already know I wouldn’t be able to convince my mother to come with me; she would instead flip the cards and end up convincing me not to leave at all. Nevertheless, I already have a job in place, a place to stay, friends, and a new community waiting for my arrival. It's too late to change my mind. I can already hear the joyous laughs of my people and the funky music playing throughout the streets of Harlem; no more harassment from coppers’ or dirty looks from white folk flying at me like bullets as soon as I step foot in my local grocery store. This brand-new opportunity for a new life is too good to pass up.
Thus I will be leaving a note on the kitchen counter tonight for my mother instead of saying goodbye in person. I will visit of course, but this life has nothing left to offer me. My bus comes tomorrow, and my friend, Cejai, has offered me a place on his couch until I can get on my feet; but, in the meantime, I’m going to enjoy the last hours of the company from my family before it’s no longer so easily accessible.
KEF (12)
I was just a kid, but I could already feel how different things were going to be. We were leaving the South, where life was tough to move to Harlem in New York City. My family said Harlem is a place full of music and opportunities. I’ve heard about the big buildings and the exciting street life. I felt nervous, but also excited to see what it would be like.
The train ride was long, but I could.t stop thinking about Harlem. I dreamed of seeing the colorful people wearing colorful clothes and hearing the jazz music everyone talks about. I’ve heard there are many artists and writers, and they all live in Harlem. I wanted to meet them one day. I wanted to be part of this new world full of freedom and creativity.
When we finally get there, the city feels alive, like the air is full of energy. There are so many people walking around, and I see all kinds of faces, just like they said. I’m still nervous, but I also feel a sense of hope in my chest. Maybe Harlem will be the place where my family and I can start fresh. I can’t wait to see what happens next.
Houston Hooker (12)
When I left the South, I felt like I was escaping a cage. Back home, everything was unfair. Signs everywhere told us where we could and couldn’t go, and it felt like people looked at me like I didn’t matter. My parents whispered about how dangerous it was, about men like my uncle who vanished after speaking out too badly, leaving behind grieving families. It was scary
When we moved to Harlem, it was like walking into a new world. The streets were alive with music, jazz spilling out of clubs, people laughing and talking, and artists talking and arguing in cafes, like they were proud of who they were. It felt like I could finally breathe.
I started school, and for the first time, my teachers looked me in the eye and told me I could do anything. They didn’t dismiss me or talk down to me, they encouraged me, challenged me, made me feel like my thoughts mattered. I remember the first time my teacher read my essay aloud to the class, nodding in approval as she called my words powerful. It was like a door opening, a world I hadn’t known was possible. At night, I’d listen to poets reading their work in cafes or watch performers dancing in the streets. I wanted to be part of it all, to write something or create something that mattered.
Life in Harlem wasn’t perfect. We still struggled with money, and not everyone treated us equally. But for the first time, I felt free. Free to dream, free to grow, and free to be me.
Samiya Shaw (12)
My name is Paul. Today it's cold and I'm standing alone at the train station. My family knows we have to leave, there just ain't no opportunity back home. My father has been gone for years looking for work in Chicago, He swears out to us and promises that soon we will have a better life.
My father speaks of the work he does. He works in a foundry, He says it's extremely hot there and when he's done working he's drenched in sweat. He would speak of how he was working hard and was tired but it was worth it for the money and opportunity it gave him. He told us that it was way different than how it was back home. He thinks we would like it a lot more up north and to be honest, I think so too.
As I was thinking about this, I would hear the train start to rumble. Me and Momma boarded and looked out the window, thinking of my family and the siblings we were gonna have to leave behind. The thought that we may never see our home again. I already felt homesick, but deep down I knew this is what we need to do.
Then a new feeling overcame me, I was now excited. Soon everything is going to be new and different.
John Alba-Perry (12)
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