I've learned that my people are not the only ones oppressed... I have sung my songs all over the world and everywhere found that some common bond makes the people of all lands take to Negro songs as their own.
Paul RobesonRead
I feel closer to my country than ever. There is no longer a feeling of lonesome isolation. Instead-peace. I return without fearing prejudice that once bothered me . . . for I know that people practice cruel bigotry in their ignorance, not maliciously
Interpretation
The quote expresses a newfound connection to one's country and a sense of peace despite previous experiences of prejudice.
Paul Robeson's quote reflects his journey from feeling isolated and fearful due to the prejudice he faced to a place of peace and understanding. He recognizes that the cruelty of bigotry often stems from ignorance rather than malice, suggesting a more empathetic perspective towards those who harbor such beliefs and an embrace of his identity and connection to his country.
In practice
In a speech about national unity and acceptance.
I've learned that my people are not the only ones oppressed... I have sung my songs all over the world and everywhere found that some common bond makes the people of all lands take to Negro songs as their own.
We ask for nothing that is not ours by right, and herein lies the great moral power of our demand.
My mother was born in your state, Mr. Walter, and my mother was a Quaker, and my ancestors in the time of Washington baked bread for George Washington's troops when they crossed the Delaware, and my own father was a slave.
The intolerance of the few, or the risk of it, carries the day against the wider humanity of the many.
I shall take my voice wherever there are those who want to hear the melody of freedom
And at home in the United States we found continued and increased persecution, first of leaders of the Communist Party, and then of all honest anti-fascists.
Give me lust, baby. Flash. Give me malice. Flash. Give me detached existentialist ennui. Flash. Give me rampant intellectualism as a coping mechanism. Flash.
People talk of “social outcasts.” The words apparently denote the miserable losers of the world, the vicious ones, but I feel as though I have been a “social outcast” from the moment I was born. If ever I meet someone society has designated as an outcast, I invariably feel affection for him, an emotion which carries me away in melting tenderness.
Will you not covet such power as this, and seek such throne as this, and be no more housewives, but queens? There is no putting by that crown; queens you must always be; queens to your lovers; queens to your husbands and sons; queens of higher mystery to the world beyond. . . . But alas! you are too often idle and careless queens, grasping at majesty in the least things, while you abdicate it in the greatest.
No man really knows about other human beings. The best he can do is to suppose that they are like himself.
Ask yourself: What did I eat for breakfast today? What did I eat for dinner last night? You see how fast reality fades away?
The church is only the church when it exists for others. To make a start, it should give away all its property to those in need. The clergy must live solely on the free-will offerings of their congregations, or possibly engage in some secular calling. The church must share in the secular problems of ordinary human life, not dominating, but helping and serving. It must tell men of every calling what it means to live in Christ, to exist for others.
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