I love myself when I am laughing … and then again when I’m looking mean and impressive.
(January 7, 1891 – January 28, 1960) was an American folklorist, anthropologist, author, working during the time of the Harlem Renaissance. Of Hurston’s four novels and more than 50 published short stories, plays, and essays, she is perhaps best known for her 1937 novel Their Eyes Were Watching God.
Despite her skill and talent she did not receive the sort of fame and support other male members of the Harlem Renaissance. This was due to many factors. Readers at the time objected to the representation of African-American dialect in her novels, claiming it as a caricature of African-American culture rooted in a racist tradition. Critics such as Richard Wright and Ralph Ellison charged that her work wasn’t “political and as a result there are no theme, no message, no thought [in Hurston’s work].” Hurston last years were marked with extreme poverty, working as a maid and finally dying homeless.
Many years after her death an article, “In Search of Zora Neale Hurston,” by Alice Walker, revived interest in her work. Other authors such as Toni Morrison and Maya Angelou, championed her work as well. One modern critic has pointed out that “[Wright and Ellison], while interested in that which fit into their narrow view of ‘political’ but were quick to dismiss anything written by a woman, especially a woman who might question their own prejudices and views.” In 2002, scholar Molefi Kete Asante listed Zora Neale Hurston on his list of 100 Greatest African Americans.
“I love myself when I am laughing … and then again
when I’m looking mean and impressive.”
— Zora Neale Hurston
Slow, slow, all gooseflesh your cunt, I keep time
with your boisterous brassier, tongue tricking,
slower, O yes, panting, our gentle crime
of bed springs. Listen to sloppy sucking
that our adultery bears. Sappho sang
about cuckolding delights, but all we
need is a touch of the herb, your gangbang
porn and hours of fucking. You know sissy
boys know best. Let cum fall in showers, snow
upon your hills, drop, drop, drop, drop, nature’s
passion is now ours. I love your afro;
the way we cum together like geysers.
If life isn’t about cum and foreplay,
at least we can pretend during the day.