What happens to a dream deferred?

This past week, I was lucky enough to score two free tickets to the opening night of A Raisin in the Sun, written by playwright Lorraine Hansberry. While I’d heard of the play before, I had absolutely no idea what it entailed or the period it was set in. Walking into the theatre, the stage comprised of a quaint depiction of a rundown living room adjoined to a kitchen. To my surprise, 99.9% of the play took place in this ramshackle set, with only one small set change for the last scene. 

The play followed a black family living in the southside of Chicago during the 1950s and told the tale of how people want to improve their circumstances, yet have distinct opinions of how to best reach their goals. With each member of the family having unique aspirations, a lump sum of $10,000 in insurance money, and differing ideas of how to spend said money, was the main subject of the play. The show was brimming with themes of love, familial obligation, poverty, race relations, assimilation, money, and probably many other things my brain just glossed over. I think I went through every possible emotion throughout the play: excitement, sadness (a singular tear was shed), shock, disappointment, frustration, happiness, etc. It truly was a spectacle of a show. 

The actors were phenomenal too—their performances were truly like no other I’ve seen. I’m usually easily distracted during shows, but A Raisin in the Sun didn’t provide me with even a single moment of mental silence. I was enamored by the soulful emotions, the one-off soliloquies, and the natural chemistry of the characters manifested. 

After the play, I realized that my biggest question was never answered—what did the title mean? After a quick Google search, the familiar poem, Harlem, by Langston Hughes appeared. 

What happens to a dream deferred?

       Does it dry up

       like a raisin in the sun?

       Or fester like a sore—

       And then run?

       Does it stink like rotten meat?

       Or crust and sugar over—

       like a syrupy sweet?

       Maybe it just sags

       like a heavy load.

       Or does it explode?

I hadn’t read this poem since high school. And after reading it more recently after the play, I just couldn’t stop thinking about it. It brought back memories of a lot of my own “lost” goals and dreams. With less than one year left of my undergraduate years, I thought a lot about what I had initially wished to discover about myself and the world around me in college, and whether I’d actually fulfilled those goals. The visuals in Hughes’ poem of old dreams dying struck a nerve. 

Ultimately, the message of A Raisin in the Sun, coupled with deeper connotations from Hughes’s poem, has brought over a greater sense of motivation within me. It has reignited my fire for further intellectual stimulation and passion for my work from a deep vault. The visuals in Hughes’ poem of old dreams dying struck me. 

So what’s the point of my talking about some play that’s seemingly only appreciated by high school English teachers? And why should you care that it’s personally motivated me to be better? All good questions. 

From what I’ve seen across Stevens, there’s an unsaid lull in student interest and involvement. It’s hard to get people to show up to meetings, no one wants to take responsibility for their actions, and there’s a blurring of the lines between wanting to accomplish something and actually accomplishing it. Sometimes, it’s easiest to create goals, but never follow up on them; it gives us a sense of triumph without taking any real action because hey, at least we’re planning to do it, right? 

Do not mistake my observations for me trying to congratulate myself for being better. I’ve also struggled with a lack of motivation, especially towards extracurriculars and clubs—I’ve made stupid mistakes, taken the easy way out, and forgotten to complete important tasks. I’ve tried to claw my way out of the dull sinkhole, and I’m happy to have found reasons to motivate myself again, but I still have a long way to go. 

Sometimes we all need something that reminds us why we do what we do, and why our goals, although deferred, should not be forgotten. Remember why you got involved in the first place, and rejoice with that feeling.