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The essence of what the Harlem Renaissance really was.

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Most night clubs only catered to whites, but requested the performances by black artists.

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Famous Jazz musician.

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"The First 100 Years"
Motley's final painting.

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Famous civil rights activist.

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The Harlem Renaissance heavily influenced the rise of black culture

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African Americans were constantly victims of violence in their struggle for pride.

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As African Americans began to feel better about their race, Whites tried to knock them down, and started riots.

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A famous Blues musician.

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A photo of the 58 greatest Jazz musicians, taken in 1958

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From the "Life and Art of Lois Mailou Jones

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A famous female artist from the Harlem Renaissance.

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One of Jacob Lawrence's more famous works.

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A famous artist from the Harlem Renaissance.

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One of Aaron Douglass's paintings.

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A famous artist from the Harlem Renaissance.

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Perhaps the most famous female musicians of the Harlem Renaissance. Holiday was a social phenom and performed in jazz clubs when she was only a teen.

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"The World's Finest Ballroom" helped bring the Harlem Renaissance to life.

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A famous novelist of the Harlem Renaissance

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A popular Harlem Nightclub often nicknamed "The Corner."

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A poster advertising Louis "Satchmo" Armstrong, and his Great Orchestra.

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A famous theatre, with a performance by Duke Ellington.

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A list of some of the most important figures and places of the Harlem Renaissance.

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Another photo of the highly influential artist.

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A different type of music that made a big emergence during the Harlem renaissance.

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A picture of the front of the famous "cotton club"

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black men waiting to go see louis armstrong outside a theatre.

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one of the most famous jazz artists of the harlem renaissance.

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Star tap dancer duo.

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Let America be America again.
Let it be the dream it used to be.
Let it be the pioneer on the plain
Seeking a home where he himself is free.

(America never was America to me.)

Let America be the dream the dreamers dreamed--
Let it be that great strong land of love
Where never kings connive nor tyrants scheme
That any man be crushed by one above.

(It never was America to me.)

O, let my land be a land where Liberty
Is crowned with no false patriotic wreath,
But opportunity is real, and life is free,
Equality is in the air we breathe.

(There's never been equality for me,
Nor freedom in this "homeland of the free.")

Say, who are you that mumbles in the dark?
And who are you that draws your veil across the stars?

I am the poor white, fooled and pushed apart,
I am the Negro bearing slavery's scars.
I am the red man driven from the land,
I am the immigrant clutching the hope I seek--
And finding only the same old stupid plan
Of dog eat dog, of mighty crush the weak.

I am the young man, full of strength and hope,
Tangled in that ancient endless chain
Of profit, power, gain, of grab the land!
Of grab the gold! Of grab the ways of satisfying need!
Of work the men! Of take the pay!
Of owning everything for one's own greed!

I am the farmer, bondsman to the soil.
I am the worker sold to the machine.
I am the Negro, servant to you all.
I am the people, humble, hungry, mean--
Hungry yet today despite the dream.
Beaten yet today--O, Pioneers!
I am the man who never got ahead,
The poorest worker bartered through the years.

Yet I'm the one who dreamt our basic dream
In the Old World while still a serf of kings,
Who dreamt a dream so strong, so brave, so true,
That even yet its mighty daring sings
In every brick and stone, in every furrow turned
That's made America the land it has become.
O, I'm the man who sailed those early seas
In search of what I meant to be my home--
For I'm the one who left dark Ireland's shore,
And Poland's plain, and England's grassy lea,
And torn from Black Africa's strand I came
To build a "homeland of the free."

The free?

Who said the free? Not me?
Surely not me? The millions on relief today?
The millions shot down when we strike?
The millions who have nothing for our pay?
For all the dreams we've dreamed
And all the songs we've sung
And all the hopes we've held
And all the flags we've hung,
The millions who have nothing for our pay--
Except the dream that's almost dead today.

O, let America be America again--
The land that never has been yet--
And yet must be--the land where every man is free.
The land that's mine--the poor man's, Indian's, Negro's, ME--
Who made America,
Whose sweat and blood, whose faith and pain,
Whose hand at the foundry, whose plow in the rain,
Must bring back our mighty dream again.

Sure, call me any ugly name you choose--
The steel of freedom does not stain.
From those who live like leeches on the people's lives,
We must take back our land again,
America!

O, yes,
I say it plain,
America never was America to me,
And yet I swear this oath--
America will be!

Out of the rack and ruin of our gangster death,
The rape and rot of graft, and stealth, and lies,
We, the people, must redeem
The land, the mines, the plants, the rivers.
The mountains and the endless plain--
All, all the stretch of these great green states--
And make America again!

Langston Hughes