I was scunged. ... I hated myself, hated everything, felt useless and worthless, had no friends, no love, no career, no education, no parents and no tomorrows. It all added up to nothing.

Their bridles they would champe, / And trampling the fine element would fiercely rampe.

At the lower-middle level, the typical Negro male was a gray-collar worker in one of the civil services, worked for the railroads as a Pullman porter or dining car waiter, or owned a small business.

For never yet that maiden's woes To check our social pleasure rose, Her joy she shares, her grief's her own, CHRISTINA CHRISTIAN weeps alone.