a dream deferred

Over 50 years ago, in his poem Harlem, Langston Hughes asked a simple question: “What happens to a dream deferred?” While his question specifically pertained to the dreams of African-Americans in a certain neighborhood in New York City, it is one that we can all relate to. A trait that made his poem, in 1951, amidst the anger and tumult of the civil rights movement, so unique. Everyone could understand it. From Park Avenue all the way to the slums, people knew how it felt to have a dream deferred; the loneliness and pain that comes with rejection is a universal human experience. His question has proved to be timeless, and one I would like to pose again, in light of the economic recession. As a recent college graduate, I am filled with deferred dreams. For four years, I sat inside the walls of my university, dreaming of the opportunity and accomplishment that lay ahead, only to graduate and barely be employed. As of now, chasing dreams does not seem like an option; a steady paycheck appears to be all I can ask for. A fulfilled soul has been moved to the back burner.

So what do we do while our dreams are seemingly postponed? How do we ensure that they do not dry up or fester, as Hughes suggested they might? With unemployment and underemployment running rampant across the globe, how do we fight off the temptation just to exist, and find a way to live?