love, Harlem, 6/23/1932It has been two weeks since we

last met, and I can still hear your soothing voice and the enchanting sound of your music in my ears. For you have cast a spell on me. And I relish in that thought. In secret, away from the petty words of the world around us.Alas! I know. We must keep our

romance secret, or we may both get lynched in a nearby tree. Our love is forbidden. And we act dangerously when meeting like fugitives in the darkness. How ironic? I used to dream of

coming to the land of the free to find the freedom once promised to my people back in Greece. But it was a lie. There is no freedom here. And now my dream is slipping through my fingers. All because of hatred, all because of loving the right man of the wrong color. Why should it even matter? We are all humans, destined to love and be loved.

Why is it then that we can’t love in sincerity? I am dreaming of a day when I can

walk down fourth avenue, holding your hand, showing off my pride and joy, my hopefulness after reading Hughes’s poetry on your lap after a long day’s work. I am proud that people call me a

flapper. And I am proud of you because your strong hands and those of your people have made this land what it is. And yet you cannot savor the fruit of freedom. I still remember that day, after

drinking moonshine in Cotton Club, when

a. What information do you get about the writer and the recipient of this letter?

b. Find one aspect of the US history or culture that is related to the following words from the letter:

lynchedfugitivesflapper

moonshinec. How is the struggle for gender and racial equality related to

this letter?d. Is society’s reaction to interracial relationships in your

country nowadays different from that in 1930s US? Has it always been this way?

e. This letter was found torn in half. Can you finish it?