Up from Slavery: An Autobiography
found myself confronted with two other difficulties. In the first
place, I found that all the other children wore hats or caps on their
heads, and I had neither hat nor cap. In fact, I do not remember that
up to the time of going to school I had ever worn any kind of covering
upon my head, nor do I recall that either I or anybody else had even
thought anything about the need of covering for my head. But, of
course, when I saw how all the other boys were dressed, I began to feel
quite uncomfortable. As usual, I put the case before my mother, and she
explained to me that she had no money with which to buy a “store hat,”
which was a rather new institution at that time among the members of my
race and was considered quite the thing for young and old to own, but
that she would find a way to help me out of the difficulty. She
accordingly got two pieces of “homespun” (jeans) and sewed them
together, and I was soon the proud possessor of my first cap.
The lesson that my mother taught me in this has always remained with
me, and I have tried as best as I could to teach it to others. I have
always felt proud, whenever I think of the incident, that my mother had
strength of character enough not to be led into the temptation of
seeming to be that which she was not—of trying to impress my
schoolmates and others with the fact that she was able to buy me a
“store hat” when she was not. I have always felt proud that she refused
to go into debt for that which she did not have the money to pay for.
Since that time I have owned many kinds of caps and hats, but never one
of which I have felt so proud as of the cap made of the two pieces of
cloth sewed together by my mother. I have noted the fact, but without
satisfaction, I need not add, that several of the boys who began their
careers with “store hats” and who were my schoolmates and used to join
in the sport that was made of me because I had only a “homespun” cap,
have ended their careers in the penitentiary, while others are not able
now to buy any kind of hat.
My second difficulty was with regard to my name, or rather _A_ name.
From the time when I could remember anything, I had been called simply
“Booker.” Before going to school it had never occurred to me that it
was needful or appropriate to have an additional name. When I heard the
school-roll called, I noticed that all of the children had at least two
names, and some of them indulged in what seemed to me the extravagance
of having three. I was in deep perplexity, because I knew that the
teacher would demand of me at least two names, and I had only one. By
the time the occasion came for the enrolling of my name, an idea
occurred to me which I thought would make me equal to the situation;
and so, when the teacher asked me what my full name was, I calmly told
him “Booker Washington,” as if I had been called by that name all my
life; and by that name I have since been known. Later in my life I
found that my mother had given me the name of “Booker Taliaferro” soon
after I was born, but in some way that part of my name seemed to
disappear and for a long while was forgotten, but as soon as I found
out about it I revived it, and made my full name “Booker Taliaferro
Washington.” I think there are not many men in our country who have had
the privilege of naming themselves in the way that I have.
More than once I have tried to picture myself in the position of a boy
or man with an honoured and distinguished ancestry which I could trace
back through a period of hundreds of years, and who had not only
inherited a name, but fortune and a proud family homestead; and yet I
have sometimes had the feeling that if I had inherited these, and had
been a member of a more popular race, I should have been inclined to
yield to the temptation of depending upon my ancestry and my colour to
do that for me which I should do for myself. Years ago I resolved that
because I had no ancestry myself I would leave a record of which my
children would be proud, and which might encourage them to still higher
effort.
The world should not pass judgment upon the Negro, and especially the
Negro youth, too quickly or too harshly. The Negro boy has obstacles,
discouragements, and temptations to battle with that are little known
to those not situated as he is. When a white boy undertakes a task, it
is taken for granted that he will succeed. On the other hand, people
are usually surprised if the Negro boy does not fail. In a word, the
Negro youth starts out with the presumption against him.
The influence of ancestry, however, is important in helping forward any
individual or race, if too much reliance is not placed upon it. Those
who constantly direct attention to the Negro youth’s moral weaknesses,
and compare his advancement with that of white youths, do not consider
the influence of the memories which cling about the old family
homesteads. I have no idea, as I have stated elsewhere, who my
grandmother was. I have, or have had, uncles and aunts and cousins, but
I have no knowledge as to where most of them are. My case will
illustrate that of hundreds of thousands of black people in every part
of our country. The very fact that the white boy is conscious that, if
he fails in life, he will disgrace the whole family record, extending
back through many generations, is of tremendous value in helping him to
resist temptations. The fact that the individual has behind and
surrounding him proud family history and connection serves as a
stimulus to help him to overcome obstacles when striving for success.
The time that I was permitted to attend school during the day was
short, and my attendance was irregular. It was not long before I had to
stop attending day-school altogether, and devote all of my time again
to work. I resorted to the night-school again. In fact, the greater
part of the education I secured in my boyhood was gathered through the
night-school after my day’s work was done. I had difficulty often in
securing a satisfactory teacher. Sometimes, after I had secured some
one to teach me at night, I would find, much to my disappointment, that
the teacher knew but little more than I did. Often I would have to walk
several miles at night in order to recite my night-school lessons.
There was never a time in my youth, no matter how dark and discouraging
the days might be, when one resolve did not continually remain with me,
and that was a determination to secure an education at any cost.
Soon after we moved to West Virginia, my mother adopted into our
family, notwithstanding our poverty, an orphan boy, to whom afterward
we gave the name of James B. Washington. He has ever since remained a
member of the family.
After I had worked in the salt-furnace for some time, work was secured
for me in a coal-mine which was operated mainly for the purpose of
securing fuel for the salt-furnace. Work in the coal-mine I always
dreaded. One reason for this was that any one who worked in a coal-mine
was always unclean, at least while at work, and it was a very hard job
to get one’s skin clean after the day’s work was over. Then it was
fully a mile from the opening of the coal-mine to the face of the coal,
and all, of course, was in the blackest darkness. I do not believe that
one ever experiences anywhere else such darkness as he does in a
coal-mine. The mine was divided into a large number of different
“rooms” or departments, and, as I never was able to learn the location
of all these “rooms,” I many times found myself lost in the mine. To
add to the horror of being lost, sometimes my light would go out, and
then, if I did not happen to have a match, I would wander about in the
darkness until by chance I found some one to give me a light. The work
was not only hard, but it was dangerous. There was always the danger of
being blown to pieces by a premature explosion of powder, or of being
crushed by falling slate. Accidents from one or the other of these
causes were frequently occurring, and this kept me in constant fear.
Many children of the tenderest years were compelled then, as is now
true I fear, in most coal-mining districts, to spend a large part of
their lives in these coal-mines, with little opportunity to get an
education; and, what is worse, I have often noted that, as a rule,
young boys who begin life in a coal-mine are often physically and
mentally dwarfed. They soon lose ambition to do anything else than to
continue as a coal-miner.
In those days, and later as a young man, I used to try to picture in my
imagination the feelings and ambitions of a white boy with absolutely
no limit placed upon his aspirations and activities. I used to envy the
white boy who had no obstacles placed in the way of his becoming a
Congressman, Governor, Bishop, or President by reason of the accident
of his birth or race. I used to picture the way that I would act under
such circumstances; how I would begin at the bottom and keep rising
until I reached the highest round of success.
In later years, I confess that I do not envy the white boy as I once
did. I have learned that success is to be measured not so much by the
position that one has reached in life as by the obstacles which he has
overcome while trying to succeed. Looked at from this standpoint, I
almost reached the conclusion that often the Negro boy’s birth and
connection with an unpopular race is an advantage, so far as real life
is concerned. With few exceptions, the Negro youth must work harder and
must perform his tasks even better than a white youth in order to
secure recognition. But out of the hard and unusual struggle through
which he is compelled to pass, he gets a strength, a confidence, that
one misses whose pathway is comparatively smooth by reason of birth and
race.
From any point of view, I had rather be what I am, a member of the
Negro race, than be able to claim membership with the most favoured of
any other race. I have always been made sad when I have heard members
of any race claiming rights or privileges, or certain badges of
distinction, on the ground simply that they were members of this or
that race, regardless of their own individual worth or attainments. I
have been made to feel sad for such persons because I am conscious of
the fact that mere connection with what is known as a superior race
will not permanently carry an individual forward unless he has
individual worth, and mere connection with what is regarded as an
inferior race will not finally hold an individual back if he possesses
intrinsic, individual merit. Every persecuted individual and race
should get much consolation out of the great human law, which is
universal and eternal, that merit, no matter under what skin found, is,
in the long run, recognized and rewarded. This I have said here, not to
call attention to myself as an individual, but to the race to which I
am proud to belong.
Chapter III.
The Struggle For An Education
One day, while at work in the coal-mine, I happened to overhear two
miners talking about a great school for coloured people somewhere in
Virginia. This was the first time that I had ever heard anything about
any kind of school or college that was more pretentious than the little
coloured school in our town.
In the darkness of the mine I noiselessly crept as close as I could to
the two men who were talking. I heard one tell the other that not only
was the school established for the members of any race, but the
opportunities that it provided by which poor but worthy students could
work out all or a part of the cost of a board, and at the same time be
taught some trade or industry.
As they went on describing the school, it seemed to me that it must be
the greatest place on earth, and not even Heaven presented more
attractions for me at that time than did the Hampton Normal and