By the time Langston Hughes was 20, he had lived in many places. None felt like home. The young poet always felt lonely and unwanted. He wished for a place where he belonged.
It wasn’t until he stepped off the subway in New York City in 1921 that he found it. In a neighborhood called Harlem, Black people were coming together. They were expressing themselves through music, writing, and art.
“Harlem!” Hughes later wrote. “I stood there, dropped my bags, took a deep breath, and felt happy again.”
Hughes had big dreams. And for him and other Black Americans, Harlem was special.
It was a place where dreams came true.