Hope Doesn't Discriminate

“Hope is the thing with feathers

That perches in the soul…

I've heard it in the chillest land, And on the strangest sea;

Yet, never, in extremity,

It asked a crumb of me.”

I thought I was mostly familiar with Emily Dickinson since I read her poetry in middle and high school. I even once visited her quaint house in Amherst one summer and tried to embrace her sequestered lifestyle. However, I never did hold the opinion she was a hysterical hermit. When I visited her house during an informal tour, I saw that she used to lower cookies and hand-made articles of clothing in a basket from her window to children that would wait below in her yard. Thus I could understand that she enjoyed and felt comfortable with her solitary nature. Personally, I know I’ve lived a somewhat secluded life at CMU these past three years (obviously nothing as extreme as how Dickinson lived) so I think I can somewhat relate to observing the immediate outside world with both simple praise and common disregard. Although I do want to think that, as a white, male college student from an upper-middle class background, I certainly do not face the same adversity that she must have. Not to say that Dickinson’s adversity is what defines her; it’s just more of personal acknowledgment.

I’ve still always had a hard, but interesting time connecting Dickinson’s writing with her life story. Whether it was because I was younger or wasn’t presented with enough research, I simply didn’t find the connections between her life experiences and the connection to her poetry (except for, of course, the theme of death). This was until I read about Dickinson’s experience at Mount Holyoke Female Seminary, where she was asked if she wanted to be a Christian. The courage that willed Dickinson and some of her other classmates to remain seated is remarkable.

I thought “Hope” had a special connection to this episode in her life. I especially enjoyed how Dickinson views hope as a secular feeling that can be bestowed on anyone, regardless of their religious convictions. Dickinson depicts hope as a small, but resilient bird whose song of joy cannot be quieted by larger and darker forces. The last two lines of the poem “Yet, never, in extremity, It asked a crumb of me” I think especially relate to her Mount Holyoke experience because of the three categories students were divided into (“established Christians,” those who “expressed hope,” and those who were “without hope.”) In a sense, hope, like Christianity, cannot ask you if you have a place for it in your soul. To my understanding, both are things you have to willingly allow into your life for them to have a meaningful and genuine impact. Proselytizers that want to gain followers and create enemies in the process usually pose such extreme questions. Obviously, it would be unfair to call Dickinson “godless” when she merely desired to experience some separation from patriarchal institutions.

I once had the same experience as Dickinson, except thankfully it wasn’t at school. I once attended an Evangelist revival out of juvenile curiosity. Toward the end of the service, after a slew of god-fearing speeches and chants against sinners, the minster asked everyone who wanted to be saved to stand. Nearly everyone in the auditorium took to their feet, except my mother and I (sadly, my little brother felt overcome by the pressure and he decided to stand as well).