LORRAIN HANSBERR E Y
A Raisin in the Sun
Characters
RUTH YOUNGER GEORGE MURCHISON
TRAVIS YOUNGER MRS. JOHNSON
WALTER LEE YOUNGER (BROTHER) KARL LINDNER
BENEATHA YOUNGER BOBO
LENA YOUNGER (MAMA) MOVIN ME G N
JOSEPH ASAGAI
The action of the play is set in Chicago's South side, sometime
between World War II and the present.
Act I
Scene I Friday morning.
Scene II The following morning.
Act II
Scene I Later, the same day.
Scene II Friday night, a feweeks w later.
Scene III Moving day, on week e later.
Act III
An hour later.
ACT I
SCEN IE
The YOUNGER living room would be comfortable a an well- d
ordered room if it were not for a number of indestructible contradictions
to this state of being. Its furnishings typical are and un-
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distinguished and their primary feature now is that they have
clearly had to accommodate the living of too many people for too
many years—and they are tired. Still, we can see that at some time,
a time probably no longer remembered by the family (except perhaps
for MAMA) the , furnishings of this room were actually selected
with care and love and even hope—and brought to this apartment
and arranged with taste and pride.
That was a long time ago. Now the once loved pattern of the
couch upholstery has to fight to show itself from under aces of
crocheted doilies and couch covers which have themselves finally
come to be more important than the upholstery. And here a table
or a chair has been moved to disguise the worn places in the carpet;
but the carpet has fought back by showing its weariness, with
depressing uniformity, elsewhere on surface. its
Weariness has, in fact, won in this room. Everything has been
polished, washed, sat on, used, scrubbed too often. All pretenses
but living itself have long since vanished from the very atmosphere
of this room.
Moreover, a section of this room, for it is reallynot a room unto
itself, though the landlord's lease would make it seem so, slopes
backward to provide a small kitchen area, where family the prepares
the meals that are eaten in the living room proper, which
must also serve as dining room. The single window that has been
provided for these "two" rooms is located in this kitchen area.
The sole natural light the family may enjoy in the course of a day
is only that which fights it way through this little window.
At left, a door leads to a bedroom which MAM is shared A by
and her daughter, BENEATHA A. t right, opposite, is a second room
(which in the beginning life of of the this apartment was probably
the breakfast room) which serves as a WALTE bedroom an fo R dr
his wife, RUTH.
Time Sometime between World War II and the present.
Place Chicago's South side.
At rise It is morning dark in the living TRAVI asleep room. iSs
on the make-down bed at center. An alarm clock sounds from
within the bedroom at right, and RUT presently H enters from that
room and closes the door behind her. She crosses slepily toward
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A RAISI I N N THE SUN Act Scene I
the window. As she passes her sleeping son she reaches down and
shakes him a little. At the window she raises the shade and a dusky
Southside morning light comes infeebly. fills She a pot with water
and puts it on to boil. She calls to the boy, between yawns, in a
slightly muffled voice.
RUTH is about thirty. We can see that she was a pretty girl, even
exceptionally so, but now it is apparent life has that been little
that she expected, and disappointment has already begun to hang
in her face. In a few years, before thirty-five even, she will be
known among her people as a "settled woman."
She crosses to her son and gives him a good, final, rousing shake.
RUTH: Come on now, boy, it's seven thirty! (Her so sits n up at
last, in a stupor of sleepiness.) I say hurr upy Travis , Yo! u ain't
the only person in the world got to use a bathroom! (The child,
a sturdy, handsome little boy of ten or eleven, drags himself out
of the bed and almost blindly takes his towels and "today's
clothes" from drawers and a closet and goes out to the bathroom,
which is in an outside hall and which is hared by another
family or families on the same RUT floor. H crosses to th bed- e
room door at right and opens it and calls in to her husband.)
Walter Lee! . . . It' afte s r seven thirty! Lemme see you d som o e
waking up in there now! (She waits.) Yo bette u ger fro t upm
there, man! It' afte s r seven thirt Iy tell you. (She waits again.)
All right, yo jus u t go ahead and lay ther an e nex d t thin yo g u
know Travis be finished and Mr Johnson'l . bl e i ther n e and
you'll be fussing and cussing round here lik ae madman An ! d
be late too! (She waits, at the end o patience.) f Walter Leeit's
time for you to GET UP!
She waits another second and then starts to go into the bedroom,
but is apparently satisfied that her husband has begun to get up.
She stops, pulls the door to, and returns to the kitchen area. She
wipes her face with a moist cloth and runs her fingers through er
sleep-disheveled hair in effort a vain and ties an apron around her
housecoat. The bedroom door at right opens and her husband
stands in the doorway in his pajamas, which are rumpled and
mismated. He is a lean, intense young man in his middle thirties,
inclined to quick nervous movements and erratic speech habits—
and always in his voice there is a quality of indictment.
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Lorraine Hansberry
WALTER: Is he out yet?
RUTH: What you mean out? He ain't hardly got in there good
yet.
WALTER (wandering in, still more oriented to sleep than to a new
day): Well, what was you doing all that yelling for if I can't
even get in there yet? (Stopping and thinking.) Check coming
today?
RUTH: They said Saturday and this is just Friday and I hopes to
God you ain't going to get up here first thing this morning and
start talking to me 'bout no money—'cause I 'bout don't want
to hear it.
WALTER: Something the matter with you this morning?
RUTH: No—I'm just sleepy as the devil. What kind of eggs you
want?
WALTER: Not scrambled (RUT. H starts to scramble eggs.) Paper
come? (RUTH points impatiently to the rolled up Tribune on the
table, and he gets it and spreads it out and vaguely reads the
front page.) Set off another bomb yesterday.
RUTH (maximum indifference): Did they?
WALTER (looking up): What's the matter wit you h ?
RUTH: Ain't nothing the matter with me. And don't keep asking
me that this morning.
WALTER: Ain't nobody bothering you. (reading the news of the
day absently again) Say Colonel McCormick is sick.
RUTH (affecting tea-party interest): Is he now? Poor thing.
WALTER (sighing and looking at his watch): Oh, me. (He waits.)
Now what is that boy doing in that bathroom all thi time s ? He
just going to have to start getting up earlier. I can't be being late
to work on account of him fooling around in there.
RUTH (turning on him): Oh, no he ain't going to be getting up no
earlier no such thing! It ain't his fault that he can't get to bed
no earlier nights 'cause he got a bunch of crazy good-for-nothing
clowns sitting up running their mouths in what is supposed to
be his bedroom after ten o'clock at night. . .
WALTER: That's what you mad about, ain't it? The things I want
to talk about with my friend jus s t couldn't be important in your
mind, could they?
He rises and finds a cigarette in her handbag on the table and
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A RAISI INN THE SUN Ac Scene t I
crosses to the little window and looks out, smoking deeply and
enjoying this first one.
RUTH (almost matter o factly, f a complaint to automatic o to deserve
emphasis): Why you alway go s t t smok o e befor yoe u eat
in the morning?
WALTER (at the window): Just look a 'et m down there . . Runnin . g
and racing to work . . . (He turns faces an wife d hi ans watches d
her a moment at the stove, and then, suddenly) Yo loo u k young
this morning, baby.
RUTH (indifferently): Yeah?
WALTER: Jus fo t r a second—stirrin the g m eggs. Jus fotr asecond
it was—you looked real young again (H. reaches e fo her; r she
crosses away. Then, drily) It's gon now—yo e loo u k like yourself
again!
RUTH: Man, if you don' shu t ut p an leav d me alone e .
WALTER (looking out to th street e again): First thin ag ma ough n t
to learn i lif n e is not to make love to n colore o d woman first
thing in the morning Yo . u al soml e eeeevil peopl ae eigh t t o'clock
in the morning.
TRAVIS appears in the hall doorway, almost fully dressed and quite
wide awake now, his towels and pajamas across his shoulders. He
opens the door and signals for his father to make the bathroom in
a hurry.)
TRAVIS (watching the bathroom): Daddy, com one !
WALTER gets his bathroom utensils flies an oudt to the bathroom.
RUTH: Sit down and have your breakfast, Travis.
TRAVIS: Mama, thi is Friday s (gleefully) , Check coming tomorrow,
huh?
RUTH: You get your min of d mone f anyd ea you t r breakfast.
TRAVIS (eating): Thi iss the mornin wg suppose e t brin od thge fifty
cents to school.
RUTH: Well, I ain't got no fifty cents this morning.
TRAVIS: Teache sa r y we hav toe .
RUTH: I don't care what teacher say Iain' . got t it. Ea you t r breakfast,
Travis.
TRAVIS I : am eating.
RUTH: Hush up now an jus d eat t !
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The boy gives her an exasperated look for her lack of
understanding, and eats grudgingly.
TRAVIS: You think Grandmama would hav ite?
RUTH: No! And I want you to stop asking your grandmother for
money, you hear me?
TRAVIS (outraged): Gaaaleee I! don' as t k her sh, jus e t gimm iet
sometimes!
RUTH: Travis Willard Younger—I got too much on me this morning
to be—
TRAVIS: Mabe Dadd —y
RUTH: Travisl
The boy hushes abruptly. They are both quiet and tense for several
seconds.
TRAVIS (presently): Could I mayb geo carry some grocerie fron ins t
of the supermarket for a little whil afte e r school then?
RUTH: Just hush, I said. (Travis jabs his spoon into hi cereal s bowl
viciously, and rests his head in anger upon his fists.) If you
through eating, you can get over there and make your bed.
The boy obeys stiffly and crosses the room, almost mechanically,
to the bed and more or less folds the bedding into a heap, then
angrily gets his books and cap.
TRAVIS (sulking and standing apart from her unnaturally): I'm
gone.
RUTH (looking up from the stove to inspect him automatically):
Come here. (He crosses to her and she studies his head.) If you
don't take this comb and fix this here head (TRAVI , you better S !
puts down his books with a great sigh of oppression, and crosses
to the mirror. His mother mutters under her breath about his
"slubbornness.") 'Bout to march out of here with that head
looking just like chickens slept in it! jus I t don't know where
you get your stubborn ways . . . And get your jacket, too. Looks
chilly out this morning.
TRAVIS (with conspicuously brushed hair and jacket): I'm gone.
RUTH: Get carfare and milk mone — (waving y one finger —and ) not
a single penny for no caps, you hear me?
TRAVIS (with sullen politeness): Yes'm.
He turns in outrage to leave. His mother watches after him as in
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A RAISI I N N THE SUN Act IScene I
his frustration he approaches the door almost comically. When she
speaks to him, her voice has become very a gentle tease.
RUTH (mocking, as she thinks he would say it): Oh, Mama makes
me so mad sometimes, I don't know what to do! (She waits and
continues to his back as he stands stock-still in front of he door.)
I wouldn't kiss that woman good-bye for nothing in this world
this morning! (The boy finally turns around and rolls his eyes
at her, knowing the mood has changed and he is vindicated; he
does not, however, move toward her yet.) Not for nothing in
this world! (She finally laughs aloud at him and holds out her
arms to him and we see that it is a way between them, very old
and practiced. He crosses to her and allows her to embrace
him warmly but keeps his face fixed with masculine rigidity.
She holds him back from her presently and looks at him and
runs her fingers over the features of his face. With utter gentleness—)
Now—whose little old angry man ar you e ?
TRAVIS (the masculinity an gruffness d start fade o a last.): t Aw
gaalee—Mama . . .
RUTH (mimicking): Aw—gaaaaalleeeee, Mama! (She pushes him,
with rough playfulness and finality, toward the door.) Get on
out of here or you going to be late.
TRAVIS (in the face of love, new aggressiveness): Mama, coul Id
please go carry groceries?
RUTH: Honey, it's starting to get so cold evenings.
WALTER (coming in from the bathroom and drawing a makebelieve
gun from a make-believe holster and shooting at his son):
What is it he wants to do?
RUTH: Go carry grocerie afte s r school at the supermarket.
WALTER: Well, let him go ...
TRAVIS (quickly, to th ally): e I have —sh to e won't gimme the fifty
cents . . .
WALTER (to hi wife s only): Why not?
RUTH (simply, and with flavor): 'Cause we don't have it.
WALTER (t RUT o H only): Wha yo t u tel thl e boy things like that
for? (Reaching down into his pants with a rather important
gesture) Here so , —n
(He hands the boy the coin, but his eyes are directed to wife's. his
TRAVIS takes the money happily.)
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TRAVIS: Thanks, Daddy.
He starts out. RUTH watches both of them with murder in her eyes.
WALTER stands and stares back at her with defiance, and suddenly
reaches into his pocket again on an afterthought.
WALTER (without even looking at his son, still staring hard at his
wife): In fact, here's another fifty cents . . . Buy yourself some
fruit today—or take a taxicab to school or something!
TRAVIS: Whoope —e
He leaps up and clasps his father around the middle with his legs,
and they face each other in mutual appreciation; WALTE slowly R
LEE peeks around the boy to catch the violent rays from wife's his
eyes and draws his head back as if shot.
WALTER: You better get dow now—an n d get to school, man.
TRAVIS (at the door): O.K. Good-bye (H. e exits.)
WALTE (after R him, pointing with pride): That' ms y boy. (She
looks at him in disgust and turns back to her work.) You know
what I was thinking 'bout in the bathroom this morning?
RUTH: No.
WALTER: How come you always try to be so pleasant!
RUTH: What is there to be pleasant 'bout!
WALTER: You want to know what I was thinking 'bout in the
bathroom or not!
RUTH: I know what you thinking 'bout.
WALTER (ignoring her): 'Bout wha mt e and Willy Harri wa s s talking
about last night.
RUTH (immediately—a refrain): Willy Harri iss a good-for-nothing
loudmouth.
WALTER: Anybody who talks to me has got to be a good-fornothing
loudmouth, ain't he? And what you know about who
is just a good-for-nothing loudmouth? Charlie Atkin wa s s just
a "good-for-nothing loudmouth" too, wasn't he! When he
wanted me to go in the dry-cleaning business with him. And
now—he's grossing a hundred thousand a year. A hundred thousand
dollars a year! You still call him a loudmouth!
RUTH (bitterly): Oh, Walter Lee . . .
She folds her head on her arms over the table.
WALTER (rising and coming to her and standing over her): You
tired, ain't you? Tired of everything. Me, the boy, the way we
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A RAISI INN THE SUN Ac Scene t I I
live—this beat-u hole—everything p Ain' . yout ? (She doesn't
look up, doesn't answer.) S tired—moanin o an g d groanin al g l
the time, but you wouldn't do nothing to help woul , youd ? You
couldn't be on my side that long for nothing, coul youd?
RUTH: Walter, please leav me e alone.
WALTER: A man needs a woman to back him up ...
RUTH: Walte —r
WALTER: Mama would listen to you Yo . u know she liste tno you
more than she do me and Bennie Sh. e think mor oe you f Al . l
you have to do i jus s t sit down with her whe yo n u drinking your
coffee one morning and talking 'bou thing t s lik yoe and u d—o
(He sits down beside her and demonstrates graphically what he
thinks her methods and tone should be.)— jus you sit p your coffee,
see, and say easy like tha yo t u been thinking 'bou tha t t deal
Walter Lee is so interested in, 'bou tht e stor an e d all an, d sip
some mor coffee e , like wha yo t u saying ain't really that important
to you—And the next thing you know sh , e be listening good
and asking you questions and when I com home— e caI n tel hel r
the details. This ain't no fly-by-nigh proposition t , baby I. mean
we figured it out, me and Willy and Bobo.
RUTH (with a frown): Bobo?
WALTER: Yeah Yo . u see, this little liquor stor we e got in mind cost
seventy-five thousand and we figured the initial investmen otn
the place be 'bout thirty thousand, see. Tha bt e ten thousand
each. Course, there's a couple of hundred you got to pay so's
you don't spend you lif jus re t waitin fo g r them clown tso let
your license ge approved t —
RUTH Yo : u mea graft n ?
WALTER (frowning impatiently): Don't cal i that tl Se. e there, that
just goes to show you what women understand abou tht world e .
Baby, don't nothing happen for you in this world 'les yos u pay
somebody off!
RUTH: Walter, leav me e alone! (She raises her head and stares at
him vigorously—then says, more quietly.) Ea you t r eggs, they
gonna be cold.
WALTER (straightening up from her an off): d looking That' i.s
There you are. Man say to his woman I: got me a dream Hi . s
woman say: Eat your eggs (Sadly, . bu gaining t in power.) Man
say: I got to take hold of this here world, baby An ! d a woman
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Lorraine Hansberry
will say: Eat your eggs and go to work (Passionately . now.)
Man say: I got to change m lifey , I'm choking to death, baby!
And his woman sa — (iyn utter anguish as he brings his fists down
on his thighs)— Your eggs is getting cold!
RUTH (softly): Walter, that ain't none of our money.
WALTER (not listening at all or even looking her): at This morning,
I was lookin' in the mirror and thinking about it... I'm thirtyfive
years old; I been married eleven years and I got a boy who
sleeps in the living room —(very, very quietly) —and all I got to
give him is stories about how rich white peopl ive e . . .
RUTH: Eat your eggs, Walter.
WALTER (slams the table and jumps up): —DAM MN —Y EGGS
DAMN ALL THE EGGS THAT EVER WAS!
RUTH: Then go to work.
WALTER (looking up at her): Se —I' e m trying to talk to you 'bout
myself— (shaking his head with the repetition) —and all you can
say is eat them eggs and go to work.
RUTH (wearily): Honey, you never say nothing new I. liste tno you
every day, every night and every morning, and you never say
nothing new (shrugging) . So you would rather be Mr. Arnold
than be his chauffeur So—. I would rather be living in Buckingham
Palace.
WALTER: That is just what is wrong with the colored woman in
this world . . . Don't understand about building their men up
and making 'em feel like they somebody. Like they can do something.
RUTH (drily, but to hurt): There are colored men who do things.
WALTER: No thanks to the colored woman.
RUTH: Well, being a colored woman I, guess I can't hel mysel p f
none.
She rises and gets the ironing board and sets it up and attacks a
huge pile of rough-dried clothes, sprinkling them in preparation
for the ironing and then rolling them into tight fat balls.
WALTER (mumbling): We one group of men tied to a race of
women with small minds!
His sister BENEATHA enters. She is about twenty, as slim and intense
as her brother. She is not as pretty as her sister-in-law, but her
lean, almost intellectual face has a handsomeness of its own. She
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A RAISI IN N THE SUN Act Scene I
wears a bright-red flannel nightie, and her thick hair stands wildly
about her head. Her speech is a mixture of many things; it is
different from the rest of the family's insofar as education has
permeated her sense of English—and perhaps the Midwest rather
than the South has finally—at last—won out in her inflection; but
not altogether, because over all of it soft is slurring a and
transformed use of vowels which is the decided influence of the
Southside. She passes through the room without looking at either
RUTH o WALTE r R and goes to th outside e door and looks, alittle
blindly, out to the bathroom. She sees that it has been lost to the
Johnsons. She closes the door with a sleepy vengeance and crosses
to the table and sits down a little defeated.
BENEATHA: I am going to start timing those people.
WALTER Yo : u shoul ge d t up earlier.
BENEATHA (Her face in he hands. r She i still s fighting th urge e to
go back to bed.): Really—would yo sugges u t dawn? Where's
the paper?
WALTER (pushing the paper across th table e to her as h studies e
her almost clinically, as though he has never seen before): her
You a horrible-looking chick a thi t s hour.
BENEATH (drily): A Good morning, everybody.
WALTER (senselessly): How is schoo coming l ?
BENEATHA (in the same spirit): Lovely. Lovely An. d you know,
biology is the greatest (looking , up a him) t I dissected something
that looke jus d lik t e you yesterday.
WALTER I: just wondere id you'v f e mad ue you p r min and every d -
thing.
BENEATHA (gaining in sharpness an impatience): d An wha d ditd I
answer yesterda morning—an y thd e da befor y e that?
RUTH (from the ironing board, like someone disinterested an old): d
Don't be so nasty, Bennie.
BENEATHA (still to her brother): And the da befor y e tha ant d the
day before that!
WALTER (defensively): I'm intereste id you n . Something wrong
with that? Ain't many girl wh s decide o —
WALTER an BENEATH d (i A n unison): —"t beo a doctor. (silence) "
WALTER: Have we figured out ye jus t t exactl hoy muc w h medical
school is going to cost?
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Lorraine Hansberry
RUTH: Walter Lee, why don't you leave the girl alone and get out
of here to work?
BENEATHA (exits to the bathroom and bangs on the door): Come
on out of there, please! (She comes back into the room.)
WALTER (looking at his sister intently): You know the check is
coming tomorrow.
BENEATHA (turning on him with a sharpness all her own): That
money belongs to Mama, Walter, and it's for her to decide how
she wants to use it. I don't care if she wants to buy a house or
a rocket ship or just nail it up somewhere and look at it. It's
hers. Not ours—hers.
WALTER (bitterly): Now ain't that fine! You just got your mother's
interest at heart, ain't you, girl? You such a nice girl—but if
Mama got that money she can always take a few thousand and
help you through school too —can't she?
BENEATHA: I have never asked anyone around here to do anything
for me!
WALTER: No! And the line between asking and just accepting when
the time comes is big and wide —ain't it!
BENEATHA (with fury): What do you want from me, Brother—that
I quit school or just drop dead, which!
WALTER: I don't want nothing but for you to stop acting holy
'round here. Me and Ruth done made some sacrifices for you—
why can't you do something for the family?
RUTH: Walter, don't be dragging me in it.
WALTER: You are in it—Don't you get up and go work in somebody's
kitchen for the last three years to help put clothes on her
back?
RUTH: Oh, Walter—that's not fair . . .
WALTER: It ain't that nobody expects you to get on your knees
and say thank you, Brother; thank you, Ruth; thank you,
Mama —and thank you, Travis, for wearing the same pair of
shoes for two semesters —
BENEATHA (dropping to her knees): Well—I do —all right?—thank
everybody! And forgive me for ever wanting to be anything at
all! (pursuing him on her knees across the floor) FORGIVE
ME, FORGIVE ME, FORGIVE ME!
RUTH: Please stop it! Your mama'll hear you.
WALTER: Who the hell told you you had to be a doctor? If you so
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A RAISI INN THE SUN Act Scene I I
crazy 'bout messing 'round with sic people—the k n go be anurse
like other women—o jus r t ge marrie t d and be quiet. . .
BENEATHA Well—yo : u finally got i sai t d ... It took yo thre u e years
but you finally got it said. Walter giv , e up leav ; e m alone—it' e s
Mama's money.
WALTER: He was my father, too!
BENEATHA: So what? He was mine —anto, o Travis d ' grandfather—but
the insurance money belongs t Mama o . Picking on
me is not going to make her give it to you t inves o it n an liquo y r
stores —(underbreath, dropping into chair) —and I for on say e ,
God bless Mama for that!
WALTER (t RUTHJ o See—di : yod u hear Di?d yo hear u !
RUTH: Honey, please go to work.
WALTER: Nobody in this hous ie eve s r going t understan o me d .
BENEATHA: Because you'r ae nut.
WALTER: Who' as nut?
BENEATHA You—yo : ar u e a nut. The ie mad s , boy.
WALTER (looking at hi wifes and hi sister s from the door, very
sadly): The world's most backward race o people f an , d that's a
fact.
BENEATHA (turning slowly in he chair): r An the d n ther aree all
those prophets who would lea uds out o (WAL f th wildernes e- — s
TER slams out of the house.)—into th swamps e !
RUTH: Bennie, why you always gott ba pickin e o' you n r brother?
Can't you be a little sweeter sometimes? (Door WALTE opens. R
walks in. He fumbles with his cap, starts to speak, clears throat,
looks everywhere bu RUTH t at Finally:) .
WALTER (t RUTH,) o I: need some mone foy carfare r .
RUTH (looks at him, then warms; teasing, bu tenderly): t Fifty
cents? (She goes to her bag and gets money.) Here—tak ae
taxi!
WALTER exits. MAMA enters. She is a woman in early her sixties,
full-bodied and strong. She is one of those women of a certain
grace and beauty who wear it so unobtrusively that it akes a while
to notice. Her dark-brown face is surrounded by the total
whiteness of her hair, and, being a woman who has adjusted to
many things life n and overcome many more, fullface of isher
strength. She has, we can see, wit and faith of a kind that keep her
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Lorraine Hansberry
eyes lit and full of interest and expectancy. She is, in a word, a
beautiful woman. Her bearing is perhaps most like the noble
bearing of the women of the Hereros of Southwest Africa—rather
as if she imagines that as she walks she still bears a basket or a
vessel upon her head. Her speech, on the other hand, is as careless
as her carriage is precise—she is inclined to slur everything—but
her voice is perhaps not so much quiet as simply soft.
MAMA: Who that 'round here slamming doors at this hour?
She crosses through the room, goes to the window, opens it, and
brings in a feeble little plant growing doggedly in a small pot on
the window sill. She feels the dirt and puts it back out.
RUTH: That was Walter Lee. He and Bennie was at it again.
MAMA: My children and they tempers. Lord, if this little old plant
don't get more sun than it's been getting it ain't never going to
see spring again. (She turns from the window.) What's the
matter with you this morning, Ruth? You looks right peaked.
You aiming to iron all them things? Leave some for me. I'll get
to 'em this afternoon. Bennie honey, it's too drafty for you to
be sitting 'round half dressed. Where's your robe?
BENEATHA: In the cleaners.
MAMA: Well, go get mine and put it on.
BENEATHA: I'm not cold, Mama, honest.
MAMA: I know—but you so thin . . .
BENEATHA (irritably): Mama, I'm not cold.
MAMA (seeing the make-down bed as TRAVIS has left it): Lord have
mercy, look at that poor bed. Bless his heart—he tries, don't he?
She moves to the bed TRAVIS has sloppily made up.
RUTH: No—he don't half try at all 'cause he knows you going to
come along behind him and fix everything. That's just how come
he don't know how to do nothing right now—you done spoiled
that boy so.
MAMA (folding bedding): Well—he's a little boy. Ain't supposed
to know 'bout housekeeping. My baby, that's what he is. What
you fix for his breakfast this morning?
RUTH (angrily): I feed my son, Lena!
MAMA: I ain't meddling— (underbreath; busy-bodyish) I just noticed
all last week he had cold cereal, and when it starts getting
499
A RAISI INN THE SUN Act Scene I I
this chilly in th fal e l a child ought to have some ho grit t s or
something when he goes out in coldthe —
RUTH (furious)-. I gav hi e m ho oats—i t s tha alt right l !
MAMA: I ain't meddling (pause) , Put a lot o nic f e butte orn it?
(RUTH shoots her an angry look and does reply.) not He likes
lots of butter.
RUTH (exasperated): Lena—
MAMA (T BENEATHA o . MAM iAs inclined to wander conversationally
sometimes.): What was you and your brothe fussin r g 'bou thi t s
morning?
BENEATHA: It's not important. Mama.
She gets up and goes to look out at the bathroom, which is
apparently free, and she picks up her towels and rushes out.
MAMA: Wha wa t s the fightin y g about?
RUTH: Now you know as wel al s I do.
MAMA (shaking he head): r Brother still worrying hisself sick about
that money?
RUTH: You know he is.
MAMA Yo : u ha breakfast d ?
RUTH: Som coffee e .
MAMA: Girl, you better start eatin an g d lookin afteg yoursel r f
better. You almost thin as Travis.
RUTH: Len —a
MAMA: Un-hunh?
RUTH: What are you going to do wit it h ?
MAMA: Now don't you start, child. It's too early in th mornin e g
to be talking about money. It ain' Christian t .
RUTH: It's just that he got his hear se t t on thastoret —
MAMA: You mean that liquor store that Willy Harris wan hi t m to
invest in?
RUTH Ye : s —
MAMA: We ain't no business people, Ruth W jus . e plai t n working
folks.
RUTH: Ain't nobody business people till the gy o into business.
Walter Lee say colored people ain't never going to start getting
ahead till they start gambling on som differen e kind t os thing f s
in the world—investments and things.
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Lorraine Hansberry
MAMA: What done got into you, girl? Walter Lee done finally sold
you on investing.
RUTH: No. Mama, something is happening between Walter and
me. I don't know what it is—but he needs something—something
I can't give him any more. He needs this chance, Lena.
MAMA (frowning deeply): But liquor, honey —
RUTH: Well—like Walter say—I spec people going to always be
drinking themselves some liquor.
MAMA: Well—whether they drinks it or not ain't none of my business.
But whether I go into business selling it to 'em is, and I
don't want that on my ledger this late in life, (stopping suddenly
and studying her daughter-in-law) Ruth Younger, what's the
matter with you today? You look like you could fall over right
there.
RUTH: I'm tired.
MAMA: Then you better stay home from work today.
RUTH: I can't stay home. She'd be calling up the agency and
screaming at them, "My girl didn't come in today —send me
somebody! My girl didn't come in!" Oh, she just have a fit...
MAMA: Well, let her have it. I'll just call her up and say you got
the fluRUTH
(laughing): Why the flu?
MAMA: 'Cause it sounds respectable to 'em. Something white people
get, too. They know 'bout the flu. Otherwise they think you
been cut up or something when you tell 'em you sick.
RUTH: I got to go in. We need the money.
MAMA: Somebody would of thought my children done all but
starved to death the way they talk about money here late. Child,
we got a great big old check coming tomorrow.
RUTH (sincerely, but also self-righteously): Now that's your
money. It ain't got nothing to do with me. We all feel like that—
Walter and Bennie and me—even Travis.
MAMA (thoughtfully, and suddenly very far away): Ten thousand
dollars —
RUTH: Sure is wonderful.
MAMA: Ten thousand dollars.
RUTH: You know what you should do, Miss Lena? You should
take yourself a trip somewhere. To Europe or South America or
someplace —
501
A RAISIN IN THE SUN Act I Scene I
MAMA (throwing up her hands at the thought): Oh, child!
RUTH: I'm serious. Just pack up and leave! Go on away and enjoy
yourself some. Forget about the family and have yourself a ball
for once in your life—
MAMA (drily): You sound like I'm just about ready to die. Who'd
go with me? What I look like wandering 'round Europe by myself?
RUTH: Shoot—these here rich white women do it all the time. They
don't think nothing of packing up they suitcases and piling on
one of them big steamships and—swoosh!—they gone, child.
MAMA: Something always told me I wasn't no rich white woman.
RUTH: Well—what are you going to do with it then?
MAMA: I ain't rightly decided. (Thinking. She speaks now with
emphasis.) Some of it got to be put away for Beneatha and her
schoolin' —and ain't nothing going to touch that part of it. Nothing.
(She waits several seconds, trying to make up her mind
about something, and looks at RUTH a little tentatively before
going on.) Been thinking that we maybe could meet the notes
on a little old two-story somewhere, with a yard where Travis
could play in the summertime, if we use part of the insurance
for a down payment and everybody kind of pitch in. I could
maybe take on a little day work again, few days a week—
RUTH (studying her mother-in-law furtively and concentrating on
her ironing, anxious to encourage without seeming to): Well,
Lord knows, we've put enough rent into this here rat trap to
pay for four houses by now . . .
MAMA (looking up at the words "rat trap9' and then looking
around and leaning back and sighing—in a suddenly reflective
mood—): "Rat trap"—yes, that's all it is. (smiling) I remember
just as well the day me and Big Walter moved in here. Hadn't
been married but two weeks and wasn't planning on living here
no more than a year. (She shakes her head at the dissolved
dream.) We was going to set away, little by little, don't you
know, and buy a little place out in Morgan Park. We had even
picked out the house, (chuckling a little) Looks right dumpy
today. But Lord, child, you should know all the dreams I had
'bout buying that house and fixing it up and making me a little
garden in the back— (She waits and stops smiling.) And didn't
none of it happen, (dropping her hands in a futile gesture)
502,
Lorraine Hansberry
RUTH (keeps her head down, ironing): Yes, life can be a barrel of
disappointments, sometimes.
MAMA: Honey, Big Walter would come in here some nights back
then and slump down on that couch there and just look at the
rug, and look at me and look at the rug and then back at me—
and I'd know he was down then . . . really down. (After a second
very long and thoughtful pause; she is seeing back to times that
only she can see.) And then, Lord, when I lost that baby—little
Claude—I almost thought I was going to lose Big Walter too.
Oh, that man grieved hisself! He was one man to love his children.
RUTH: Ain't nothin' can tear at you like losin' your baby.
MAMA: I guess that's how come that man finally worked hisself to
death like he done. Like he was fighting his own war with this
here world that took his baby from him.
RUTH: He sure was a fine man, all right. I always liked Mr.
Younger.
MAMA: Crazy 'bout his children! God knows there was plenty
wrong with Walter Younger—hard-headed, mean, kind of wild
with women—plenty wrong with him. But he sure loved his
children. Always wanted them to have something—be something.
That's where Brother gets all these notions, I reckon. Big
Walter used to say, he'd get right wet in the eyes sometimes,
lean his head back with the water standing in his eyes and say,
"Seem like God didn't see fit to give the black man nothing but
dreams —but He did give us children to make them dreams seem
worth while." (She smiles.) He could talk like that, don't you
know.
RUTH: Yes, he sure could. He was a good man, Mr. Younger.
MAMA: Yes, a fine man—just couldn't never catch up with his
dreams, that's all.
BENEATHA comes in, brushing her hair and looking up to the
ceiling, where the sound of a vacuum cleaner has started up.
BENEATHA: What could be so dirty on that woman's rugs that she
has to vacuum them every single day?
RUTH: I wish certain young women 'round here who I could name
would take inspiration about certain rugs in a certain apartment
I could also mention.
503
A RAISI I N N THE SUN Act Scene I I
BENEATHA (shrugging): How much cleanin cag n a house need fo,r
Christ's sakes.
MAMA (not liking the Lord's name used thus): Bennie!
RUTH: Just listen ther—jus o listen t !
BENEATHA O: h God!
MAMA: If you use the Lord's name jus ont mor e time—
BENEATH (aA bit of a whine): Oh Mama , —
RUTH Fresh—jus : fres t ah s salt, this girl!
BENEATH (drily): A Well—i thf e salt lose savor its —
MAMA: Now that will do. jus I ain' t t going t hav o yo e u 'round
here reciting the scripture vain—yo is n u hea me r ?
BENEATHA: How did I manag te o get on everybody's wrong side
by just walking into a room?
RUTH I : f you weren' fresh sto —
BENEATHA: Ruth I' , m twenty years old.
MAMA: What time you be hom froe m school today?
BENEATHA: Kind of late (with , enthusiasm) Madelin i goin se tog
start my guitar lessons today.
(MAMA and RUTH look up with the same expression.)
MAMA: Your what kin od f lessons?
BENEATHA: Guitar.
RUTH: Oh, Father!
MAMA: How come you done taken it in your min td lear o tn pla o y
the guitar?
BENEATHA: I just wan to t , that's all.
MAMA (smiling): Lord, child, don' yot u know wha tto ge tire t odf
this now—like you got tired o tha f t littl de o wit yourself h Ho ? w
long it going to be before you play-acting grou yo p joine u d last
year? (looking RUTH at An ) d wha wa t s it th yea e r before that?
RUTH: The horseback-riding clu fob whic r shh bough e t tha fifty t -
five-dollar riding habit that's been hangin i g n th close e t ever
since!
MAMA (t BENEATHA) o Wh : y you got to fli fro t s on om thin e tog
another baby , ?
BENEATH (sharply): A I jus wan t to lear tno pla thy guitar e I ther s. e
anything wrong with that?
MAMA: Ain't nobody trying to stop you jus I. wonder t s sometimes
why you has to flit s fro o m one thing to anothe al r l th time e .
504
Lorraine Hansberry
You ain't never done nothing with all that camera equipment
you brought hom —e
BENEATHA I : don' flit —t II! experiment wit differen h form t ofs
expression—
RUTH: Like riding a horse?
BENEATHA —Peopl : e have to express themselves one way or another.
MAMA: What is it you want to express?
BENEATHA (angrily): (MAM e RUT ! an A Hd look at each other and
burst into raucous laughter.} Don' worry— t I don't expect you
to understand.
MAMA (to change th subject): e Who you going out with tomorrow
night?
BENEATHA (with displeasure): George Murchison again.
MAMA (pleased): Oh—you gettin ag little swee o him tn ?
RUTH: You ask me, this child ain't swee ot n nobod herself y but—
(underbreath) Express herself!
(They laugh.)
BENEATHA Oh— : I like George all right, Mama I. mea In lik hi e m
enough to go out with him an stuff d but, —
RUTH (for devilment): What doe stuff ans mean d ?
BENEATHA: Mind your own business.
MAMA: Stop picking at her now, Ruth. (She chuckles—then a suspicious
sudden look at her daughter as she turns in her chair for
emphasis.) What DOES it mean?
BENEATHA (wearily): Oh, I just mea In couldn't ever reall bye
serious about George. He's—he's so shallow.
RUTH: Shallow—what do you mean he's shallow? He's Rich!
MAMA: Hush, Ruth.
BENEATHA: I know he's rich. He knows he's rich, too.
RUTH: Well—what other qualities a man got to hav satisf e to y
you, little girl?
BENEATHA: You wouldn't even begin to understand. Anybody who
married Walter could not possibly understand.
MAMA (outraged): What kind of way is that to talk about your
brother?
BENEATHA: Brothe irs a flip—let' fac s it e .
MAMA (t RUTH o helplessly): , What' a flip s ?
505
A RAISI I N N THE SUN Act I Scene I
RUTH (glad to add kindling): She's saying he's crazy.
BENEATHA: Not crazy. Brother isn't really yet—-he—he' crazy as n
elaborate neurotic.
MAMA: Hush your mouth!
BENEATHA: As for George. Well. George look good—he' s s got a
beautiful car and he takes me to nice places and, as my sisterin-law
says, he is probably the richest boy I will ever get to know
and I even like him sometime —bu s it f the Younger ar s e sitting
around waiting to see if their little Bennie is going to tie up the
family with the Murchisons, they are wasting their time.
RUTH: You mean you wouldn't marry George Murchison if he
asked you someday? That pretty, rich thing? Honey, I knew you
was odd—
BENEATHA: No I would not marry him if al fell I fot r him was
what I feel now. Besides, George' famil s y wouldn't really like it.
MAMA: Why not?
BENEATHA: Oh, Mama—The Murchisons are honest-to-God-reallive-rich
colored people, and the only people in the world who
are more snobbish than rich white people are rich colored people.
I thought everybody knew that. I've met Mrs. Murchison.
She's a scene!
MAMA: You must not dislike people 'cause they well off, honey.
BENEATHA: Why not? It makes just as much sense as disliking
people 'cause they are poor, and lots of people do that.
RUTH (A wisdom-of-the-ages manner. MAMA.J To : Well, she'l gel t
over some of thi —s
BENEATHA: Get over it? What are you talking about Ruth , ? Listen,
I'm going to be a doctor. I'm not worried about who I'm going
to marry yet—if I ever get married.
MAMA an RUTH d If!:
MAMA: Now, Benni —e
BENEATHA: Oh, I probably will. . . but first I'm going to be a
doctor, and George, for one, still thinks that's prett funny y . I
couldn't be bothered with that. I am going to be a doctor and
everybody around here better understand that!
MAMA (kindly): 'Course you going to be a doctor, honey, God
willing.
BENEATHA (drily): God hasn't got a thing to do with it.
506
Lorraine Hansberry
MAMA: Beneatha—that just wasn't necessary.
BENEATHA: Well—neithe ir s God I. get sic ok f hearing about God.
MAMA: Beneatha!
BENEATHA: I mean it! I'm just tired of hearing abou Go t d all the
time. What has He got to do with anything? Does he pa tuition y ?
MAMA: You 'bout to get you fresh little jaw slapped!
RUTH: That's just what she needs, all right!
BENEATHA: Why? Why can't I say what I want to around here,
like everybody else?
MAMA: It don't sound nice for a young gir tl o say thing that s lik—e
you wasn't brought up that way. Me and your father went to
trouble to get you and Brother to church every Sunday.
BENEATHA: Mama, you don't understand. It's all a matter of ideas,
and God is just one idea I don't accept. It's not important. I am
not going out and be immoral or commit crimes because I don't
believe in God. I don't even think about it. It's just that I get
tired of Him getting credit for all the things the human race
achieves through its own stubbor effort n . There simply is no
blasted God—there is only man and it is he who makes miracles!
MAMA absorbs this speech, studies her daughter and rises slowly
and crosses BENEATH to A an slaps d her powerfully across face. the
After, there is only silence and the daughter drops her eyes from
her mother's face, MAM and A is very tall before her.
MAMA: Now—you say after me, in my mother's house there is still
God. (There is a long pause BENEATH and A stares at the floor
wordlessly. MAMA repeats the phrase with precision and cool
emotion.) In my mother's house there is still God.
BENEATHA: In my mother's house ther ies still God (. a long pause)
MAMA (walking away BENEATHA from to, o disturbed for triumphant
posture. Stopping and turning back to her daughter.):
There are some ideas we ain't going to have in this house. Not
as long as I am at the head of thi family s .
BENEATHA: Yes, ma'am (MAM. A walks out of the room.)
RUTH (almost gently, with profound understanding): You think
you a woman, Benni —bu e t you still a little girl. What you did
was childis —s h o you got treated like a child.
BENEATHA: I see (quietly) . I also see that everybody thinks it' al s l
507
A RAISI INN THE SUN Ac Scene t I
right for Mama to be a tyrant Bu . t all th tyrann e iyn th worl e d
will never put a God in the heavens! (She picks up her books
and goes out. Pause.)
RUTH (goes t MAMA' o door): S She sai shd e wa sorry s .
MAMA (coming out, going to he plant): r They frighten mes Ruth , .
My children.
RUTH: You got good children, Lena. The jus a littl yt ofe some f -
times—but they're good.
MAMA: No—there's something come down betwee mne an the d m
that don't let us understand each other and I don' kno t w what
it is. One done almost los hi t s mind thinking 'bou mone t al y l
the time and the other done commence t tal o k about thing Is
can't seem to understand in no form o fashion r . Wha its it that's
changing, Ruth?
RUTH (soothingly, older than he years): r Now . . . yo takin u g it all
too seriously. Yo jus u t go strong-wille t d childre an n d i take as
strong woman like you to keep 'em in hand.
MAMA (looking at her plant and sprinkling a little water o it): n
They spirited all right, my children. Got t admi o t they got
spirit—Bennie and Walter. Like this littl ol e plan d t that ain't
never had enough sunshine o nothing—an r look d at it.. .
She has her back RUTH to wh , o has had to stop ironing an lean d
against something and put the back of her hand to her forehead.
RUTH (trying to keep MAMA from noticing): You . . .sure . . . loves
that little old thing, don' you t ? . . .
MAMA: Well I, always wante md e a garden lik Iuse e tdo se some e -
times at the back of the houses down home. This plan it clos s e
as I ever got to having one. (She looks out of the window as
she replaces the plant.) Lord, ain't nothin ag drear s ays th vie e w
from this window on a dreary day i, there s Wh ? ain' y yot u
singing this morning, Ruth? Sing that "N Way o s Tired. Tha " t
song alway lift s ms e up s —(She o turns a last t RUT to seH that e
has slipped quietly to the floor, in a state of semiconsciousness.)
Ruth! Ruth honey—what's the matter with you . . . Ruth!
508
SCEN I E I
It is the following morning; a Saturday morning, and house cleaning
is in progress a YOUNGERS t the Furniture . ha been s shoved
hither and yon MAMA and is giving the kitchen-area walls a washing
down. BENEATHA i , n dungarees, with a handkerchief tied
around her face, is spraying insecticide into the cracks in the walls.
As they work, the radio is on and a Southside disk-jockey program
is inappropriately filling the house with a rather exotic saxophone
blues. TRAVIS, the sole idle one, is leaning on his arms, looking out
of the window.
TRAVIS: Grandmama, tha stuft Benni f i usin se g smells awful Can.
I go downstairs, please?
MAMA: Did you get al the l m chores done already I? ain' see t yon u
doing much.
TRAVIS: Yes' —finishe m d early. Wher di e d Mam ga thi o s morning?
MAMA (looking BENEATHA,) at Sh : e had to go on a little errand.
The phone rings. BENEATHA runs to answer it an reaches d before it
WALTER, who has entered from bedroom.
TRAVIS: Where?
MAMA: To tend to her business.
BENEATHA: Haylo . . . (disappointed) Yes, he is. (She tosses the
phone t WALTER o , who barely catches it.) It's Willie Harris
again.
WALTER (as privately as possible MAMA' under gaze): S Hello, Willie.
Did you get the papers from the lawyer? . . . No, no yet. t I
told you the mailman doesn't ge her t e till ten-thirty . . . No I'l, l
come there . . . Yeah! Right away. (H hangs e up an goes d for
his coat.)
BENEATHA: Brother, wher di e d Rut go h ?
WALTER (as he exits): How shoul I know d !
TRAVIS: Aw come on Grandma , Ca . n I g outside o ?
MAMA: Oh, I guess so. You stay righ it n fron ot f th house e , though,
and keep a good lookout for the postman.
TRAVIS: Yes'm (H . e darts into bedroom fo stickball r and bat,
reenters, and sees BENEATH oA n he knees r spraying sofa under
with behind upraised. He dges closer to the target, takes aim,
and lets her have it. She screams.) Leave them poo littl r e ****-
509
A RAISI INN THE SUN Ac Scene It II
roaches alone, they ain't botherin yog none u (H! runs e as she
swings th spray e gun at him viciously playfully.) and Grandma!
Grandma!
MAMA: Look ou there t , girl befor , yoe u b spillin e g som o tha fe t
stuff on that child!
TRAVI (safely S behind th bastion e MAMA): of That' right—loo s k
out, now! (He exits.)
BENEATH (drily): A I can't imagine tha i woul tt d him—i hur ha t ts
never hurt the roaches.
MAMA: Well, little boys' hides ain' a toug ts a Southside hs roaches.
You better get over there behin thd bureau e see I . onn marchin e g
out of there like Napoleon yesterday.
BENEATHA There's : really onl on y e way to get rid o them f ,
Mama—
MAMA: How?
BENEATHA: Set fire to this building! Mama, wher di Rut ed goh?
MAMA (looking at he with r meaning): To the doctor think I , .
BENEATHA Th : e doctor? What' ths matter e (They ? exchange
glances.) You don' think t —
MAMA (with her sense odrama): f Now I ain't saying wha think I t .
But I ain't never been wrong 'bou awoma t n neither. (The phone
rings.)
BENEATHA (at the phone): Hay-lo (pause, . an . d a moment of
recognition.) Well—when did you ge back t ! . . . And how was
it? ... Of course I've misse you—i d n my way . . Thi . s morning?
No . . . house cleaning and al tha l t an Mam d a hates it if I let
people come over when th hous e e i liks e this . . . Yo have? u Well,
that's different.. Wha . i it—Oh t s wha , tht hell e , com oe n
over .. . Right, see you then. Arrividerci. (She hangs up.)
MAMA (who has listened vigorously, as is habit): he Wh r o is that
you inviting over here with this house looking lik this e ? You
ain't got the pride you was born with!
BENEATHA Asaga : i doesn't care how houses look Mama—he's an
intellectual.
MAMA: Who?
BENEATHA Asagai : — Joseph Asagai He' . s a Africa n n boy I met on
campus. He's been studying in Canada all summer.
MAMA: What's hi name s ?
BENEATHA: Asagai, Joseph Ah-sah-gu . y . . . He's from Nigeria.
510
Lorraine Hansberry
MAMA: Oh, that's the little country that was founded by slaves
way back . . .
BENEATHA: No, Mama—that's Liberia.
MAMA: I don't think I neve me r t n Africa o n before.
BENEATHA: Well, do me a favor and don't ask him a whole lot of
ignorant questions about Africans. I mean, do they wear clothes
and all that—
MAMA: Well, now, I guess if you think we so ignorant 'round here
maybe you shouldn't bring you friend r —s here
BENEATHA: It' jus s t that people ask such crazy things Al . l anyone
seems to know about when it come Afric s to i a —s Tarzan
MAMA (indignantly): Why shoul Id know anything abou Africat ?
BENEATHA: Why do you give money at church for the missionary
work?
MAMA: Well, that's to help save people.
BENEATHA Yo : u mean save them from heathenism —
MAMA (innocently): Yes.
BENEATHA: I'm afraid they need more salvatio fron th m Britis e h
and the French.
RUTH comes in forlornly an of d hepulls f r coat with dejection. They
both turn to look at her.
RUTH (dispiritedly): Well I, gues fros al m l the happ faces—every y -
body knows.
BENEATHA Yo : u pregnant?
MAMA: Lord have mercy, I sure hope it's a little old girl. Travis
ought to have a sister.
BENEATHA an RUT d H give her a hopeless look for this
grandmotherly enthusiasm.
BENEATHA: How far alon ar g e you?
RUTH: Two months.
BENEATHA: Did you mean to? I mean did you plan it or was it an
accident?
MAMA: What do you know about planning or not planning?
BENEATHA: Oh, Mama.
RUTH (wearily): She's twenty years old, Lena.
BENEATHA: Did you plan it, Ruth?
RUTH: Mind your own business.
BENEATHA: It is my business—wher i e s he goin tg o live o, n the
A RAISI I N N THE SUN Act I Scene II
roof? (There is silence following the remark as the three women
react to the sense of it.) Gee—I didn't mean that, Ruth, honest.
Gee, I don' fee t l like that a I—t allI. think it is wonderful.
RUTH (dully): Wonderful.
BENEATHA Yes—really : .
MAMA (looking RUTH at , worried): Docto sa r y everything goin tgo
be all right?
RUTH (far away): Yes—she says everything is going to be fine . . .
MAMA (immediately suspicious): "She"—What doctor you went
to?
RUTH folds over, near hysteria.
MAMA (worriedly hovering RUTH) over : Ruth honey—what' thse
matter with you—yo sick u ?
RUTH has her fists clenched on her thighs and is fighting hard to
suppress a scream that seems to be rising in her.
BENEATHA: What's the matter with her, Mama?
MAMA (working he fingers r RUTH' in S shoulders to relax her): She
be all right. Women gets right depressed sometimes when they
get her way (speaking . softly, expertly, rapidly) Now you just
relax. That's right. . jus . t lean back, don't think 'bout nothing
at all... nothing all at—
RUTH: I'm all right. . .
The glassy-eyed look melts and then she collapses into a of it heavy
sobbing. The bell rings.
BENEATHA: Oh, my God—that mus bt e Asagai.
MAMA (t RUTH) o : Come on now, honey Yo . u nee t d o lie down
and rest awhile . . . then have some nice hot food.
They exit, RUTH'S weight on her mother-in-law. BENEATHA herself ,
profoundly disturbed, opens the door to admit a rather dramaticlooking
young man with largea package.
ASAGAI: Hello, Alaiy — o
BENEATHA (holding the door open and regarding him with
pleasure): Hello . . . (long pause) Well—come in. And please
excuse everything. My mother was very upset about my letting
anyone come here with the place like this.
ASAGAI (coming into the room): You look disturbed too ... Is
something wrong?
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Lorraine Hansberry
BENEATHA (still : at the door, absently): Yes . . . we've all got acute
ghetto-itus. (She smiles and comes toward him, finding ciga- a
rette and sitting.) So—sit down! No! Wait! (She whips the
spraygun off sofa where she left had it and puts the cushions
back. At last perches on arm sofa.of He sits.) So, how was
Canada?
ASAGA (I a sophisticate): Canadian.
BENEATHA (looking at him): Asagai I' , m very glad you are
back.
ASAGAI (looking back at her in turn): Are yo really u ?
BENEATHA Yes—very : .
ASAGAI Why?—yo : u were quite glad when I went away. What
happened?
BENEATHA: You went away.
ASAGAI: Ahhhhhhhh.
BENEATHA Before—yo : u wanted to be so seriou befor s e ther wa e s
time.
ASAGAI: How much time must there b befor e e one knows what
one feels?
BENEATHA (Stalling this particular conversation. Her hands pressed
together, in a deliberately childish gesture.): What did you bring
me?
ASAGAI (handing her the package): Open it and see.
BENEATHA (eagerly opening the package and drawing out some
records and th colorful e robes of a Nigerian woman): Oh, Asagai!
. . . You got them for me! . . . Ho beautiful w . . . and the
records too! (She lifts out the robes and runs to the mirror with
them and holds the drapery up in front herself.) of
ASAGAI (coming to her at the mirror): I shall have to teach you
how to drape it properly. (H flings e the material about her for
the moment and stands back to look at her.) Ah —Oh-pay-gay -
day, oh-gbah-mu-shay. (a Yoruba exclamation for admiration)
You wear it well. . . very well. . . mutilated hair and all.
BENEATHA (turning suddenly): M hair—what' y s wrong wit mh y
hair?
ASAGAI (shrugging): Were you born wit iht like that?
BENEATHA (reaching up to touch it): No ... of course not. (She
looks back to the mirror, disturbed.)
ASAGAI (smiling): How then?
A RAISI INN THE SUN Ac Scene t I II
BENEATHA: You know perfectly well how.. a. crinkl s a y s
yours . . . that's how.
ASAGAI An : d it is ugl tyo you tha way t ?
BENEATHA (quickly): Oh no—no , ugl t y . . . (more slowly, apologetically)
But it's so hard to manage when it's well—raw , .
ASAGAI: And so to accommodat hat—yo e mutilat u i ever t y
week?
BENEATHA: It's no mutilation t !
ASAGAI (laughing aloud at he seriousness): r Oh . . . please! I am
only teasing you because you are s ver o y serious about these
things. (He stands back from her an folds d hi arms s across his
chest as he watches her pulling at her hair and frowning in the
mirror.) Do you remember the firs timt e you met me at
school? . . . (He laughs.) You came up to me an said d yo—u
and I thought you were the most serious little thin Ig ha eve d r
seen—you said (H : e imitates her.) "Mr Asagai— . wan I t very
much to talk with you. Abou Africa t Yo . see u Mr , Asagai . I, am
looking for my identity!" (H laughs.) e
BENEATHA (turning to him, no laughing): t — Ye (Her . face iss
quizzical, profoundly disturbed.)
ASAGA (still I teasing and reaching out an taking d face hein hi r s
hands and turning he profile r to him): Well.. i.t i trus e that
this is not so much aprofil oe f a Hollywood quee an perhap s s
a queen of th Nile e — (a mock dismissal of th importance e of
the question) Bu wha t t doe is matter t ? Assimilationis ims so
popular in your country.
BENEATHA (wheeling, passionately, sharply): I am not a assimi n -
lationist!
ASAGAI (the protest hangs in the room for ASAGA a moment I and
studies her, his laughter fading): Suc ah serious one. (There is
a pause.) So—you lik the robes e Yo ? mus u t take excellent care
of them—they ar fro e m my sister's personal wardrobe.
BENEATHA (with incredulity): You—yo sen u all th t e — wa hom y e
for me?
ASAGAI (with charm): Fo you—r woul I d d muc o h more . . . Well,
that is what I came for I. mus got .
BENEATHA: Wil yol u cal ml e Monday?
ASAGAI: Yes . . . We have a great deal t tal o k about. mea I n about
identity and time and all that.
Lorraine Hansberry
BENEATHA: Time?
ASAGAI: Yes. About how much time one needs to know what one
feels.
BENEATHA: You see! You never understood that ther ies more than
one kind of feeling which can exist between a man and a
woman —or, at least, there should be.
ASAGAI (shaking his head negatively but gently): No. Between a
man and a woman there need be only one kind feeling of I. have
that for you . . . Now even . . . right this moment. . .
BENEATHA: I know—an itself—i d by t won' dot . I can find that
anywhere.
ASAGAI: For a woman it should be enough.
BENEATHA: I know—because that's what it says in all the novels
that men write. But it isn't. Go ahead and laug —buht I'm not
interested in being someone's little episode in America or—(with
feminine vengeance) —one o (ASAGA f them! ha I s burst into
laughter again.) That' funn s y as hell, huh!
ASAGAI: It's just tha ever t y American gir Il have know ha n s said
that to me. Whit —black—i e n this you are all the same. And the
same speech, too!
BENEATHA (angrily): Yuk, yuk, yuk!
ASAGAI: It's how you can be sure that the world's most liberated
women are not liberated at all. You all talk about it too much!
MAMA enters and is immediately all social charm because of the
presence of a guest.
BENEATHA: Oh—Mam —thi a iss Mr. Asagai.
MAMA: How do you do?
ASAGAI (total politeness to a elder): n How do you do, Mrs.
Younger. Please forgive me for coming at such an outrageous
hour on a Saturday.
MAMA: Well, you are quite welcome jus I. t hope you understand
that our house don't always look like this, (chatterish) You
must come again. I would love to hear al about l — (not sure of
the name)—your country. I think it's so sad the way our American
Negroes don't know nothing abou Afric t a 'cept Tarzan and
all that. And all that money they pour into these churches when
they ought to be helping you people over there drive out them
French and Englishmen done taken away your land.
A RAISI I N N THE SUN Act SceneI II
The mother flashes a slightly superior look at her daughter upon
completion of the recitation.
ASAGAI (taken aback by this sudden and acutely unrelated expression
of sympathy): Yes . . . yes . . .
MAMA (smiling at him suddenly and relaxing and looking him
over): How many miles is ifrot m here to where you com frome ?
ASAGAI: Many thousands.
MAMA (looking at him as sh WALTERJ e would I: bet you don't half
look after yourself, being awa fro y m your mama either I. spec
you better come 'round her fro e m time to time to get yourself
some decent home-cooked meals . . .
ASAGAI (moved): Thank you. Than yo k ver u y much. (They are
all quiet, then—) Well... I must go. I will call you Monday,
Alaiyo.
MAMA: What's that he call you?
ASAGAI: Oh—"Alaiyo." I hope you don't mind I. t is wha yo t u
would call a nickname, I think. It is a Yoruba word. I am a
Yoruba.
MAMA (looking BENEATHAJ at I—:I though hte wafrom— s (uncertain)
ASAGAI (understanding): Nigeri ias my country. Yorub isa my
tribal origin—
BENEATHA: You didn't tell us what Alaiyo means ... for all I
know, you might be calling me Little Idiot or something . . .
ASAGAI: Well... let me see ... I do not know ho jus w t to explain
it.. . The sense of a thing can be differen so t when it changes
languages.
BENEATHA: You're evading.
ASAGAI: No—really it difficult is . . . (thinking) It means ... it
means One for Whom Brea —Foo d —I No s d t Enough (H. e looks
at her.) Is that al right l ?
BENEATHA (understanding, softly): Thank you.
MAMA (looking from one to the other and not understanding any
of it): Well. . . that's nice . . . You must come se again e us—
Mr.
ASAGAI: Ah-sah-guy . . .
MAMA: Yes . . . Do come again.
ASAGAI: Good-bye (R . e exits.)
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Lorraine Hansberry
MAMA (after him): Lord, that's a pretty thin jusg t wen ou t t here!
(insinuatingly, to her daughter) Yes, I guess I see why we done
commence to g