One of the metaphors in this essay by Zora Neale Hurston is "the front porch might seem a daring place for the rest of the town, but it was a gallery seat for me." Hurston compares the front porch of the house where she grew up in Eatonville, Florida, to a seat in a theatre from which she can watch the passing show. She realized that she was colored when she moved to Jacksonville, and, in another metaphor, she says, "In my heart as well as in the mirror, I became a fast brown, warranted not to rub nor run." Becoming brown in her heart is metaphorical, not literal, and her skin color is compared to a dye that won't run. Later, she writes, "I am off to a flying start and I must not halt in the stretch to look behind and weep." In this metaphor, she compares her life, coming after the end of slavery, to a race. In this race, she says she is off and running, and she says, like a fast runner, that she won't look behind her.
She writes that at Barnard, "Among the thousand white persons, I am a dark rock surged upon, and overswept." In this metaphor, she compares herself to a lone dark rock among a flood of white people, and because she is a single black person among many, whites she feels their numbers as if a tide is passing over her. When she listens to jazz music, she says, "My face is painted red and yellow and my body is painted blue, My pulse is throbbing like a war drum." In this metaphor, she compares herself to someone who is transported to a jungle and wears war paint and does a war dance, as she becomes one with the music. At the end of her essay, she compares herself to a brown bag with a "jumble of small things." This metaphor encapsulates the uniqueness of her identity, similar to a bag that holds a surprising and unique set of objects.
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