Zora Neale Hurston’s “How It Feels to Be Colored Me” is not your typical essay on race. It’s bold, witty, full of pride—and refreshingly defiant. Instead of writing about racism with sorrow or bitterness, Hurston takes a different route: she celebrates her identity as a Black woman, refusing to see herself as a victim.

Hurston begins by reflecting on her childhood in Eatonville, Florida—a town entirely populated and governed by Black people. In Eatonville, race wasn’t really a factor in her daily life. She was simply “Zora”—not “Zora, the colored girl.” She sang, danced, greeted strangers, and felt free. It wasn’t until she moved away from Eatonville, at age 13, to Jacksonville, that she first became “colored” in other people’s eyes.

But even after this shift, Hurston refuses to let others’ perceptions define her. She admits that sometimes she’s reminded of her racial identity—like when she’s with white people—but it doesn’t hurt her. In fact, she finds it interesting. She says, “I do not weep at the world—I am too busy sharpening my oyster knife.” That line alone tells us who Zora is: someone determined to live, explore, and thrive, no matter what society thinks.

She doesn’t deny the existence of racism, but she refuses to be burdened by it. Hurston emphasizes her individuality and inner strength. She sees herself as a dynamic, vibrant person—one full of color, not someone defined solely by color. One of the most powerful images in the essay is when she describes herself as “a brown bag of miscellany,” and she imagines everyone—regardless of race—as different colored bags filled with the same jumble of hopes, dreams, fears, and thoughts. It’s a beautiful metaphor for shared humanity.

Later in the essay, she describes a moment when she’s in a jazz club with a white friend. She feels the music pulse through her body, connecting her to her African heritage—while her friend seems untouched. In that moment, she feels the richness of her identity more intensely than ever. She calls herself a “dark rock surged upon” by music, while her friend is just sitting, detached. It’s not about superiority, but about feeling deeply alive in her Blackness.

By the end of the essay, Hurston circles back to her core idea: yes, she’s a Black woman in America. But that’s not a reason to pity her. She’s not tragic. She’s not ashamed. She’s proud, full of life, and unstoppable.

Hurston’s voice in this essay is confident, fearless, and ahead of its time. Instead of internalizing society’s prejudice, she flips the script—showing that race doesn’t define her spirit. It’s a message that still resonates today: that being yourself fully, joyfully, and unapologetically is the most powerful act of all.