Frederick Douglass was born into slavery in 1818 in Maryland. His mother, Harriet Baily, worked as a slave in the cornfields of a plantation. Frederick's father was a white man. Because of his mother's long hours, Frederick was sent to live with his grandmother, who lived on a nearby farm and raised Harriet's children until they were old enough to work. During the years he spent in his grandmother's cabin, Frederick did not think of himself as a slave. He did, however, notice that his grandmother referred to a certain man as the "Old Master" and whenever, she referred to this man it was with fear.

When Frederick was six years old, his grandmother told him that they were going on a long journey. They arrived at the Lloyd Plantation, where a group of children were playing on the grounds. His grandmother showed him that three of these children were his siblings and told him to go play with them. His grandmother left him there and his life as a slave began.

One of Frederick's earliest memories of being a slave child was being fed cornmeal mush that was placed in a trough for the children to eat. The children ate like animals, competing with each other for each bite of food. They were given only a single linen shirt to wear, which reached their knees. They were not given beds or blankets, so they often had to huddle with one another for warmth.

Frederick revealed that the master of this plantation enforced strict...

One night, he watched the master whip the bare back of his aunt. He would later become the subject of many whippings during his life as a slave.
Frederick's recollection of being a slave involves being whipped and humiliated on a daily basis, "a very severe whipping... For being awkward" (Douglass, 101), as well as being able to find his own work and save some money, "I was able to command the highest wages given to the most experienced calkers" (134). Through these images, Frederick paints a real picture of slavery.

The African tradition, which is extraordinary in art, religion, song and poetry, provided a strong backbone for helping slaves survive these tragic and harsh times. Frederick recalls hearing the slaves signing songs as they traveled and worked. He did not understand the meaning at the time, but later realized that the songs were a testimony against slavery, and a prayer to God for deliverance from chains.

The hearing of those wild notes always depressed my spirit, and filled me with ineffable sadness. I have frequently found myself in tears while hearing them. The mere recurrence to those songs, even now, afflicts me; and while I am writing these lines, an expression of feeling has already found its way down my cheek. To those songs I trace my first glimmering conception of the dehumanizing character of slavery. I can…