I feel like a brown bag of miscellany propped ~ against a wall. Against a wall in company with other bags, white, red and cr yellow. Pour out the contents, and there is discovered a jumble of small things priceless and worthless.
This metaphor reflects the way Hurston understands race. It's somewhat simplistic, in that every race corresponds to a bag with a certain color, and inside that bag are pieces of culture and experiences. What is inside the bag supersedes the outside of the bag. Inside is meaningful, detailed, and real. I believe this alludes to how she sees race: which is that she does not want to be reduced to the color of her skin or anyone else's skin. It isn't exactly a radical take, but I believe it is unique in its acceptance of race yet somewhat demonstrated pity for whiteness.