A Few Books on Black History and Culture Suggested For No Reason Other Than the Fact That I Had to Straighten Up My Book Stacks
Commentary by Chitown Kev
Last Wednesday, I ran across this post by Kossack wadingo requesting suggestions for books related to the history of ethnic groups in America. So the simple genesis of today’s commentary is that specific diary story. I am a person that likes to keep my word.
I could have simply provided several links to a number of book lists throughout cyberspace such as this one or this one or even something as comprehensive as this one.
But there’s just one thang.
I never, ever do nothing. Nice. And easy.
I pretty much always need an angle to shoot.
In the meantime, my home library was (and still is) looking nice and rough. Books not alphabetized or categorized. One flash drive plugged into the laptop, another on top of the fridge (I scan a lot of reading materials), and who knows where the other two flash drives are (or what’s on them).
Finally, I surrendered, got the Murphy’s Oil Soap and Pledge, and cleaned my two book shelves. I remembered that one of my closet shelves also has books that I fully expect to read before I die (I think) but that I don’t figure to read anytime soon.
Sure enough, among the novels, essays, an old textbook on Roman Law, a nearly 1300-page tome of a text called Systemic Theology (once upon a time, I wanted to grow up to be a monk and I still toy with the notion for about 5 minutes every six months or so; I must have bought ST at a used bookstore during one of those infrequent five minute spells), and a Sports Illustrated book on football for the coffee table (but I still can’t locate my biography of Bo Schembechler) I found a sufficient number of books on the topic of black history to fulfill my promise.
With few exceptions, wadingo, I am pretty sure that you will find most of the black history/culture books that I present here on at least one of the lists that I linked about. I will confess I have not read all of these books in their entirety. One of these books I have not read in at least 20 (and probably closer to 25) years. One of these books I found in the closet where books go to never be read. One of these books I picked up a used book store about five days ago.
So here are a few of my favorite things as it pertains to black history and culture.
Narrative of the Life of Frederick Douglass, An American Slave, Written by Himself: A New Critical Edition by Angela Y. Davis Featuring Her “Lectures on Liberation” here
I’ve owned and loaned out many editions of Douglass’ classic account of his time in slavery and his eventual freedom. This is the edition that I loan no one.
Autobiography, the writing of the self by the self, is probably the quintessential literary genre for African Americans (i.e. the slave narratives, Maya Angelou, James Baldwin’s essays, Malcolm X, and Professor Davis, herself). Douglass’ first of three accounts of his life remains, in many ways, the model for the genre.
Probably my favorite part of the Narrative is the ever-so-slight touch of what literary critics now call “magic realism”:
I found Sandy an old adviser. He told me, with great solemnity, I must go back to Covey; but that before I went, I must go with him into another part of the woods, where there was a certain root, which, if I would take some of it with me, carrying it always on my right side, would render it impossible for Mr. Covey, or any other white man, to whip me. He said he had carried it for years; and since he had done so, he had never received a blow, and never expected to while he carried it. I at first rejected the idea, that the simple carrying of a root in my pocket would have any such effect as he had said, and was not disposed to take it; but Sandy impressed the necessity with much earnestness, telling me it could do no harm, if it did no good. To please him, I at length took the root, and, according to his direction, carried it upon my right side.
The next time Douglass ran into Mr. Covey, he commenced to whopping dat ass!
One of the things that the titan of the so-called literary genre of “magic realism,” the late Gabriel Garcia Marquez, used to remind us there was nothing “magical” about these kind of happenings in his fiction nor were they, exactly, a literary device; real people actually thought and believed and witnessed these things.
The extra treat of this particular edition of the Narrative is, of course, is two lectures by then-Acting Assistant Professor in Philosophy at UCLA, Angela Y. Davis. The lectures were for a Fall Quarter 1969 Course titled “Recurring Philosophical Themes in Black Literature.” The first lecture contains one of the most profound paragraphs that I have ever read in philosophical literature; “profound” because you read it and go, DUH!
Is man free or is he not? Ought he be free or ought not he be free? The history of Black literature provides, in my opinion, a much more illuminating account of the nature of freedom, its extent and limits, than all the philosophical discourses on this theme in the history of Western society...because lack literature in this country and throughout the world projects the consciousness of a people who have been denied entrance into the real world of freedom. Black people have exposed, by their very existence, the inadequacies of not only the practice of freedom, but of its very theoretical formulation. Because, if the theory of freedom remains isolated from the practice of freedom or rather is contradicted in reality, then this means that something must be wrong with the concept…
Just. Sit on that for a minute. Catch the subtle dig at noted French philosopher Jean-Jacques “Man is free but everywhere he is in chains.” Rousseau.
In Davis’ 2010 Introduction to this critical edition of the Narrative, Professor Davis provides an updated analysis of her long-ago lectures and sharply critiques her younger self for failing to incorporate a feminist analysis into her Douglass lectures.
This City Lights edition of the Narrative provides as broad a sweep of Black history, culture, and thought as many of the multi-volume histories (and I have the Taylor Branch civil rights trilogy) that I have read. All in 254 pages.
Here’s a few other suggestions from my book shelves. Some of these don’t typically get a lot of attention (for various reasons):
When and Where I Enter: The Impact of Black Women on Race and Sex in America by Paula Giddings here.- I read this book in the late 1980’s, I remember enjoying it a LOT. I found a copy at a used bookstore about 6 months ago, I think, and forgot that had it.
Thelonious Monk: The Life and Times of an American Original by Robin D.G. Kelley here.- This was the book that was in the closet. I’m not a jazz aficionado (even though I would like to be) but I bought this book because of I love the style and the substance of Robin D.G. Kelley’s essays.
Martin & Malcolm & America: a Dream or a Nightmare by James H. Cone here. — From the beginnings of my readings of both Dr. King’s and Malcolm X, I never did go the route of seeing Dr. King and Malcolm as oppositional to one another; I always felt that both men, in their own ways, tried to live up to the ideals that professed. This volume by a noted black theologian confirmed my initial take on the subject and showed me that the two weren’t very far apart in ideology at all. Picking this book up helps to remind me of the radical Dr. King from a black perspective. I have a couple of more of Cone’s books somewhere or the other but I do want to get a copy of his The Spirituals and the Blues here. I’ve read most of it (and probably coffee-stained the copy belonging to my local B&N) but I want my own copy now.
Freedom Summer by Doug McAdams here. I saw this book outside as I walked past the used book store last week; it was in one of the $0.99 bins. It is moderately annotated by a student. I went to index to see if Joe Lieberman’s name was in it (Nope.). The appendices have all sorts of source documents such as the questionnaire sent to people that participated in the project.
Beyond Glory: Joe Louis v. Max Schmeling, and a World on the Brink by David Margolick here. As the title hints, there was so much more at stake in the two heavyweight championship bouts between Joe Louis and Max Schmeling in the 1930’s. Margolick’s chronicle gives much of the historical context. I was actually a little miffed that there is a picture of Governor Franklin Roosevelt with Max Schmeling but no picture of President Franklin Roosevelt with Joe Louis. This books explains why.
I could add quite a few more; Dubois, Ellison, Dr. King, Frantz Fanon, more Angela Davis but I’ll stop there.
But remember, wadingo, that The Porch community here is always hospitable and will be more than happy to assist you in the comments. And stick around for the food, we always have some good eats and drinks (and if you desire, I hear that the hooch is powerful but I don’t do that stuff anymore, but be my guest).
Members of Redemption, based in Greenville, S.C., are proud of their ethnic diversity. But discussion of the state’s presidential primaries? “A taboo,” one women there said. New York Times: South Carolina Church Bridges Racial Gap, but Not Political Divide.
The members of Redemption church, a bracing blend of black and white with a smattering of Latinos, flowed into their arena-size sanctuary on one of the last Sundays before the South Carolina primaries. They prayed side by side in the glow of the animations streaming across a million-dollar video wall. They sang together, arms raised, to carefully calibrated worship music that fused strummy, sentimental rock with melismatic soul. They mingled afterward in the church’s Higher Grounds Café & Coffee Bar, standing in line for chicken-wing lunches.
What they all scrupulously avoided, however, was any discussion of politics, even as they knew that the political center of gravity had shifted to South Carolina. Avoiding such talk is an unwritten rule, scrupulously followed: “A taboo,” said Tamara Mangle, 30 an African-American who works at the gym and favors Bernie Sanders.
“It’s almost like we’re at war with each other,” said Becky Greene, 68, a white receptionist at the church offices who supports Senator Ted Cruz. “It’s like the conservatives and the liberals, and never the twain shall meet.”
The motto of this Pentecostal megachurch is “Where Many Become One,” and its members are proud of their racial progress. “This,” Ms. Greene said, “is how it’s going to be in heaven.”
But heaven will have to wait. As the presidential road show heads to the South, Redemption is a reflection of one of the region’s most persistent divides. Despite the unmistakable, sometimes startling gains that Southern blacks and white have made in working, living and even praying together, when it comes to voting and politics, the gulf between them is so vast it can barely even be discussed.
White people like Bill Clinton can say ‘We are all mixed-raced’ because they perceive themselves as race-less and think it’s a boon to offer that to black people. The Guardian: People who don't 'see race' are erasing black people and their contributions.
Just because race is a social and not a scientific construct does not mean that it can be simply dismissed as an outdated fiction. The lived reality of “race” (uninterrupted for centuries) is that our lives are all shaped by whether we are perceived as white or non-white – and, particularly in America, whether we are visibly black – and how we are free to operate in society as a result of that public classification.
Race might not be “real”, but that doesn’t make it non-functional.
So when Meryl Streep told an Egyptian reporter at the Berlin International Film Festival last week “We’re all Africans, really”, in response to a question about the festival’s all-white jury panel, I bristled. When Steven Spielberg responded to the #OscarsSoWhite controversy a few days after that by telling The Hollywood Reporter: “Look, I have two black children, you know? I’ve been colorblind my entire life”, I was actually aghast.
And then when Bill Clinton – who was once unofficially deemed America’s “first black President” – told an audience in Memphis at a campaign event for his wife, Democratic presidential candidate Hillary Clinton: “We are all mixed-raced people”, I felt almost apoplectic.
No matter the context, each serves as glaring demonstrations of how to deny the social power of race.
A teenage girl feared going against orders but was even more afraid of killing her father who she knew was staying at the crowded camp in Nigeria that was her target. The Guardian: Teenager seized for Boko Haram attack tells how she tore off suicide vest and fled.
Strapped with a suicide bomb vest and sent by the extremist Boko Haram group to kill as many people as possible, the teenage girl tore off the explosives and fled as soon as she was out of sight of her handlers.
Her two companions, however, completed their grisly mission and walked into a crowd of hundreds at Dikwa refugee camp in north-east Nigeria and blew themselves up, killing 58 people.
Later found by local security forces, the girl’s tearful account is one of the first indications at least some of the child bombers used by Boko Haram are aware they are about to die and kill others.
Modu Awami, a self-defence fighter who helped question the girl, said: “She said she was scared because she knew she would kill people. But she was also frightened of going against the instructions of the men who brought her to the camp.”
She was among thousands held captive for months by the extremists, according to Algoni Lawan, a spokesman for the Ngala local government area that has many residents at the camp and who is privy to information about her interrogation by security forces.
Raised to believe that Portugal was a “good colonizer” of Africa, this Portuguese journalist set out on a journey to explore the racism that existed throughout colonial history and remains today. The Root: A White Journalist Discovers the Lie of Portugal’s Colonial Past.
I was born in 1975, the same year that Portugal withdrew from its five African colonies—Angola, Mozambique, São Tomé and Príncipe, Cape Verde Islands and Guinea-Bissau—becoming the last of the European powers to finally abandon colonialism.
Throughout my life, I have been told that we, the Portuguese, were the explorers who discovered the world. We were not occupiers. We did not oppress Africans. We were not like the British or the French. We were good colonizers (pdf), who mixed with the local African people. Apparently we were not racists then, and we’re not racists now. I can remember being taught this narrative as a child at school. Four decades later, Portuguese children are still being taught this distorted, idyllic narrative.
Growing up in a socially mixed area of the capital city, Lisbon, I encountered black Portuguese children in specific places, like the poorer areas. At primary school, there were a few black pupils. At high school, just a couple. At university, I cannot remember seeing a black student. Yet, Portugal has always had a significant black population.
Long before the horrors of the trans-Atlantic trade of human beings, in which Portugal played such a pivotal and shameful part, there were black Africans in Portugal. Following decolonization five centuries later, there was a wave of migration to Portugal from the former colonies, particularly Cape Verde, Angola and Guinea-Bissau. Yet this racially diverse population is still not visible at universities or in the leading positions of society: We don’t see black doctors, black professors at university; we rarely see black people on TV or appearing in advertisements. This absence reveals the truth of our history, proving that Portugal was never, ever the “good colonizer.”
The former head of Haiti’s Senate and National Assembly was elected the country’s interim president Sunday after a vote that went to a second round and took nearly 12 hours.
Jocelerme Privert, 62, beat out two other candidates — both were former Senate presidents as well — to lead a 120-day provisional government charged with organizing Haiti’s twice-postponed presidential and partial legislative runoffs. He was sworn in shortly after, the blue and red presidential sash placed over his chest.
Hours later in his first address as Haiti’s 51st president at an official ceremony on the lawn of the National Palace, Privert called for unity and sacrifice to help the country out of the political and electoral crisis that propelled him into power. He also called on the country’s private sector to meet its tax obligations while stressing that his priority is to return Haiti to constitutional normality.
“We have shown that we can transcend our differences, our quarrels in favor of the public interest,” he said at the ceremony attended by the foreign diplomatic corps, government ministers, opposition politicians and notable figures like Mildred Aristide, the wife of former President Jean-Bertrand Aristide.
“We should welcome the peaceful and inclusive nature of this new step in resolving the crisis,” Privert said.
Air travel in Africa is needlessly hard and costly. Open skies would make it cheaper. Economist: Travel in Africa, Let Africans fly.
Few places still capture the romance (and frustration) of the early days of flight quite as Africa does. Although air travel in the continent is safer and more common than ever before (see page 53), it still has some charming anachronisms. In Nigeria everyone applauds when the plane touches down. On tiny propeller-driven planes in Botswana the cabin attendants hand you a little bag of biltong, the dried meat that once fed people on long overland treks. In Tanzania, where on some flights almost half the passengers are taking to the skies for the first time, many of the faces in the cabin betray a sense of wonder tinged with fear.
Yet African airlines feel like a prop-blast from the past in regrettable ways, too. In most places, schedules are about as reliable as they were when planes could take off or land only in clear weather. Tickets are costly. Routes are convoluted: a passenger wanting to fly from Algiers to Lagos may have to go via Europe, turning a four-and-a-half-hour journey into one that takes at least nine hours. Most airlines are state-owned and protected from competition. Like a lot of national carriers elsewhere, they tend to be chronically unprofitable and to need frequent bail-outs from taxpayers.
Across Africa, airlines wanting to fly new routes from one country to another need the agreement of both governments first. Getting this can take years of lobbying and, in some cases, bribes. If the airline is not owned by one of the two states, its chances of winning permission nosedive. Fastjet, a London-listed low-cost carrier with operations across Africa, had to wait three years for a green light to fly between Tanzania and neighbouring Kenya. Zimbabwe recently announced that it would not let any airline besides its national carrier fly from Harare to London—although Air Zimbabwe does not currently service this route, for fear that as soon as its planes land they will be impounded by creditors.
Voices and Soul
by Black Kos Poetry Editor
Justice Putnam
It is quite easy to be cavalier about giving up on a region if you never called it home. It is quite easy to cut ties to a landscape and a warm parlor if you never sat down to a meal or smelled the night time aroma of magnolias as they glisten under a starry moon.
It is quite easy to cut loose and give up on a people and a region.
But it would be wrong.
Sorrow Home
My roots are deep in southern life; deeper than John Brown or Nat Turner or Robert Lee. I was sired and weaned in a tropic world. The palm tree and banana leaf, mango and coconut, breadfruit and rubber trees know me.
Warm skies and gulf blue streams are in my blood. I belong with the smell of fresh pine, with the trail of coon, and the spring growth of wild onion.
I am no hothouse bulb to be reared in steam-heated flats with the music of El and subway in my ears, walled in by steel and wood and brick far from the sky.
I want the cotton fields, tabacco and the cane. I want to walk along with sacks of seed to drop in fallow ground. Restless music is in my heart and I am eager to be gone.
O Southland, sorrow home, melody beating in my bone and blood! How long will the Klan of hate, the hounds and the chain gangs keep me from my own?
— Margaret Walker
“Sorrow Home”
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