Black History Month: A Reading List

Every February, we honor black history in America by reflecting on the many and varied achievements of our fellow Americans of African descent. Originally observed as “Negro History Week” to coincide with the birthdays of Frederick Douglass and Abraham Lincoln, the holiday was informally expanded in 1976 to a month-long celebration. Here at Princeton University, the African American Studies Department has posted a list of this year’s special events on their website. Princeton University Press offers this reading list in recognition of the central role played by African Americans in the history of the United States:

The Loneliness of the Black Republican
Leah Wright Rigueur

Republican

Exporting American Dreams
Mary L. Dudziak

Dudziak

The Hero’s Fight
Patricia Fernández-Kelly

Hero

Reaping Something New
Daniel Hack

Hack

The Indignant Generation
Lawrence P. Jackson

Jackson

Story/Time
Bill T. Jones

Jones

The Notebooks
Jean-Michel Basquiat

Basquiat

20 University Press Books for Black History Month

In honor of Black History Month, PUP has chosen twenty of the most relevant, intriguing books published by university presses, ranging from poetry to prose, modern critiques to historical accounts. Included are recent PUP titles, Story/Time: The Life of an Idea by Bill T. Jones, The Notebooks by Jean-Michel Basquiat, and The Life and Struggles of Our Mother Walatta Petros by Galawdewos. Don’t miss the links to these titles’ design stories on our Tumblr design blog.

1. We Could Not Fail: The First African Americans in the Space Program by Richard Paul & Steven Moss (University of Texas Press)

We could not fail

2. Despite the Best Intentions: How Racial Inequality Thrives in Good Schools by Amanda E. Lewis & John B. Diamond (Oxford University Press)

despite the best intentions

3. Forest Primeval by Vievee Francis (Northwestern University Press)

forest primeval jacket

4. Stigma and Culture: Last-Place Anxiety in Black America by J. Lorand Matory (University of Chicago Press)

stigma and culture

5. The Notebooks by Jean-Michel Basquiat (Princeton University Press)

Check out a video of spreads from The Notebooks.

The Notebooks jacket

6. Thin Description:Ethnography and the African Hebrew Isrealites of Jerusalem by John L. Jackson, Jr (Harvard University Press)

Thin Description jacket

7. Black Georgetown Remembered: A History of Its Black Community from the Founding to “The Town of George” in 1751 to the Present Day
by Kathleen Menzie Lesko, Valerie Babb, and Carroll R. Gibbs (Georgetown University Press)

black georgetown remembered

8. Racing to Justice: Transforming Our Conception of Self and Other to Build an Inclusive Society by John A. Powell (Indiana University Press)

Racing to Justice

9. Florynce “Flo” Kennedy: The Life of a Black Feminist Radical by Sherie M. Randolph (University of North Carolina Press)

Florence "Flo" Kennedy

10. Black Women in Sequence: Re-inking Comics, Graphic Novels, and Anime by Deborah Elizabeth Whaley (University of Washington Press)

Black women in sequence jacket

11. Blinded by Sight: Seeing Race Through the Eyes of the Blind by Osagie K. Obasogie (Stanford University Press)

Blinded by sight jacket

12. Better Git It in Your Soul: An Interpretive Biography of Charles Mingus by Krin Gabbard (University of California Press)

Better git it in your soul jacket

13. African American Slang: A Linguistic Description by Maciej Widawski (Cambridge University Press)

African American Slang

14. Tracing Southern Storytelling in Black and White by Sarah Gilbreath Ford (University of Alabama Press)

tracing southern storytelling in black and white jacket

15. Fly Away by Peter M. Rutkoff and William B. Scott (John Hopkins University Press)

fly away

16. The Life and Struggles of Our Mother Walatta Petros: A Seventeenth-Century African Biography of an Ethiopian Woman by Galawdewos (Princeton University Press)

The Life and Struggle of Our Mother Walatta Petros jacket

17. The Folklore of the Freeway: Race and Revolt in the Modernist City by Eric Avila (University of Minnesota Press)

Folklore of the Freeway

18. Beauty Shop Politics: African American Women’s Activism in the Beauty Industry by Tiffany M. Gill (University of Illinois Press)

Beauty shop politics

19. Walking from the Dream: The Struggle for Civil Rights in the Shadow of Martin Luther King, Jr. by David L. Chappell (Duke University Press)

waking from the dream

20. Story/Time: The Life of an Idea by Bill T. Jones (Princeton University Press)

Read more about the design process of Story/Time.

Jones_StoryTime

Leah Wright Rigueur: The Republican Party has a Race Problem

Leah Wright RigueurToday, Harvard Kennedy School of Government Professor of Public Policy, Leah Wright Rigueur continues her PUP blog series on the role of race in the modern Republican party. Her last piece, cross-posted on the Monkey Cage Blog, was on the surge in Ben Carson’s popularity among Republican voters in a race often dominated by Donald Trump. Today she looks at whether—and how—the “party of Lincoln” can win back black voters. Leah’s recent book, The Loneliness of the Black Republican, offers further insight into the seemingly incongruous intersection of civil rights and American conservatism. We’re delighted to feature her next installment. –PUP Blog Editor

The Republican Party has a Race Problem. Actually, that’s an understatement. The modern Republican Party has a race crisis – one of epic proportions. In the 2012 election, 80 percent of all non-white voters (Black, Hispanic, Asians and other minority groups), voted for President Barack Obama. Nowhere was this more apparent then with black voters – only 6 percent supported Republican nominee Mitt Romney. That’s the lowest amount of support a Republican presidential nominee has received since 1964.

The GOP’s 2013 autopsy report said it best noting that unless the party got serious about tackling the race issue, it would “lose future elections.” And in some respects, some within the party have tried to make racial inroads, particularly among black voters. Unfortunately the Republican presidential primaries have made those outreach efforts a distant memory, as candidates appear to be tripping over themselves to say the most racially offensive things possible. From police brutality jokes, to “media manipulation” comments, to “free stuff” gaffes, the hits keep coming.

The racial gaffes of the primary contenders are a reflection of a party that has a fundamental discomfort with discussing race. That the party has a torturous relationship to racial minorities in 2015 is unsurprising, given that GOP’s public attempts to wrestle with race have been near non-existent except in moments of antagonism.

So where did things go wrong? How did the “Party of Lincoln” fall by the wayside and move so far away from its “civil rights” roots?

The answer isn’t an easy one. Most would point to a long history of racial antagonisms, starting with Barry Goldwater receiving the Republican presidential nomination in 1964. But I’d argue that the disintegration of the relationship goes back even further – just look at Herbert Hoover’s “Lily White” movement or Operation Dixie from the 1950s.

The irony here is that as some within the GOP were hell-bent on alienating non-white voters during this period, others within the party went to great lengths to appeal to racial minorities. That those appeals were effective and coincided with strong (but piece-meal) civil rights decisions from the Republican Party, is a testimony to the support figures like Dwight Eisenhower and Richard Nixon received in 1956 and 1960, respectively.

Yet even as they pursued the non-white vote, Republicans continually weighed this pursuit against the possibility of alienating white southern voters. By 1963, for instance, the GOP had started to exclude African Americans from strategy meetings; a year later, the party had all but eliminated funding for minority outreach efforts and almost all of its black consultants. By the time the party nominated Barry Goldwater for president after a brutal convention battle, racial minorities, especially black voters, had already determined that the GOP offered no sanctuary for racial minorities. Goldwater, after all, was the same senator who had voted against the most comprehensive civil rights act the nation had ever seen. To position such a figure as the face of the Republican Party was a slap, erasing any goodwill the party’s previous efforts had generated.

Richard Nixon had predicted such a disaster, back in 1962, telling Ebony magazine that it would be a mistake for the Republican Party to “accept the beliefs” of Goldwater and “write off the Negro vote.” A Goldwater win, he argued, would mean that the GOP “would eventually become the first major all white political party. And that isn’t good. That would be a violation of GOP principles.”

That Richard Nixon – later of “Southern Strategy” infamy – would make that observation is telling. It speaks to a deep cynicism that invaded the Republican Party prior to Goldwater’s ascent, and took off after Goldwater’s presidential defeat. The next decade and a half would be defined by a party that veered wildly between centrism and right-wing conservatism and a party that fought an ugly, fierce fight over relationship between civil rights and conservatism. Are we an “inclusive or exclusive tent?” was common question among Republican thought leaders throughout the 1960s and 1970s; on the question of race, the party simply could not agree.

For every Edward Brooke in the party there was a Strom Thurmond; more important, was the fact that for every racially progressive initiative, there were at least half a dozen discriminatory actions. As Richard Nixon, for example, poured millions into minority enterprise, historically black colleges and universities, and introduced a progressive Family Assistance Plan, he also cut billions from antipoverty programs, opposed an extension of the Voting Rights Act, and nominated two southerners to the Supreme Court with odious civil rights records. Gerald Ford appointed civil rights lawyer William Coleman as Secretary of Transportation and regularly met with black civic and religious organizations but refused to dedicate significant money and time to minority outreach or racial issues. The GOP’s forceful rejection of any attempt to diversify state and local organizations undercut the party’s rhetoric of a “Big Tent” philosophy. Likewise in 1976, the GOP’s black delegates to the national convention denounced the party’s final platform, alienated by Republicans’ unwillingness to attend to matters of race in a sensitive and thoughtful manner.

But it is Ronald Reagan who offers the most complicated example of the Republican Party’s fractious relationship with race. In 1975 he argued that broadening the GOP base through targeted outreach was a rejection of conservative principles; and in 1976, he ran for president using the now infamous “Welfare Queen” trope. But by 1980, he had changed his mind – somewhat. He and his team employed an approach called “Reagan Focused Impact” (RFI) which relayed conservative messages to target constituent groups while appearing race-neutral. According to campaign memos, those groups were “white, suburbanite ticket-splitters.” Here’s where things get complicated: part of this approach meant campaigning in black and Latino spaces – visiting the South Bronx and talking about economic inequality, for instance – all while simultaneously speaking differently to white southern audiences. The same week that Reagan delivered his infamous “States’ Rights” speech in Philadelphia, Mississippi (the site where 3 civil rights workers had been murdered 16 years earlier), he spoke to the National Urban League. As his strategists explicitly note, these outreach efforts were designed to neutralize black leaders’ outrage while generating positive press among white moderate voters.

In the 30 plus years since then, this approach has guided Republican politics, appearing alongside the more explicit racial gaffes. Sometimes, minority audiences endorse it (Ralph Abernathy did endorse Reagan in 1980), but most of the times, minorities reject the party’s approach, viewing it as insincere and hostile.

The million-dollar question of course, is can the Republican Party win back minority voters? Recent scholarship on the matter doesn’t look promising and the racial “foot-in-mouth” syndrome of the presidential candidates isn’t helping. Neither is the Republican Party’s unwillingness to listen to minority voters on issues of concern or eagerness to advance a revisionist history of the GOP’s relationship to civil rights. Returning to the “Party of Lincoln” isn’t impossible, but it means taking a thoughtful, sensitive approach to racial issues, listening to voter concerns, and endorsing policies and initiatives that reflect those concerns. A small step in the right direction has been the GOP’s interest in mass incarceration reform. At a moment in time when race is going to be central to the 2016 campaign, it remains to be seen if Republicans will address racial issues in a complex, nuanced way that rests on inclusion rather than alienation or exclusion.

Leah Wright Rigueur is an Assistant Professor of Public Policy at the Harvard Kennedy School. She is the author of The Loneliness of the Black Republican: Pragmatic Politics and the Pursuit of Power (Princeton University Press, 2015).

Leah Wright Rigueur on Making Sense of Ben Carson

Leah Wright Rigueur

Photo Credit: Chion Wolf WNPR

Harvard Kennedy School of Government Professor of Public Policy, Leah Wright Rigueur, who was extensively quoted in the Washington Post  this week on Ben Carson, has written the first in a series of posts she’ll be contributing to the PUP blog. Today she explains the surge in Carson’s popularity among Republican voters in a race that has, until recently, been dominated by Donald Trump. Leah’s recent book, The Loneliness of the Black Republican, offers further insight into the seemingly incongruous intersection of civil rights and American conservatism. We’re delighted to have her. –PUP Blog Editor

Making Sense of Ben Carson

A modified version of this post appears at The Monkey Cage blog of the Washington Post

According to recent polls, Ben Carson has surged in popularity among likely Republican voters and now finds himself at the top of the GOP presidential primary pack. A recent poll of Iowa Republicans, for example, found Carson tied with Donald Trump for first place, with each candidate garnering 23 percent support. That an African American with zero political experience is now a front-runner in the Republican primaries is shocking. A political campaign that many dubbed a joke now appears to have political legs, and the public and press are scrambling to make sense of it.

The idea of a black conservative and/or a black Republican often feels a little like an oxymoron. Black people are partisan voters, overwhelmingly affiliating with the Democratic Party since 1948. In 2012, more than 90 percent of black voters cast ballots for Barack Obama. Their partisanship was, and continues to be, strategic – after all, many of the post-World War II advances in racial and social justice have come by way of Democratic liberalism. Coupled this with the modern – as in, post 1960s – GOP’s move to the extreme right and hostility toward racial justice and race-conscious solutions, and it would appear that politically, black voters have nothing in common with the Republican Party or modern conservatism.

But clearly we know that there are exceptions to this rule. According to the Pew Research Center, between five and eleven percent of the black public either identify as Republican or Lean Republican. Carson is not the first black Republican to run for president, and he won’t be the last. He’s also not the first black Republican to be discussed as part of a potential Republican presidential ticket. Speculation has long surrounded moderate Republican Colin Powell, who has declined to run, time and time again. In 1968 Richard Nixon toyed with tapping liberal Republican Edward Brooke as his vice-presidential running mate, while Gerald Ford placed the black senator high on a private list of potential vice-presidential appointees, in 1974.

Carson, Powell and Brooke, of course, all exhibit different forms of black Republicanism, ranging from liberal to the extreme right. But to some degree, their belief in Republicanism is undergirded by a kind of general black conservatism. African Americans are no strangers to conservatism. We see strong strands of it crop up in nineteenth and early twentieth century religious thought, especially among black churches, despite their political radicalism. Despite their beliefs in racial equality and justice, we see conservative thought in the behaviors of even some of the most progressive of civil rights leaders of the 1960s and 1970s. Conservatism also underscores the respectability politics of the black middle and working class, historically and in the present-day. Even today, studies have shown that about a third of black people self identify as conservative, although their conservatism rarely translates into support for the Republican Party.

And this is how we make sense of Ben Carson. He comes from a long conservative tradition, one that is rooted in a belief in religious morality, personal responsibility, self-help, individualism and free-market enterprise, and one that sometimes exists outside the boundaries of partisanship. Some have attributed Carson’s switch from ardent Democrat to conservative Republican as a matter of opportunism. That may very well be true, but one read of Gifted Hands, indicates that Carson has long exhibited the kind of “everyday black conservatism” that defines a portion of black communities.

Carson also comes from a partisan tradition that has given us figures like Clarence Thomas, Mia Love, Tim Scott, and many others. Organizations like the Black Silent Majority Committee in the 1970s, and the Lincoln Institute for Research and Education in the 1980s and 1990s, built on the black conservatism of past, cultivating a harsher kind of partisan Republican activism and rhetoric that Ben Carson currently articulates.

It’s the kind of position that conservative audiences, almost exclusively white, embrace. Carson is unique no doubt in attracting so much popularity. Historically, black Republicans have been unsuccessful at commanding this kind of attention, at this level of politics. And there are many, many reasons why Carson is surging in the polls: his religious roots, his “niceness” especially when contrasted with Donald Trump, his image as a brilliant surgeon, his position as a political outsider at a moment when people universally distrust politicians, his plain-spoken ability to “tell it like it is,” and his willingness to criticize, unapologetically, Barack Obama, and more broadly, black social justice movements like Black Lives Matter (BLM).

For white conservative audiences, Carson is “safe.” His words on racism, for instance, while profoundly critical of racist acts, are striking when compared to criticisms employed by black liberals. For Carson, racism is something to be changed through individual acts rather than something to be eradicated through structural change. In an era when explicit acts of racism are taboo, Carson’s rhetoric is both palatable to white audiences and comforting. In fact, Carson’s race lends a certain level of legitimacy to his remarks. In other words, conservative voters can look at Carson and have their personal beliefs on race validated, because a black man is articulating their exact same ideas. Historically, we consistently see this, as the GOP moved further to the right. Republicans in 1975, for example, used the Black Silent Majority Committee’s various conservative platforms to validate their views on various racial issues – even as African American voters routinely rejected the organization’s positions. This fraught relationship even led Clarence Thomas to once quip that black converts to the GOP’s acceptance hinged on becoming – in Thomas’ own words – a “caricature of sorts, providing sideshows of anti-black quips and attacks.”

Given all of this, what are we to make of Ben Carson? Are we to take him seriously? Well, in short, yes – we absolutely should take his candidacy seriously. Regardless of whether or not his campaign fizzles or he ends up at the top of the Republican presidential ticket, the general public, scholars, and journalists need to grapple with what, exactly, Carson represents. At this point, the scenarios are nuanced – at the extreme end of the spectrum, Carson could end up as the Republican nominee. He could also end up as vice-presidential nominee, a future presidential cabinet member, a member of Congress, or as a consultant to various public and private Republican factions. There’s a very real chance that Carson may ultimately end up influencing public policies, either directly or indirectly. After all, over the course of the last 80 years, the GOP has implemented black Republicans policies and programs, often favoring those ideas that are firmly couched within right-wing thought. And as we have seen in the past, previous Republican contenders rarely fade from the limelight, choosing instead to use their popularity to influence popular opinion. Ultimately then, we must pay attention to how Carson uses this platform, no matter how precarious, to influence American politics and life.

Leah Wright Rigueur is an Assistant Professor of Public Policy at the Harvard Kennedy School. She is the author of The Loneliness of the Black Republican: Pragmatic Politics and the Pursuit of Power (Princeton University Press, 2015).

Leah Wright Rigueur discusses Ben Carson’s comments on “Black Lives Matter”

The Loneliness of the Black RepublicanLeah Wright Rigueur, author of The Loneliness of the Black Republican, appeared on CNN’s “Top of the Hour” with Brooke Baldwin to address Ben Carson’s allegation that “Black Lives Matters” is creating strife. Check out her commentary here.

The Loneliness of the Black Republican provides a new understanding of the interaction between African Americans and the Republican Party, and the seemingly incongruous intersection of civil rights and American conservatism.

Leah Wright Rigueur is assistant professor of public policy at the Harvard Kennedy School of Government.

The introduction is available here.