Nonconformist Chronicles

Black Theology & Black Power, II

Whatever we could say about the abhorrent treatment of African-Americans in the history of this country would be an understatement. Words fail to describe the stripping away of dignity, the lynchings, and the apartheid that has taken place. The violence perpetrated against the black race naturally provoked violent responses against whites. It's as if a war was going on which James Cone, in his book Black Theology & Black Power predicted would lead to actual civil war unless things changed.

Cone noted the affinity of Jesus with the oppressed and marginalized. Jesus preached good news to the poor and the disenfranchised. He did not come merely to free souls, but also to free bodies. Kingdom work is equated to working toward a just society. As God was with Israel during the Exodus, he is with the African-Americans in their oppression.

Cone indicted both black and white churches for having failed to take up the mantle of black power. Both had neglected civil rights. The white churches were (and many still are) largely racist which is a flat denial of Christ. Many whites who spoke the rhetoric of civil rights were unwilling to put their heads on the block for their black brothers. Many black churches, in Cone's view, had compromised the fight for justice by caving in to white paternalism in hopes of preserving their institutionalized congregations.

Cone offers a fascinating historical survey of the black church before and after the Civil War. He confirms my long-held opinion that even this North and South struggle wasn't fought for the good of black people, but solely for the preservation of the Union which Lincoln all but said outright in his famous response to Horace Greeley.

Cone's book reinforces the fact that it has been a long road toward equality in this nation and after all these years there is still farther to go. My opinion is that a good aproach to healing among the races is to get to know one another. We should take deliberate steps in the promotion of racial and cultural diversity, not isolating ourselves from those who are different. Nothing breaks down stereotypes like relationships.   

Black Theology & Black Power

I once believed that the concept of Black Power meant either reverse discrimination or black superiority. After reading James Cone's Black Theology and Black Power I have changed my mind (although use of terms may vary depending upon who is using them). Black Power, as I understand it, is the empowerment of black people to have an equal say in the political policies and social structures that affect them. It means they have an equal right to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.

To this day, the United States is mainly run by white people. This helped me to better understand why so many African-Americans were elated by the election of Barak Obama. Cone, in a recent interview, lamented an all white Supreme Court (although one Justice looks black, according to Cone he is actually white). 

James Cone is a pioneer of black liberation theology, integrating some theological influences from Bonhoeffer, Barth, and Moltmann's theology of hope. Cone wrote Black Theology and Black Power as an angry young black man within a year of Martin Luther King, Jr.'s assassination. The frustration and angst comes right off the page, though as a white man I cannot pretend to fully understand.

Cone aligned himself with both Dr. King and Malcolm X. Judging King as not radical enough, Cone insisted that some white folks liked King because it required less change than some more radical approaches to the fight for civil rights. While Malcolm X is sometimes accused of violent rhetoric, I've found no evidecne of his ever inciting race riots or anything of the kind. It seems to me that Malcolm's reputation was acquired in part by his vocal acknowledgement of the rights of blacks to defend themselves by any means necessary. It seems that the blacks were in a war that had been declared upon them by racist whites. As a member of the Nation of Islam, Malcolm's rhetoric did suggest black separatism and black superiority, identifying the white man as the devil. While remaining a Muslim, Malcolm's break with "the Nation" led him to some less radical approaches resulting in his assassination.

Cone neither condemns the race riots, nor does he overtly separate violence from appropriate means of civil disobedience. He doesn't solve the problem as to whether violence is ever acceptable, but nor does he hesitate to empathize with those who had resorted to it. I would find more affinity with Cone if, like King, he condemned all violence outright. But if I could feel the desperation of the black man in the struggle for civil rights, I might be more sympathetic.

More later.      

Black Like Me

Caucasian author John Howard Griffin had an interesting life. This novelist spent a decade as a blind man due to injuries sustained in military service during World War II. His sight mysteriously returned to him in the late 50s.

It was shortly thereafter that Griffin conducted an experiment. He wanted to experience what it would be like to live as a black man in the deep south. He would then report his findings in a series of magazine articles which later became a book. So treatments that included dye, medication, and fifteen hours a day under a sun lamp temporarily darkened his skin. Since his hair had no curl, Griffin shaved his head.

So Griffin traveled into the bastions of racism. He walked the streets of New Orleans, Hattiesburg, Mississippi, and Mobile, Alabama---among other places. And this was 1959; before civil rights and desegregation.

Griffin first walked New Orleans as a white man, but returning as a black man he found a definite contrast in the treatment he received, which depended upon his skin color. Proprietors who had previously offered smiles and friendly service were now rude.

As a black man, Griffin was denied the simplest common courtesies . While some proprietors were happy to take his money, they refused him a drink of water even when the faucet was within reach. Griffin would be referred to the nearest "colored" cafe, which it always seemed was at least 12 to 14 blocks away. Griffin would sometimes put white folks to the test. Consider this excerpt:

...I stopped at a little custard stand and bought a dish of ice cream...Behind the custard stand stood an old unpainted privy leaning badly to one side. I returned to the dispensing window of the stand. 

"Yes sir," the white man said congenially. "You want something else?"

"Where's the nearest rest room I could use?" I asked.

He brushed his white, brimless cook's cap back and rubbed his forefinger against his sweaty forehead. "Let's see. You can go on up there to the bridge and then down the road to the left...and just follow that road. You'll come to a little settlement--there's some stores and gas stations there."

"How far is it?" I asked, pretending to be in greater discomfort than I actually was.

"Not far--thirteen, maybe fourteen blocks."

..."Isn't there anyplace closer?" I said, determined to see if he would offer me the use of the dilapidated outhouse, which certainly no human could degrade any more than time and the elements had.

His seamed face showed the concern and sympathy of one human being for another in a predicament every man understands. "I can't think of any..." he said slowly.

I glanced around the side toward the outhouse. "A chance of me running in there for a minute?"

"Nope," he said--clipped, final soft, as though he regretted it but could never permit such a thing. "I'm sorry." He turned away.

As a black man, Griffin experienced discrimination in the work force. Although highly educated, he was offered only menial labor employment. He worked with a shoe shine man in whom he confided his mission. Griffin experienced first hand the racial slurs, the "hate stares" even from white women coming out of church, and he endured physical threats. He rode on the back of the bus. One driver refused to let him off at his stop, forcing Griffin to walk eight blocks in the dark.

Griffin witnessed the plight of the "negro" (the book's usual term) who was kept oppressed by the white racist. He knew of white men who admittedly took sexual advantage of black women, confident that they would never be punished.

After several weeks as a black man, Griffin announced his findings to the world on TV talk shows and in his series of articles. Threats of death and bodily harm put stress on his family. His parents moved to Mexico to escape harassment.

Black Like Me is a quick and easy read. A person with any sense of justice will be outraged. Having lived in the south, for a time near the Mississippi line, I am assured that the book is in no way an exaggeration. While much has changed, not enough has changed.

The book has some crude and profane language, but an edited version would lack the necessary impact. I've just learned of a recent hardcover edition which restores deleted passages with photos by Don Rutledge of Griffin as a black man and of some locations where his experiment was conducted.