The End of the Brown Era

Author(s):  
Derrick Bell

The Emancipation Proclamation remains a positive moment in American history despite its mainly symbolic character. Brown v. Board of Education has achieved and will probably retain similar status. The three decades of campaigning to desegregate school systems, though, came to a less-than-exultant end. Black parents recognized long before their civil rights lawyers that the effort to racially balance the schools was not working. Desegregation plans were designed to provide a semblance of compliance with court orders while minimizing the burden on whites. Judges, many more conservative than their predeces­sors, found ways to declare the schools desegregated even in districts where the percentage of black children rose in the wake of white flight. Finally, the statistics on resegregation of once-nominally desegregated schools painfully underscores the fact that many black and Hispanic chil­dren are enrolled in schools as separate and probably more unequal than those their parents and grandparents attended under the era of “sepa­rate but equal.” Because the value of integrated schooling proved elusive, black parents and educators began looking for a more viable vehicle for their educa­tional goals. The search was opposed by those civil rights leaders who maintained that Brown could only be read to require an end to intentional discrimination against black children through their assignment to integrated schools. With an advocate’s hindsight, Robert Carter suggested that while Brown was fashioned on the theory that equal education and inte­grated education were one and the same thing, the goal was not integration but equal educational opportunity. If equal educational opportunity can be achieved without integration, Carter reasoned, Brown has been satisfied. In this, he parted company with those claiming that the inescapable conclusion of the Court’s decision in Brown is that racial separation is itself an injury, regardless of parity in the facilities. By the time of his article, Carter had been out of the civil rights movement for a dozen years, but he now supported those who focused on quality of education and challenged proponents of racial-balance remedies in the courts. When groups not committed to racial balance obtained a court order for educationally oriented forms of relief, they were often opposed by civil rights organizations committed to inte­gration, who intervened with more expertise and resources. This sometimes resulted in open confrontations between the NAACP and local blacks who favored plans oriented toward improving educational quality.

2002 ◽  
Vol 42 (2) ◽  
pp. 159-180 ◽  
Author(s):  
Michael W. Fuquay

The signing of the Civil Rights Act of 1964 was heralded as a tremendous victory for the civil rights movement, the fulfillment of a decade-long struggle to enforce the Brown v. Board of Education decision. Along with measures against job and housing discrimination, the Civil Rights Act included provisions specifically designed to overcome the white South's massive resistance campaign and enforce school desegregation. Despite the continued intransigence of segregationists, these measures proved successful and white public schools across the South opened their doors to black children. With segregationists in retreat and the Voting Rights Act on the horizon, this was a time of celebration for civil rights activists. But this was not the end of the story.


Author(s):  
Jerry Gershenhorn

During the twentieth century, black journalists played an essential role in the struggle for equal rights in America. Operating in the racially oppressive South, determined black publishers, editors, and journalists illuminated racial discrimination, while advocating black voter registration and equal educational opportunity. Austin, who edited and published the Carolina Times from 1927 to 1971, was one of the most fearless and effective of these journalists. He boldly challenged white supremacy and racial segregation for over four decades, from the years prior to World War II through the modern civil rights era.


Author(s):  
Rachel F. Moran

Many people take for granted that the antidiscrimination principle and an equality norm are one and the same. In fact, there are significant differences that should not be overlooked. Education law offers unique insights into the distinctions because school desegregation cases both concretized demands to be free of discrimination and cultivated aspirations to be equal. In the years since 1954, when the U.S. Supreme Court declared that racially separate schools are inherently unequal in Brown v. Board of Education, the antidiscrimination principle has evolved into a requirement that the government be colorblind; that is, public officials must refrain from all consideration of race in their decision-making. A colorblindness requirement can have perverse consequences for equality. Most notably, local school districts today cannot weigh race in making student assignments to promote voluntary integration. Faced with constraints like these, reformers have sought to capitalize on an antidiscrimination principle without sacrificing their goals for equality. For example, federal civil rights statutes designed to protect children with disabilities and English language learners mandate meaningful access to the curriculum as well as protection from discrimination. In school finance litigation, advocates have moved even further away from an antidiscrimination focus. They have demanded recognition of a right to education, an interest that acknowledges every child’s right to flourish. New strategies that push beyond the antidiscrimination principle to promote equal educational opportunity have not been uniformly successful, but they can deepen our understanding of a fair and inclusive educational system.


1970 ◽  
Vol 64 (2) ◽  
pp. 367-388 ◽  
Author(s):  
Joel D. Aberbach ◽  
Jack L. Walker

Angry protests against racial discrimination were a prominent part of American public life during the 1960's. The decade opened with the sit-ins and freedom rides, continued through Birmingham, Selma, and the March on Washington, and closed with protests in hundreds of American cities, often punctuated by rioting and violence. During this troubled decade the rhetoric of protest became increasingly demanding, blanket charges of pervasive white racism and hostility were more common, and some blacks began to actively discourage whites from participating either in protest demonstrations or civil rights organizations. Nothing better symbolized the changing mood and style of black protest in America than recent changes in the movement's dominant symbols. Demonstrators who once shouted “freedom” as their rallying cry now were shouting “black power”—a much more provocative, challenging slogan.The larger and more diverse a political movement's constituency, the more vague and imprecise its unifying symbols and rallying cries are likely to be. A slogan like black power has no sharply defined meaning; it may excite many different emotions and may motivate individuals to express their loyalty or take action for almost contradictory reasons. As soon as Adam Clayton Powell and Stokely Carmichael began to use the phrase in 1966 it set off an acrimonious debate among black leaders over its true meaning. Initially it was a blunt and threatening battle cry meant to symbolize a break with the past tactics of the civil rights movement.


2019 ◽  
Vol 96 (3) ◽  
pp. 25-47
Author(s):  
S. Zebulon Baker

The Clark Kerr era in the history of the University of California (1952–1967) was marked by momentous social and cultural upheaval, much of which was fought out across the UC system's then eight campuses, particularly Berkeley and UCLA. No issue sparked greater student action than civil rights, which was a challenge that Kerr confronted first as Berkeley chancellor and then as president of the entire UC system. This challenge was met in every area of the university's affairs, including its athletics programs. Kerr demanded that the university's teams schedule games with the nation's most prestigious colleges and universities, whose academic profiles matched its own. These included segregated southern institutions, whose varsity teams were still composed entirely of white athletes and, in some cases, demanded the segregation of competitors by race. These games presented unique challenges for a university that Kerr considered “a portal open to all able young people,” since such competitive and commercial affiliations with segregated institutions called into question the university's sincerity in committing itself to equal educational opportunity. By digging deeply in the university archives at both Berkeley and UCLA, this article reveals how Kerr and his administration promoted the university's affiliation with these southern institutions without taking the racial politics of these games into serious consideration. In turn, the article reassesses the university's racial record in the Kerr era and its commitment to protecting the civil rights of the black student athletes who competed on its varsity teams.


2017 ◽  
Vol 43 (2) ◽  
pp. 204-217 ◽  
Author(s):  
Zebulon Vance Miletsky

Boston’s long Civil Rights Movement in the twentieth century, before the infamous busing crisis, has not received nearly as much attention as the school desegregation period that was ushered in by Federal court order in 1974. While the story of Boston’s busing crisis is well known, my goal is to place that moment within the context of a longer freedom struggle in Boston and highlight the city’s history of racial inequality and segregation. By looking at both the nineteenth-century origins of legal discrimination in Boston and the activism during the four decades before the 1970s, I reconstruct these humble but effective efforts in which activists focused mainly on issues of employment, housing, educational equality, and quality of life. The goal of this essay, then, is to contextualize the busing conversation and reconstruct the political context in which black Bostonians embarked on various campaigns to reclaim the legacy of freedom and equality established earlier, in the nineteenth century. In that sense, I argue that Boston was not simply a “southern space” ensconced in the North, but rather was the original template for segregation in the nation, as cited in Plessy v. Ferguson (1896).1The issues engaged by Boston’s freedom movement, from de facto school segregation to employment discrimination, challenge many prevailing popular assumptions about postwar black freedom struggles in other cities. This article aims to investigate the origins of that movement and what gave rise to the unique nature of civil rights organizing activities in Boston before Busing.


Author(s):  
David J. Armor

Like most issues stimulated by the civil rights movement over the past four decades, the tangled web of policy questions associated with school desegregation defies easy resolution. The debate over desegregation policy has touched upon many aspects and levels of human society, including values, law, education, and social theory; therefore, arriving a succinct set of policy conclusions, especially one accompanied by substantial consensus, is unrealistic. The debate cannot and should not be reduced simply to a matter of law, to ideological differences, or to disagreements over social science theories. Any attempt to oversimplify the desegregation issue does injustice to those with the greatest stake in its outcome, namely, the students, parents, and educators who reap its rewards and shoulder its costs. Adding to this complexity is the fact that desegregation issues have shifted so much over time that the important policy questions differ from one decade to the next. During the 1950s, the legal and value debate was over compulsory segregation, and social theorists debated whether separate schools were harmful or beneficial for children. During the 1970s, the legal and value debate shifted to compulsory desegregation and whether the benefits of mandatory busing justified its deep divisiveness and its unintended consequences. During the 1990s the debate has shifted once again, this time in several directions. The federal courts struggle with the conditions under which to grant unitary status (and dismissal) to school districts with court-ordered desegregation plans. Surprisingly, considering the great controversy in the 1970s, school boards in the 1990s debate whether to seek unitary status or, if not under court order, to adopt desegregation plans on their own. Civil rights groups are back in court, not only to oppose unitary status but also to demand even broader remedies than those granted during the 1970s. They have requested metropolitan remedies between cities and suburbs, and they have petitioned for racial parity in classrooms, discipline rates, and even academic achievement. Ironically, some of these latest court challenges have come full circle, invoking the psychological harm thesis of Brown that most legal scholars dismissed as irrelevant to the law.


2016 ◽  
Vol 24 ◽  
pp. 20 ◽  
Author(s):  
Ain A. Grooms

A dual transfer program was created in 1983 in the St. Louis metropolitan area following a 1972 lawsuit brought upon the city, charging it with withholding an equal educational opportunity for Black students. Through this program, Black students from St. Louis City are provided with free transportation to one of 15 suburban school districts, and White students from the surrounding suburbs are eligible to attend city magnet schools. At its peak in 1999, enrollment reached approximately 15,000 students, of which over 13,500 were from St. Louis City. Following the lifting of the court order in 1999, suburban participation became voluntary and tuition reimbursements to the participating suburban districts were reduced. By 2009, program enrollment had fallen to approximately 7,000 students, of which 6,800 were from St. Louis City. Using critical policy analysis and a media framing analysis on almost 100 newspaper articles collected from four media outlets, this study found that, between 1999 and 2009, suburban implementation of the voluntary transfer program was largely affected by economic factors.  Though the program is still in operation, and will continue through at least the 2018-2019 school year, this research raises important questions about the various factors that contribute to or hinder implementation of this long-running voluntary desegregation program. 


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