Introduction

Author(s):  
James W. Miller

The US Supreme Court’s 1954 decision in Brown v. Board of Education prohibited segregation in public schools, correcting a century of injustice and unequal education experienced by generations of young African Americans. But such a necessary correction resounded well beyond its intent, triggering consequences that altered cherished institutions in black communities throughout the country. Few were affected more than the strong tradition of high school basketball, and nowhere was that transformation more graphic than in hoops-mad Kentucky....

Author(s):  
James W. Miller

It is 1960, six years after the US Supreme Court ruled that segregation in the public schools was prohibited and states were ordered to come up with plans for integrating African Americans into the white school systems. An unanticipated response to desegregation was that not all African Americans favored the process, because it meant that some of their cherished institutions would be changed forever. Few such institutions were affected more than the strong tradition of black high school basketball. And nowhere in the nation was that tradition stronger than in basketball-mad Kentucky, where more than fifty black high schools proudly competed in their own league for more than a quarter century. The Kentucky experience of desegregation reflects the dissonance when logic meets emotion. The story centers on Lincoln Institute, a black high school near Louisville founded in 1912 after the state legislature passed a law “to prohibit white and colored persons from attending the same school.” Lincoln Institute was led by a charismatic academic and theologian named Whitney M. Young. In more than three decades as the school's leader, Young overcame prejudice, funding issues, and politics to create a bastion of excellence and respect in the black community. In Integrated, former Lincoln Institute players, students, and teachers tell their stories of angst, regret, and resilience during a largely ignored transitional period in the nation's story of desegregation. Their experiences within the broader racial themes of the 1950s and 1960s provide a unique perspective on one of America's most transformative periods.


Author(s):  
James W. Miller

This chapter introduces the Lincoln Institute Tigers and their first trip to Kentucky's state high school basketball tournament as one of the “Sweet Sixteen” in 1960. As an African American high school, Lincoln had not been allowed to participate in the previously all-white tournament until the US Supreme Court's decision in Brown v. Board of Education prohibited segregation in public schools. Lincoln's first opponent was Owensboro Senior High School, which was one of the favorites to win the tournament. The chapter closes with Lincoln taking a slim lead with five minutes remaining in the game and Owensboro having lost two starters to fouls. Nobody expected Lincoln to be in this position, but just a few years earlier, the team would not have been allowed to play in the tournament at all.


Author(s):  
James W. Miller

This chapter discusses the US Supreme Court's decision to prohibit segregation in public schools in Brown v. Board of Education. Principals and coaches at KHSAL member schools realized that the decision could undermine their very existence, and talk of desegregation raised a litany of questions: When will it happen? Will black schools now play white schools? Will black schools be closed immediately? These questions were frightening in places where segregation was the only law the people had ever known. But the future was clear to Whitney Young, who told his faculty and students: “Segregation created Lincoln Institute. Integration will destroy it.” Meanwhile, the Lincoln basketball team, behind John Cunningham, won the 1955 KHSAL state championship.


Author(s):  
Patricia Albjerg Graham

“I’ll Never go to School with a Nigger!” Dickie, an eighth grader in my social studies class, shouted vehemently as we began to discuss the Brown v. Board of Education case prohibiting segregation in public schools that the Supreme Court had decided a year before, in 1954. Dickie was right; he never did, dropping out of school two years later, before his Virginia public high school began desegregation. I was flabbergasted and appalled by Dickie’s assertion, only gradually coming to realize that my new profession, teaching, was heading on a rocky road to improvement. In September 1955, as a new, navy bride, I began teaching in still segregated Deep Creek High School serving the predominantly low-income white community of the Dismal Swamp in southeastern Virginia. Prepared as I had been by the mushy adjustment curriculum of my Indiana public schools (lots of attention to my deficient social skills, not much to strengthening my intellect), I had zipped through college. I added the teacher training sequence after I became engaged in order to have a saleable skill when I married on graduation day. My five education courses, most of which I thought academically and professionally worthless, required that I memorize the Seven Cardinal Principles, still the reigning dogma, and I did, believing they represented the fuzzy thinking I associated with public education. I lived in a totally white world, never having had a black friend, fellow student, or teacher. Under Virginia law at that time Deep Creek High School was also a totally white high school world, though surrounded by a black community. The drop-out rate was high: 140 students in eighth grade but only 40 high school seniors. When Dickie made his assertion about segregation, I was astounded both by the language and by the sentiment. We did not use such a term in my household, and, innocent that I was, I thought the Supreme Court had decided the year before in Brown v. Board of Education that public schools could not be legally segregated by race.


2016 ◽  
Vol 43 (2) ◽  
pp. 294-311 ◽  
Author(s):  
Claude Weathersby

Even though the St. Louis Board of Education established the first high school for blacks west of the Mississippi River, the first facility was substandard. As the black population of St. Louis grew and encroached upon the white residential areas, it became necessary to provide additional school facilities for black enrollment. On several occasions, school officials reluctantly resorted to the conversion of school buildings from white to black use. During the decades of the 1930s, 1940s, and early 1950s, the St. Louis Public Schools district experienced a tremendous increase in the black student population. School conversions were prompted by civil protests and demands by the black community. The conversion (from white to black) of a school building’s use, in some instances, tended to elicit the ire of the affected white parents.


2009 ◽  
Vol 6 (1) ◽  
pp. 1-2 ◽  
Author(s):  
Martha W. Rees

Much has been written about the costs—and benefits--of migration--in terms of the costs to the US (or receiving regions) and of the benefits to migrants. Massey (2005) concludes that because (Mexican) immigrants pay taxes, they are not a drain on public services. In fact, migrants are less likely to use public services, and pay taxes for services they don’t use. Almost two-thirds have Social Security taxes withheld, only 10% have sent a child to public schools, and under 5% or have used food stamps, welfare, or unemployment compensation. They also pay sales taxes. In terms of criminality, Rumbaut and Ewing (2007) refute the myth that migrants bring crime. They find that Mexican immigrant men have a lower rate of incarceration (0.7%) than US born Latinos (5.9%) or for US born males (3.5%).


Author(s):  
Andrew Valls

The criminal justice system in the United States both reflects racial inequality in the broader society and contributes to it. The overrepresentation of African Americans among those in prison is a result of both the conditions in poor black neighborhoods and racial bias in the criminal justice system. The American system of criminal justice today is excessively punitive, when compared to previous periods and to other countries, and its harsh treatment disproportionately harms African Americans. In addition, those released from prison face a number of obstacles to housing, employment, and other prerequisites of decent life, and the concentration of prisoners and ex-prisoners in black communities does much to perpetuate racial inequality.


Author(s):  
Diana R. Withrow ◽  
Neal D. Freedman ◽  
James T. Gibson ◽  
Mandi Yu ◽  
Anna M. Nápoles ◽  
...  

Abstract Purpose To inform prevention efforts, we sought to determine which cancer types contribute the most to cancer mortality disparities by individual-level education using national death certificate data for 2017. Methods Information on all US deaths occurring in 2017 among 25–84-year-olds was ascertained from national death certificate data, which include cause of death and educational attainment. Education was classified as high school or less (≤ 12 years), some college or diploma (13–15 years), and Bachelor's degree or higher (≥ 16 years). Cancer mortality rate differences (RD) were calculated by subtracting age-adjusted mortality rates (AMR) among those with ≥ 16 years of education from AMR among those with ≤ 12 years. Results The cancer mortality rate difference between those with a Bachelor's degree or more vs. high school or less education was 72 deaths per 100,000 person-years. Lung cancer deaths account for over half (53%) of the RD for cancer mortality by education in the US. Conclusion Efforts to reduce smoking, particularly among persons with less education, would contribute substantially to reducing educational disparities in lung cancer and overall cancer mortality.


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