Black Nationalism

The popular media often illustrate black nationalism with images of Malcolm X and black leather-jacketed, Afro-wearing, armed Black Panthers in the 1960s, and, in later decades, Louis Farrakhan and hip-hop artists such as Public Enemy. Although historians disagree about black nationalism’s composition and origins, they argue that it has a long pedigree in American history, traceable at least to the first half of the 19th century, if not earlier. While men were most often black nationalism’s public exponents, and some emphasized manhood and female subordination, black nationalism also appealed to many black women, some of whom also exercised leadership and organizational skills in its service. Marcus Garvey, a Jamaican, led the first mass black nationalist organization in the United States, the Universal Negro Improvement Association (UNIA), during the 1920s. Like 19th-century black nationalists, Garvey advocated an independent state for people of African descent, black uplift, and the “civilizing” of Africa. Although not original to him, his emphasis on the right to self-defense, independent black economic development, and pride in African history boosted the UNIA’s popularity. Garvey fell victim to state oppression in the United States, but some former Garveyites joined the Moorish Science Temple of America (MSTA) and probably also the Nation of Islam (NOI), both of which rejected Christianity, identified blacks as Asiatics, and adopted particularist interpretations of Islam. In the 1950s and 1960s, Malcolm X, the charismatic son of Garveyite parents, became the Nation’s chief recruiter. Personal differences with Elijah Muhammad, the Nation’s leader since the 1930s, eventually led to Malcolm X’s departure in 1964. Although he was assassinated in 1965, Malcolm X’s calls for armed self-defense, self-determination and black pride, and identification with anticolonial struggles heavily influenced Black Power advocates. Some civil rights organizations and workers, who were disillusioned by intransigent white racism and distrustful of white liberals, championed Black Power, which was multifaceted and sometimes more reformist than nationalist. In the early 1990s, polls suggested that black nationalist ideas were more popular than during their supposed heyday in the late 1960s, before internal dissension and state repression undermined many Black Power groups.

Prioritizing Black Self-Determination: The Last Strident Voice of Twentieth-Century Black Nationalism

Black self-determination, like the movement for civil rights, has long been a struggle on both the national and international stage. From the Black consciousness campaign of South Africa to the Black Power crusades of the United States and Caribbean, and the recent global affirmations of Black Lives Matter, Black nationalist ideology and desires for equity and independence seem ever more significant. While marginal characteristics of Black nationalism clearly persist in the calls for justice and equality, only one voice of twentieth-century Black nationalism remains committed to the full dimensions of the Black nationalist agenda. This essay documents the one leader and movement that has remained committed to a Black nationalist platform as a response to persistent white supremacy. The author reflects on the valuable contributions of twentieth-century Black nationalism and what form, if any, Black nationalism will take when this last Black nationalist movement leader is gone.

Keep Away from Me, Mr. Welfare Man

This chapter examines Third World Cinema’s first film, Claudine, within the context of the emerging colorblind ideology and widespread antistatism of the early 1970s. It begins with an overview of the racialization of welfare discourse beginning in the 1960s. The chapter then analyzes the film through three lenses. The first is TWC’s larger philosophy, rooted in the integrationist ethos of the civil rights movement. The second is a close analysis of the film itself, focusing on how the movie offers a black nationalist critique of the welfare state and Lyndon Johnson’s Great Society that includes a direct rebuke of colorblindness. Finally, despite TWC’s civil rights origins and the film’s race-conscious black nationalist politics, the film’s marketing catered explicitly to colorblind sentiments, thereby contradicting the racial critique of the film.

A Dream Begins Anew

Chapter 8 describes Headen’s move in 1925 to Albany, Georgia, where he established the Headen Motor Car Company and began the engine work that led to his first patent. The chapter explores the coalition he built in Albany, which comprised black beauty salon owner and clubwoman Emma V. Wynn and her husband fraternal leader and café owner William Wynn; members of the white Chamber of Commerce; black nationalist attorney Henry V. Plummer; and auto enthusiast Edward E. Harris. The chapter also documents Headen’s rise as an inventor, his relationship with white railroad engineer Henry A. Petit (co-inventor on his first patent), and his move away from the coalition model in favor of individual investors, including patent speculator George P. Koelliker and financier George D. Hamilton. The chapter places Headen’s activities in the context of growing African American automobility, the history of bi-fuel engines, and the existing avenues of funding for independent inventors.

Dreams Collide

Chapter 7 describes Headen’s difficulties expanding his coalition strategy as he moved from auto manufacturing to auto racing in the mid-1920s. Documented are his reconfiguration of the Afro-American Automobile Association to focus on dirt-track racing; his career as an auto racer and race promoter; and internal rifts within his coalition based on gender, professional competition, and religious and political differences. The chapter explores defections from the coalition by women and religious figures, upset over the switch from a business model dedicated to racial advancement to a track culture steeped in profanity, alcohol, and danger; departures by political conservatives upset over the selection of a prominent black nationalist as the Association’s publicist; and Headen’s rejection by fellow race organizers competing directly with him for audiences. These internal conflicts, which eventually splintered both the Association and Headen’s marriage, ultimately revealed the limits of the “coalition economics” model.

Epilogue

This epilogue connects mid-century Black nationalist anti-carceral activism and the state’s response to the longer history of punitive policing and Islamaphobia.