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This chapter explains how the appearance of grass-roots black Republican groups was far from unconventional; a spirit of self-determination had buttressed the formation of the National Negro Republican Assembly (NNRA) in 1964. But autonomy, political influence, and growth—the objective goals for most, if not all, black Republican groups—simply was not the reality, as most splinter organizations deteriorated just as quickly as they had risen. The NNRA was reduced to a passing biographical reference by 1969, as most members shifted their political energies elsewhere, while the group's successor, the National Council of Concerned Afro-American Republicans (NCCAAR), disbanded a year after its launch, as a result of infighting and lack of funds.

This part of the book includes poems characterized by forms of racial consciousness and Afro-American mysticism. Between September 1921 and December 1922, Toomer wrote the poems in Cane which are evocative of an empathetic union between the spirit of the artist and the spirit of Afro-American mysticism.

History and literature have been known to ascribe a blanket of sameness in the study of black communities and their issues. The chapter approaches the concept of dissimilarity within communities of colored folk, specifically among its women, which focus on differences pertaining to social status, color, race, and gender. The chapter presents the reader with three novels of Afro-American female authors and their exploration of colored female “otherness” in their works. The novels of Nella Larsen, Quicksand and Passing, are tackled first, with her treatment and reinvention of the mulatto with influences from 19th-century literature from both black and white authors. Toni Morrison's Sula also examines the concept of difference, but without the mulatto figure highlighted in the previous books discussed. The three literary works reveal that differences in these Afro-American sub-societies are rooted deeply in sexuality and community building.

Evidence of Carter G. Woodson’s influence is abundant. At the opening ceremony for the National Museum of African American History and Culture in Washington, D.C., on September 24, 2016, Congressman John Lewis, the civil rights icon, recalled his study of Woodson’s work for inspiration as a young man. A New York Times article published in concert with the museum’s opening linked struggles for respect in black history to Woodson’s cause, as well as the contributions of George Washington Williams and John Hope Franklin. However, what little attention Woodson occasionally receives from the media today comes largely from black-oriented media. For instance, The Afro-American has been among the sponsors of the annual observance of Woodson’s birthday at Shiloh Baptist Church in Washington, and other black newspapers for a number of years following his death ran articles reciting Woodson’s work.

This chapter presents the editorial, “Failure of the Afro-American People to Organize,” where Fortune reflected on the attempts of the race to organize civil rights organizations. He examined his own efforts to create the Afro-American League and the efforts of those individuals who had tried to sustain the Afro-American Council and the Niagara Movement. Although he acknowledged the importance of their efforts, he concluded that the masses have taken no interest in sustaining the organization and therefore the groups were failures. They need to get the masses aroused, he argued, and stop being windjamming organizations.

This chapter shows that in America the middle class has historically been more than just a diverse group of middling sorts. In self-awareness as well as in the descriptions made by foreign observers, the middle classes after the eighteenth century appeared as embodiments of the new society that had developed in the colonies of settlers on North American soil. This resulted not least from the fact that typical elements of European societies—above all the aristocracy but also the clergy as a separate estate—were absent. Since the state was relatively weak, the core tasks of civil society, such as poor relief or the establishing of institutions—museums, libraries, symphony orchestras—relied on the private initiatives of the American bourgeoisie and middle class, respectively. In reality, however, the “great American middle class” was much more fragmented than the emphasis placed on it in political discourse might suggest. One important reason for this was racial exclusion. Although the emergence of an Afro-American middle class succeeded in the last third of the nineteenth century, its rise was restricted by a variety of racially motivated discriminations. Overcoming such racial segregation was hardly possible until the second half of the twentieth century.

The final chapter documents the wide range of Black-led activist efforts to reform the police at the end of the 1960s and in the early 1970s. The launching point is the assassination of Fred Hampton, Deputy Chairman of the Illinois Black Panther Party, in a 1969 killing orchestrated by the Chicago Police Department, the Cook County State’s Attorney, and the Federal Bureau of Investigation. In the aftermath of his killing, a wave of community organizations mobilized or expanded their protests about Chicago’s police. This included groups like the Afro-American Patrolman’s League, comprised of Black CPD officers seeking to end police brutality and ensure better police services for Black Chicago. It included U.S. Congressman Ralph Metcalfe using the power of his office to expose police violence and harassment, and the fight for community control of the police led by the Black Panthers. Some activists who advocated for police reform sought more responsive police services to better community safety from escalating gun violence; others, such as those involved in the push for community control, pursued visions of semi-abolition of the police as currently constituted. Binding them together was a common understanding that the CPD was not working for Black Chicago.

This chapter details Regina's years in Normal, Illinois; and then shifts to her return to Chicago and her college experiences at Wilberforce University. It was in Normal that she attended school with the future Illinois governor and presidential candidate Adlai Stevenson II. In terms of her experiences in Normal, Regina later credited an understanding librarian as a guiding influence in her early life and training which has brought success in her chosen field. Meanwhile, Regina's experiences at the Chicago Public Library were mostly negative. However, she later said she was influenced by Vivian G. Harsh—Chicago Public Library's head librarian. The current Vivian G. Harsh Collection of Afro-American History and Literature at the Carter G. Woodson Regional Library is named after her.

This chapter presents the address Fortune gave before the inaugural convention of the Afro-American League in Chicago on January 25, 1890. The league was the nation's first national civil rights organization and a group whose creation Fortune had called for since 1884. In the speech he outlined the organization and its agenda. In many ways this organization and the program that Fortune was outlining would be echoed in the formation of other organizations in the years to follow, including the Afro-American Council, the Constitution League, the Committee of Twelve, the Niagara Movement, and the National Association for the Advancement of Colored People.

This chapter presents an essay written for the short-lived Monthly Review, edited by Charles Alexander. The essay was Fortune's strong condemnation of the race for failing to support the Afro-American League in particular and, more generally, to organize for their “civil, political, or commercial welfare.” He called on the race to stop looking for the assistance and guidance of whites and to organize from within. Moreover, he called on the race to set aside their egos and create an organization of both leaders and followers for the betterment of the community. He believed that organization was possible, but he wonders if the leadership and the masses were up for the challenge.

This chapter presents the essay, “Race Absorption,” where Fortune put forth his belief that the race problem would ultimately be solved by the absorption of the black population into the “American race.” According to Fortune this process had already begun. There was no longer a Negroid population; there was only an Afro-American population, he argued.

This chapter presents the article, “Who Are We? Afro-Americans, Colored People or Negroes?” where Fortune challenged the notion that African Americans could or should be known as anything other than Afro-American. Written in response to Professor J. W. E. Bowen's assertion that “Negro” was the proper nomenclature for African Americans, Fortune argued that the race were “African in origin and American in birth” and therefore Afro-American. Moreover, he maintained that the word “Negro” was a “common noun” and if used, the race would be the object of “ridicule and contempt.” With regard to the term “colored,” Fortune dismissed it outright since it was not specific; it could be used to apply to “red, yellow and white people” as well as “black ones.” Until “we get this race designation properly fixed in language and literature,” Fortune contended, “we shall be kicked and cuffed and sneered at a common noun, sufficiently and contemptuously characterized by the vulgar term Negro.”

This concluding chapter assesses the questions with which the book's narrative starts. It analyzes the complex political, legal, and social factors that influenced the way in which early twentieth-century national racial justice organizing developed as it did and assesses the balance between private institution building and demands for full citizenship inclusion that characterized activism during the period, suggesting that activists' work in the intersections of the public/private divide presents an area of legal civil rights history deserving far greater attention. Finally, the conclusion situates the book's narrative within the broader historiography of civil rights activism in the United States.

This chapter presents a narrative that was written by Still in response to Forsythe's 1933 letter requesting materials for the proposed biography. The first part is a detailed account of Still's early life, including his childhood, education, and first attempts to enter the music world. The chapter also includes Still's comments on several of his compositions, including the Afro-American Symphony and Sahdji.

This introductory chapter discusses William Grant Still, an African American composer best known for his work, the Afro-American Symphony. It takes a look at the Harlem Renaissance and Still's aesthetic development within the context of the largely contested personal, professional, and cultural landscape where he worked. The chapter also summarizes several of the following chapters.

This chapter discusses in detail the Afro-American Symphony, focusing on its third movement, the Scherzo. The score of the Scherzo is now included in the latest edition of a widely used anthology, while the Afro-American Symphony is considered to be Still's most popular work. It describes the Afro-American Symphony as the single most influential expression of Still's aesthetic of racial fusion, where he brought together the symphony and the blues and changed both in the process. This chapter notes the racial barrier that existed in popular music and concert music, and compares the Afro-American Symphony to other popular symphonies during the time.