Noliwe M. Rooks: African-American studies began in a multiracial movement for social reform
[Noliwe M. Rooks is associate director of the program in African American studies at Princeton University. Her book White Money/Black Power: The Surprising History of African American Studies and the Crisis of Race in Higher Education has just been published by Beacon Press.]
In the late 1960s, black studies became a part of American higher education. By 1971 more than 500 programs, departments, and institutes had been founded on four-year college campuses; add in black-studies initiatives in those same years at high schools and community colleges, and the number jumps to more than 1,000. Today roughly 450 colleges and universities offer graduate programs, undergraduate programs, or both. To be sure, those numbers represent an occasion to celebrate. But jubilance may be premature. It is becoming increasingly clear that before the field can move confidently into the future we need to clear up some continuing confusion about why and how what we now call African-American studies began. Clarifying that has significant implications for how we think about not just a scholarly field, but about race relations in higher education and society.
The origins of African-American studies are shrouded in a hazy collective memory. The first black-studies department was started at San Francisco State College in 1968. There, according to the common account, a rowdy and violent group of black students staged a protracted strike demanding a black-studies program. What is too often ignored is that, at San Francisco State and numerous other predominantly white campuses, white students joined with Asian students, Latino students, American Indian students, and black students in the struggle to found the field. The battle they waged was multiracial, seeing black studies as the first step in a wider-ranging agenda for educational, economic, and social equality.
At San Francisco State, 80 percent of the student body supported the strike that ultimately led to the creation of a black-studies department. Thousands of students and faculty members picketed classes daily, carrying placards declaring, "This Strike Is Against Racism." They came together with aims beyond black studies, seeking to realign and redefine the very meaning of democracy, citizenship, and social justice. If America was to live up to the ideals of inclusion so much at the heart of the civil-rights movement and the historic Brown v. Board of Education decision that overturned the doctrine of "separate but equal" in public education, college campuses would need to become more inviting to poor and disadvantaged applicants of all races, but especially to those who were nonwhite. Institutionalizing black studies was a sign that such revolutionary realignment was possible, students believed. On hundreds of campuses, they called for increasing financial aid for black students and hiring black faculty members to teach a radical new curriculum that would educate, empower, and ultimately free not just those taking the classes, but all oppressed people.
Against the backdrop of the realities of that history, the fact that today African-American studies is rarely considered a successful example of the pursuit of social justice and democratic reform, or a harbinger of widespread institutional and cultural change, tells us much about contemporary views of the field. Tellingly, when my 13-year-old son watched newsreel footage of the student strike at San Francisco State with me, he took no particular note of the images of police officers pointing guns at, shoving, and arresting black protesters. But he noticed every white student bloodied by police batons. "But those are white people," he repeated with mantralike regularity. Sadly, it became clear to me that he could not imagine that a movement centering on black freedom could have been interracial. "Did they know they were protesting for black studies?" my son asked....
Read entire article at Chronicle of Higher Education
In the late 1960s, black studies became a part of American higher education. By 1971 more than 500 programs, departments, and institutes had been founded on four-year college campuses; add in black-studies initiatives in those same years at high schools and community colleges, and the number jumps to more than 1,000. Today roughly 450 colleges and universities offer graduate programs, undergraduate programs, or both. To be sure, those numbers represent an occasion to celebrate. But jubilance may be premature. It is becoming increasingly clear that before the field can move confidently into the future we need to clear up some continuing confusion about why and how what we now call African-American studies began. Clarifying that has significant implications for how we think about not just a scholarly field, but about race relations in higher education and society.
The origins of African-American studies are shrouded in a hazy collective memory. The first black-studies department was started at San Francisco State College in 1968. There, according to the common account, a rowdy and violent group of black students staged a protracted strike demanding a black-studies program. What is too often ignored is that, at San Francisco State and numerous other predominantly white campuses, white students joined with Asian students, Latino students, American Indian students, and black students in the struggle to found the field. The battle they waged was multiracial, seeing black studies as the first step in a wider-ranging agenda for educational, economic, and social equality.
At San Francisco State, 80 percent of the student body supported the strike that ultimately led to the creation of a black-studies department. Thousands of students and faculty members picketed classes daily, carrying placards declaring, "This Strike Is Against Racism." They came together with aims beyond black studies, seeking to realign and redefine the very meaning of democracy, citizenship, and social justice. If America was to live up to the ideals of inclusion so much at the heart of the civil-rights movement and the historic Brown v. Board of Education decision that overturned the doctrine of "separate but equal" in public education, college campuses would need to become more inviting to poor and disadvantaged applicants of all races, but especially to those who were nonwhite. Institutionalizing black studies was a sign that such revolutionary realignment was possible, students believed. On hundreds of campuses, they called for increasing financial aid for black students and hiring black faculty members to teach a radical new curriculum that would educate, empower, and ultimately free not just those taking the classes, but all oppressed people.
Against the backdrop of the realities of that history, the fact that today African-American studies is rarely considered a successful example of the pursuit of social justice and democratic reform, or a harbinger of widespread institutional and cultural change, tells us much about contemporary views of the field. Tellingly, when my 13-year-old son watched newsreel footage of the student strike at San Francisco State with me, he took no particular note of the images of police officers pointing guns at, shoving, and arresting black protesters. But he noticed every white student bloodied by police batons. "But those are white people," he repeated with mantralike regularity. Sadly, it became clear to me that he could not imagine that a movement centering on black freedom could have been interracial. "Did they know they were protesting for black studies?" my son asked....