Pub Date : 2022-01-02DOI: 10.1080/00064246.2022.2007442
K. B. Golden
son, and Denise Ferreira da Silva are moving within. For those who would like to explore Black and Indigenous thought, especially the conceptual and methodological overlaps between the two fields, this book is an exceptional primer. Valuably, this book bestows a new vocabulary for scholars to continue to put Black and Indigenous thought into conversation. “Conquistadorhumanism,” “shoals” and “shoaling,” and “grammars of conquest” are some of the conceptual tools that will help scholars rethink the regimes of truth in Western intellectual thought, passed down through generations, that silenced counter-histories and occluded the ethical futures to come.
儿子和丹尼丝·费雷拉·达·席尔瓦也搬进来了。对于那些想探索黑人和土著思想，特别是两个领域之间概念和方法上的重叠的人来说，这本书是一本特殊的入门书。有价值的是，这本书为学者们提供了一个新的词汇，继续把黑人和土著思想纳入对话。“征服者人文主义”(Conquistadorhumanism)、“浅滩”(shoals)和“浅滩”(shoaling)以及“征服语法”(grammars of conquest)是一些概念性的工具，这些工具将帮助学者们重新思考西方知识分子思想中代代相传的真理体系，这些体系压制了反历史的声音，阻碍了未来的伦理未来。
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Pub Date : 2021-10-02DOI: 10.1080/00064246.2021.1972396
Sid Ahmed Ziane
E. James West’s Ebony Magazine and Lerone Bennett, Popular Black History in Postwar America presents the first detailed examination of senior editor Lerone Bennett Jr., revealing the crucial role he played in popularizing and complementing professional historical research and how he endorsed and recovered the history of Black America for Ebony magazine. West’s scholarship is a much-needed contribution to the Black intellectual historiography as it builds upon previous works by contending and demonstrating Bennett as a nationally recognized expert in Black history rather than, as was seen by other scholars, “a subservient to professionally trained historians” (7). West’s manuscript is divided into six core thematic chapters, chronologically spanning from the early 1950s to the late 1980s. The author takes as his starting point Ebony’s mandate to celebrate the Black past, arguing that this was not new but expanded upon the efforts of traditional Black outlets such as Freedom Journal. He shows that while these newspapers endorsed Black history as an essential conduit for African Americans to forge an image of respectability and righteousness, they often lacked the standard quality needed to disseminate the gospel of Black history. West illuminates the apparent discrepancy between the limited number of professional Black historians and Black outlets in popularizing and professionalizing Black history. This laid the groundwork for future editors such as Lerone Bennett Jr. to position himself as a popular historian in producing Black history within Ebony. The next chapter delves into Bennett’s early career as an editor for Ebony and a popular historian, demonstrating that upon his arrival to Ebony, “Bennett exerted an immediate influence over the magazine’s historical content, employing an understating of black history as a ‘living history’” (27). Here, the author sheds light on Bennett’s major publications in Ebony and externally in the early 1960s, including The Negro History special feature, which endorsed an Afrocentric approach and emphasized a diverse slave resistance history during the antebellum era, and his new account Before the Mayflower, a book-length adaptation of his series. West illustrates that through his output, Bennett sought to develop “a more historiographical and critically incisive perspective” rather than just recovering “the lost histories of black life and culture” (35). It was the scholarly insight of his publications, West underscores, and the readers’ and the critics’ acclaim that gave Bennett a reputation as a leading historian in the absence of professional training. The manuscript’s most significant chapter, “White Problems and the Roots of Black Power” details the manner by which Bennett reflected the socioeconomic concerns of Black Americans in the mid-1960s
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Pub Date : 2021-10-02DOI: 10.1080/00064246.2021.1972394
L. Yared
OnAugust 13, 1906, the town of Brownsville, Texas was in chaos. A shooting that night left a white bartender dead and a white police officer wounded. The townspeople, already on edge due to the alleged attack of a white woman the previous evening, pointed all blame at the 25th Infantry Regiment stationed at nearby Fort Brown. The 167-member troop, an allBlack regiment, had arrived just over two weeks prior. At the center of the case was eyewitness testimony. Several residents testified that they saw between 5 and 12 African American men shooting in the streets or sprinting away after the crime. Though the night was dark, they testified that they could make out the men’s skin color and distinctive khaki uniform by the light of nearby street lamps. One man, named Mr. Rendall, testified that he saw eight men jump a wall in escape from a distance of about 150 feet. Another said that the street lamp cast a radius of about 20 feet, and in that distance, he saw the Black men retreat. The accused Black soldiers denied all charges, and no single man was ever indicted for the crime. Even so, President Theodore Roosevelt responded by dishonorably discharging the regiment. Over the course of the following year, the Senate Military Affairs Committee investigated what happened that night in Brownsville. Investigators wanted to know whether a person could tell a man’s skin color by the light of a street lamp on a city street shrouded in darkness. So they conducted an experiment. They had African American, white, and Mexican men pass beneath street lamps of similar candlepower on a similarly starlit night from varying distances, and they tested whether observers could determine the men’s skin color. Lieutenant Robert P. Harbold, who ran the experiment, had men pass him and other officers from a distance of 25 feet, with a “light shining brightly about 10 or fifteen feet beyond the squad, so the men were between the officers and the light.” Harbold quickly made a discovery:
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Pub Date : 2021-10-02DOI: 10.1080/00064246.2021.1972392
Zachary Manditch-Prottas
I n the comical vignette published in the Pittsburgh Courier, “Simple’s Comment on Color: It’s a Gasser,” Langston Hughes debates with his most enduring fictional character, the humorous and wise Harlem everyman, Jesse B. Simple. Their jocular dispute questions the relationship between corporal Blackness and “Black thought.” Things move swiftly from the abstract to the personal when Simple states that because Hughes “is colleged” he has “Black skin but not a Black brain.” In response to this allegation Hughes cites author and emerging public figure Amiri Baraka (then Leroi Jones) as a counter example of a “college man” who exemplified “Black Nationalist” consciousness. In 1965, when the short piece was published, Baraka personified an intellectual artistic class that retained, even regulated, a folk-centered conception of Black authenticity; Baraka was seemingly a foolproof counter figure to Simple’s argument. Simple, who is no fool, however, responds to Hughes with a question that seemingly had little to do with the topics of education and nationalist ideology, “Didn’t I read in the papers where he married a white woman?” For Simple, all that needed to be known was that Baraka’s wife, Hettie Cohen, was white. In Simple’s estimation, despite appearing Black and gushing Black Nationalist rhetoric, Baraka was an example of one whose “Black head was filled up with white thoughts.” The accusation that Baraka was insufficiently Black would have seemed a ludicrous charge at that time; indeed, who was Blacker than Baraka? This paradox is Hughes’ point. The sardonic exchange between Hughes and his folksiest character is a clever act of signifying in which Hughes both affirms and questions the Black author’s relationship to whiteness. Hughes validates Baraka as the prime Black Nationalist pundit, through the retort to Simple that Baraka’s “private life was his own business” and his marriage not an appropriate topic for evaluating his political stance, while raising questions regarding the significance of Baraka’s ties to whiteness. Indeed, Baraka’s marriage to Hettie Cohen was not an issue for Hughes at all. However, his relationship with white audiences was. Simple’s provocative personal question acts as a sly gesture toward Hughes’ anxieties regarding Baraka’s broader relationship to whiteness and, more precisely, his concern regarding how white audiences received Baraka’s work. Expressed across several telling newspaper reviews and editorials in the middle part of the 1960s, Hughes, while praising Baraka as undoubtedly talented, is troubled that the young upstart benefited from, if not knowingly leveraged, a peculiar desire of white audiences to be rhetorically assaulted by Black dramaturgy. This essay will situate and explore Hughes’ unease and skepticism regarding what he called a “masochistic” pleasure white liberal audiences found in Baraka’s stages dramas during his transition from Beat to Black Nationalist (roughly between 1963 and 1965). Hughes
在《匹兹堡信使》(Pittsburgh Courier)上发表的一篇滑稽小短文《Simple对颜色的评论:这是一个警察》(Simple’s Comment on Color: It’s a Gasser)中，兰斯顿·休斯(Langston Hughes)与他最经久不衰的虚构人物、幽默而睿智的哈莱姆普通人杰西·b·Simple进行了辩论。他们诙谐的争论质疑了黑人下士和“黑人思想”之间的关系。当Simple说到Hughes因为“上过大学”，所以他有“黑人的皮肤，但没有黑人的大脑”时，事情很快就从抽象变成了个人化。为了回应这一指控，休斯引用了作家和新兴公众人物阿米里·巴拉卡(当时的勒罗伊·琼斯)作为“大学生”的反例，他是“黑人民族主义”意识的例证。1965年，当这篇短篇小说发表时，巴拉卡代表了一个知识分子艺术阶层，这个阶层保留、甚至规范了一种以民间为中心的黑人真实性观念;巴拉卡似乎是简单论点的一个万无一失的反面人物。然而，素朴并不愚蠢，她用一个似乎与教育和民族主义意识形态无关的问题回答了休斯:“我不是在报纸上看到他娶了一个白人女人吗?”对于Simple来说，只需要知道Baraka的妻子hetty Cohen是白人。在Simple的估计中，尽管巴拉卡是黑人，并滔滔不绝地发表黑人民族主义言论，但他是一个“黑人脑袋里充满了白人思想”的例子。指责巴拉卡不够黑，在当时看来是荒唐可笑的;说真的，还有谁比巴拉卡更黑呢?这就是休斯的观点。休斯和他最平易近人的角色之间的讽刺交流是一种巧妙的象征行为，休斯既肯定了黑人作家与白人的关系，也质疑了黑人作家与白人的关系。Hughes通过反驳Simple，认为Baraka的“私生活是他自己的事”，他的婚姻不是评估他的政治立场的合适话题，同时提出了关于Baraka与白人关系的重要性的问题，从而证实了Baraka作为黑人民族主义权威人士的地位。事实上，巴拉卡与海蒂·科恩的婚姻对休斯来说根本不是问题。然而，他与白人观众的关系却是。简单的挑衅性个人问题是休斯对巴拉卡与白人之间更广泛关系的焦虑的一种狡猾的姿态，更准确地说，是他对白人观众如何接受巴拉卡作品的担忧。在20世纪60年代中期，休斯在几篇生动的报纸评论和社论中表达了自己的观点，虽然他称赞巴拉卡毫无疑问是有才华的，但他对这个年轻的新贵感到不安，因为白人观众对黑人戏剧的修辞攻击有一种特殊的渴望，如果不是故意利用的话。在巴拉卡从垮掉的一代到黑人民族主义者的过渡时期(大约在1963年到1965年之间)，休斯对白人自由主义观众在巴拉卡的舞台戏剧中发现的一种“受虐狂”快感感到不安和怀疑，这篇文章将定位并探讨休斯的这种不安和怀疑。休斯批评巴拉卡扮演
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Pub Date : 2021-10-02DOI: 10.1080/00064246.2021.1972395
P. J. Edwards
I n 1965, Bob Dylan shifted from acoustic folk music to albums and live performances backed by drums and electric guitar and bass. To a small but vocal number of fans, this change was a step in the wrong direction. Having developed a reputation as the folk heir to Pete Seeger and Woody Guthrie, Dylan famously went “electric.” Throughout his career, Dylan continued to change styles. However, no other moment in his career took on such importance and mythos than his 1965 transformation, which began with the album Bringing It All Home in March of that year and culminated with its follow-up, Highway 61 Revisited, five months later. Although the latter opens with the famous and perhaps overplayed “Like a Rolling Stone,” the album final track, “Desolation Row,” almost returns Dylan to his acoustic folk roots. With its narrative pastiche of references, like many Dylan lyrics from the 1960s, the song leaves much to be interpreted. Still, the first line starkly portrays an execution with a commercial enterprise, the selling of postcard bearing the image of a hanging. Although Dylan moves on from this scene, leaving ambiguity between who is selling the postcards, who died, and who buys such postcards, to scholars who study the history of American racism, the answers are quickly at hand. In the United States, mobs hang Black men and women, and white spectators take in the spectacle firsthand and collect and exchange souvenirs of their swinging bodies. Scholars Sean Wilentz and Robert Polito have placed Dylan’s lyrics to a specific historic lynching, the 1920 triple murder of Elmer Jackson, Elias Clayton, and Isaac McGhie in Dylan’s hometown of Duluth, Minnesota and the postcards produced of their cruel deaths. The streetlight lynching occurred two blocks from the home of Abram Zimmerman, Dylan’s father, who would have been nine at the time. Speculation by Dylan scholars has gone into Abram’s presence or absence at the lynching, with Dylan’s lyric suggesting that he, perhaps through his father, had some familiarity with the event. Moreover, even if Abram had not been in attendance, the events of that day would be etched into the city’s history, emerging in Dylan’s “Desolation Row” as its own folk story. For scholars who have speculated about the effects of that day on Dylan’s life and songwriting, none have connected the lynching, the implement of the electric lamp post, with Dylan’s own going electric. Dylan is not alone in producing speculative knowledge of Black traumawithin circuits of white American poetics. Ezra Pound provided the only first-person account of the death of Louis Till, Emmett Till’s father. Executed by the US Army at a detention center near Pisa, Louis’ only chronicler was his fellow prisoner, Pound, who recorded only fleeting mentions of the man in The Pisan Cantos, noting Till’s nickname by his fellow prisoners and a slightly longer passage that functions as a eulogistic note. Again, this moment is marked by its apparent ambiguity. It o
1965年，鲍勃·迪伦从原声民间音乐转向专辑和现场表演，并辅以鼓、电吉他和贝斯。对于一小部分粉丝来说，这一变化是朝着错误的方向迈出的一步。作为皮特·西格（Pete Seeger）和伍迪·格思里（Woody Guthrie。然而，在他的职业生涯中，没有其他时刻比他1965年的转变更为重要和神话。1965年3月，他的转变始于专辑《把一切带回家》，五个月后，他的后续作品《61号公路重访》达到了顶峰。尽管后者以著名的、可能被过度渲染的《Like a Rolling Stone》开场，但专辑的最后一首曲目《荒凉街》几乎让迪伦回归了他的声学民间根源。就像20世纪60年代迪伦的许多歌词一样，这首歌的叙事模仿了参考文献，留下了很多值得解读的地方。尽管如此，第一行还是赤裸裸地描绘了一场与商业企业的处决，出售带有绞刑图像的明信片。尽管迪伦离开了这一场景，给研究美国种族主义历史的学者留下了谁在卖明信片、谁死了、谁买了这些明信片的模糊信息，但答案很快就在眼前。在美国，暴徒绞死黑人男女，白人观众亲眼目睹这一奇观，并收集和交换他们摆动身体的纪念品。学者肖恩·威伦茨（Sean Wilentz）和罗伯特·波利托（Robert Polito。街灯私刑发生在距离迪伦的父亲艾布拉姆·齐默尔曼家两个街区的地方，当时他九岁。迪伦学者对艾布拉姆是否出席私刑进行了猜测，迪伦的歌词表明，他可能是通过父亲对这一事件有所熟悉。此外，即使艾布拉姆没有出席，那天的事件也会被刻进这座城市的历史，在迪伦的《荒凉街》中作为自己的民间故事出现。对于那些猜测那一天对迪伦的生活和歌曲创作的影响的学者来说，没有人将私刑、电灯柱的使用与迪伦自己的行为联系起来。在美国白人诗学的圈子里，迪伦并不是唯一一个对黑人创伤产生推测性认识的人。埃兹拉·庞德提供了埃米特·蒂尔的父亲路易斯·蒂尔死亡的唯一第一人称叙述。路易斯在比萨附近的一个拘留中心被美国军队处决，他唯一的记录者是他的狱友庞德，庞德在《比萨大合唱》中只记录了对这个人的短暂提及，并注意到了狱友对蒂尔的昵称，还有一段稍长的段落，起到了颂词的作用。同样，这一时刻的特点是其明显的模糊性。只有在罗伊·布莱恩特和J·W·米拉姆谋杀埃米特后，学者们才能读懂它
{"title":"Introduction","authors":"P. J. Edwards","doi":"10.1080/00064246.2021.1972395","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.1080/00064246.2021.1972395","url":null,"abstract":"I n 1965, Bob Dylan shifted from acoustic folk music to albums and live performances backed by drums and electric guitar and bass. To a small but vocal number of fans, this change was a step in the wrong direction. Having developed a reputation as the folk heir to Pete Seeger and Woody Guthrie, Dylan famously went “electric.” Throughout his career, Dylan continued to change styles. However, no other moment in his career took on such importance and mythos than his 1965 transformation, which began with the album Bringing It All Home in March of that year and culminated with its follow-up, Highway 61 Revisited, five months later. Although the latter opens with the famous and perhaps overplayed “Like a Rolling Stone,” the album final track, “Desolation Row,” almost returns Dylan to his acoustic folk roots. With its narrative pastiche of references, like many Dylan lyrics from the 1960s, the song leaves much to be interpreted. Still, the first line starkly portrays an execution with a commercial enterprise, the selling of postcard bearing the image of a hanging. Although Dylan moves on from this scene, leaving ambiguity between who is selling the postcards, who died, and who buys such postcards, to scholars who study the history of American racism, the answers are quickly at hand. In the United States, mobs hang Black men and women, and white spectators take in the spectacle firsthand and collect and exchange souvenirs of their swinging bodies. Scholars Sean Wilentz and Robert Polito have placed Dylan’s lyrics to a specific historic lynching, the 1920 triple murder of Elmer Jackson, Elias Clayton, and Isaac McGhie in Dylan’s hometown of Duluth, Minnesota and the postcards produced of their cruel deaths. The streetlight lynching occurred two blocks from the home of Abram Zimmerman, Dylan’s father, who would have been nine at the time. Speculation by Dylan scholars has gone into Abram’s presence or absence at the lynching, with Dylan’s lyric suggesting that he, perhaps through his father, had some familiarity with the event. Moreover, even if Abram had not been in attendance, the events of that day would be etched into the city’s history, emerging in Dylan’s “Desolation Row” as its own folk story. For scholars who have speculated about the effects of that day on Dylan’s life and songwriting, none have connected the lynching, the implement of the electric lamp post, with Dylan’s own going electric. Dylan is not alone in producing speculative knowledge of Black traumawithin circuits of white American poetics. Ezra Pound provided the only first-person account of the death of Louis Till, Emmett Till’s father. Executed by the US Army at a detention center near Pisa, Louis’ only chronicler was his fellow prisoner, Pound, who recorded only fleeting mentions of the man in The Pisan Cantos, noting Till’s nickname by his fellow prisoners and a slightly longer passage that functions as a eulogistic note. Again, this moment is marked by its apparent ambiguity. It o","PeriodicalId":45369,"journal":{"name":"BLACK SCHOLAR","volume":"51 1","pages":"1 - 3"},"PeriodicalIF":0.4,"publicationDate":"2021-10-02","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"45893662","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":0,"RegionCategory":"","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}
Pub Date : 2021-10-02DOI: 10.1080/00064246.2021.1972397
C. Smith
Taking interdisciplinary curiosity as methodological guide, Katherine McKittrick’s rhizomatic Dear Science and Other Stories explores how Black “creatives”—scholars, writers, musicians, data scientists, geographers—engage science through storytelling to glimpse Black livingness and liberation. Instead of focusing on depictions of scientific racism and biological determinism, McKittrick presents Black stories, which she describes as “scientifically creative and creatively scientific artworlds” (2). These stories demonstrate “how we come to know black life through asymmetrically connected knowledge systems” and “imagine and practice liberation” despite being weighed down by biocentric violence (3). At its heart, Dear Science reorients Black studies toward Black life and argues for an alternative science from a Black sense of place. McKittrick utilizes the story form because it “prompts” imaginative departure and “asks that we live with the difficult and frustrating ways of knowing differentially” (7). In other words, because stories foment curiosity about what is in and outside of the story itself, McKittrick uses the form to train readers in diasporic literacy—a way of knowing Black life that abandons the need for “reams of positivist evidence” of biocentric violation (7). As an alternative, she hypothesizes: “Maybe the story is one way to express and fall in love with black life. Maybe the story disguises our fall” (8). Storytelling finds a challenging pleasure in blackness and offers cover for the periodic stumbling on the path to understanding. This conceptualization of the story form as a useful academic mode for imagining Black life’s dynamism is one of McKittrick’s major contributions. Dear Science’s 10 stories and 7 images can be read on their own or in any order. As demonstrated in the contents’ titles, Dear Science’s themes suggestively overlap like a Venn diagram. Despite resembling academic chapters in tone, McKittrick’s insistence in calling her sections “stories” suggests that the value of her insights lies in the thoughts they spark for readers. These simultaneously tangential and consequential thoughts enable readers to build imaginative worlds from which to contemplate Black life. The first five stories exemplify McKittrick’s theorizing. In the first story, McKittrick explores Black studies citational practices (endnotes, footnotes, references, bibliographies, parentheses, etc.). She theorizes these practices as ways of knowing that enable Black people to “unknow ourselves” and share, not what we know, but “how we know ... imperfect and sometimes unintelligible but always hopeful and practical ways to live this world as black” (16, 17). She argues that effortful sharing-through-citation “reorganizes our knowledge worlds by providing textual and methodological (verbal, nonverbal, written, unwritten) confirmations of black life as struggle” (27). By promoting diasporic
凯瑟琳·麦基特里克（Katherine McKittrick）的《亲爱的科学和其他故事》（Dear Science and Other Stories）以跨学科的好奇心为方法论指南，探讨了黑人“创意人士”——学者、作家、音乐家、数据科学家、地理学家——如何通过讲故事来参与科学，以窥见黑人的生存和解放。McKittrick没有专注于对科学种族主义和生物决定论的描述，而是呈现了黑人故事，她将其描述为“科学创造性和创造性的科学艺术世界”（2）。这些故事展示了“我们是如何通过不对称连接的知识系统来了解黑人生活的”，以及“想象和实践解放”，尽管受到了以生物为中心的暴力的影响（3）。从本质上讲，《亲爱的科学》将黑人研究重新定位为黑人生活，并从黑人的地方感出发，为另类科学辩护。McKittrick利用了故事形式，因为它“促使”想象力的离开，并“要求我们以困难和令人沮丧的方式进行差异化的认识”（7）。换言之，因为故事激发了人们对故事本身内外的好奇，麦基特里克用这种形式来训练读者的流散文化——这是一种了解黑人生活的方式，摒弃了对生物中心侵犯的“大量实证证据”的需要（7）。作为另一种选择，她假设：“也许这个故事是表达和爱上黑人生活的一种方式。也许这个故事掩盖了我们的堕落”（8）。讲故事在黑暗中找到了一种富有挑战性的乐趣，并为理解道路上的周期性磕磕碰碰提供了掩护。这种将故事形式概念化为想象黑人生活动态的有用学术模式是麦基特里克的主要贡献之一。《亲爱的科学》的10个故事和7张图片可以自己阅读，也可以按任何顺序阅读。正如内容标题所示，《亲爱的科学》的主题暗示着像维恩图一样重叠。尽管在语气上类似于学术章节，但麦基特里克坚持将她的章节称为“故事”，这表明她的见解的价值在于它们为读者激发的思想。这些同时切向和间接的思想使读者能够构建富有想象力的世界，从中思考黑人的生活。前五个故事体现了麦基特里克的理论。在第一个故事中，McKittrick探索了黑人研究的引用实践（尾注、脚注、参考文献、书目、括号等），但“我们如何知道……不完美的，有时难以理解，但总是充满希望和实用的方式，以黑人的身份生活在这个世界上”（16，17）。她认为，通过引用的努力分享“通过提供文本和方法论（口头、非口头、书面、非书面）对黑人生活作为斗争的确认，重新组织了我们的知识世界”（27）。通过促进流散
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Pub Date : 2021-10-02DOI: 10.1080/00064246.2021.1972402
Kirin Wachter-Grene
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Pub Date : 2021-10-02DOI: 10.1080/00064246.2021.1972401
Margarita Rosa
{"title":"Infamous Bodies: Early Black Women’s Celebrity and the Afterlives of Rights","authors":"Margarita Rosa","doi":"10.1080/00064246.2021.1972401","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.1080/00064246.2021.1972401","url":null,"abstract":"","PeriodicalId":45369,"journal":{"name":"BLACK SCHOLAR","volume":"51 1","pages":"56 - 59"},"PeriodicalIF":0.4,"publicationDate":"2021-10-02","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"42853718","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":0,"RegionCategory":"","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}
Pub Date : 2021-10-02DOI: 10.1080/00064246.2021.1972393
Melissa A. Wright
Over the last 15 years, scholars have compellingly argued that Sutton E. Griggs’ 1899 novel Imperium in Imperio is an important precursor to Afrofuturism. Mark Bould, for example, posits that Griggs and other turn-of-the-century African American authors—including W.E.B. Du Bois, Pauline E. Hopkins, Roger Sherman Tracy, George Schuyler, and others—anticipated Afrofuturist texts of the twentieth and twenty-first centuries with
{"title":"Sex and the Future of History","authors":"Melissa A. Wright","doi":"10.1080/00064246.2021.1972393","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.1080/00064246.2021.1972393","url":null,"abstract":"Over the last 15 years, scholars have compellingly argued that Sutton E. Griggs’ 1899 novel Imperium in Imperio is an important precursor to Afrofuturism. Mark Bould, for example, posits that Griggs and other turn-of-the-century African American authors—including W.E.B. Du Bois, Pauline E. Hopkins, Roger Sherman Tracy, George Schuyler, and others—anticipated Afrofuturist texts of the twentieth and twenty-first centuries with","PeriodicalId":45369,"journal":{"name":"BLACK SCHOLAR","volume":"51 1","pages":"32 - 46"},"PeriodicalIF":0.4,"publicationDate":"2021-10-02","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"44663891","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":0,"RegionCategory":"","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}
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