The Goddess Professor Speaks

The stage after the assassination. The circles are bullet holes. Fifty years ago today, Brother Minister Malcolm X stood before a crowded room in the Audubon Theatre and Ballroom to speak. Some time after he began speaking, someone yelled, "Nigger, get your hand out my pocket." A ruckus began, the bodyguards moved towards the commotion and in the distraction and confusion, several assassins approached the podium and shot down Brother Minister Malcolm X. In my plans to blog about lesser known Black Americans and their contributions, Malcolm X doesn't quite fit squarely into that category. He's well known. People know his name even if they aren't really sure what he stood for. There's a movie about his life. He's often held up in contrast to Dr. Martin L. King. Although he's not considered a "safe negro" like the other blacks who are discussed ad naseum year after year in attempts to "honor" February and Black History Month, h

Recently, I read an article that claimed that Alberta King (Dr. Martin Luther King's mother) was assassinated too. She was shot by a mentally unstable person while playing the organ at her church. While this information is incorrect (yes, she was murdered but not assassinated), the larger point of the article was that despite the author's parents purposely ensuring that he was well acquainted with Black Historical figures, by and large, the activists were men and the women were mostly artists--writers, poets, playwrights, singers, etc. In working on this series of Remember the Past posts, I'm recalling all sorts of history lessons I was fortunate to receive throughout my youth. As I read that article, I realized that my lessons were not painted in that way so that the activists and fighters were mostly men and the women were in essence, the artsy supporting roles. From age 6 until 15 (with a few years absence), I was fortunate enough to participate in a play at my church

I recently watched this video of Samuel L. Jackson describing his childhood in Chattanooga, TN. In this video, Jackson recalls going to work with his grandfather as a child and his grandfather being called "boy" by the white men who worked in the real estate office his grandfather cleaned. His grandfather called them "Mr" So-and-so, but they called his grandfather "boy." His grandfather also scolded Jackson about looking the men in their eyes when he talked with them and frequently asking them questions.  Conversing with and asking questions of whites wasn't something blacks were allowed to do. Even as a child, Jackson realized there was something odd about the dynamic between the two sets of men. The white men were called "mister" by his grandfather (and other blacks) while the white men were allowed to call the black men "boy." Boy. Mister. I've heard my own tales of the word "boy" my whole life. My own fat

Family illnesses and life falling down around me has delayed my posts. Goodness have I got to catch up!  In the meantime, allow this next Remember the Past post to introduce you to Henrietta Lacks: The Unwitting Mother of Immortal Cells Thanks to efforts of writers, some  scientists, some  doctors, and Mrs. Lacks family after  they found out, Henrietta Lacks now receives the proper acknowledgement that she deserves. In life , Lacks was sadly not much different from other people of her era--lots of siblings, married young, produced lots of babies, died of illness at a young age. However, in death , although completely unknown to her family for TWENTY years after her death, Lacks' cells (taken from her without her knowledge or permission by George Otto Gey) would become the first human immortal cell line for medical research: HeLa Cells. Lacks grew up in the shadows of slavery in Virginia. After her mother died in 1924, her father parceled Lacks and her nine other s

Yes, I'm a day behind, but here's to it... I dedicate this post to my wonderful, brilliant niece who might  be taking a new interest in history, and that makes me even prouder on so many levels. Today, I'll introduce you to Les Gens de Couleur Libres (The Free People of Color). Free Women of Color with their Children and Servants in a Landscape Painting by Agostino Brunias Some years back, a cousin asked had I seen the film Feast of All Saints.  I had not. She proceeded to tell me of the plot of the movie wherein the Les Gens de Couleur Libres--the Free People of Color-- living in New Orleans were an entire class of people living in the slave state of Louisiana before  the Civil War ended.  My mind was blown. I'd never heard of these people. I was mad that I had not, but I instantly wanted to know all I could. Growing up, I always knew there were Blacks scattered throughout the country prior to 1863 and 1865 who were free through various means--buying thei

Hopefully, you had a chance to read my first post in this Remember the Past series; it was about Dr. Charles Drew. In this next post, I'm going to introduce you to Elizabeth Keckley: The First Lady's Seamstress and Confidante . Elizabeth Keckley was born a slave in Virginia in 1818. She became a seamstress and made dresses for the women of the area. Through her work as a seamstress, she was able to purchase her and  her son's freedom in 1855. In D.C., she made beautiful dresses for the socialites. Her reputation for style, flair, and expert fit helped her score the ultimate client: First Lady Mary Todd Lincoln, who was known as a clotheshorse. (It's believed that she overspent her 1861 clothes stipend by $6,000 .) Keckley ended up becoming more than just FLOTUS Lincoln's dressmaker; she became a friend and confidante.  The death of both women's sons within several months of one another helped bring them even closer. After President Lincoln was assass

Yesterday, I started my Remember the Past series with the intent to highlight lesser-known Black Americans during this February.  My first post is about Dr. Charles Drew, the Father of Blood Banks. However, shortly after posting that first entry, I discovered that February 1 is Langston Hughes' birthday.  Hughes is obviously well known and studied in many high school classes, so he doesn't quite fit into my intended theme for Remember the Past, BUT I had to commemorate his birthday, esp. since he's one of my favorite poets.  I've been exposed to Hughes' work since middle school, so it wasn't a big surprise that I'd choose to do extensive research projects on him during grad school. When thinking of my admiration for Hughes, his work, and the impression it left on my life, words fail me.  So, I'll just say Happy Birthday Mr. Hughes! I'll leave you with one of poems that had a very lasting impression on me. Let America Be America Again

As discussed in this post , I intend to do posts about Black Americans' throughout the month of February. Beyond February, I intend to post about historical figures. This is the first post. Charles Drew: The Father of Blood Banks Dr. Charles Drew was a doctor and surgeon who developed ways to store blood plasma in blood banks. I chose him first because the story of his life and death left an indelible impression on the 6 year old me. I now know the story I learned of his death is a myth (explained below), but his life's work and its contribution to life today is still VERY impressive. During high school and college, Drew excelled in many sports; the sports helped him attend college. He attended Amherst College in Massachusetts. After receiving his B.S. degree, he worked as a biology teacher at Morgan State University (then Morgan College) in Baltimore, MA. After two years at Morgan, he attended McGill University in Montreal, Canada. He excelled in his studies, and

As I've described in other posts recently, I've been a student of history, esp. Black American History, since I was barely in elementary school. However, in recent years, I (like many others, such as Morgan Freeman ) have begun to question why we should have one month designated to one particular race's history--even if it is my race. Why shouldn't we study all races all the time ? My questions stem from my anger over the fact that children in most American schools are getting a piss-poor education in history, period, full stop, end of. So many of my students have no tangible, working knowledge of so many things of history. Even fully grown adults who are intelligent in so many other ways lack knowledge of history and frequently, the desire to even learn (even if they admit they know they should know). Ted Gup complained about this in his article "So Much for the Information Age." Each February, most schools trot out the same old figures of Black History