|
Books by
Honorée Fanonne Jeffers
The
Gospel of Barbecue /
Outlandish Blues /
Red Clay Suite
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* * *
Africa My
Motherland (Not)
By
Honorée Fanonne Jeffers
When I was growing up, my father
[Lance
Jeffers]
referred to himself as African, before that became
standard. This was a little strange to me, because my
father was really light-skinned and sometimes, my dad
would be mistaken for something other than a Black man.
A Jewish guy with an Afro. An Italian guy. And once,
when my father was in this store going off on the
establishment for some real or imagined slight, the guy
said to Daddy, “Y’all Greeks all always coming up in
here starting trouble!”
I don’t know what hurt my father’s
feelings more, that someone had insulted him in the
store, or that they didn’t know he was of African
descent. Bless his heart. My sisters and I laughed
behind our father’s back, because he wanted to be
African so bad and he didn’t even know how to be Black
American in the first place. We, on the other hand, knew
very well how to be really, really Black, because our
mother came from sharecropper stock in Georgia and we
had watched her and figured it out.
But Daddy? He came from those
high-class, siddity light-skinned Negroes who had tried
to lighten up the next generation by marrying other
high-class, siddity Negroes. He talked proper, didn’t
know how to dance—he couldn’t even clap on beat—and he
never got the Black Joke. In his defense, he did play a
mean blues and jazz piano.
The open secret in his family was
that my grandmother had married a dark-skinned man,
Henry Nelson. He was my father’s father. Daddy’s parents
only stayed married a hot minute, then divorced, and my
father’s maternal grandfather demanded that my father be
sent to him. Henry never even knew what happened; both
he and my grandmother told the same story, so we assumed
it was true.
My father always talked about Henry,
his lovely dark skin, how good-looking he was. And it
became clear to me, even as a child, that my father
searched for what he thought was “real” Blackness
because he was searching for the love of his childhood;
whenever he talked about “real” Blackness, he always
ended up talking about
Africa. My father never traveled
to Africa, but you could never guess that by
his poems.
He pined for Africa. He ached for it.
I’m different from my father in a lot
of ways, most noticeably in my feeling about the African
continent. Don’t get me wrong;
I don’t hate Africa.
But
I don’t love Africa, either. I just think, it’s a big
piece of land over across the water. There are good
people there. There are bad people there, but that’s not
my home. And I don’t understand why I have to constantly
defend myself for holding that point of view.
One of my oldest friends in the world
doesn’t exactly make me defend my position; she just
thinks I will change my mind. She keeps saying that once
I “cross that sea.” I’ll feel differently. And just
yesterday, I had a huge blowout with a male friend
because I was trying to explain that
I just don’t
consider myself an African, but rather, someone of
African descent who was now an American, and he told me
my absence of love was “unjustified.” That I should
love it.
I guess you can figure out how that
went over.
I know I’m sensitive; this has been
going on for a while. Sometimes, I have even been
criticized because of the way I looked, that I’m lighter
than some folks and have curly hair. And if I were
darker and my hair was kinky instead of curly, they
said, I would feel closer to Africa, the way I’m
supposed to, if I was
really Black.
The joke to me, of course, is that my
sisters and I—even my so-called “light-skinned”
sister—were plenty dark enough for my father’s mother
and stepfather. Too dark, in fact, for them to even try
to keep a relationship going with their only
grandchildren from their only son. Let’s not talk about
where all their money went when they died.
Sidebar: You know, somehow my curly
hair and in-between skin color never gets me from being
followed by the security guards at the mall. Go figure.
But maybe I should turn around at that security guard
breathing his Philly cheese steak he had for lunch on me
and say, “You know, you can trust me more than other
Black folks. Don’t you see my naturally curly hair? Now
back away.”
I do embrace my
African heritage.
It’s just, I identify with the
Africans who were sold,
not the
Africans who did the selling. And so, my heart
follows those sold Africans where they went—and
here
is where they ended up and made a home.
I realized last night, arguing with
my friend, that it’s hard for me to explain that my
entire life’s work so far—my life-long artistic
project—is to record the folkways, mores, speech, and
lives of those descendants of African slaves in
Eatonton, Georgia. That’s my motherland.
And I admit it: my other reason for
not loving Africa is that my mother’s people carried
slavery stories with them. My mother’s Great-Great
Grandmother Mandy Napier was six years old
when
Emancipation came. And her first memory was of her
father being
sold Down South to Mississippi. She never
saw him again. Whenever my mother tells that story, and
she tells it more and more often, it’s as if she is
channeling Mandy’s pain, and carrying it inside her.
Some Black folks want to totally
blame Europeans for why we got here, across the water,
and scattered and abused. And surely, Europeans were
extremely lowdown with the slavery machine. You have
only to read
Marcus Rediker's
The Slave Ship: A Human History
to know the
cruel torture young African men, women, teenagers and
children suffered at the hands of
European slave
traders. But they had plenty
help from Africans. Can we
be real about that?
And yes, surely those Africans may
not have known that they were dooming their fellow
citizens to a nightmarish journey over the Middle
Passage. At first.
And yes,
African domestic
slavery was different from slavery in the Americas, a
milder form. But
the international slave trade
went on for over four hundred years, so you know, those
Africans setting fire to villages and bashing in the
brains of babies and elderly people, those uncles who
sold their sisters’ children into slavery to resolve bad
debts—they had to know that
Kunta Kinte and them weren’t
ever coming back. They had to figure that out. They had
to.
This sort of refusal to talk about
Black or African culpability reminds me of the problems
that go on in the Black community, and no matter what we
are talking about—rape of Black women and children,
domestic violence, Black males killing other Black
males, the drug trade in our community,
misogyny in
rap
music—somehow, we always end up
blaming the White man
for it. And the few voices of dissent, the ones who say,
“Hey, you know, we can’t blame the White man for
everything,” those dissenters get called “sell-out Uncle
Toms.”
Sidebar: I guess because I’m a girl,
I would get called a
sell-out Aunt Thomasina.
My mother’s people, and my father’s,
too (no matter how light-skinned and siddity they were)
were the descendants of those young
kidnapped Africans
who were sent into the hateful and painful unknown.
Those kids cobbled together a life.
They survived. And they made it possible for me to be
here, as a teacher, a poet and a writer, and as a human
being who is trying to make my little corner of the
world better. And while I harbor no hatred for Africa, I
don’t think I should be punished because I have no love
either. I’m just doing the best I can over
here, where
somebody brought me.
23 August 2010
Source:
PhillisRemastered
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 |
Honorée Fanonne Jeffers, Associate. Professor of
English, is the author of three books of poetry,
The
Gospel of Barbecue (Kent State University, 2000),
which won the 1999 Stan and Tom Wick Prize for Poetry
and was the finalist for the 2001 Paterson Poetry, and
Outlandish Blues,, was published by Wesleyan
University Press in 2003. She has won the 2002 Julia Peterkin Award for Poetry, and awards from the Barbara
Deming Memorial Fund and the Rona Jaffe Foundation.
Prof. Jeffers' work recently has appeared in Black
Issues Book Review, Black Warrior Review,
Brilliant Corners: A Journal of Jazz and Literature,
Bum Rush the Page: A Def Poetry Jam (Crown,
2001), Callaloo,
Dark Matter: A Century of
Speculative Fiction from the African Diaspora
(Warner/Aspect, 2000), Indiana Review, The
Kenyon Review, The Massachusetts Review,
Ploughshares, Prairie Schooner,
Role Call:
A Generational Anthology of Social and Political Black
Literature and Art (Third World, 2002), and
These
Hands I Know: Writing About the African American Family
(Sarabande 2002). Jeffers' third book of poems is titled
Red Clay Suite (2007). |
* *
* * *
|
Outlandish Blues
By
Honorée Fanonne Jeffers
Jeffers
derives her form and jaunty, deal-with-it
attitude from the blues, an American
tradition that beats back despair with wit,
élan, and grace. Artfully distilled,
Jeffers' musical and forthright lyrics cut
to the chase in their depictions of
self-destructive love, treacherous family
life, and sexual passion turned oppressive
or violent. She calls on her mentors,
soulful musicians such as Dinah Washington,
James Brown, John Coltrane, and Aretha
Franklin, for guidance, then, sustained by
their voices, segues into vivid imaginings
of the inner lives of biblical figures such
as Sarah, Hagar, and Lot's wife; a man about
to be lynched; and a former slave bravely
attending college. And whether she's singing
the "battered blues" or critiquing
Hollywood's depiction of slavery, Jeffers is
questioning the nature and presence of God.—
Booklist |
 |
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 |
Red Clay Suite
By Honorée Fanonne
Jeffers
In her
third book of poems, Honorée Fanonne Jeffers
expresses her familiarity with the actual
and imaginary spaces that the American South
occupies in our cultural lexicon. Her two
earlier books of poetry,
The
Gospel of Barbecue and
Outlandish Blues, use the blues
poetic to explore notions of history and
trauma. Now, in
Red Clay Suite, Jeffers approaches the
southern landscape as utopia and dystopia—a
crossroads of race, gender, and blood. These
poems signal the ending movement of her
crossroads blues and complete the last four
“bars” of a blues song, resting on the
final, and essential, note of resolution and
reconciliation. |
* * * * *
Response
Well, I like what
PhillisRemastered wrote. I think she was brave and
honest. She wrote against the tide of what black
intellectuals usually say publicly. Though similar it
was a far cry from what
Skip Gates wrote for the New York Times. So I
sympathize greatly with what she wrote. It was clear and
poignant.
Where I sympathize
with her most is her literary focus. Namely, on those
Africans who were forced across the Atlantic and forced
into the industrialism and mercantilism of the West. Our
journey, in that regard, is ongoing. The treachery of
not only groups and tribes of Africans who found the
trade lucrative unthinkingly, but it was how the West
profited from our unrequited love and toil.
The great problem
with this ever-going tragedy is the absolutes we become
involved in, that we use in raising this history, in
trying to come to grips with the creators. That was the
problem with the argument of
Skip Gates. That is the problem with the rhetoric of
Kola Boof. With her it is difficult to take her
seriously. We cannot realistically and with all honesty
speak of all Africans, all Arabs, and all of the
Diaspora. Miss Boof lacks sincere honesty, lacks sincere
sympathy, lacks understanding. Her views are sadly
laughable.
In truth, most
Arabs, most Africans, most of the Diaspora were not
involved in the trade and do not give this ancient
history a second thought. It is only a few of us who are
self indulgent. So real love and real hate is not even a
real issue between us, among us about Africa and its
traders and its despots.
But I think we have
to be BIG about all of this. Africa cannot be ignored.
African cannot be abandoned intellectually. Africa needs
us. We need Africa. All of humanity is dependent on her
well being for our well being. We must prepare our
children to settle in Africa, to return to the home of
their forefathers and foremothers.
I have been
listening to Bob Marley, that most famous and most
talented and most visionary of blacks born in the
Americas, listening to "Exodus"
and "Africa
Unite." I am exceedingly moved
by his music and his words. I know nevertheless that
most of Africa is not ready to receive us and we of the
Americas have not properly prepared ourselves for a
return to Africa.
We need those who
are most educated, most skilled to settle on the
continent among the peoples of Africa. The Africans
themselves must prepare themselves politically and
educationally to welcome such people of the Americas. We
have much to contribute in raising ourselves up
spiritually and economically.
Like
Kalamu ya
Salaam, the one who I think has written best
personally and politically about Africa, I am confident
that
Pan Africanism is not dead and indeed it is the wave
of our Future. But we must be guided by mind more than
the heart. That is, we must prepare diligently our
children for the future that must come for the benefit
of us all.
You have said all I have to say.
AFRICA UNITE, at home and abroad!
Loving Africa madly, Rudy
From 1956, when Williams became the chief minister of
Trinidad and Tobago, to 1970, when the Black
Power-inspired February Revolution brought his
administration face to face with a younger generation
intellectually indebted to his revolutionary thought,
Williams was at the center of most of the conflicts and
challenges that defined the region. He was most
aggressive in advocating the creation of a West Indies
federation to help the region assert itself in
international political and economic arenas. Looking at
the ideas of Williams as well as those of his Caribbean
and African peers, Palmer demonstrates how the
development of the modern Caribbean was inextricably
intertwined with the evolution of a regional
anticolonial consciousness.
* * *
* *
|
Bob Marley— Exodus
Bob
Marley was a Jamaican singer-songwriter and
musician. He was the lead singer, songwriter
and guitarist for the ska, rocksteady and
reggae bands The Wailers (19641974) and Bob
Marley & the Wailers (19741981). Marley
remains the most widely known and revered
performer of reggae music, and is credited
for helping spread both Jamaican music and
the Rastafari movement (of which he was a
committed member), to a worldwide audience.
* *
* * *
Exodus
By Bob Marley
Exodus! Movement of Jah people! oh-oh-oh,
yea-eah!
Well uh, oh. let me tell you this:
Men and people will fight ya
down (tell me why!)
When ya see Jah light.
(ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!)
Let me tell you if you're not wrong; (then,
why? )
Everything is all right.
So we gonna walk—All
right!—through
de roads of creation:
We the generation (tell me why!)
Trod through great tribulation—trod
through great tribulation.
Exodus! All right! Movement of Jah people!
Oh, yeah! o-oo, yeah! All right!
Exodus! Movement of Jah people! oh, yeah!
Yeah-yeah-yeah, well!
Open your eyes and look within.
Are you satisfied with the life you're
living? uh!
We know where we're going, uh!
We know where we're from.
We're leaving Babylon,
We're going to our father's land.
One, Two, Three, Four
Exodus! Movement of Jah people! oh, yeah!
Movement of Jah people!—send
us another Brother Moses!
Movement of Jah people!—from
across the Red Sea!
Movement of Jah people!—send
us another Brother Moses!
Movement of Jah people!—from
across the Red Sea!
Movement of Jah people!
Exodus! All right! oo-oo-ooh! oo-ooh!
Movement of Jah people! oh, yeah!
Exodus!
Exodus! All right!
Exodus! now, now, now, now!
Exodus!
Exodus! oh, yea-ea-ea-ea-ea-ea-eah!
Exodus!
Exodus! All right!
Exodus! uh-uh-uh-uh!
One, Two, Three, Four
Move! Move! Move! Move! Move! Move!
Open your eyes and look within.
Are you satisfied with the life you're
living?
We know where we're going;
We know where we're from.
We're leaving Babylon, yall!
We're going to our father's land.
Exodus! All right! Movement of Jah people!
Exodus! Movement of Jah people!
Movement of Jah people!
Movement of Jah people!
Movement of Jah people!
Movement of Jah people!
Move! Move! Move! Move! Move! Move! Move!
Jah come to break downpression,
Rule equality.
Wipe away transgression.
Set the captives free!
Exodus! All right, all right!
Movement of Jah people! oh, yeah!
Exodus! Movement of Jah people! oh, now,
now, now, now!
Movement of Jah people!
Movement of Jah people!
Movement of Jah people!
Movement of Jah people!
Movement of Jah people!
Movement of Jah people!
Move! Move! Move! Move! Move! Move!
uh-uh-uh-uh!
Movement of Jah people!
Move!
Movement of Jah people!
Move!
Movement of Jah people)!
Move!
Movement of Jah people!
Movement of Jah people!
Movement of Jah people)!
Movement of Jah people)!
Movement of Jah people!
Movement of Jah people!
Movement of Jah people! |
*
* * * *
Africa Unite: A Celebration of Bob Marley’s Vision
Directed by
Stephanie Black
In 2005, to
celebrate what would have been Bob Marley’s 60th
birthday, his widow,
Rita Marley, and several of Marley’s offspring
staged a gala concert in Addis Ababa, Ethiopia,
in celebration of the iconic reggae singer’s
commitment to African unity. In addition to the
concert, a week of Unicef-sponsored workshops,
discussions and debates took place, in which
delegates such as actor and human-rights activist
Danny Glover and controversial Jamaican
politician
Dudley
Thompson contemplated what it means to be an
African descendant outside Africa. Young people from
all over the continent also gathered to discuss
their own roles in Africa’s future.
Africa Unite: A Celebration of Bob Marley’s Vision
is
Stephanie Black’s documentary of the event.
Black has already given us the hard-hitting Life and
Debt, which explores the destructive impact of the
IMF and the
World Bank in Jamaica, and H-2 Worker, which
exposed the unbelievably exploitative situation
facing Jamaican sugarcane cutters in Florida. In
Africa Unite, she makes efforts to keep a
political-activist focus intact, which is difficult,
because much of the movie is devoted to bland
concert footage. But the film’s most heartening bits
come in testimony from the young Africans who will
themselves make up Africa’s next generation of
leaders. Also captivating is the sub-plot provided
by Bongo Tawney, a poor, elder Rasta who travels to
Ethiopia for the first time and who is visibly moved
by what he encounters there.
On the downside, the film is generally disjointed.
It is sometimes difficult to get a sense of how the
events unfolded, and of the exact significance of
each segment, as there is so much concert footage
interspersed. The concert footage itself does not
translate particularly well to the small screen; you
probably had to be there to understand the magnitude
of the concert, which lasted 12 hours and drew over
350,000 people. And no disrespect to Marley’s
children, but every time I’ve seen them live, I wish
they would leave their father’s work alone and
concentrate on their own talents. But needless to
say, as this concert was in celebration of Daddy’s
birthday, every one of the Marley boys presents a
classic number from the 70s, and for some reason,
each feels the need to remain on stage for the
entirety of his siblings’ performances, which only
adds to the dragging sense of what features here.
The bonus concert footage fares little better than
that on the main DVD, though a duet by Rita and
Marley’s mother is kind of sweet. In contrast, there
are illuminating, though brief, interviews with Rita
Marley and several of Bob’s sons, giving some
context to the proceedings in terms of their own
views on Africa in general and Ethiopia in
particular. In summary, although it’s hardly
essential viewing overall, Marley fans will probably
find something of interest.
Source: MepPublishers
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|
Africa Unite
By Bob Marley
Africa, Unite
'Cause we're moving right out of Babylon
And we're going to our father's land
How good and how pleasant it would be
Before GOD and man, yeah
To see the unification of all Africans, yeah
As it's been said already let it be done,
yeah
We are the children of the Rastaman
We are the children of the Higher Man
Africa, unite 'cause the children wanna come
home
Africa, unite 'cause we're moving right out
of Babylon
And we're grooving to our father's land
How good and how pleasant it would be
Before GOD and man
To see the unification of all Rastaman, yeah
As it's been said already let it be done
I tell you who we are under the sun
We are the children of the Rastaman
We are the children of the Higher Man
So, Africa, unite, Africa, unite
Unite for the benefit of your people
Unite for it's later than you think
Unite for the benefit of your children
Unite for it's later than you think
Africa awaits its creators, Africa awaiting
its creators
Africa, you're my forefather cornerstone
Unite for the Africans abroad, unite for the
Africans a yard
Africa, Unite |
* * * * *
 |
The Slave Ship
By Marcus Rediker
In this
groundbreaking work, historian and scholar
Rediker considers the relationships between
the slave ship captain and his crew, between
the sailors and the slaves, and among the
captives themselves as they endured the
violent, terror-filled and often deadly
journey between the coasts of Africa and
America. While he makes fresh use of those
who left their mark in written records (Olaudah
Equiano, James Field Stanfield, John
Newton), Rediker is remarkably attentive to
the experiences of the enslaved women, from
whom we have no written accounts, and of the
common seaman, who he says was a victim of
the slave trade . . . and a victimizer.
Regarding these vessels as a strange and
potent combination of war machine, mobile
prison, and factory, Rediker expands the
scholarship on how the ships not only
delivered millions of people to slavery,
[but] prepared them for it. He engages
readers in maritime detail (how ships were
made, how crews were fed) and renders the
archival (letters, logs and legal hearings)
accessible. Painful as this powerful book
often is, Rediker does not lose sight of the
humanity of even the most egregious
participants, from African traders to
English merchants.—
Publishers
Weekly |
Marcus Rediker
is professor of maritime history at the University of
Pittsburgh and the author of
Between the Devil and the Deep Blue Sea (1987),
The Many-Headed Hydra (2000), and
Villains of All Nations (2005), books that
explore seafaring, piracy, and the origins of
globalization. In The Slave Ship, Rediker
combines exhaustive research with an astute and highly
readable synthesis of the material, balancing
documentary snapshots with an ear for gripping
narrative. Critics compare the impact of Rediker’s
history, unique for its ship-deck perspective, to
similarly compelling fictional accounts of slavery in
Toni Morrison’s
Beloved and Charles Johnson’s
Middle Passage. Even scholars who have written
on the subject defer to Rediker’s vast knowledge of the
subject. Bottom line:
The Slave Ship is sure to become a
classic of its subject.— Bookmarks
Magazine
* * *
* *
|
When I Know the Power of My Black Hands
By Lance Jeffers
I do not know the power of my hand, I do not
know the power of my black hand.
I sit slumped in the conviction that I am
powerless,
tolerate ceilings that make me bend.
My godly mind stoops, my ambition is
crippled;
I do not know the power of my hand.
I see my children stunted,
my young men slaughtered,
I do not know the mighty power of my hand.
I see the power over my life and death in
another man's hands, and sometimes I shake
my woolly head and wonder:
Lord have mercy. What would it be like . . .
to be free?
But when I know the mighty power of my black
hand
I will snatch my freedom from the tyrant's
mouth, know the first taste of freedom on my
eager tongue, sing the miracle of freedom
with all the force
of my lungs,
christen my black land with exuberant
creation, stand independent in the hall of
nations, root submission and dependence from
the soil of my soul and pitch the monument
of slavery from my back when I know the
mighty power of my hand! |
ChickenBones Black Arts and Black Power Figures
*
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 |
Blacks in Hispanic Literature: Critical Essays
Edited by
Miriam DeCosta-Willis
Blacks in Hispanic Literature is a
collection of fourteen essays by scholars and
creative writers from Africa and the Americas.
Called one of two significant critical works on
Afro-Hispanic literature to appear in the late
1970s, it includes the pioneering studies of
Carter G. Woodson and
Valaurez B. Spratlin, published in the 1930s, as
well as the essays of scholars whose interpretations
were shaped by the Black aesthetic. The early
essays, primarily of the Black-as-subject in Spanish
medieval and Golden Age literature, provide an
historical context for understanding 20th-century
creative works by African-descended, Hispanophone
writers, such as Cuban
Nicolás Guillén and Ecuadorean poet, novelist,
and scholar
Adalberto Ortiz, whose essay analyzes the
significance of Negritude in Latin America. This
collaborative text set the tone for later
conferences in which writers and scholars worked
together to promote, disseminate, and critique the
literature of Spanish-speaking people of African
descent. . . .
Cited by a
literary critic in 2004 as "the seminal study in the
field of Afro-Hispanic Literature . . . on which
most scholars in the field 'cut their teeth'."
|
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|
Sister Citizen: Shame, Stereotypes, and Black Women in
America
By Melissa V.
Harris-Perry
According to the
author, this society has historically exerted
considerable pressure on black females to fit into one
of a handful of stereotypes, primarily, the Mammy, the
Matriarch or the Jezebel. The selfless
Mammy’s behavior is marked by a slavish devotion to
white folks’ domestic concerns, often at the expense of
those of her own family’s needs. By contrast, the
relatively-hedonistic Jezebel is a sexually-insatiable
temptress. And the Matriarch is generally thought of as
an emasculating figure who denigrates black men, ala the
characters Sapphire and Aunt Esther on the television
shows Amos and Andy and Sanford and Son, respectively.
Professor Perry
points out how the propagation of these harmful myths
have served the mainstream culture well. For instance,
the Mammy suggests that it is almost second nature for
black females to feel a maternal instinct towards
Caucasian babies.
As for the source
of the Jezebel, black women had no control over their
own bodies during slavery given that they were being
auctioned off and bred to maximize profits. Nonetheless,
it was in the interest of plantation owners to propagate
the lie that sisters were sluts inclined to mate
indiscriminately.
|
 |
* *
* * *
The White Masters of the
World
From
The World and Africa, 1965
By W. E. B. Du Bois
W. E. B. Du Bois’
Arraignment and Indictment of White Civilization
(Fletcher)
* *
* * *
Ancient African Nations
* * * * *
If you like this page consider making a donation
* * * * *
Negro Digest /
Black World
Browse all issues
1950
1960
1965
1970
1975
1980
1985
1990
1995
2000
____ 2005
Enjoy!
* * * * *
The Death of Emmett Till by Bob Dylan
/
The Lonesome Death of Hattie Carroll
/
Only a Pawn in Their Game
Rev. Jesse Lee Peterson Thanks America for
Slavery /
George Jackson /
Hurricane Carter
* *
* * *
The Journal of Negro History issues at Project Gutenberg
The
Haitian Declaration of Independence 1804
/
January 1, 1804 -- The Founding of
Haiti
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posted 30 August 2010
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