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In this article a republican from South Carolina States how he feels about racism and has experienced it firsthand. but understanding what he says makes you feel that he doesn't understand the concept of racism as a African American.

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South Carolina Republican Sen. Tim Scott shocked many people when, in response to President Joe Biden's congressional address, he stated that " America is not a racist country ." He admitted that he himself had experienced " the pain of discrimination, " and noted, " I know what it feels like to be pulled over for no reason, to be followed around a store while I'm shopping. " When asked o n ABC's Good Morning America the following day , Vice President Kamala Harris s eemed to agree with Scott when she s aid , "I don't think America is a racist country." Yet immediately following this sentence she quickly pointed out , "But we also do have to speak truth about the history of racism in our country and its existence today."

As Soledad O'Brien said, "It sounds like a racist country to me," in to Scott-but it seemingly applies to comments by Harris as well. President Biden, who seemed to not pull any punches during his speech, stated, "W e have a real chance to root out systemic racism that America ." However, Biden appeared to his remarks on The Today Show to align more with Harris and Scott (to a certain degree) by noting that slavery and Jim Crow laws had a cost.

It is almost as if simply saying America is not racist, but then turning the other cheek and saying it is racist in subtler terms and that racist things have been done to you makes it ok. It is confusing to Americans and the international community. To supporters, these comments are disappointing . To others, they were shocking. For me , the cognitive dissonance of some of our elected leaders is real and explainable . The re is an oversimplification of racism in America, because as sociologist Eduardo Bonilla-Silva notes, there can be systemic racism without racists.

W hen a person critique s America for the racism that i s deeply embedded in our social institutions, some feel they are being personally attacked. This is because deep down they realize that they benefit from unearned assets associated with whiteness. Scott, Harris, and Biden recognize this and try to balance these varying perspectives as they worry about voters nationally and in a state like South Carolina.

Recently, a at a city council meeting had a meltdown when trying to explain why she does not want critical race theory taught in her children's school. Florida Gov. Ron DeSantis said that s ystemic racism as a concept is " a bunch of horse manure ." So, not only has Florida made it legal to harm people protesting, but he banned teaching critical race theory in schools. For a deeper dive on critical race theory , people should read the work of sociologists Victor and Ted , who lay out why DeSantis' perspective is problematic .

I conducted with Matt Hunt on what predicts who believes they are middle class. For education, income, and occupational prestige, Black people are less likely to identify as middle class compared to whites with comparable levels of these socioeconomic outcomes. Why? It is because social class is not just about what a person looks like on paper , but how people experience social class in everyday life and t he deference that one receives for their socioeconomic status. Black people are less likely to get that deference, while white people are often afforded more. It is so commonplace for white people that some cannot fathom living without it. This is because many white people, particularly white people with lower levels of education and income, realize that comes with a premium that extends beyond economics to include cultural and social capital. As Pr esident Lyndon Johnson said, " If you can the lowest white man he's better than the best colored man, he won't notice you're picking his pocket. Hell, give him somebody to look down on, and h e'll empty his pockets for you."

Harris and Scotts' comments are puzzling at a broader level as well considering how much of a collective memory their experiences with racism are- Harris reliving her systemic experiences with bussing and Scott recounting the nearly 20 times he has been pulled over by police, where being an elected official potentially made the interaction worse.

These stories acknowledge that life is different if you are Black, and unfortunately systemic racism seems to ripple through our social institutions and into our daily social interactions, whether in Congress or at a coffee shop down the street from the Capitol. These type s of experiences-racialized cuts and hurdles- have a cumulative effect on . Sociologist s Pam Jackson and Jason Cummings' research documents that middle-class Blacks have worse health profiles than working-class whites. They attribute this difference to the daily racialized trauma experienced in predominately white environments like work and neighborhood settings.

Systemically, we know that Black people compared to whites are more likely to attend schools with less funding per student, less likely to obtain a job because of our "Black-sounding" name or even when attending an Ivy League university , less likely to obtain a (even when having the same credit score ), have their homes appraised for equitable value, more likely to experience pregnancy complications and maternal mortality , and more likely to have contact with police and the criminal justice system .

Systemic racism inhibits (rather than prohibits like in the past) people's ability to actualize all aspects of the American Dream. This occurs  even for highly-educated Black people with high incomes and no criminal record. In fact, research documents that white people with a criminal record are more likely to get called back for a job than Black people without one.

Research documents that hard work (or lack thereof ), intellect, or criminality do not explain these outcomes. Instead, it is the embedded deeply within our social institutions' , rules, regulations, and laws that segment people's experiences along racial lines. It is the same for gender. Women can achieve but have a much harder time doing so. If not, America would have had a woman vice president and speaker of the House sitting behind the p resident long before 2021.

What people do not seem to realize is that being upwardly mobile does not negate encountering racist hurdles on the pathway to success. Our current system is set up for some people to have to jump over hurdles to succeed, while others get to simply run to the finish line without those sa me racial hurdles. Rather , it is about whether the pathways to success are equitable . This is what America says it is: an equitable democracy. People are pushing for America to reach its true ideal s and the only way this can properly occur is acknowledging the systemic barriers that prevent us from getting there. Moreover, it is not that racial progress has not been made. It is that the United States has yet to make enough progress. In this regard, comment s of our top elected officials are disappointing, yet predictable.

Black people who succeed often walk on pins and needles because they realize that their success, and more so maintaining it, is precarious.   As a result, some Black people aim to make white pe ople feel comfortable. Many of us are mostly socialized to do so. I t is often a survival strategy for our lives during police encounters or economic survival in boardrooms. Some of us who succeed may experience "survivor's remorse" because we are some of the few to "make it." We actually embody the American Dream and become the in-person example to people who do not want to admit that systemic racism exists. We may even convince ourselves that racism is more prominent on the individual level than the institutional level. We simultaneously represent racial progress but are also most likely to be subjugated to racial discrimination because of the predominately white spaces we are embedded within. We experience a chronic form of double-consciousness   and admitting as such can often lead us to being conscious of the slow death we often experience through the cumulative racist cuts and hurdles we encounter.   The American Dream being achievable for a few does not absolve the system and an imperfect union, even when some of those successful people try to rationalize systemic racism away.

In most instances: When Black parents worry about their straight-A student's traffic encounters with the police more than they do a potential accident, this is because of experiences with racism. When a Black couple is about to have a baby and has to think consciously about what hospital to deliver in so they can obtain equitable care, this is racism. When a Black parent worries about their child attending a prestigious university outside of an urban area, this is often because of the racism they worry about them encountering driving to the school and even once physically on the campus of the school. And even more urban universities are not absolved from .

Systemic racism is not simply a thing of the past. It is up close and personal in the present.

R acism may be no more transparent in an institution with the least representative racial progress like the Senate. There have only been 11 Black senators in roughly 232 years. Clearly, the Senate is the exact space we need people with the courage to say the blunt, honest truth about our nation's past and present. Only then can we actualize a future where systemic racism does not exist. It is imperative for a , reconciliation, and reparative process to commence. This starts with atoning for the enslavement of of Africans whose descendants contin uously fall systemically behind , whether they end up being the lone Black Republican senator or a Black police officer who might have the power to pull him over.   We must have the courage to speak truth to power and one of the places it starts is in Congress.   "If not now, then when?"

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South Carolina Republican Sen. Tim Scott shocked many people when, in response to President Joe Biden's congressional address, he stated that " America is not a racist country ." He admitted that he himself had experienced " the pain of discrimination, " and noted, " I know what it feels like to be pulled over for no reason, to be followed around a store while I'm shopping.

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In this article the statement given by Joe Biden can be taken and many different ways.  and many can agree on what he said, but on top of that we have to also see how people each other because of the color of their skin.

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Greetings Recast family! It just keeps happening. Even with a renewed push for criminal justice reform on the federal level, Black and brown people continue to die at the hands of police with astonishing frequency. On Monday, loved ones laid to rest Andrew Brown Jr., who was killed by sheriff's deputies in Elizabeth City, N.C., last month. Police have yet to release the complete body camera footage. And on April 19, Mario Gonzalez died in the Los Angeles area. In this case, police released the video. Gonzalez did not seem to pose a threat to officers, one of whom appears to use a knee to pin him down for several minutes. Gonzalez gasps for air - and later dies. Is there any end in sight? Let's jump in.
"America is not a racist country."

That's the phrase du jour parroted by the nation's highest elected officials, thanks to South Carolina's Tim Scott.
Now, any politician facing the cameras has to answer the question: Is America a racist country?
And when answering that question, inexplicably, the nation's top two elected officials and the dean of South Carolina's congressional delegation all follow the Republican's script.

"No, I don't think America is a racist country," Vice President Kamala Harris told ABC News, adding, "but we also do have to speak truth about the history of racism in our country and its existence today."

Then there's President Joe Biden: "No, I don't think the American people are racist," Biden said last week. "But I think after 400 years African Americans have been left in a position where they're so far behind the eight ball in terms of education, health, in terms of opportunity."

And right on cue, there was Rep. Jim Clyburn (D-S.C.), the House Majority Whip: "We should stop arguing about whether or not this is a racist country. It is not," , adding if it were, then neither former President Obama or Harris would have been elected to their respective offices.

None of it makes sense.

The election of two biracial politicians to the highest offices in the land doesn't eradicate the racial biases that permeate so many facets of American life - from education, to the criminal justice system, to health disparities to access to capital.
Even Scott admitted in an interview over the weekend that he's been stopped by police for Driving While Black, by his count, 18 times.
So with all that, how is it that nearly three quarters of Americans agreed the guilty verdict of former Minneapolis police officer Derek Chauvin was the correct outcome, but America's top officials seem incapable of holding a nuanced conversation about the role systemic racism plays in our country?

Or are Democrats siding with Scott for pragmatic reasons?

The party is desperate not to squander the momentum from the Chauvin verdict as it pushes for a federal police reform overhaul. Leaders know that with slim margins in the House and a 50-50 tie in the Senate, any reform has to go through Scott.

And if the filibuster remains in place, the only way to achieve that is to keep him engaged - and remain hopeful that he can persuade nine other Republicans to join him.

We'll keep tabs to see how it all plays out. But one thing is clear: A robust discussion of American-style racism, at least among current elected officials, is not happening anytime soon.

All the best,
The Recast Team

Power dynamics are changing. With The Recast, you'll get a twice-weekly breakdown of how race and identity are the DNA of American politics and policy. Stay tuned for fresh analysis, scoops and new voices.

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A newly released poll shows pretty stark divides between Black and white adults on policing.

The Benenson Strategy Group survey found that a majority of Americans don't consider police highly integral to public safety. They'd like to redirect funds to other areas, like youth recreation and deescalation training.

But Black adults were more likely than their white counterparts to say it's "very important" police are filmed by bystanders, use body cameras and held more accountable for excessive force.

By comparison, white adults were more likely than Black respondents to say it's "very important" police should be well-funded and armed.

President Biden urged lawmakers to pass police reform by the anniversary of George Floyd's murder later this month. Less than 24 hours later, Scott, Rep. Karen Bass (D-Calif.), and Sens. Cory Booker (D-N.J.), Dick Durbin (D-Ill.) and Lindsey Graham (R-S.C.) and others were negotiating behind closed doors.

While both sides remain optimistic a deal can get done, those reading the tea leaves on police reform talks are less bullish. Monica Bell teaches at Yale and has written extensively on sociology, law and policing. Isaiah McKinnon is a former chief of the Detroit Police Department and also formerly served as that city's deputy mayor.
This interview has been edited for length and clarity.
THE RECAST: What did you make of all these politicians declaring America was not racist? Do you think Democrats wanted to provide cover so talks could continue on police reform? Or is it that if you are a high-ranking elected official, you simply can't come out and say America is racist?

MONICA BELL: I think both are true. Across the spectrum, saying that America is racist is read by people saying that Americans are racist. We don't have a good way in our society of thinking about the difference between structural and systemic racism and individual racism. This is the big problem. So all of them have to separate themselves from that narrative. And so, yeah, I think it plays two roles. [The other] is to try to get Tim Scott to move and to provide cover on some of the police reform stuff.

THE RECAST: Is police reform possible without a change in qualified immunity? Certainly progressives and activists that are trying to push lawmakers on this and likely won't be satisfied with anything less than altering qualified immunity.

ISAIAH MCKINNON: I don't know if this Congress is going to approve removing qualified immunity. I think that the unions and others will be so powerful they won't let that go.

MONICA BELL : I understand why for some progressives qualified immunity is a sticking point. I would just encourage us to not fetishize qualified immunity and to instead come back with a bolder agenda when the politics are ready for it.

In May 2020, Intel announced ambitions for the next decade to accelerate the integration of responsible, inclusive, and sustainable practices and innovative approaches in its operations and supply chain, across the technology industry, and beyond. This week, Intel released its 2020-21 Corporate Responsibility Report which provides detail on Intel's 2030 RISE strategy and goals, including progress made since they were launched a year ago. Read more at https://www.intel.com/responsibility

THE RECAST: Do you think the politics of this moment that it's possible to get Scott and nine other Republicans to sign on to a bill to pass a police overhaul bill?

MONICA BELL: I think it is possible. There is a narrative that is robust right now that to support police reform is the same thing as supporting and being a part of Black Lives Matter, which is the same thing as hating the police. I think Tim Scott needs to work to try to separate out those views [for his colleagues]. And the real question is whether enough Republican senators have the room to be able to adopt [that] sort of message.

ISAIAH MCKINNON: I don't think there's a meaningful path. I think if they were serious, they would look at having a national standard of law enforcement agencies.

I hope that this is a true calling for change in America. But when we see people saying there's no racism ... it'll slide back under the covers and nothing will happen.

The fastest-growing and yet, the most poorly represented: Meet the Asian American and Pacific Islander population.

Our very own Rishika Dugyala got the exclusive on a new report from the Reflective Democracy Campaign. It reveals that - as of mid-2020 - AAPI people account for just 0.9 percent of all elected leaders, but make up 6.1 percent of the U.S. population.

Even among states with high Asian concentrations (think New York, California, Nevada), representation drops off. There's only one state that can claim its share of AAPI elected leaders is nearly equivalent to its population: Hawaii.

When it comes to the criminal justice sector, the lack of AAPI representation is ... particularly stark. Overpolicing and deportation are key issues for Native Hawaiians, Pacific Islanders and Southeast Asians - but by mid-2020, just 0.24 percent of elected prosecutors and 0.07 percent of county sheriffs identified as AAPI.

Given ongoing conversations of police reform, the rise of AAPI political sway and the rise of pandemic-related hate crimes, the report is a step toward more data transparency on a much-discussed and wide-ranging demographic group, said Brenda Choresi Carter, the Reflective Democracy Campaign's director.

"Voters, regardless of party identification, really want to see reflective leadership," Choresi Carter said. "Political power has been concentrated in the hands of white men in the United States since the very beginning. And I think we are seeing the limitations of that."
Read more here.
Groups Push Biden Administration on "Good Data" - Nearly a dozen racial justice advocacy groups (including the NAACP, the Asian and Pacific Islander American Health Forum and the National Conference of American Indians) sent a proposal to the White House on Monday. They want the Biden administration to form an Equitable Data Working Group to adopt standard definitions of race/ethnicity across federal agencies, encourage community involvement in data collection and mandate transparency at levels of government.

Without this data, they argue, "localities, states and even the federal government are less able and less accountable for responding appropriately to the full scope of the problem."

What's the play? Dems Confused on Voting Rights Strategy - Constrained by both the filibuster rules in a 50-50 split Senate and disagreement within their own ranks, Democrats set out to chart a path forward on voting rights legislation. POLITICO's Burgess Everett and Marianne LeVine report some are questioning the strategy moving forward.

A McAuliffe Win Means Thwarting History - Terry McAuliffe is opening a wide lead in his quest to be the first governor to win a second term in Virginia since 1973. POLITICO's Maya King reports: "Democratic primary voters in Virginia have prioritized pragmatism over racial representation." In other words, if any other Democrat were to topple McAuliffe for the party's nomination - in particular two who many feel have the chops to become the nation's first Black female governor - time is running out to make a move. The party primary is June 8.

Caitlyn Weighs In - Former Olympian and reality-TV star Caitlyn Jenner raised some eyebrows over the weekend for her stance on transgender girls participating in amateur sports. POLITICO's Quint Forgey reports her remarks come less than two weeks after Jenner announced her candidacy to challenge California's Democratic Gov. Gavin Newsom. She's not backing down in the face of controversy, either.

On this day 60 years ago, May 4, 1961, the original Freedom Riders - 13 white and Black activists from the Congress of Racial Equality (CORE) and Student Non-Violent Coordinating Committee (SNCC ) departed Washington, D.C. The group, which included the young John Lewis, was on a mission to test whether states in the Jim Crow South were adhering to the Boynton v. Virginia Supreme Court decision that ruled segregation of busing terminals and other ports of interstate transportation was unconstitutional.

Among those "tests" the Freedom Riders would conduct were to use whites-only waiting rooms and lunch counters, and for whites and Blacks to sit together on the bus as it drove through the South.

Intel has a long history of transparency, driving global impact and value through corporate responsibility as well as focusing on integrating environmental, social and governance strategies across its business. In May 2020, the company announced ambitionsfor the next decade to accelerate the integration of responsible, inclusive, and sustainable practices and innovative approaches in its operations and supply chain, across the technology industry, and beyond. This week, Intel released its 2020-21 Corporate Responsibility Report which provides detail on this strategy, including progress made over the past year. For example, Intel increased renewable energy use from 71% to 82% and conserved 7.1 billion gallons of water in 2020. Additionally, it launched the Alliance for Global Inclusion to drive collective impact in four key areas: leadership representation, inclusive language, inclusive product development, and STEM readiness in underserved communities. Initial members include Intel, Dell Technologies, Nasdaq, NTT DATA, and Snap Inc. Learn more at https://www.intel.com/responsibility

The Freedom Rides grew in size and at one point had more than 400 participants. Angry white mobs attacked them with rocks and bricks. They even firebombed a bus.

In Rock Hill, S.C., Lewis and two others were beaten for entering a whites-only waiting room. Nearly half a century later, one of the white attackers, Elwin Wilson, apologized to Lewis.

The American Constitution Society is holding an event exploring "our Constitution's establishment of a racial caste system." The panel, "Founding Failures: Reckoning with Our Constitution's Generational Impacts on Health and Well-Being," starts at 3 p.m. ET today. Sign up here.

The Atlantic is out with its second installment of a multiyear project called " Inheritance," which focuses on Black contributions to shaping American culture. Two features explore the future of Black history and what lessons can be learned from the nation's first Black inhabitants.

We recommended Jhumpa Lahiri's new book a few weeks ago - but we're back to recommend this profile of the iconic author by BuzzFeed's Scaachi Koul.

Check out this project from NBC News with generations of Asian Americans and Pacific Islanders talking about the discrimination they've experienced. It attaches faces to names, to stories - and is well worth the read.

For this month's issue of Harper's Bazaar, Yo-Yo Ma curated a playlist themed around beauty. It's an eclectic mix of classical (Pablo Casals playing Bach), country (Rhiannon Giddens) and classic (Stevie Wonder). Worth a listen, for sure.

We're big fans of Lion Babe, the musical duo helmed by Jillian Hervey (daughter of Vanessa Williams) and Lucas Goodman. (So good when you're on deadline and you need some musical inspiration to bang things out.) Their latest song, "Frida Kahlo," is one big ol' dose of happy. So is the video.

Finally, we know the week *just* started but... ugh Zoom.

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Greetings Recast family! It just keeps happening. Even with a renewed push for criminal justice reform on the federal level, Black and brown people continue to die at the hands of police with astonishing frequency. On Monday, loved ones laid to rest Andrew Brown Jr., who was killed by sheriff's deputies in Elizabeth City, N.C., last month.

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In this article, it states that in Donald Trump's presidency the issue of racism has actually gotten worse. and how around only 13% of people think it got better.

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Pew Research Center's Social & Demographic Trends Project

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For updated findings on views about racial inequality in the U.S., see "Amid National Reckoning, Americans Divided on Whether Increased Focus on Race Will Lead to Major Policy Change."
More than 150 years after the 13th Amendment abolished slavery in the United States, most U.S. adults say the legacy of slavery continues to have an impact on the position of black people in American society today. More than four-in-ten say the country hasn't made enough progress toward racial equality, and there is some skepticism, particularly among blacks, that black people will ever have equal rights with whites, according to a new Pew Research Center survey.

Opinions about the current state of race relations - and President Donald Trump's handling of the issue - are also negative. About six-in-ten Americans (58%) say race relations in the U.S. are bad, and of those, few see them improving. Some 56% think the president has made race relations worse; just 15% say he has improved race relations and another 13% say he has tried but failed to make progress on this issue. In addition, roughly two-thirds say it's become more common for people to express racist views since Trump became president.

Blacks are particularly gloomy about the country's racial progress. More than eight-in-ten black adults say the legacy of slavery affects the position of black people in America today, including 59% who say it affects it a great deal. About eight-in-ten blacks (78%) say the country hasn't gone far enough when it comes to giving black people equal rights with whites, and fully half say it's unlikely that the country will eventually achieve racial equality.

Americans see disadvantages for blacks and Hispanics in the U.S. A majority of all adults (56%) say being black hurts people's ability to get ahead at least a little, and 51% say the same about being Hispanic. In contrast, 59% say being white helps people's ability to get ahead. Views about the impact of being Asian or Native American are more mixed.

Blacks, Hispanics and Asians are more likely than whites to say being white helps people's ability to get ahead at least a little. Among whites, those who are more educated, as well as those who identify with or lean toward the Democratic Party, are particularly likely to see advantages to being white.

The nationally representative survey of 6,637 adults was conducted online Jan. 22-Feb. 5, 2019, in English and Spanish, using Pew Research Center's American Trends Panel. In addition to exploring the public's views about the state of race relations and racial inequality in America, the survey also looks at personal experiences with racial and ethnic discrimination and the role race plays in people's lives. Among the report's key findings:

Most Americans say it's now more common for people to express racist or racially insensitive views; more than four-in-ten say it's more acceptable

Most Americans (65%) - including majorities across racial and ethnic groups - say it has become more common for people to express racist or racially insensitive views since Trump was elected president. A smaller but substantial share (45%) say this has become more acceptable.

Democrats and those who lean Democratic are more likely than Republicans and Republican leaners to say it has become more common and more acceptable for people to express racist and racially insensitive views since Trump was elected president. Among Democrats, 84% say this is now more common and 64% say it's more acceptable; fewer than half of Republicans say it has become more common (42%) and just 22% say it has become more acceptable for people to express these types of views.

Views of Trump's handling of race relations are far more negative than views of how Obama handled the issue

A majority of Americans (56%) say Trump has made race relations worse; just 15% say he has made progress toward improving race relations, while 13% say he has tried but failed to make progress and 14% say he hasn't addressed this issue. In contrast, 37% say Barack Obama made progress on race relations when he was president, and 27% say he tried but failed. A quarter of Americans say Obama made race relations worse. These retrospective views of Obama's handling of race relations are nearly identical to views expressed during Obama's last year in office.

Not surprisingly, assessments of Trump's and Obama's handling of race relations differ considerably along partisan lines. Democrats overwhelmingly say Trump has made race relations worse (84%), including large shares of black (79%) and white (86%) Democrats. Views are more divided among Republicans. About a third of Republicans (34%) say Trump has improved race relations and 25% say he has tried but failed to make progress; 19% of Republicans say he hasn't addressed the issue, while 20% say he has made race relations worse.

When it comes to views of Obama's handling of race relations, 55% of Democrats say he improved race relations during his presidency; just 8% say he made things worse. In contrast, 51% of Republicans say Obama made race relations worse, while 14% say he made progress toward improving it. As is the case with views of Trump's handling of race relations, white and black Democrats offer somewhat similar assessments of how Obama handled this issue when he was president.

Republicans and Democrats have vastly different views on race

In addition to being linked to views of Trump's handling of race relations, partisanship is strongly associated with racial attitudes more broadly. In fact, after controlling for other factors, partisanship has a greater association with views about the country's racial progress than demographic factors, though being young and more educated are also significant predictors, particularly among whites.

Because whites and nonwhites often have widely different views of racial issues, and nonwhites disproportionately identify with or lean to the Democratic Party, gaps between Republicans and Democrats are often shown among whites in this report in order to account for differences in the racial composition of the two parties.

White Democrats (64%) are far more likely than white Republicans (15%) to say the country hasn't gone far enough when it comes to giving black people equal rights with whites. About half of Republicans say it's been about right, while a sizable minority (31%) says the country has gone too far in this regard.

Eight-in-ten white Democrats - vs. 40% of white Republicans - say the legacy of slavery continues to have an impact on black people's position in American society today. And when it comes to views about racial discrimination, 78% of white Democrats say the bigger problem is people not seeing it where it really does exist, while a similar share of white Republicans say people seeing racial discrimination where it really does not exist is the bigger problem.

Blacks are more likely than other groups to say their race has had a negative impact on their ability to get ahead; whites are the most likely to say their race helped them

About half of black adults (52%) say being black has hurt their ability to get ahead at least a little, with 18% saying it has hurt a lot. About a quarter of Hispanics and Asians (24% each) and just 5% of whites say their race or ethnicity has had a negative impact. In turn, whites are more likely than other groups to say their racial background has helped them at least a little.

Among blacks, those with at least some college experience are more likely than those with less education to say being black has hurt their ability to get ahead.

Education is also linked with whites' perceptions of the impact their race has had on their ability to get ahead. Small shares of whites across educational levels say their racial background has hurt their ability to succeed, but those with a bachelor's degree are more likely than those with less education to say being white helped them at least a little.

Across all racial and ethnic groups, more point to their own hard work than to any other attribute, including their race, their gender, the people they know or their family's financial situation, as something that helped them get ahead.

Blacks, whites differ in assessments of why it may be harder for black people to get ahead

Whether or not they see their race as an obstacle for them personally, about two-thirds of blacks (68%) say being black generally hurts a person's ability to get ahead in the country; 55% of whites say the same.

Among those who say being black hurts a person's ability to get ahead, blacks are far more likely than whites to point to racial discrimination, less access to high-paying jobs and less access to good schools as major reasons why this is the case. In turn, whites are more likely than blacks to point to family instability and lack of good role models as major obstacles for black people. The same shares in both groups (22%) say a lack of motivation to work hard is to blame.

There are wide partisan gaps in these views. Most white Democrats who say being black hurts a person's ability to succeed point to racial discrimination (70%) and less access to good schools (75%) or high-paying jobs (64%) as major reasons for this (among black Democrats, the shares are 86%, 74% and 78%, respectively). By comparison, about a third or fewer white Republicans say these are major obstacles for blacks. White Republicans are more likely than white Democrats to cite family instability, lack of good role models and a lack of motivation to work hard.

Majorities of black and white adults say blacks are treated less fairly than whites in dealing with police and by the criminal justice system

Black and white adults have widely different perceptions of how blacks are treated in America, but majorities of both groups say blacks are treated less fairly than whites by the criminal justice system (87% of blacks vs. 61% of whites) and in dealing with police (84% vs. 63%, respectively).

About six-in-ten blacks or more - but fewer than half of whites - say blacks are treated less fairly than whites in hiring, pay and promotions; when applying for a loan or mortgage; in stores or restaurants; when voting in elections; and when seeking medical treatment. In each of these realms, whites tend to say blacks and whites are treated about equally; very small shares say whites are treated less fairly than blacks.

Across these different areas, there are gaps ranging from 39 to 53 percentage points in how white Democrats and white Republicans see the treatment of blacks in the U.S. About half or more white Democrats say blacks are treated less fairly than whites in dealing with the police (88% vs. 43% of white Republicans); by the criminal justice system (86% vs. 39%); in hiring, pay and promotions (72% vs. 21%); when applying for a mortgage or loan (64% vs. 17%); in stores or restaurants (62% vs. 16%); when voting in elections (60% vs. 7%); and when seeking medical treatment (48% vs. 9%).

In some of these areas, black and white Democrats express similar views, but larger shares of black Democrats say black people are treated less fairly than whites in employment situations (86%), when applying for a loan or mortgage (78%), in stores or restaurants (73%), and when seeking medical treatment (61%).

Seven-in-ten U.S. adults say they, personally, think it's never acceptable for a white person to use the N-word; 13% say this is rarely acceptable and about one-in-ten say it is always (3%) or sometimes (6%) acceptable for a white person to use the N-word. Roughly seven-in-ten whites and blacks say this is never acceptable.

A smaller share of Hispanics (58%) say it's never acceptable for a white person to use the N-word, but this is driven in part by the relatively large share of foreign-born Hispanics (28%) who say they are not sure whether it's acceptable for a white person to use the N-word. Among Hispanics born in the U.S., 67% say this is never acceptable.

When it comes to black people using the N-word, about four-in-ten adults - including similar shares of blacks and whites - say they, personally, think it is never acceptable; 15% say it is rarely acceptable and about a third say it's always (13%) or sometimes (20%) acceptable for black people to use the N-word.

Most black adults say being black is extremely or very important to how they think about themselves

Blacks are more likely than Hispanics or Asians - and much more likely than whites - to say that their race is central to their identity. About three-quarters of black adults say being black is extremely (52%) or very (22%) important to how they think of themselves; 59% of Hispanics and 56% of Asians say being Hispanic or Asian, respectively, is at least very important to their overall identity, with about three-in-ten in each group saying it's extremely important. In contrast, just 15% of whites say being white is very or extremely important to how they think of themselves; about two-thirds say it's either only a little important (18%) or not important at all (47%).

Whites and blacks younger than 30 are less likely than their older counterparts to say their race is at least very important to their overall identity. Some 64% of black adults ages 18 to 29 say being black is at least very important, compared with roughly three-quarters or more among older age groups. And while relatively few whites across age groups say being white is central to how they think about themselves, whites younger than 30 are among the least likely to say so.

Among Hispanics, those born abroad are more likely than those born in the U.S. to say being Hispanic is at least very important to how they think of themselves (65% vs. 52%).

Majorities of blacks, Hispanics and Asians say they have experienced discrimination because of their race or ethnicity

About three-quarters of blacks and Asians (76% of each) - and 58% of Hispanics - say they have experienced discrimination or have been treated unfairly because of their race or ethnicity at least from time to time. In contrast, about two-thirds of whites (67%) say they've never experienced this.

When asked about specific situations they may have experienced because of their race or ethnicity, blacks are considerably more likely than whites, Hispanics or Asians to say that people have acted as if they were suspicious of them; people have acted as if they thought they weren't smart; they have been treated unfairly by an employer in hiring, pay or promotion; or they have been unfairly stopped by police. Hispanics and Asians are more likely than whites to say each of these have happened to them.

Asians are more likely than any other group to say they have been subject to slurs or jokes because of their race or ethnicity. In turn, more whites than blacks, Hispanics or Asians say people have assumed they were prejudiced or racist; 45% of whites have had this experience.

For Hispanics, skin color is associated with experiences with discrimination

The survey asked black and Hispanic respondents to identify the skin tone that best resembles their own using a modified version of the Massey-Martin scale. A multivariate analysis suggests that Hispanics with darker skin tones are more likely than those with lighter skin to say they have ever experienced discrimination or been treated unfairly because of their race or ethnicity. Darker skin color is also associated with a higher likelihood among Hispanics of saying that - because of their race or ethnicity - people have acted as if they were suspicious of them, people have acted as if they thought they weren't smart, they have been treated unfairly in employment situations, they have subject to slurs or jokes, and that they have feared for their safety.

Among blacks, those with darker skin tones are more likely to say they have experienced racial discrimination generally, but skin color is not necessarily associated with having faced specific situations because of their race or ethnicity. In fact, for blacks, being male and having higher levels of education are more consistently associated with the specific forms of discrimination asked about in the survey.

A note about the Asian sample

This survey includes an oversample of Asian respondents, for a total sample size of 332 Asians. The sample includes English-speaking Asians only and, therefore, may not be representative of the overall U.S. Asian population (66% of our weighted Asian sample was born in another country, compared with 78% of the U.S. Asian adult population overall).

Despite this limitation, it is important to report the views of Asians on race relations and racial inequality, as well as their personal experiences with racial discrimination, as the U.S. Asian population is growing faster than any other major racial or ethnic group. Measuring the attitudes of Asians on these topics is an important piece in understanding the state of race in America today.

As always, Asians' responses are incorporated into the general population figures throughout this report; data are weighted to be representative of the U.S. adult population as a whole. Asians are shown as a separate group when the question was asked of the full sample. Because of the relatively small sample size and a reduction in precision due to weighting, results are not shown separately for Asians for questions that were only asked of a random half of respondents (Form 1/Form 2) or some filtered questions. We are also not able to analyze Asian respondents by demographic categories, such as gender, age or education.

Terminology

References to whites, blacks and Asians include only those who are non-Hispanic and identify as only one race. Hispanics are of any race.

All references to party affiliation include those who lean toward that party: Republicans include those who identify as Republicans and independents who say they lean toward the Republican Party, and Democrats include those who identify as Democrats and independents who say they lean toward the Democratic Party.

References to college graduates or people with a college degree comprise those with a bachelor's degree or more. "Some college" includes those with an associate degree and those who attended college but did not obtain a degree. "High school" refers to those who have a high school diploma or its equivalent, such as a General Education Development (GED) certificate.

Foreign born refers to people born outside of the United States, Puerto Rico or other U.S. territories to parents neither of whom was a U.S. citizen, regardless of legal status.

U.S. born refers to individuals who are U.S. citizens at birth, including people born in the United States, Puerto Rico or other U.S. territories, as well as those born elsewhere to parents who were U.S. citizens.

This report has been corrected to address an error in the classification of Asian respondents. In this corrected report, Asian estimates are based on 332 respondents who self-identified as Asian or Asian American only. An earlier version of this report provided Asian estimates based on 355 respondents, which properly included the 332 single-race Asian respondents but also included 23 respondents who identified as Native Hawaiian or other Pacific Islander or both Asian and Native Hawaiian or other Pacific Islander. This correction did not affect any of the substantive conclusions of the study. Some estimates for Asians changed by 1 to 3 percentage points.

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Juliana Menasce Horowitz, Anna Brown and Kiana Cox

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Most Americans (65%) - including majorities across racial and ethnic groups - say it has become more common for people to express racist or racially insensitive views since Trump was elected president.

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In black history the phrase 40 acres and a mule was set to be the start of Promised Land. but in reality it was a trick to giving African-Americans land that they couldn't pay for, because they never made money from when they were slaves.

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The African Americans: Many Rivers to Cross

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We've all heard the story of the "40 acres and a mule" promise to former slaves. It's a staple of black history lessons, and it's the name of Spike Lee's film company. The promise was the first systematic attempt to provide a form of reparations to newly freed slaves, and it was astonishingly radical for its time, proto-socialist in its implications. In fact, such a policy would be radical in any country today: the federal government's massive confiscation of private property - some 400,000 acres - formerly owned by Confederate land owners, and its methodical redistribution to former black slaves. What most of us haven't heard is that the idea really was generated by black leaders themselves.

It is difficult to stress adequately how revolutionary this idea was: As the historian Eric Foner puts it in his book, Reconstruction: America's Unfinished Revolution, 1863-1877, "Here in coastal South Carolina and Georgia, the prospect beckoned of a transformation of Southern society more radical even than the end of slavery." Try to imagine how profoundly different the history of race relations in the United States would have been had this policy been implemented and enforced; had the former slaves actually had access to the ownership of land, of property; if they had had a chance to be self-sufficient economically, to build, accrue and pass on wealth. After all, one of the principal promises of America was the possibility of average people being able to own land, and all that such ownership entailed. As we know all too well, this promise was not to be realized for the overwhelming majority of the nation's former slaves, who numbered about 3.9 million.

What Exactly Was Promised?

We have been taught in school that the source of the policy of "40 acres and a mule" was Union General William T. Sherman's Special Field Order No. 15, issued on Jan. 16, 1865. (That account is half-right: Sherman prescribed the 40 acres in that Order, but not the mule. The mule would come later.) But what many accounts leave out is that this idea for massive land redistribution actually was the result of a discussion that Sherman and Secretary of War Edwin M. Stanton held four days before Sherman issued the Order, with 20 leaders of the black community in Savannah, Ga., where Sherman was headquartered following his famous March to the Sea. The meeting was unprecedented in American history.

Today, we commonly use the phrase "40 acres and a mule," but few of us have read the Order itself. Three of its parts are relevant here. Section one bears repeating in full: "The islands from Charleston, south, the abandoned rice fields along the rivers for thirty miles back from the sea, and the country bordering the St. Johns river, Florida, are reserved and set apart for the settlement of the negroes [sic] now made free by the acts of war and the proclamation of the President of the United States."

Section two specifies that these new communities, moreover, would be governed entirely by black people themselves: " ... on the islands, and in the settlements hereafter to be established, no white person whatever, unless military officers and soldiers detailed for duty, will be permitted to reside; and the sole and exclusive management of affairs will be left to the freed people themselves ... By the laws of war, and orders of the President of the United States, the negro [sic] is free and must be dealt with as such."

Finally, section three specifies the allocation of land: " ... each family shall have a plot of not more than (40) acres of tillable ground, and when it borders on some water channel, with not more than 800 feet water front, in the possession of which land the military authorities will afford them protection, until such time as they can protect themselves, or until Congress shall regulate their title."

With this Order, 400,000 acres of land - "a strip of coastline stretching from Charleston, South Carolina, to the St. John's River in Florida, including Georgia's Sea Islands and the mainland thirty miles in from the coast," as Barton Myers reports - would be redistributed to the newly freed slaves. The extent of this Order and its larger implications are mind-boggling, actually.

Who Came Up With the Idea?

Here's how this radical proposal - which must have completely blown the minds of the rebel Confederates - actually came about. The abolitionists Charles Sumner and Thaddeus Stevens and other Radical Republicans had been actively advocating land redistribution "to break the back of Southern slaveholders' power," as Myers observed. But Sherman's plan only took shape after the meeting that he and Stanton held with those black ministers, at 8:00 p.m., Jan. 12, on the second floor of Charles Green's mansion on Savannah's Macon Street. In its broadest strokes, "40 acres and a mule" was their idea.

Stanton, aware of the great historical significance of the meeting, presented Henry Ward Beecher (Harriet Beecher Stowe's famous brother) a verbatim transcript of the discussion, which Beecher read to his congregation at New York's Plymouth Church and which the New York Daily Tribune printed in full in its Feb. 13, 1865, edition. Stanton told Beecher that "for the first time in the history of this nation, the representatives of the government had gone to these poor debased people to ask them what they wanted for themselves." Stanton had suggested to Sherman that they gather "the leaders of the local Negro community" and ask them something no one else had apparently thought to ask: "What do you want for your own people" following the war? And what they wanted astonishes us even today.

Who were these 20 thoughtful leaders who exhibited such foresight? They were all ministers, mostly Baptist and Methodist. Most curious of all to me is that 11 of the 20 had been born free in slave states, of which 10 had lived as free men in the Confederacy during the course of the Civil War. (The other one, a man named James Lynch, was born free in Maryland, a slave state, and had only moved to the South two years before.) The other nine ministers had been slaves in the South who became "contraband," and hence free, only because of the Emancipation Proclamation, when Union forces liberated them.

Their chosen leader and spokesman was a Baptist minister named Garrison Frazier, aged 67, who had been born in Granville, N.C., and was a slave until 1857, "when he purchased freedom for himself and wife for $1000 in gold and silver," as the New York Daily Tribune reported. Rev. Frazier had been "in the ministry for thirty-five years," and it was he who bore the responsibility of answering the 12 questions that Sherman and Stanton put to the group. The stakes for the future of the Negro people were high.

And Frazier and his brothers did not disappoint. What did they tell Sherman and Stanton that the Negro most wanted? Land! "The way we can best take care of ourselves," Rev. Frazier began his answer to the crucial third question, "is to have land, and turn it and till it by our own labor ... and we can soon maintain ourselves and have something to spare ... We want to be placed on land until we are able to buy it and make it our own." And when asked next where the freed slaves "would rather live - whether scattered among the whites or in colonies by themselves," without missing a beat, Brother Frazier (as the transcript calls him) replied that "I would prefer to live by ourselves, for there is a prejudice against us in the South that will take years to get over ... " When polled individually around the table, all but one - James Lynch, 26, the man who had moved south from Baltimore - said that they agreed with Frazier. Four days later, Sherman issued Special Field Order No. 15, after President Lincoln approved it.

What Became of the Land That Was Promised?

The response to the Order was immediate. When the transcript of the meeting was reprinted in the black publication Christian Recorder, an editorial note intoned that "From this it will be seen that the colored people down South are not so dumb as many suppose them to be," reflecting North-South, slave-free black class tensions that continued well into the modern civil rights movement. The effect throughout the South was electric: As Eric Foner explains, "the freedmen hastened to take advantage of the Order." Baptist minister Ulysses L. Houston, one of the group that had met with Sherman, led 1,000 blacks to Skidaway Island, Ga., where they established a self-governing community with Houston as the "black governor." And by June, "40,000 freedmen had been settled on 400,000 acres of 'Sherman Land.' " By the way, Sherman later ordered that the army could lend the new settlers mules; hence the phrase, "40 acres and a mule."

And what happened to this astonishingly visionary program, which would have fundamentally altered the course of American race relations? Andrew Johnson, Lincoln's successor and a sympathizer with the South, overturned the Order in the fall of 1865, and, as Barton Myers sadly concludes, "returned the land along the South Carolina, Georgia and Florida coasts to the planters who had originally owned it" - to the very people who had declared war on the United States of America.
Fifty of the 100 Amazing Facts will be published on The African Americans: Many Rivers to Cross website. Read all 100 Facts on The Root.

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The Truth Behind '40 Acres and a Mule' | African American History Blog | The African Americans: Many Rivers to Cross

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This revolutionary idea became a failed promise to freed slaves after the Civil War.

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This basically States how Juneteenth( the African American Independence Day) Forty Acres and a Mule was a trick.

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For many Black Americans, Juneteenth is a day of celebration. Observed on June 19 th, the holiday commemorates the day that the last slaves were freed in the United States in 1865 - two-and-a-half years after President Abraham Lincoln ordered their independence with the Emancipation Proclamation and two months after the Confederate army surrendered.

There is certainly a great deal to celebrate: liberation, centuries of strength and resilience, and significant cultural, artistic, and scientific achievement. But the day is also a reminder of the systemic oppression and relentless suffering the Black community has endured both in slavery and in freedom as well as countless broken promises of justice and equality.

Union General William T. Sherman's plan to give newly-freed families "forty acres and a mule" was among the first and most significant promises made - and broken - to African Americans. As the Union army gradually took over Confederate territory, there was a question as to what freedom really meant for emancipated slaves. Without property, money, or an education, most did not have a clear or immediate path toward economic independence.

Sherman, it should be noted, was not an abolitionist, and the idea to redistribute land was not his own. Indeed, it was presented to Sherman and Secretary of War Edwin M. Stanton by a group of Black ministers in Savannah, Georgia, who told them, "The way we can best take care of ourselves is to have land and turn it and till it by our own labor."

Just four days later, on January 16, 1865, Sherman issued his Special Field Order 15, which commanded that 400,000 acres of property confiscated from Confederate landowners be redistributed to Black families in 40 acre plots. By June, the land had been allocated to 40,000 of a total of 4 million freed slaves. (Mules were not included in the order, but the Union army did give some away as part of the effort.)

But the order was short-lived. President Andrew Johnson - who had owned slaves and publicly shared his beliefs of white supremacy - overturned the order before the end of the year and returned the land to the slaveowners and traitors who had originally owned it. The long-term financial implications of this reversal is staggering; by some estimates, the value of 40 acres and mule for those 40,000 freed slaves would be worth $640 billion today.

Again landless and in need of income, many former slaves were forced into sharecropping, a form of indentured servitude in which a landowner rents out plots of land to laborers in exchange for a portion of the crops produced. In addition to providing land, landowners often also extended credit to the sharecroppers to purchase materials like seeds and fertilizer from them. Typically, this arrangement was only marginally better than slavery; landowners were known to charge unfairly high interest rates and intentionally underpay sharecroppers, keeping them in an endless cycle of debt and poverty.

Despite substantial hurdles, Black Americans still managed to acquire 15 million acres of land by 1910, much of which was used for agricultural purposes. At the peak in 1920, Black families owned and operated upwards of a million farms - about 14 percent of all farms at the time. The ability to grow crops and raise livestock afforded Black families not just food and financial security but also the opportunity for upward mobility.

This, too, was short-lived. Over the past century, Black farmers lost most of that land, leaving just 45,500 operators with a mere .52 percent of American farmland in 2017. Industrialization, which lured Americans of all races away from rural areas and into cities for better opportunities, is partly to blame. But there were other factors at play.

For one, most early Black landowners did not have legally-binding wills, largely because they did not trust the legal system. Instead, they passed their land down to their next of kin without a clear title as " heirs' property." This kind of land ownership makes the owner ineligible for a mortgage, home improvement loans, disaster relief, or most U.S. Department of Agriculture (USDA) programs. Lacking access to financial resources, many heirs' property owners either aren't able to use their land or can't afford to hold onto it. After several generations, heirs' property can be inherited by many distant family members, which is a legal and logistical headache. With multiple landowners who may not know each other, the possibility of unpaid taxes and, consequently, foreclosure is relatively high. Additionally, any individual owner can auction off their portion without consulting the other property owners. Knowing this, speculators and developers often coerce family members who have never even seen the property into selling their share for less than market value.

If that weren't enough, Black farmers have also been subject to systemic discrimination by USDA, other government agencies, and private lending institutions. As a result, they lacked access to loans, crop insurance, technical assistance, market opportunities, and other critical resources made available to other farmers. This put Black farmers at a disadvantage and undermined professional success, forcing many to leave the industry.

The loss of land, whether to heirs' property, discrimination, or other causes, has deprived the Black community of hundreds of billions of dollars worth of wealth and contributed significantly to modern racial economic inequality. Today, the average net worth of a Black family is only one-tenth that of a white family. A similar gap exists in agriculture: the average Black farmer's net farm income is just 14 percent that of their white counterpart.

Sherman's Special Field Order 15 is just one of many promises we have failed to keep to Black citizens since emancipation, and land loss is just one of the injustices they have endured as a result. As a society, we have pledged our commitment to ensuring that Black citizens are treated equitably in our criminal justice, education, health care, housing, and employment systems, yet we have fallen short on every count. Following weeks of protests against policy brutality and other forms of racism, lawmakers, corporations, and individuals have renewed previous promises and made new ones. This Juneteenth, it's time we finally keep them.
By Hannah Packman, NFU Communications Director Like what you've read? Join the conversation at National Farmers Union's Facebook page.

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Juneteenth and the Broken Promise of "40 Acres and a Mule"

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For many Black Americans, Juneteenth is a day of celebration. Observed on June 19 th, the holiday commemorates the day that the last slaves were freed in the United States in 1865 - two-and-a-half years after President Abraham Lincoln ordered their independence with the Emancipation Proclamation and two months after the Confederate army surrendered.

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This talks about howJames Henson escaped from the Klu Klux Klan at age 15. and how the “Promised Land” was his Hope.

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After James Hinton escaped the Ku Klux Klansman who kidnapped him when he was 15 years old, he knew he couldn't spend the rest of his days in the South.

"I was lucky enough-or blessed enough-to escape death," said Hinton, 63, "and I realized after that, there was no place for me at that time."

Hinton, who came to Chicago from Alabama in 1951, is among several who share first-hand accounts of their experiences in "The Promised Land," a five-part series that explores the so-called "Great Migration" from the South to the North, a journey undertaken by an estimated five million African Americans in the years from 1940 to 1970.

Part one of the series, co-produced by the Discovery Channel and the BBC, airs on the cable network at 8 p.m. Sunday with an encore 11 p.m. Narrated by actor Morgan Freeman, the series includes rare archival film footage, stills and new animation, music and film.

But the people who talk about conditions and events in the South that motivated them to search for a better way are what really enliven the series. Hinton, who talked about a defining moment in his life during that period, is one of them.

It happened in broad daylight no more than a mile from Hinton's Alabama home: "I was driven on a remote road for about an hour-and-a-half at gunpoint," said Hinton, who lives on Chicago's South Side and is in the heating and air-conditioning business.

"I was forced to drink beer, which at 15 years old I wasn't doing. And he (the Klansman) kept saying to me, `I'm going to kill you because I have to go to fight a war for you niggers and leave you all here.'

"And finally, he made a stop and asked me to check his brake lights. And at that time, I jumped off the road and ran into a field. He ran up and down the highway trying to find me. But I was lying down in a cornfield, so I was able to escape him."

Hinton left Alabama when he was 17 and joined his brothers in Chicago for the chance at a better job. "The Promised Land" reveals that, in addition to racism, many blacks who left the South during that time were looking for decent employment after years of a type of "slavery" that included working in cotton fields as sharecroppers, an experience that included being cheated out of earnings by white landowners.

Hinton, like thousands of others who were involved in the Great Migration, effectively wiped a lot of the experiences from his mind once he moved to the North.

"And I wouldn't tell you a lie: I lived with that (experience) for years and years," Hinton said. "And I finally was able to blot it out. But when they came and started doing the interview, some of this stuff came back so vivid, it was almost scary after I looked back on it."

That's just one reason why this migration hasn't been fully explored in history books, according to Sterling Plumpp, an on-air participant in "The Promised Land," as well as an adviser to the series.

"It's almost as if once black people came to the urban areas, they developed a bad case of historical amnesia about that period," said Plumpp, 55, a professor in the department of African-American studies and English at the University of Illinois at Chicago.

"It was so close to slavery, so dehumanizing...I think as a way of maintaining one's sanity, what you do is you forget that, you deny that."

Many may be amazed there was such a thing as a "Great Migration," because there simply isn't that much about it in history books.

"It's a demographic event, as opposed to an official public event," said Nicholas Lemann, whose 1991 book "The Promised Land" inspired the series.

"In other words, the history that's more accessible is the history that involves official people doing things in public view. And there was no public event connected with this great migration, really.

"It was millions and millions of people who, especially at that time, were not completely on the radar screen of mainstream America."

"This was a migration that wasn't recorded," added producer Anthony Geffen. "So how were we going to bring it alive?"

In the end, they did it the same way Lemann wrote it-by talking to those who lived through it. Geffen, a 33-year-old BBC documentary filmmaker, and his crew, scoured the country, talking to church groups, placing notices in newspapers, and eventually interviewing thousands of subjects over more than two years.

"We really wanted to tell itQand act as a catalystQfrom the people's perspective," Geffen said during a phone conversation from London. "We wanted to allow people to tell their own stories. We didn't want to impose a lot of experts and a lot of other people on top of it."

The makers of "The Promised Land" hope that anyone who sees the series comes away with a renewed appreciation of his or her current state in life.

"I think one of the things I said in the film is that wherever they are is the Promised Land," said JoAnna Johnson, 46, who moved here from Mississippi with her parents in 1950 when she was only two.

Said Johnson's mother, Viethel Wills, who is also highlighted in the series: "Whatever situation that you come out of, you don't have to remain that way. You can fall over in the gutter, but you don't have to stay there."

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`PROMISED LAND': AN AFRICAN-AMERICAN EPIC OF HOPE

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After James Hinton escaped the Ku Klux Klansman who kidnapped him when he was 15 years old, he knew he couldn't spend the rest of his days in the South. "I was lucky enough-or blessed enough-to escape death," said Hinton, 63, "and I realized after that, there was no place for me at that time."

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The Racial, economic and educational disparities have a huge impact in the U.S. institutions. Also the fact that not everyone is treated equally, when they should be.

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In a short essay published earlier this week, Smithsonian Secretary Lonnie G. Bunch wrote that the recent killing in Minnesota of George Floyd has forced the country to "confront the reality that, despite gains made in the past 50 years, we are still a nation riven by inequality and racial division."

Amid escalating clashes between protesters and police, discussing race-from the inequity embedded in American institutions to the United States' long, painful history of anti-black violence-is an essential step in sparking meaningful societal change. To support those struggling to begin these difficult conversations, the Smithsonian's National Museum of African American History and Culture recently launched a " Talking About Race " portal featuring "tools and guidance" for educators, parents, caregivers and other people committed to equity.

"Talking About Race" joins a vast trove of resources from the Smithsonian Institution dedicated to understanding what Bunch describes as America's "tortured racial past." From Smithsonian magazine articles on slavery's Trail of Tears and the disturbing resilience of scientific racism to the National Museum of American History's collection of Black History Month resources for educators and a Sidedoor podcast on the Tulsa Race Massacre, these 158 resources are designed to foster an equal society, encourage commitment to unbiased choices and promote antiracism in all aspects of life. Listings are bolded and organized by category.

Historical Context

Between 1525 and 1866, 12.5 million people were kidnapped from Africa and sent to the Americas through the transatlantic slave trade. Only 10.7 million survived the harrowing two month journey. Comprehending the sheer scale of this forced migration-and slavery's subsequent spread across the country via interregional trade-can be a daunting task, but as historian Leslie Harris told Smithsonian's Amy Crawford earlier this year, framing "these big concepts in terms of individual lives ... can [help you] better understand what these things mean."

Take, for instance, the story of John Casor. Originally an indentured servant of African descent, Casor lost a 1654 or 1655 court case convened to determine whether his contract had lapsed. He became the first individual declared a slave for life in the United States. Manuel Vidau, a Yoruba man who was captured and sold to traders some 200 years after Casor's enslavement, later shared an account of his life with the British and Foreign Anti-Slavery Society, which documented his remarkable story-after a decade of enslavement in Cuba, he purchased a share in a lottery ticket and won enough money to buy his freedom-in records now available on the digital database " Freedom Narratives." (A separate, similarly document-based online resource emphasizes individuals described in fugitive slave ads, which historian Joshua Rothman describes as "sort of a little biography" providing insights on their subjects' appearance and attire.)

Finally, consider the life of Matilda McCrear, the last known survivor of the transatlantic slave trade. Kidnapped from West Africa and brought to the U.S. on the Clotilda, she arrived in Mobile, Alabama, in July 1860-more than 50 years after Congress had outlawed the import of enslaved labor. McCrear, who died in 1940 at the age of 81 or 82, " displayed a determined, even defiant streak " in her later life, wrote Brigit Katz earlier this year. She refused to use her former owner's last name, wore her hair in traditional Yoruba style and had a decades-long relationship with a white German man.

How American society remembers and teaches the horrors of slavery is crucial. But as recent studies have shown, many textbooks offer a sanitized view of this history, focusing solely on "positive" stories about black leaders like Harriet Tubman and Frederick Douglass. Prior to 2018, Texas schools even taught that states' rights and sectionalism-not slavery-were the main causes of the Civil War. And, in Confederate memorials across the country, writes historian Kevin M. Levin, enslaved individuals are often falsely portrayed as loyal slaves.

Accurately representing slavery might require an updated vocabulary, argued historian Michael Landis in 2015: Outdated "[t]erms like 'compromise' or 'plantation' served either to reassure worried Americans in a Cold War world, or uphold a white supremacist, sexist interpretation of the past." Rather than referring to the Compromise of 1850, call it the Appeasement of 1850-a term that better describes "the uneven nature of the agreement," according to Landis. Smithsonian scholar Christopher Wilson wrote, too, that widespread framing of the Civil War as a battle between equal entities lends legitimacy to the Confederacy, which was not a nation in its own right, but an "illegitimate rebellion and unrecognized political entity." A 2018 Smithsonian magazine investigation found that the literal costs of the Confederacy are immense: In the decade prior, American taxpayers contributed $40 million to the maintenance of Confederate monuments and heritage organizations.

To better understand the immense brutality ingrained in enslaved individuals' everyday lives, read up on Louisiana's Whitney Plantation Museum, which acts as "part reminder of the scars of institutional bondage, part mausoleum for dozens of enslaved people who worked (and died) in [its] sugar fields, ... [and] monument to the terror of slavery," as Jared Keller observed in 2016. Visitors begin their tour in a historic church populated by clay sculptures of children who died on the plantation's grounds, then move on to a series of granite slabs engraved with hundreds of enslaved African Americans' names. Scattered throughout the experience are stories of the violence inflicted by overseers.

The Whitney Plantation Museum is at the forefront of a vanguard of historical sites working to confront their racist pasts. In recent years, exhibitions, oral history projects and other initiatives have highlighted the enslaved people whose labor powered such landmarks as Mount Vernon, the White House and Monticello. At the same time, historians are increasingly calling attention to major historical figures' own slave-holding legacies: From Thomas Jefferson to George Washington, William Clark of Lewis and Clark, Francis Scott Key, and other Founding Fathers, many American icons were complicit in upholding the institution of slavery. Washington, Jefferson, James Madison and Aaron Burr, among others, sexually abused enslaved females working in their households and had oft-overlooked biracial families.

Though Abraham Lincoln issued the Emancipation Proclamation on January 1, 1863, the decree took two-and-a-half years to fully enact. June 19, 1865-the day Union Gen. Gordon Granger informed the enslaved individuals of Galveston, Texas, that they were officially free-is now known as Juneteenth: America's "second independence day," according to NMAAHC. Initially celebrated mainly in Texas, Juneteenth spread across the country as African Americans fled the South in what is now called the Great Migration.

At the onset of that mass movement in 1916, 90 percent of African Americans still lived in the South, where they were "held captive by the virtual slavery of sharecropping and debt peonage and isolated from the rest of the country," as Isabel Wilkerson wrote in 2016. (Sharecropping, a system in which formerly enslaved people became tenant farmers and lived in "converted" slave cabins, was the impetus for the 1919 Elaine Massacre, which found white soldiers collaborating with local vigilantes to kill at least 200 sharecroppers who dared to criticize their low wages.) By the time the Great Migration-famously chronicled by artist Jacob Lawrence-ended in the 1970s, 47 percent of African Americans called the northern and western United States home.

Listen to Sidedoor: A Smithsonian Podcast

The third season of Sidedoor explored a South Carolina residence's unique journey from slave cabin to family home and its latest incarnation as a centerpiece at the National Museum of African American History and Culture.

Conditions outside the Deep South were more favorable than those within the region, but the "hostility and hierarchies that fed the Southern caste system" remained major obstacles for black migrants in all areas of the country, according to Wilkerson. Low-paying jobs, redlining, restrictive housing covenants and rampant discrimination limited opportunities, creating inequality that would eventually give rise to the civil rights movement.

"The Great Migration was the first big step that the nation's servant class ever took without asking," Wilkerson explained. " ... It was about agency for a people who had been denied it, who had geography as the only tool at their disposal. It was an expression of faith, despite the terrors they had survived, that the country whose wealth had been created by their ancestors' unpaid labor might do right by them."

Systemic Inequality

Racial, economic and educational disparities are deeply entrenched in U.S. institutions. Though the Declaration of Independence states that "all men are created equal," American democracy has historically-and often violently-excluded certain groups. "Democracy means everybody can participate, it means you are sharing power with people you don't know, don't understand, might not even like," said National Museum of American History curator Harry Rubenstein in 2017. "That's the bargain. And some people over time have felt very threatened by that notion."

Instances of inequality range from the obvious to less overtly discriminatory policies and belief systems. Historical examples of the former include poll taxes that effectively disenfranchised African American voters; the marginalization of African American soldiers who fought in World War I and World War II but were treated like second-class citizens at home; black innovators who were barred from filing patents for their inventions; white medical professionals' exploitation of black women's bodies (see Henrietta Lacks and J. Marion Sims); Richard and Mildred Loving's decade-long fight to legalize interracial marriage; the segregated nature of travel in the Jim Crow era; the government-mandated segregation of American cities; and segregation in schools.

Among the most heartbreaking examples of structural racism's subtle effects are accounts shared by black children. In the late 1970s, when Lebert F. Lester II was 8 or 9 years old, he started building a sand castle during a trip to the Connecticut shore. A young white girl joined him but was quickly taken away by her father. Lester recalled the girl returning, only to ask him, "Why don't [you] just go in the water and wash it off?" Lester says., "I was so confused-I only figured out later she meant my complexion." Two decades earlier, in 1957, 15-year-old Minnijean Brown had arrived at Little Rock Central High School with high hopes of "making friends, going to dances and singing in the chorus." Instead, she and the rest of the Little Rock Nine-a group of black students selected to attend the formerly all-white academy after Brown v. Board of Education desegregated public schools-were subjected to daily verbal and physical assaults. Around the same time, photographer John G. Zimmerman captured snapshots of racial politics in the South that included comparisons of black families waiting in long lines for polio inoculations as white children received speedy treatment.

In 1968, the Kerner Commission, a group convened by President Lyndon Johnson, found that white racism, not black anger, was the impetus for the widespread civil unrest sweeping the nation. As Alice George wrote in 2018, the commission's report suggested that "[b]ad policing practices, a flawed justice system, unscrupulous consumer credit practices, poor or inadequate housing, high unemployment, voter suppression and other culturally embedded forms of racial discrimination all converged to propel violent upheaval." Few listened to the findings, let alone its suggestion of aggressive government spending aimed at leveling the playing field. Instead, the country embraced a different cause: space travel. The day after the 1969 moon landing, the leading black paper the New York Amsterdam News ran a story stating, "Yesterday, the moon. Tomorrow, maybe us."

Fifty years after the Kerner Report's release, a separate study assessed how much had changed; it concluded that conditions had actually worsened. In 2017, black unemployment was higher than in 1968, as was the rate of incarcerated individuals who were black. The wealth gap had also increased substantially, with the median white family having ten times more wealth than the median black family. "We are resegregating our cities and our schools, condemning millions of kids to inferior education and taking away their real possibility of getting out of poverty," said Fred Harris, the last surviving member of the Kerner Commission, following the 2018 study's release.

Today, scientific racism-grounded in such faulty practices as eugenics and the treatment of race "as a crude proxy for myriad social and environmental factors," writes Ramin Skibba-persists despite overwhelming evidence that race has only social, not biological, meaning. Black scholars including Mamie Phipps Clark, a psychologist whose research on racial identity in children helped end segregation in schools, and Rebecca J. Cole, a 19th-century physician and advocate who challenged the idea that black communities were destined for death and disease, have helped overturn some of these biases. But a 2015 survey found that 48 percent of black and Latina women scientists, respectively, still report being mistaken for custodial or administrative staff. Even artificial intelligence exhibits racial biases, many of which are introduced by lab staff and crowdsourced workers who program their own conscious and unconscious opinions into algorithms.

Anti-Black Violence

In addition to enduring centuries of enslavement, exploitation and inequality, African Americans have long been the targets of racially charged physical violence. Per the Alabama-based Equal Justice Initiative, more than 4,400 lynchings -mob killings undertaken without legal authority-took place in the U.S. between the end of Reconstruction and World War II.

Incredibly, the Senate only passed legislation declaring lynching a federal crime in 2018. Between 1918 and the Justice for Victims of Lynching Act's eventual passage, more than 200 anti-lynching bills failed to make it through Congress. (Earlier this week, Sen. Rand Paul said he would hold up a separate, similarly intentioned bill over fears that its definition of lynching was too broad. The House passed the bill in a 410-to-4 vote this February.) Also in 2018, the Equal Justice Initiative opened the nation's first monument to African American lynching victims. The six-acre memorial site stands alongside a museum dedicated to tracing the nation's history of racial bias and persecution from slavery to the present.

One of the earliest instances of Reconstruction-era racial violence took place in Opelousas, Louisiana, in September 1868. Two months ahead of the presidential election, Southern white Democrats started terrorizing Republican opponents who appeared poised to secure victory at the polls. On September 28, a group of men attacked 18-year-old schoolteacher Emerson Bentley, who had already attracted ire for teaching African American students, after he published an account of local Democrats' intimidation of Republicans. Bentley escaped with his life, but 27 of the 29 African Americans who arrived on the scene to help him were summarily executed. Over the next two weeks, vigilante terror led to the deaths of some 250 people, the majority of whom were black.

In April 1873, another spate of violence rocked Louisiana. The Colfax Massacre, described by historian Eric Foner as the "bloodiest single instance of racial carnage in the Reconstruction era," unfolded under similar circumstances as Opelousas, with tensions between Democrats and Republicans culminating in the deaths of between 60 and 150 African Americans, as well as three white men.

Between the turn of the 20th century and the 1920s, multiple massacres broke out in response to false allegations that young black men had raped or otherwise assaulted white women. In August 1908, a mob terrorized African American neighborhoods across Springfield, Illinois, vandalizing black-owned businesses, setting fire to the homes of black residents, beating those unable to flee and lynching at least two people. Local authorities, argues historian Roberta Senechal, were "ineffectual at best, complicit at worst."

False accusations also sparked a July 1919 race riot in Washington, D.C. and the Tulsa Race Massacre of 1921, which was most recently dramatized in the HBO series "Watchmen." As African American History Museum curator Paul Gardullo tells Smithsonian, tensions related to Tulsa's economy underpinned the violence: Forced to settle on what was thought to be worthless land, African Americans and Native Americans struck oil and proceeded to transform the Greenwood neighborhood of Tulsa into a prosperous community known as "Black Wall Street." According to Gardullo, "It was the frustration of poor whites not knowing what to do with a successful black community, and in coalition with the city government [they] were given permission to do what they did."

Over the course of two days in spring 1921, the Tulsa Race Massacre claimed the lives of an estimated 300 black Tulsans and displaced another 10,000. Mobs burned down at least 1,256 residences, churches, schools and businesses and destroyed almost 40 blocks of Greenwood. As the Sidedoor episode "Confronting the Past" notes, "No one knows how many people died, no one was ever convicted, and no one really talked about it nearly a century later."

Listen to Sidedoor: A Smithsonian Podcast

The second season of Sidedoor told the story of the Tulsa Race Massacre of 1921.

Economic injustice also led to the East St. Louis Race War of 1917. This labor dispute-turned-deadly found "people's houses being set ablaze, ... people being shot when they tried to flee, some trying to swim to the other side of the Mississippi while being shot at by white mobs with rifles, others being dragged out of street cars and beaten and hanged from street lamps," recalled Dhati Kennedy, the son of a survivor who witnessed the devastation firsthand. Official counts place the death toll at 39 black and 9 white individuals, but locals argue that the real toll was closer to 100.

A watershed moment for the burgeoning civil rights movement was the 1955 murder of 14-year-old Emmett Till. Accused of whistling at a white woman while visiting family members in Mississippi, he was kidnapped, tortured and killed. Emmett's mother, Mamie Till Mobley, decided to give her son an open-casket funeral, forcing the world to confront the image of his disfigured, decomposing body. (Visuals, including photographs, movies, television clips and artwork, played a key role in advancing the movement.) The two white men responsible for Till's murder were acquitted by an all-white jury. A marker at the site where the teenager's body was recovered has been vandalized at least three times since its placement in 2007.

The form of anti-black violence with the most striking parallels to contemporary conversations is police brutality. As Katie Nodjimbadem reported in 2017, a regional crime survey of late 1920s Chicago and Cook County, Illinois, found that while African Americans constituted just 5 percent of the area's population, they made up 30 percent of the victims of police killings. Civil rights protests exacerbated tensions between African Americans and police, with events like the Orangeburg Massacre of 1968, in which law enforcement officers shot and killed three student activists at South Carolina State College, and the Glenville shootout, which left three police officers, three black nationalists and one civilian dead, fostering mistrust between the two groups.

Today, this legacy is exemplified by broken windows policing, a controversial approach that encourages racial profiling and targets African American and Latino communities. "What we see is a continuation of an unequal relationship that has been exacerbated, made worse if you will, by the militarization and the increase in fire power of police forces around the country," William Pretzer, senior curator at NMAAHC, told Smithsonian in 2017.

The history of protest and revolt in the United States is inextricably linked with the racial violence detailed above.

Prior to the Civil War, enslaved individuals rarely revolted outright. Nat Turner, whose 1831 insurrection ended in his execution, was one of the rare exceptions. A fervent Christian, he drew inspiration from the Bible. His personal copy, now housed in the collections of the African American History Museum, represented the "possibility of something else for himself and for those around him," curator Mary Ellis told Smithsonian's Victoria Dawson in 2016.

Other enslaved African Americans practiced less risky forms of resistance, including working slowly, breaking tools and setting objects on fire. "Slave rebellions, though few and small in size in America, were invariably bloody," wrote Dawson. "Indeed, death was all but certain."

One of the few successful uprisings of the period was the Creole Rebellion. In the fall of 1841, 128 enslaved African Americans traveling aboard The Creole mutinied against its crew, forcing their former captors to sail the brig to the British West Indies, where slavery was abolished and they could gain immediate freedom.

An April 1712 revolt found enslaved New Yorkers setting fire to white-owned buildings and firing on slaveholders. Quickly outnumbered, the group fled but was tracked to a nearby swamp; though several members were spared, the majority were publicly executed, and in the years following the uprising, the city enacted laws limiting enslaved individuals' already scant freedom. In 1811, meanwhile, more than 500 African Americans marched on New Orleans while chanting "Freedom or Death." Though the German Coast uprising was brutally suppressed, historian Daniel Rasmussen argues that it "had been much larger-and come much closer to succeeding-than the planters and American officials let on."

Some 150 years after what Rasmussen deems America's " largest slave revolt," the civil rights movement ushered in a different kind of protest. In 1955, police arrested Rosa Parks for refusing to yield her bus seat to a white passenger ("I had been pushed around all my life and felt at this moment that I couldn't take it any more," she later wrote). The ensuing Montgomery bus boycott, in which black passengers refused to ride public transit until officials met their demands, led the Supreme Court to rule segregated buses unconstitutional. Five years later, the Greensboro Four similarly took a stand, ironically by staging a sit-in at a Woolworth's lunch counter. As Christopher Wilson wrote ahead of the 60th anniversary of the event, "What made Greensboro different [from other sit-ins] was how it grew from a courageous moment to a revolutionary movement."

During the 1950s and '60s, civil rights leaders adopted varying approaches to protest: Malcolm X, a staunch proponent of black nationalism who called for equality by "any means necessary," "made tangible the anger and frustration of African Americans who were simply catching hell," according to journalist Allison Keyes. He repeated the same argument "over and over again," wrote academic and activist Cornel West in 2015: "What do you think you would do after 400 years of slavery and Jim Crow and lynching? Do you think you would respond nonviolently? What's your history like? Let's look at how you have responded when you were oppressed. George Washington-revolutionary guerrilla fighter!'"

Martin Luther King Jr. famously advocated for nonviolent protest, albeit not in the form that many think. As biographer Taylor Branch told Smithsonian in 2015, King's understanding of nonviolence was more complex than is commonly argued. Unlike Mahatma Gandhi's "passive resistance," King believed resistance "depended on being active, using demonstrations, direct actions, to 'amplify the message' of the protest they were making," according to Ron Rosenbaum. In the activist's own words, "[A] riot is the language of the unheard. And what is it America has failed to hear?... It has failed to hear that the promises of freedom and justice have not been met. "

Another key player in the civil rights movement, the militant Black Panther Party, celebrated black power and operated under a philosophy of "demands and aspirations." The group's Ten-Point Program called for an "immediate end to POLICE BRUTALITY and MURDER of Black people," as well as more controversial measures like freeing all black prisoners and exempting black men from military service. Per NMAAHC, black power "emphasized black self-reliance and self-determination more than integration," calling for the creation of separate African American political and cultural organizations. In doing so, the movement ensured that its proponents would attract the unwelcome attention of the FBI and other government agencies.

Many of the protests now viewed as emblematic of the fight for racial justice took place in the 1960s. On August 28, 1963, more than 250,000 people gathered in D.C. for the March on Washington for Jobs and Freedom. Ahead of the 50th anniversary of the march, activists who attended the event detailed the experience for a Smithsonian oral history: Entertainer Harry Belafonte observed, "We had to seize the opportunity and make our voices heard. Make those who are comfortable with our oppression-make them uncomfortable-Dr. King said that was the purpose of this mission," while Representative John Lewis recalled, "Looking toward Union Station, we saw a sea of humanity; hundreds, thousands of people. ... People literally pushed us, carried us all the way, until we reached the Washington Monument and then we walked on to the Lincoln Memorial.."

Two years after the March on Washington, King and other activists organized a march from Selma, Alabama, to the state capital of Montgomery. Later called the Selma March, the protest was dramatized in a 2014 film starring David Oyelowo as MLK. (Reflecting on Selma, Smithsonian Secretary Lonnie Bunch, then-director of NMAAHC, deemed it a "remarkable film" that "does not privilege the white perspective ... [or] use the movement as a convenient backdrop for a conventional story.")

Organized in response to the manifest obstacles black individuals faced when attempting to vote, the Selma March actually consisted of three separate protests. The first of these, held on March 7, 1965, ended in a tragedy now known as Bloody Sunday. As peaceful protesters gathered on the Edmund Pettus Bridge-named for a Confederate general and local Ku Klux Klan leader-law enforcement officers attacked them with tear gas and clubs. One week later, President Lyndon B. Johnson offered the Selma protesters his support and introduced legislation aimed at expanding voting rights. During the third and final march, organized in the aftermath of Johnson's announcement, tens of thousands of protesters (protected by the National Guard and personally led by King) converged on Montgomery. Along the way, interior designer Carl Benkert used a hidden reel-to-reel tape recorder to document the sounds-and specifically songs-of the event.

The protests of the early and mid-1960s culminated in the widespread unrest of 1967 and 1968. For five days in July 1967, riots on a scale unseen since 1863 rocked the city of Detroit: As Lorraine Boissoneault writes, "Looters prowled the streets, arsonists set buildings on fire, civilian snipers took position from rooftops and police shot and arrested citizens indiscriminately." Systemic injustice in such areas as housing, jobs and education contributed to the uprising, but police brutality was the driving factor behind the violence. By the end of the riots, 43 people were dead. Hundreds sustained injuries, and more than 7,000 were arrested.

The Detroit riots of 1967 prefaced the seismic changes of 1968. As Matthew Twombly wrote in 2018, movements including the Vietnam War, the Cold War, civil rights, human rights and youth culture "exploded with force in 1968," triggering aftershocks that would resonate both in America and abroad for decades to come.

On February 1, black sanitation workers Echol Cole and Robert Walker died in a gruesome accident involving a malfunctioning garbage truck. Their deaths, compounded by Mayor Henry Loeb's refusal to negotiate with labor representatives, led to the outbreak of the Memphis sanitation workers' strike-an event remembered both "as an example of powerless African Americans standing up for themselves" and as the backdrop to King's April 4 assassination.

Though King is lionized today, he was highly unpopular at the time of his death. According to a Harris Poll conducted in early 1968, nearly 75 percent of Americans disapproved of the civil rights leader, who had become increasingly vocal in his criticism of the Vietnam War and economic inequity. Despite the public's seeming ambivalence toward King-and his family's calls for nonviolence-his murder sparked violent protests across the country. In all, the Holy Week Uprisings spread to nearly 200 cities, leaving 3,500 people injured and 43 dead. Roughly 27,000 protesters were arrested, and 54 of the cities involved sustained more than $100,000 in property damage.

In May, thousands flocked to Washington, D.C. for a protest King had planned prior to his death. Called the Poor People's Campaign, the event united racial groups from all quarters of America in a call for economic justice. Attendees constructed "Resurrection City," a temporary settlement made up of 3,000 wooden tents, and camped out on the National Mall for 42 days.

"While we were all in a kind of depressed state about the assassinations of King and RFK, we were trying to keep our spirits up, and keep focused on King's ideals of humanitarian issues, the elimination of poverty and freedom," protester Lenneal Henderson told Smithsonian in 2018. "It was exciting to be part of something that potentially, at least, could make a difference in the lives of so many people who were in poverty around the country."

Racial unrest persisted throughout the year, with uprisings on the Fourth of July, a protest at the Summer Olympic Games, and massacres at Orangeburg and Glenville testifying to the tumultuous state of the nation.

The Black Lives Matter marches organized in response to the killings of George Floyd, Philando Castile, Freddie Gray, Eric Garner, Sandra Bland, Trayvon Martin, Michael Brown and other victims of anti-black violence share many parallels with protests of the past.

Football player Colin Kaepernick's decision to kneel during the national anthem-and the unmitigated outrage it sparked-bears similarities to the story of boxer Muhammad Ali, historian Jonathan Eig told Smithsonian in 2017: "It's been eerie to watch it, that we're still having these debates that black athletes should be expected to shut their mouths and perform for us," he said. "That's what people told Ali 50 years ago."

Other aspects of modern protest draw directly on uprisings of earlier eras. In 2016, for instance, artist Dread Scott updated an anti-lynching poster used by the National Association for the Advancement of Colored People (NAACP) in the 1920s and '30s to read "A Black Man Was Lynched by Police Yesterday." (Scott added the words "by police.")

Though the civil rights movement is often viewed as the result of a cohesive "grand plan" or "manifestation of the vision of the few leaders whose names we know," the American History Museum's Christopher Wilson argues that "the truth is there wasn't one, there were many and they were often competitive."

Meaningful change required a whirlwind of revolution, adds Wilson, "but also the slow legal march. It took boycotts, petitions, news coverage, civil disobedience, marches, lawsuits, shrewd political maneuvering, fundraising, and even the violent terror campaign of the movement's opponents-all going on [at] the same time."

Intersectionality

In layman's terms, intersectionality refers to the multifaceted discrimination experienced by individuals who belong to multiple minority groups. As theorist Kimberlé Crenshaw explains in a video published by NMAAHC, these classifications run the gamut from race to gender, gender identity, class, sexuality and disability. A black woman who identifies as a lesbian, for instance, may face prejudice based on her race, gender or sexuality.

Crenshaw, who coined the term intersectionality in 1989, explains the concept best: "Consider an intersection made up of many roads," she says in the video. "The roads are the structures of race, gender, gender identity class, sexuality, disability. And the traffic running through those roads are the practices and policies that discriminate against people. Now if an accident happens, it can be caused by cars traveling in any number of directions, and sometimes, from all of them. So if a black woman is harmed because she is in an intersection, her injury could result from discrimination from any or all directions."

Understanding intersectionality is essential for teasing out the relationships between movements including civil rights, LGBTQ rights, suffrage and feminism. Consider the contributions of black transgender activists Marsha P. Johnson and Sylvia Rivera, who played pivotal roles in the Stonewall Uprising; gay civil rights leader Bayard Rustin, who was only posthumously pardoned this year for having consensual sex with men; the "rank and file" women of the Black Panther Party; and African American suffragists such as Mary Church Terrell and Nannie Helen Burroughs.

All of these individuals fought discrimination on multiple levels: As noted in "Votes for Women: A Portrait of Persistence," a 2019 exhibition at the National Portrait Gallery, leading suffrage organizations initially excluded black suffragists from their ranks, driving the emergence of separate suffrage movements and, eventually, black feminists grounded in the inseparable experiences of racism, sexism and classism.

Allyship and Education

Individuals striving to become better allies by educating themselves and taking decisive action have an array of options for getting started. Begin with NMAAHC's "Talking About Race" portal, which features sections on being antiracist, whiteness, bias, social identities and systems of oppression, self-care, race and racial identity, the historical foundations of race, and community building. An additional 139 items-from a lecture on the history of racism in America to a handout on white supremacy culture and an article on the school-to-prison pipeline-are available to explore via the portal's resources page.

In collaboration with the International Coalition of Sites of Conscience, the National Museum of the American Indian has created a that aims to "help people facilitate new conversations with and among students about the power of images and words, the challenges of memory, and the relationship between personal and national value," says museum director Kevin Gover in a statement. The Smithsonian Asian Pacific American Center offers a similarly focused resource called "Standing Together Against Xenophobia." As the site's description notes, "This includes addressing not only the hatred and violence that has recently targeted people of Asian descent, but also the xenophobia that plagues our society during times of national crisis."

Ahead of NMAAHC's official opening in 2016, the museum hosted a series of public programs titled "History, Rebellion, and Reconciliation." Panels included "Ferguson: What Does This Moment Mean for America?" and "#Words Matter: Making Revolution Irresistible." As Smithsonian reported at the time, "It was somewhat of a refrain at the symposium that museums can provide 'safe,' or even 'sacred' spaces, within which visitors [can] wrestle with difficult and complex topics." Then-director Lonnie Bunch expanded on this mindset in an interview, telling Smithsonian, "Our job is to be an educational institution that uses history and culture not only to look back, not only to help us understand today, but to point us towards what we can become." For more context on the museum's collections, mission and place in American history, visit Smithsonian's "Breaking Ground" hub and NMAAHC's digital resources guide.

Historical examples of allyship offer both inspiration and cautionary tales for the present. Take, for example, Albert Einstein, who famously criticized segregation as a "disease of white people" and continually used his platform to denounce racism. (The scientist's advocacy is admittedly complicated by travel diaries that reveal his deeply troubling views on race.)

Einstein's near-contemporary, a white novelist named John Howard Griffin, took his supposed allyship one step further, darkening his skin and embarking on a "human odyssey through the South," as Bruce Watson wrote in 2011. Griffin's chronicle of his experience, a volume titled Black Like Me, became a surprise bestseller, refuting "the idea that minorities were acting out of paranoia," according to scholar Gerald Early, and testifying to the veracity of black people's accounts of racism.

"The only way I could see to bridge the gap between us," wrote Griffin in Black Like Me, "was to become a Negro."

Griffin, however, had the privilege of being able to shed his blackness at will-which he did after just one month of donning his makeup. By that point, Watson observed, Griffin could simply "stand no more."

Sixty years later, what is perhaps most striking is just how little has changed. As Bunch reflected earlier this week, "The state of our democracy feels fragile and precarious."

Addressing the racism and social inequity embedded in American society will be a "monumental task," the secretary added. But "the past is replete with examples of ordinary people working together to overcome seemingly insurmountable challenges. History is a guide to a better future and demonstrates that we can become a better society-but only if we collectively demand it from each other and from the institutions responsible for administering justice."
Editor's Note, July 24, 2020: This article previously stated that some 3.9 million of the 10.7 million people who survived the harrowing two-month journey across the Middle Passage between 1525 and 1866 were ultimately enslaved in the United States. In fact, the 3.9 million figure refers to the number of enslaved individuals in the U.S. just before the Civil War. We regret the error.

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158 Resources for Understanding Systemic Racism in America

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In a short essay published earlier this week, Smithsonian Secretary Lonnie G. Bunch wrote that the recent killing in Minnesota of George Floyd has forced the country to "confront the reality that, despite gains made in the past 50 years, we are still a nation riven by inequality and racial division."

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This article talks about how sweetheart you came into North America 1619. And everything needs to start somewhere oh, and this is when racism in North America started.

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Black history in the United States is a rich and varied chronicle of slavery and liberty, oppression and progress, segregation and achievement. Though captive and free Africans were likely present in the Americas by the 1400s, the kidnapped men, women and children from Africa who were sold first to European colonists in 1619, and later to American citizens, became symbolic of the early years of Black history in the United States.

Slavery Comes to North America, 1619

To satisfy the labor needs of the rapidly growing North American colonies, white European settlers turned in the early 17th century from indentured servants (mostly poorer Europeans) to a cheaper, more plentiful labor source: enslaved Africans. After 1619, when a Dutch ship brought 20 Africans ashore at the British colony of Jamestown, Virginia, slavery spread quickly through the American colonies. Though it is impossible to give accurate figures, some historians have estimated that 6 to 7 million enslaved people were imported to the New World during the 18th century alone, depriving the African continent of its most valuable resource-its healthiest and ablest men and women.

Many northern states had abolished slavery by the end of the 18th century, but the institution was absolutely vital to the South, where Black people constituted a large minority of the population and the economy relied on the production of crops like tobacco and cotton. Congress outlawed the import of new enslaved people in 1808, but the enslaved population in the U.S. nearly tripled over the next 50 years, and by 1860 it had reached nearly 4 million, with more than half living in the cotton-producing states of the South.

Rise of the Cotton Industry, 1793

In the years immediately following the Revolutionary War, the rural South-the region where slavery had taken the strongest hold in North America-faced an economic crisis. The soil used to grow tobacco, then the leading cash crop, was exhausted, while products such as rice and indigo failed to generate much profit. As a result, the price of enslaved people was dropping, and the continued growth of slavery seemed in doubt.

Around the same time, the mechanization of spinning and weaving had revolutionized the textile industry in England, and the demand for American cotton soon became insatiable. Production was limited, however, by the laborious process of removing the seeds from raw cotton fibers, which had to be completed by hand.

In 1793, a young Yankee schoolteacher named Eli Whitney came up with a solution to the problem: The cotton gin, a simple mechanized device that efficiently removed the seeds, could be hand-powered or, on a large scale, harnessed to a horse or powered by water. The cotton gin was widely copied, and within a few years the South would transition from a dependence on the cultivation of tobacco to that of cotton.

As the growth of the cotton industry led inexorably to an increased demand for enslaved Africans, the prospect of slave rebellion-such as the one that triumphed in Haiti in 1791-drove slaveholders to make increased efforts to prevent a similar event from happening in the South. Also in 1793, Congress passed the Fugitive Slave Act, which made it a federal crime to assist an enslaved person trying to escape. Though it was difficult to enforce from state to state, especially with the growth of abolitionist feeling in the North, the law helped enshrine and legitimize slavery as an enduring American institution.

Nat Turner's Revolt, August 1831

In August 1831, Nat Turner struck fear into the hearts of white Southerners by leading the only effective slave rebellion in U.S. history. Born on a small plantation in Southampton County, Virginia, Turner inherited a passionate hatred of slavery from his African-born mother and came to see himself as anointed by God to lead his people out of bondage.

In early 1831, Turner took a solar eclipse as a sign that the time for revolution was near, and on the night of August 21, he and a small band of followers killed his owners, the Travis family, and set off toward the town of Jerusalem, where they planned to capture an armory and gather more recruits. The group, which eventually numbered around 75 Black people, killed some 60 white people in two days before armed resistance from local white people and the arrival of state militia forces overwhelmed them just outside Jerusalem. Some 100 enslaved people, including innocent bystanders, lost their lives in the struggle. Turner escaped and spent six weeks on the run before he was captured, tried and hanged.

Oft-exaggerated reports of the insurrection-some said that hundreds of white people had been killed-sparked a wave of anxiety across the South. Several states called special emergency sessions of the legislature, and most strengthened their codes in order to limit the education, movement and assembly of enslaved people. While supporters of slavery pointed to the Turner rebellion as evidence that Black people were inherently inferior barbarians requiring an institution such as slavery to discipline them, the increased repression of southern Black people would strengthen anti-slavery feeling in the North through the 1860s and intensify the regional tensions building toward civil war.

Abolitionism and the Underground Railroad, 1831

The early abolition movement in North America was fueled both by enslaved people's efforts to liberate themselves and by groups of white settlers, such as the Quakers, who opposed slavery on religious or moral grounds. Though the lofty ideals of the Revolutionary era invigorated the movement, by the late 1780s it was in decline, as the growing southern cotton industry made slavery an ever more vital part of the national economy. In the early 19th century, however, a new brand of radical abolitionism emerged in the North, partly in reaction to Congress' passage of the Fugitive Slave Act of 1793 and the tightening of codes in most southern states. One of its most eloquent voices was William Lloyd Garrison, a crusading journalist from Massachusetts, who founded the abolitionist newspaper The Liberator in 1831 and became known as the most radical of America's antislavery activists.

Antislavery northerners-many of them free Black people-had begun helping enslaved people escape from southern plantations to the North via a loose network of safe houses as early as the 1780s called the Underground Railroad.

Dred Scott Case, March 6, 1857

Upon his return to Missouri, Scott sued for his freedom on the basis that his temporary removal to free soil had made him legally free. The case went to the Supreme Court, where Chief Justice Roger B. Taney and the majority eventually ruled that Scott was an enslaved person and not a citizen, and thus had no legal rights to sue.

According to the Court, Congress had no constitutional power to deprive persons of their property rights when dealing with enslaved people in the territories. The verdict effectively declared the Missouri Compromise unconstitutional, ruling that all territories were open to slavery and could exclude it only when they became states.

While much of the South rejoiced, seeing the verdict as a clear victory, antislavery northerners were furious. One of the most prominent abolitionists, Frederick Douglass, was cautiously optimistic, however, wisely predicting that-"This very attempt to blot out forever the hopes of an enslaved people may be one necessary link in the chain of events preparatory to the complete overthrow of the whole slave system."

John Brown's Raid, October 16, 1859

On the night of October 16, 1859, he led a small band of less than 50 men in a raid against the federal arsenal at Harper's Ferry, Virginia. Their aim was to capture enough ammunition to lead a large operation against Virginia's slaveholders. Brown's men, including several Black people, captured and held the arsenal until federal and state governments sent troops and were able to overpower them.

John Brown was hanged on December 2, 1859. His trial riveted the nation, and he emerged as an eloquent voice against the injustice of slavery and a martyr to the abolitionist cause. Just as Brown's courage turned thousands of previously indifferent northerners against slavery, his violent actions convinced slave owners in the South beyond doubt that abolitionists would go to any lengths to destroy the "peculiar institution." Rumors spread of other planned insurrections, and the South reverted to a semi-war status. Only the election of the anti-slavery Republican Abraham Lincoln as president in 1860 remained before the southern states would begin severing ties with the Union, sparking the bloodiest conflict in American history.

Civil War and Emancipation, 1861

In the spring of 1861, the bitter sectional conflicts that had been intensifying between North and South over the course of four decades erupted into civil war, with 11 southern states seceding from the Union and forming the Confederate States of America. Though President Abraham Lincoln 's antislavery views were well established, and his election as the nation's first Republican president had been the catalyst that pushed the first southern states to secede in late 1860, the Civil War at its outset was not a war to abolish slavery. Lincoln sought first and foremost to preserve the Union, and he knew that few people even in the North-let alone the border slave states still loyal to Washington-would have supported a war against slavery in 1861.

By the summer of 1862, however, Lincoln had come to believe he could not avoid the slavery question much longer. Five days after the bloody Union victory at Antietam in September, he issued a preliminary emancipation proclamation; on January 1, 1863, he made it official that enslaved people within any State, or designated part of a State in rebellion, "shall be then, thenceforward, and forever free." Lincoln justified his decision as a wartime measure, and as such he did not go so far as to free enslaved people in the border states loyal to the Union, an omission that angered many abolitionists.

The Post-Slavery South, 1865

The 15th Amendment, adopted in 1870, guaranteed that a citizen's right to vote would not be denied-on account of race, color, or previous condition of servitude." During Reconstruction, Black Americans won election to southern state governments and even to the U.S. Congress. Their growing influence greatly dismayed many white southerners, who felt control slipping ever further away from them. The white protective societies that arose during this period-the largest of which was the Ku Klux Klan (KKK)-sought to disenfranchise Black voters by using voter suppression and intimidation as well as more extreme violence. By 1877, when the last federal soldiers left the South and Reconstruction drew to a close, Black Americans had seen dishearteningly little improvement in their economic and social status, and what political gains they had made had been wiped away by the vigorous efforts of white supremacist forces throughout the region.

'Separate But Equal,' 1896

As Reconstruction drew to a close and the forces of white supremacy regained control from carpetbaggers (northerners who moved South) and freed Black people, Southern state legislatures began enacting the first segregation laws, known as the "Jim Crow" laws. Taken from a much-copied minstrel routine written by a white actor who performed often in blackface, the name "Jim Crow" came to serve as a general derogatory term for African Americans in the post-Reconstruction South. By 1885, most southern states had laws requiring separate schools for Black and white students, and by 1900, "persons of color" were required to be separated from white people in railroad cars and depots, hotels, theaters, restaurants, barber shops and other establishments. On May 18, 1896, the U.S. Supreme Court issued its verdict in Plessy v. Ferguson, a case that represented the first major test of the meaning of the 14th Amendment's provision of full and equal citizenship to African Americans.

By an 8-1 majority, the Court upheld a Louisiana law that required the segregation of passengers on railroad cars. By asserting that the equal protection clause was not violated as long as reasonably equal conditions were provided to both groups, the Court established the "separate but equal" doctrine that would thereafter be used for assessing the constitutionality of racial segregation laws. Plessy vs. Ferguson stood as the overriding judicial precedent in civil rights cases until 1954, when it was reversed by the Court's verdict in Brown v. Board of Education.

Washington, Carver & Du Bois, 1900

As the 19th century came to an end and segregation took ever stronger hold in the South, many African Americans saw self-improvement, especially through education, as the single greatest opportunity to escape the indignities they suffered. Many Black people looked to Booker T. Washington, the author of the bestselling Up From Slavery (1900), as an inspiration. As president of Alabama's Tuskegee Normal and Industrial Institute, Washington urged Black Americans to acquire the kind of industrial or vocational training (such as farming, mechanics and domestic service) that would give them the necessary skills to carve out a niche for themselves in the U.S. economy. George Washington Carver, another formerly enslaved man and the head of Tuskegee's agriculture department, helped liberate the South from its reliance on cotton by convincing farmers to plant peanuts, soybeans and sweet potatoes in order to rejuvenate the exhausted soil.

By 1940, peanuts had become the second cash crop in the South. Like Washington, Carver had little interest in racial politics, and was celebrated by many white Americans as a shining example of a modest, industrious Black man. While Washington and Carver represented a philosophy of accommodation to white supremacy, another prominent Black educator, the Harvard-trained historian and sociologist W.E.B. Du Bois, became a leading voice in the growing Black protest movement during the first half of the 20th century. In his 1903 book Souls of Black Folk, Du Bois spoke strongly against Washington's advocacy of industrial education, which he saw as too narrow and economically focused, and stressed the importance of higher education for African Americans.

NAACP Founded, 1909

First established in Chicago, the NAACP had expanded to more than 400 locations by 1921. One of its earliest programs was a crusade against lynching and other lawless acts. Those efforts-including a nationwide protest of D.W. Griffiths' silent film Birth of a Nation (1915), which glorified white supremacy and the Ku Klux Klan-would continue into the 1920s, playing a crucial role in drastically reducing the number of lynchings carried out in the United States. Du Bois edited the NAACP's official magazine, The Crisis, from 1910 to 1934, publishing many of the leading voices in African American literature and politics and helping fuel the spread of the Harlem Renaissance in the 1920s.

Marcus Garvey and the UNIA, 1916

Born in Jamaica, the Black nationalist leader Marcus Garvey founded his Universal Negro Improvement Association (UNIA) there in 1914; two years later, he brought it to the United States. Garvey appealed to the racial pride of African Americans, exalting blackness as strong and beautiful. As racial prejudice was so ingrained in white civilization, Garvey claimed, it was futile for Black people to appeal to white peoples' sense of justice and democratic principles. Their only hope, according to him, was to flee America and return to Africa to build a country of their own. After an unsuccessful appeal to the League of Nations to settle a colony in Africa and failed negotiations with Liberia, Garvey announced the formation of the Empire of Africa in 1921, with himself as provisional president.

Other African American leaders, notably W.E.B. Du Bois of the National Association for the Advancement of Colored People (NAACP), criticized Garvey and his "Back to Africa" movement; he was openly contemptuous of them in return. There was no denying the movement's appeal, however. Garvey's boast of 6 million followers in 1923 was probably exaggerated, but even his critics admitted that the UNIA had some 500,000 members. In 1923, the U.S. government successfully prosecuted and convicted Garvey for mail fraud in connection with selling stock in his Black Star Line shipping company. After serving a two-year jail sentence, Garvey was pardoned by President Calvin Coolidge and immediately deported; he died in London in 1940.

Harlem Renaissance, 1920

In the 1920s, the great migration of Black Americans from the rural South to the urban North sparked an African American cultural renaissance that took its name from the New York City neighborhood of Harlem but became a widespread movement in cities throughout the North and West. Also known as the Black Renaissance or the New Negro Movement, the Harlem Renaissance marked the first time that mainstream publishers and critics turned their attention seriously to African American literature, music, art and politics. Blues singer Bessie Smith, pianist Jelly Roll Morton, bandleader Louis Armstrong, composer Duke Ellington, dancer Josephine Baker and actor Paul Robeson were among the leading entertainment talents of the Harlem Renaissance, while Paul Laurence Dunbar, James Weldon Johnson, Claude McKay, Langston Hughes and Zora Neale Hurston were some of its most eloquent writers.

There was a flip side to this greater exposure, however: Emerging Black writers relied heavily on white-owned publications and publishing houses, while in Harlem's most famous cabaret, the Cotton Club, the preeminent Black entertainers of the day played to exclusively white audiences. In 1926, a controversial bestseller about Harlem life by the white novelist Carl von Vechten exemplified the attitude of many white urban sophisticates, who looked to Black culture as a window into a more "primitive" and "vital" way of life. W.E.B. Du Bois, for one, railed against Van Vechten's novel and criticized works by Black writers, such as McKay's novel Home to Harlem, that he saw as reinforcing negative stereotypes of Black people. With the onset of the Great Depression, as organizations like the NAACP and the National Urban League switched their focus to the economic and political problems facing Black Americans, the Harlem Renaissance drew to a close. Its influence had stretched around the world, opening the doors of mainstream culture to Black artists and writers.

African Americans in WWII, 1941

During World War II, many African Americans were ready to fight for what President Franklin D. Roosevelt called the "Four Freedoms"-freedom of speech, freedom of worship, freedom from want and freedom from fear-even while they themselves lacked those freedoms at home. More than 3 million Black Americans would register for service during the war, with some 500,000 seeing action overseas. According to War Department policy, enlisted Black and white people were organized into separate units. Frustrated Black servicemen were forced to combat racism even as they sought to further U.S. war aims; this became known as the "Double V" strategy, for the two victories they sought to win.

The war's first African American hero emerged from the attack on Pearl Harbor, when Dorie Miller, a young Navy steward on the U.S.S. West Virginia, carried wounded crew members to safety and manned a machine gun post, shooting down several Japanese planes. In the spring of 1943, graduates of the first all-Black military aviation program, created at the Tuskegee Institute in 1941, headed to North Africa as the 99th Pursuit Squadron. Their commander, Captain Benjamin O. Davis Jr., later became one of the first African American generals (his father- General Benjamin O. Davis Sr.-was the first). The Tuskegee Airmen saw combat against German and Italian troops, flew more than 3,000 missions, and served as a great source of pride for many Black Americans.

Aside from celebrated accomplishments like these, overall gains were slow, and maintaining high morale among black forces was difficult due to the continued discrimination they faced. In July 1948, President Harry S. Truman finally integrated the U.S. Armed Forces under an executive order mandating that "there shall be equality of treatment and opportunity for all persons in the armed services without regard to race, color, religion or national origin."

Jackie Robinson, 1947

By 1900, the unwritten color line barring Black players from white teams in professional baseball was strictly enforced. Jackie Robinson, a sharecropper's son from Georgia, joined the Kansas City Monarchs of the Negro American League in 1945 after a stint in the U.S. Army (he earned an honorable discharge after facing a court-martial for refusing to move to the back of a segregated bus). His play caught the attention of Branch Rickey, general manager of the Brooklyn Dodgers, who had been considering bringing an end to segregation in baseball. Rickey signed Robinson to a Dodgers farm team that same year and two years later moved him up, making Robinson the first African American player to play on a major league team.

Robinson played his first game with the Dodgers on April 15, 1947; he led the National League in stolen bases that season, earning Rookie of the Year honors. Over the next nine years, Robinson compiled a .311 batting average and led the Dodgers to six league championships and one World Series victory. Despite his success on the field, however, he encountered hostility from both fans and other players. Members of the St. Louis Cardinals even threatened to strike if Robinson played; baseball commissioner Ford Frick settled the question by threatening to suspend any player who went on strike.

After Robinson's historic breakthrough, baseball was steadily integrated, with professional basketball and tennis following suit in 1950. His groundbreaking achievement transcended sports, and as soon as he signed the contract with Rickey, Robinson became one of the most visible African Americans in the country, and a figure that Black people could look to as a source of pride, inspiration and hope. As his success and fame grew, Robinson began speaking out publicly for Black equality. In 1949, he testified before the House Un-American Activities Committee to discuss the appeal of Communism to Black Americans, surprising them with a ferocious condemnation of the racial discrimination embodied by the Jim Crow segregation laws of the South: "The white public should start toward real understanding by appreciating that every single Negro who is worth his salt is going to resent any kind of slurs and discrimination because of his race, and he's going to use every bit of intelligence...to stop it..."

Brown v. Board of Education, May 17, 1954

On May 17, 1954, the U.S. Supreme Court delivered its verdict in Brown v. Board of Education, ruling unanimously that racial segregation in public schools violated the 14th Amendment's mandate of equal protection of the laws of the U.S. Constitution to any person within its jurisdiction. Oliver Brown, the lead plaintiff in the case, was one of almost 200 people from five different states who had joined related NAACP cases brought before the Supreme Court since 1938.

The landmark verdict reversed the "separate but equal" doctrine the Court had established with Plessy v. Ferguson (1896), in which it determined that equal protection was not violated as long as reasonably equal conditions were provided to both groups. In the Brown decision, Chief Justice Earl Warren famously declared that "separate educational facilities are inherently unequal." Though the Court's ruling applied specifically to public schools, it implied that other segregated facilities were also unconstitutional, thus striking a heavy blow to the Jim Crow South. As such, the ruling provoked serious resistance, including a "Southern manifesto" issued by southern congressmen denouncing it. The decision was also difficult to enforce, a fact that became increasingly clear in May 1955 when the Court remanded the case to the courts of origin due to "their proximity to local conditions" and urged "a prompt and reasonable start toward full compliance." Though some southern schools moved towards integration relatively without incident, in other cases-notably in Arkansas and Alabama-enforcing Brown would require federal intervention.

Emmett Till, August 1955

In August 1955, a 14-year-old black boy from Chicago named Emmett Till had recently arrived in Money, Mississippi to visit relatives. While in a grocery store, he allegedly whistled and made a flirtatious remark to the white woman behind the counter, violating the strict racial codes of the Jim Crow South. Three days later, two white men-the woman's husband, Roy Bryant, and his half-brother, J.W. Milam-dragged Till from his great uncle's house in the middle of the night. After beating the boy, they shot him to death and threw his body in the Tallahatchie River. The two men confessed to kidnapping Till but were acquitted of murder charges by an all-white, all-male jury after barely an hour of deliberations. Never brought to justice, Bryant and Milam later shared vivid details of how they killed Till with a journalist for Look magazine, which published their confessions under the headline "The Shocking Story of Approved Killing in Mississippi."

Till's mother held an open-casket funeral for her son in Chicago, hoping to bring public attention to the brutal murder. Thousands of mourners attended, and Jet magazine published a photo of the corpse. International outrage over the crime and the verdict helped fuel the civil rights movement: just three months after Emmett Till's body was found, and a month after a Mississippi grand jury refused to indict Milam and Bryant on kidnapping charges, a citywide bus boycott in Montgomery, Alabama would begin the movement in earnest.

Rosa Parks and the Montgomery Bus Boycott, December 1955

On December 1, 1955, an African American woman named Rosa Parks was riding a city bus in Montgomery, Alabama when the driver told her to give up her seat to a white man. Parks refused and was arrested for violating the city's racial segregation ordinances, which mandated that Black passengers sit in the back of public buses and give up their seats for white riders if the front seats were full. Parks, a 42-year-old seamstress, was also the secretary of the Montgomery chapter of the NAACP. As she later explained: "I had been pushed as far as I could stand to be pushed. I had decided that I would have to know once and for all what rights I had as a human being and a citizen."

Four days after Parks' arrest, an activist organization called the Montgomery Improvement Association-led by a young pastor named Martin Luther King Jr. -spearheaded a boycott of the city's municipal bus company. Because African Americans made up some 70 percent of the bus company's riders at the time, and the great majority of Montgomery's Black citizens supported the bus boycott, its impact was immediate.

About 90 participants in the Montgomery Bus Boycott, including King, were indicted under a law forbidding conspiracy to obstruct the operation of a business. Found guilty, King immediately appealed the decision. Meanwhile, the boycott stretched on for more than a year, and the bus company struggled to avoid bankruptcy. On November 13, 1956, in Browder v. Gayle, the U.S. Supreme Court upheld a lower court's decision declaring the bus company's segregation seating policy unconstitutional under the equal protection clause of the 14th Amendment. King, called off the boycott on December 20, and Rosa Parks-known as the "mother of the civil rights movement"-would be one of the first to ride the newly desegregated buses.

Central High School Integrated, September 1957

Although the Supreme Court declared segregation of public schools illegal in Brown v. Board of Education (1954), the decision was extremely difficult to enforce, as 11 southern states enacted resolutions interfering with, nullifying or protesting school desegregation. In Arkansas, Governor Orval Faubus made resistance to desegregation a central part of his successful 1956 reelection campaign. The following September, after a federal court ordered the desegregation of Central High School, located in the state capital of Little Rock, Faubus called out the Arkansas National Guard to prevent nine African American students from entering the school. He was later forced to call off the guard, and in the tense standoff that followed, TV cameras captured footage of white mobs converging on the " Little Rock Nine " outside the high school. For millions of viewers throughout the country, the unforgettable images provided a vivid contrast between the angry forces of white supremacy and the quiet, dignified resistance of African American students.

After an appeal by the local congressman and mayor of Little Rock to stop the violence, President Dwight D. Eisenhower federalized the state's National Guard and sent 1,000 members of the U.S. Army's 101st Airborne Division to enforce the integration of Central High School. The nine Black students entered the school under heavily armed guard, marking the first time since Reconstruction that federal troops had provided protection for Black Americans against racial violence. Not done fighting, Faubus closed all of Little Rock's high schools in the fall of 1958 rather than permit integration. A federal court struck down this act, and four of the nine students returned, under police protection, after the schools were reopened in 1959.

Loving v. Virginia Ruling, 1958

Mildred and Richard Loving were one of the first interracial couples legally married in the United States and their union marked a pivotal moment in marriage rights for mixed-race families. At 2 a.m. on July 11, 1958, Mildred Jeter was lying next to her husband Richard Loving, when police began knocking on their door, demanding to know about the nature of their relationship. At the time, interracial marriage was illegal in Virginia and the newly-wed couple was guilty of breaking the law.

Richard spent the night in prison, and his sister had to pay a $1,000 bond for his release. Mildred, however, spent three nights in a small women's cell and was released to her father. The couple was then given a choice: spend 25 years in prison or leave Virginia. They chose exile and abandoned the state for nine years, making periodic trips back to visit family while trying to avoid being detected.

Amidst the civil rights movement, ACLU lawyers Bernard S. Cohen and Philip J. Hirschkop decided to take on the couple's case. They tried to have the case vacated and the ruling overturned without success. They then tried appealing the decision to the Virginia Supreme Court of Appeals, but the court ultimately stuck to the original ruling. The case eventually made its way to the Supreme Court, where a majority of members decided on June 12, 1967, that laws banning interracial marriage were unconstitutional.

Sit-In Movement and Founding of SNCC, 1960

On February 1, 1960, four Black students from the Agricultural and Technical College in Greensboro, North Carolina, sat down at the lunch counter in a local branch of Woolworth's and ordered coffee. Refused service due to the counter's "whites-only" policy, they stayed put until the store closed, then returned the next day with other students. Heavily covered by the news media, the Greensboro sit-ins sparked a movement that spread quickly to college towns throughout the South and into the North, as young Black and white people engaged in various forms of peaceful protest against segregation in libraries, on beaches, in hotels and other establishments. Though many protesters were arrested for trespassing, disorderly conduct or disturbing the peace, their actions made an immediate impact, forcing Woolworth's-among other establishments-to change their segregationist policies.

To capitalize on the sit-in movement's increasing momentum, the Student Nonviolent Coordinating Committee ( SNCC) was founded in Raleigh, North Carolina in April 1960. Over the next few years, SNCC broadened its influence, organizing so-called "Freedom Rides" through the South in 1961 and the historic March on Washington in 1963; it also joined the NAACP in pushing for the passage of the Civil Rights Act of 1964. Later, SNCC would mount an organized resistance to the Vietnam War. As its members faced increased violence, SNCC became more militant, and by the late 1960s it was advocating the "Black Power" philosophy of Stokely Carmichael (SNCC's chairman from 1966-67) and his successor, H. Rap Brown. By the early 1970s, SNCC was effectively disbanded.

CORE and Freedom Rides, May 1961

Founded in 1942 by the civil rights leader James Farmer, the Congress of Racial Equality ( CORE) sought to end discrimination and improve race relations through direct action. In its early years, CORE staged a sit-in at a Chicago coffee shop (a precursor to the successful sit-in movement of 1960) and organized a "Journey of Reconciliation," in which a group of Black and white activists rode together on a bus through the upper South in 1947, a year after the U.S. Supreme Court banned segregation in interstate bus travel.

Kennedy sent federal marshals to escort the riders to Jackson, Mississippi, but images of the bloodshed made the worldwide news, and the freedom rides continued. In September, under pressure from CORE and other civil rights organizations, as well as from the attorney general's office, the Interstate Commerce Commission ruled that all passengers on interstate bus carriers should be seated without regard to race and carriers could not mandate segregated terminals.

Integration of Ole Miss, September 1962

By the end of the 1950s, African Americans had begun to be admitted in small numbers to white colleges and universities in the South without too much incident. In 1962, however, a crisis erupted when the state-funded University of Mississippi (known as "Ole Miss") admitted a Black man, James Meredith. After nine years in the Air Force, Meredith had studied at the all-Black Jackson State College and applied repeatedly to Ole Miss with no success. With the aid of the NAACP, Meredith filed a lawsuit alleging that the university had discriminated against him because of his race. In September 1962, the U.S. Supreme Court ruled in Meredith's favor, but state officials including Governor Ross Barnett vowed to block his admission.

When Meredith arrived at Ole Miss under the protection of federal forces including U.S. marshals, a mob of more than 2,000 people formed on the Oxford, Mississippi campus. Two people were killed and close to 200 injured in the ensuing chaos, which ended only after President Kennedy's administration sent some 31,000 troops to restore order. Meredith went on to graduate from Ole Miss in 1963, but the struggle to integrate higher education continued. Later that year, Governor George Wallace blocked the enrollment of a Black student at the University of Alabama, pledging to "stand in the schoolhouse door." Though Wallace was eventually forced by the federalized National Guard to integrate the university, he became a prominent symbol of the ongoing resistance to desegregation nearly a decade after Brown v. Board of Education.

Birmingham Church Bombed, 1963

Governor George Wallace was a leading foe of desegregation, and Birmingham had one of the strongest and most violent chapters of the Ku Klux Klan. Birmingham had become a leading focus of the civil rights movement by the spring of 1963 when Martin Luther King Jr. was arrested there while leading supporters of his Southern Christian Leadership Conference (SCLC) in a nonviolent campaign of demonstrations against segregation.

While in jail, King wrote a letter to local white ministers justifying his decision not to call off the demonstrations in the face of continued bloodshed at the hands of local law enforcement officials, led by Birmingham's police commissioner, Eugene "Bull" Connor. "Letter from a Birmingham Jail" was published in the national press even as images of police brutality against protesters in Birmingham-including children being attacked by police dogs and knocked off their feet by fire hoses-sent shock waves around the world, helping to build crucial support for the civil rights movement.

'I Have a Dream,' 1963

On August 28, 1963, some 250,000 people-both Black and white-participated in the March on Washington for Jobs and Freedom, the largest demonstration in the history of the nation's capital and the most significant display of the civil rights movement's growing strength. After marching from the Washington Monument, the demonstrators gathered near the Lincoln Memorial, where a number of civil rights leaders addressed the crowd, calling for voting rights, equal employment opportunities for Black Americans and an end to racial segregation.

The last leader to appear was the Baptist preacher Martin Luther King Jr. of the Southern Christian Leadership Conference (SCLC), who spoke eloquently of the struggle facing Black Americans and the need for continued action and nonviolent resistance. " I have a dream," King intoned, expressing his faith that one day white and Black people would stand together as equals, and there would be harmony between the races: "I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin, but by the content of their character."

King's improvised sermon continued for nine minutes after the end of his prepared remarks, and his stirring words would be remembered as undoubtedly one of the greatest speeches in American history. At its conclusion, King quoted an "old Negro spiritual: 'Free at last! Free at last! Thank God Almighty, we are free at last!'" King's speech served as a defining moment for the civil rights movement, and he soon emerged as its most prominent figure.

Civil Rights Act of 1964, July 1964

At its most basic level, the act gave the federal government more power to protect citizens against discrimination on the basis of race, religion, sex or national origin. It mandated the desegregation of most public accommodations, including lunch counters, bus depots, parks and swimming pools, and established the Equal Employment Opportunity Commission (EEOC) to ensure equal treatment of minorities in the workplace. The act also guaranteed equal voting rights by removing biased registration requirements and procedures and authorized the U.S. Office of Education to provide aid to assist with school desegregation. In a televised ceremony on July 2, 1964, Johnson signed the Civil Rights Act into law using 75 pens; he presented one of them to King, who counted it among his most prized possessions.

Freedom Summer and the 'Mississippi Burning' Murders, June 1964

In the summer of 1964, civil rights organizations including the Congress of Racial Equality (CORE) urged white students from the North to travel to Mississippi, where they helped register Black voters and build schools for Black children. The organizations believed the participation of white students in the so-called "Freedom Summer" would bring increased visibility to their efforts. The summer had barely begun, however, when three volunteers-Michael Schwerner and Andrew Goodman, both white New Yorkers, and James Chaney, a Black Mississippian-disappeared on their way back from investigating the burning of an African American church by the Ku Klux Klan. After a massive FBI investigation (code-named "Mississippi Burning") their bodies were discovered on August 4 buried in an earthen dam near Philadelphia, in Neshoba County, Mississippi.

Although the culprits in the case-white supremacists who included the county's deputy sheriff-were soon identified, the state made no arrests. The Justice Department eventually indicted 19 men for violating the three volunteers' civil rights (the only charge that would give the federal government jurisdiction over the case) and after a three-year-long legal battle, the men finally went on trial in Jackson, Mississippi. In October 1967, an all-white jury found seven of the defendants guilty and acquitted the other nine. Though the verdict was hailed as a major civil rights victory-it was the first time anyone in Mississippi had been convicted for a crime against a civil rights worker-the judge in the case gave out relatively light sentences, and none of the convicted men served more than six years behind bars.

Selma to Montgomery March, March 1965

In early 1965, Martin Luther King Jr.'s Southern Christian Leadership Conference (SCLC) made Selma, Alabama, the focus of its efforts to register Black voters in the South. Alabama's governor, George Wallace, was a notorious opponent of desegregation, and the local county sheriff had led a steadfast opposition to Black voter registration drives: Only 2 percent of Selma's eligible Black voters had managed to register. In February, an Alabama state trooper shot a young African American demonstrator in nearby Marion, and the SCLC announced a massive protest march from Selma to the state capital in Montgomery.

On March 7, 600 marchers got as far as the Edmund Pettus Bridge outside Selma when they were attacked by state troopers wielding whips, nightsticks and tear gas. The brutal scene was captured on television, enraging many Americans and drawing civil rights and religious leaders of all faiths to Selma in protest. King himself led another attempt on March 9, but turned the marchers around when state troopers again blocked the road; that night, a group of segregationists fatally beat a protester, the young white minister James Reeb.

On March 21, after a U.S. district court ordered Alabama to permit the Selma-Montgomery march, some 2,000 marchers set out on the three-day journey, this time protected by U.S. Army troops and Alabama National Guard forces under federal control. "No tide of racism can stop us," King proclaimed from the steps of the state capitol building, addressing the nearly 50,000 supporters-Black and white-who met the marchers in Montgomery.

Malcolm X Shot to Death, February 1965

In 1952, the former Malcolm Little was released from prison after serving six years on a robbery charge; while incarcerated, he had joined the Nation of Islam (NOI, commonly known as the Black Muslims), given up drinking and drugs and replaced his surname with an X to signify his rejection of his "slave" name. Charismatic and eloquent, Malcolm X soon became an influential leader of the NOI, which combined Islam with Black nationalism and sought to encourage disadvantaged young Black people searching for confidence in segregated America.

As the outspoken public voice of the Black Muslim faith, Malcolm challenged the mainstream civil rights movement and the nonviolent pursuit of integration championed by Martin Luther King Jr. Instead, he urged followers to defend themselves against white aggression "by any means necessary." Mounting tensions between Malcolm and NOI founder Elijah Muhammad led Malcolm to form his own mosque in 1964. He made a pilgrimage to Mecca that same year and underwent a second conversion, this time to Sunni Islam. Calling himself el-Hajj Malik el-Shabazz, he renounced NOI's philosophy of separatism and advocated a more inclusive approach to the struggle for Black rights.

On February 21, 1965, during a speaking engagement in Harlem, three members of the NOI rushed the stage and shot Malcolm some 15 times at close range. After Malcolm's death, his bestselling book The Autobiography of Malcolm X popularized his ideas, particularly among Black youth, and laid the foundation for the Black Power movement of the late 1960s and 1970s.

Voting Rights Act of 1965, August 1965

Less than a week after the Selma-to-Montgomery marchers were beaten and bloodied by Alabama state troopers in March 1965, President Lyndon Johnson addressed a joint session of Congress, calling for federal legislation to ensure protection of the voting rights of African Americans. The result was the Voting Rights Act, which Congress passed in August 1965.

The Voting Rights Act sought to overcome the legal barriers that still existed at the state and local levels preventing Black citizens from exercising the right to vote given them by the 15th Amendment. Specifically, it banned literacy tests as a requirement for voting, mandated federal oversight of voter registration in areas where tests had previously been used and gave the U.S. attorney general the duty of challenging the use of poll taxes for state and local elections.

Along with the Civil Rights Act of the previous year, the Voting Rights Act was one of the most expansive pieces of civil rights legislation in American history, and it greatly reduced the disparity between Black and white voters in the U.S. In Mississippi alone, the percentage of eligible Black voters registered to vote increased from 5 percent in 1960 to nearly 60 percent in 1968. In the mid-1960s, 70 African Americans were serving as elected officials in the South, while by the turn of the century there were some 5,000. In the same time period, the number of Black people serving in Congress increased from six to about 40.

Rise of Black Power

After the heady rush of the civil rights movement's first years, anger and frustration was increasing among many African Americans, who saw clearly that true equality-social, economic and political-still eluded them. In the late 1960s and early 1970s, this frustration fueled the rise of the Black Power movement. According to then-SNCC chairman Stokely Carmichael, who first popularized the term "Black Power" in 1966, the traditional civil rights movement and its emphasis on nonviolence, did not go far enough, and the federal legislation it had achieved failed to address the economic and social disadvantages facing Black Americans.

Black Power was a form of both self-definition and self-defense for African Americans; it called on them to stop looking to the institutions of white America-which were believed to be inherently racist-and act for themselves, by themselves, to seize the gains they desired, including better jobs, housing and education. Also in 1966, Huey P. Newton and Bobby Seale, college students in Oakland, California, founded the Black Panther Party.

While its original mission was to protect Black people from white brutality by sending patrol groups into Black neighborhoods, the Panthers soon developed into a Marxist group that promoted Black Power by urging African Americans to arm themselves and demand full employment, decent housing and control over their own communities. Clashes ensued between the Panthers and police in California, New York and Chicago, and in 1967 Newton was convicted of voluntary manslaughter after killing a police officer. His trial brought national attention to the organization, which at its peak in the late 1960s boasted some 2,000 members.

Fair Housing Act, April 1968

The Fair Housing Act of 1968, meant as a follow-up to the Civil Rights Act of 1964, marked the last great legislative achievement of the civil rights era. Originally intended to extend federal protection to civil rights workers, it was later expanded to address racial discrimination in the sale, rental or financing of housing units. After the bill passed the Senate by an exceedingly narrow margin in early April, it was thought that the increasingly conservative House of Representatives, wary of the growing strength and militancy of the Black Power movement, would weaken it considerably.

On the day of the Senate vote, however, Martin Luther King Jr. was assassinated in Memphis. Pressure to pass the bill increased amid the wave of national remorse that followed, and after a strictly limited debate, the House passed the Fair Housing Act on April 10. President Johnson signed it into law the following day. Over the next years, however, there was little decrease in housing segregation, and violence arose from Black efforts to seek housing in white neighborhoods.

From 1950 to 1980, the total Black population in America's urban centers increased from 6.1 million to 15.3 million; during this same time period, white Americans steadily moved out of the cities into the suburbs, taking with them many of the employment opportunities Black people needed. In this way, the ghetto-an inner city community plagued by high unemployment, crime and other social ills-became an ever more prevalent fact of urban Black life.

MLK Assassinated, April 4, 1968

On April 4, 1968, the world was stunned and saddened by the news that the civil rights activist and Nobel Peace Prize winner Martin Luther King Jr. had been shot and killed on the balcony of a motel in Memphis, Tennessee, where he had gone to support a sanitation workers' strike. King's death opened a huge rift between white and Black Americans, as many Black people saw the killing as a rejection of their vigorous pursuit of equality through the nonviolent resistance he had championed. In more than 100 cities, several days of riots, burning and looting followed his death.

The accused killer, a white man named James Earl Ray, was captured and tried immediately; he entered a guilty plea and was sentenced to 99 years in prison; no testimony was heard. Ray later recanted his confession, and despite several inquiries into the matter by the U.S. government, many continued to believe that the speedy trial had been a cover-up for a larger conspiracy. King's assassination, along with the killing of Malcolm X three years earlier, radicalized many moderate African American activists, fueling the growth of the Black Power movement and the Black Panther Party.

The success of conservative politicians that year-including Richard Nixon 's election as president and the third-party candidacy of the ardent segregationist George Wallace, who won 13 percent of the vote-further discouraged African Americans, many of whom felt that the tide was turning against the civil rights movement.

Shirley Chisholm Runs for President, 1972

By the early 1970s, the advances of the civil rights movement had combined with the rise of the feminist movement to create an African American women's movement. "There can't be liberation for half a race," declared Margaret Sloan, one of the women behind the National Black Feminist Organization, founded in 1973. A year earlier, Representative Shirley Chisholm of New York became a national symbol of both movements as the first major party African American candidate and the first female candidate for president of the United States.

A former educational consultant and a founder of the National Women's Caucus, Chisholm became the first Black woman in Congress in 1968, when she was elected to the House from her Brooklyn district. Though she failed to win a primary, Chisholm received more than 150 votes at the Democratic National Convention. She claimed she never expected to win the nomination. It went to George McGovern, who lost to Richard Nixon in the general election.

The outspoken Chisholm, who attracted little support among African American men during her presidential campaign, later told the press: "I've always met more discrimination being a woman than being Black. When I ran for the Congress, when I ran for president, I met more discrimination as a woman than for being Black. Men are men."

The Bakke Decision and Affirmative Action, 1978

Beginning in the 1960s, the term "affirmative action" was used to refer to policies and initiatives aimed at compensating for past discrimination on the basis of race, color, sex, religion or national origin. President John F. Kennedy first used the phrase in 1961, in an executive order calling on the federal government to hire more African Americans. By the mid 1970s, many universities were seeking to increase the presence of minority and female faculty and students on their campuses. The University of California at Davis, for example, designated 16 percent of its medical school's admissions spots for minority applicants.

After Allan Bakke, a white California man, applied twice without success, he sued U.C. Davis, claiming that his grades and test scores were higher than those of minority students who were admitted and accusing UC Davis of "reverse discrimination." In June 1978, in Regents of the University of California v. Bakke, the U.S. Supreme Court ruled that the use of strict racial quotas was unconstitutional and that Bakke should be admitted; on the other hand, it held that institutions of higher education could rightfully use race as a criterion in admissions decisions in order to ensure diversity.

In the wake of the Bakke verdict, affirmative action continued to be a controversial and divisive issue, with a growing opposition movement claiming that the so-called "racial playing field" was now equal and that African Americans no longer needed special consideration to overcome their disadvantages. In subsequent decisions over the next decades, the Court limited the scope of affirmative action programs, while several U.S. states prohibited racially based affirmative action.

Jesse Jackson Galvanizes Black Voters, 1984

As a young man, Jesse Jackson left his studies at the Chicago Theological Seminary to join Martin Luther King Jr.'s Southern Christian Leadership Conference (SCLC) in its crusade for Black civil rights in the South; when King was assassinated in Memphis in April 1968, Jackson was at his side. In 1971, Jackson founded PUSH, or People United to Save Humanity (later changed to People United to Serve Humanity), an organization that advocated self-reliance for African Americans and sought to establish racial parity in the business and financial community.

He was a leading voice for Black Americans during the early 1980s, urging them to be more politically active and heading up a voter registration drive that led to the election of Harold Washington as the first Black mayor of Chicago in 1983. The following year, Jackson ran for the Democratic nomination for president. On the strength of his Rainbow/PUSH Coalition, he placed third in the primaries, propelled by a surge of Black voter participation.

He ran again in 1988 and received 6.6 million votes, or 24 percent of the total primary vote, winning seven states and finishing second behind the eventual Democratic nominee, Michael Dukakis. Jackson's continued influence in the Democratic Party in the decades that followed ensured that African American issues had an important role in the party's platform.

Throughout his long career, Jackson has inspired both admiration and criticism for his tireless efforts on behalf of the Black community and his outspoken public persona. His son, Jesse L. Jackson Jr., won election to the U.S. House of Representatives from Illinois in 1995.

Oprah Winfrey Launches Syndicated Talk Show, 1986

Throughout the 1980s and 1990s, the success of the long-running sitcom The Cosby Show-featuring popular comedian Bill Cosby as the doctor patriarch of a close-knit middle-class African American family-helped redefine the image of Black characters on mainstream American television. Suddenly, there was no lack of educated, upwardly mobile, family-oriented Black characters for TV viewers to look to, both in fiction and in life. In 1980, entrepreneur Robert L. Johnson founded Black Entertainment Television (BET), which he later sold to entertainment giant Viacom for some $3 billion. Perhaps the most striking phenomenon, however, was the rise of Oprah Winfrey.

Born in rural Mississippi to a poor unwed teenage mother, Winfrey got her start in television news before taking over a morning talk show in Chicago in 1984. Two years later, she launched her own nationally syndicated talk show, The Oprah Winfrey Show, which would go on to become the highest rated in TV history. Celebrated for her ability to talk candidly about a wide range of issues, Winfrey spun her talk show success into a one-woman empire-including acting, film and television production and publishing.

She notably promoted the work of Black female writers, forming a film company to produce movies based on novels like The Color Purple, by Alice Walker, and Beloved, by Nobel Prize winner Toni Morrison. (She starred in both.) One of the most influential individuals in entertainment and the first Black female billionaire, Winfrey is also an active philanthropist, giving generously to Black South Africans and to the historically Black Morehouse College, among other causes.

Los Angeles Riots, 1992

In March 1991, officers with the California Highway Patrol attempted to pull an African American man named Rodney King over for speeding on a Los Angeles freeway. King, who was on probation for robbery and had been drinking, led them on a high-speed chase, and by the time the patrolmen caught up to his car, several officers of the Los Angeles Police Department were on the scene. After King allegedly resisted arrest and threatened them, four LAPD officers shot him with a TASER gun and severely beat him.

Caught on videotape by an onlooker and broadcast around the world, the beating inspired widespread outrage in the city's African American community, who had long condemned the racial profiling and abuse its members suffered at the hands of the police force. Many demanded that the unpopular L.A. police chief, Daryl Gates, be fired and that the four officers be brought to justice for their use of excessive force. The King case was eventually tried in the suburb of Simi Valley, and in April 1992 a jury found the officers not guilty.

Rage over the verdict sparked the four days of the L.A. riots, beginning in the mostly Black South Central neighborhood. By the time the riots subsided, some 55 people were dead, more than 2,300 injured, and more than 1,000 buildings had been burned. Authorities later estimated the total damage at around $1 billion. The next year, two of the four LAPD officers involved in the beating were retried and convicted in a federal court for violating King's civil rights; he eventually received $3.8 million from the city in a settlement.

Million Man March, 1995

In October 1995, hundreds of thousands of Black men gathered in Washington, D.C. for the Million Man March, one of the largest demonstrations of its kind in the capital's history. Its organizer, Minister Louis Farrakhan, had called for "a million sober, disciplined, committed, dedicated, inspired Black men to meet in Washington on a day of atonement." Farrakhan, who had asserted control over the Nation of Islam (commonly known as the Black Muslims) in the late 1970s and reasserted its original principles of Black separatism, may have been an incendiary figure, but the idea behind the Million Man March was one most Black-and many white-people could get behind.

The march was intended to bring about a kind of spiritual renewal among Black men and to instill in them a sense of solidarity and of personal responsibility to improve their own condition. It would also, organizers believed, disprove some of the stereotypical negative images of Black men that existed in American society.

By that time, the U.S. government's "war on drugs" had sent a disproportionate number of African Americans to prison, and by 2000, more Black men were incarcerated than in college. Estimates of the number of participants in the Million Man March ranged from 400,000 to more than 1 million, and its success spurred the organization of a Million Woman March, which took place in 1997 in Philadelphia.

Colin Powell Becomes Secretary of State, 2001

In 2001, George W. Bush appointed Powell as secretary of state, making him the first African American to serve as America's top diplomat. Powell sought to build international support for the controversial U.S invasion of Iraq in 2003, delivering a divisive speech to the United Nations regarding that country's possession of weapons material that was later revealed to be based on faulty intelligence. He resigned after Bush's reelection in 2004.

In another history-making appointment, Condoleezza Rice, Bush's longtime foreign policy adviser and the former head of the National Security Council, succeeded Powell, becoming the first African American woman to serve as secretary of state. Though he largely stayed out of the political spotlight after stepping down, Powell remained an admired figure in Washington and beyond.

Though he continued to brush off any speculation of a possible future presidential run, Powell made headlines during the 2008 presidential campaign when he broke from the Republican party to endorse Barack Obama, the eventual winner and the first African American to be elected president of the United States.

Barack Obama Becomes 44th US President, 2008

On January 20, 2009, Barack Obama was inaugurated as the 44th president of the United States; he is the first African American to hold that office. The product of an interracial marriage-his father grew up in a small village in Kenya, his mother in Kansas-Obama grew up in Hawaii but discovered his civic calling in Chicago, where he worked for several years as a community organizer on the city's largely Black South Side.

After studying at Harvard Law School and practicing constitutional law in Chicago, he began his political career in 1996 in the Illinois State Senate and in 2004 announced his candidacy for a newly vacant seat in the U.S. Senate. He delivered a rousing keynote speech at that year's Democratic National Convention, attracting national attention with his eloquent call for national unity and cooperation across party lines. In February 2007, just months after he became only the third African American elected to the U.S. Senate since Reconstruction, Obama announced his candidacy for the 2008 Democratic presidential nomination.

After withstanding a tight Democratic primary battle with Hillary Clinton, the New York senator and former first lady, Obama defeated Senator John McCain of Arizona in the general election that November. Obama's appearances in both the primaries and the general election drew impressive crowds, and his message of hope and change-embodied by the slogan "Yes We Can"-inspired thousands of new voters, many young and Black, to cast their vote for the first time in the historic election. He was reelected in 2012.

The Black Lives Matter Movement

The term "Black lives matter" was first used by organizer Alicia Garza in a July 2013 Facebook post in response to the acquittal of George Zimmerman, a Florida man who shot and killed unarmed 17-year-old Trayvon Martin on February 26, 2012. Martin's death set off nationwide protests like the Million Hoodie March. In 2013, Patrisse Cullors, Alicia Garza, and Opal Tometi formed the Black Lives Matter Network with the mission to "eradicate white supremacy and build local power to intervene in violence inflicted on Black communities by the state and vigilantes."

The hashtag #BlackLivesMatter first appeared on Twitter on July 13, 2013, and spread widely as high-profile cases involving the deaths of Black civilians provoked renewed outrage.

A series of deaths of Black Americans at the hands of police officers continued to spark outrage and protests, including Eric Garner in New York City, Michael Brown in Ferguson, Missouri, Tamir Rice in Cleveland Ohio and Freddie Gray in Baltimore, Maryland.

The Black Lives Matter movement gained renewed attention on September 25, 2016, when San Francisco 49ers players Eric Reid, Eli Harold, and quarterback Colin Kaepernick kneeled during the national anthem before the game against the Seattle Seahawks to draw attention to recent acts of police brutality. Dozens of other players in the NFL and beyond followed suit.

George Floyd Protests

The movement swelled to a critical juncture on May 25, 2020, in the midst of the COVID-19 epidemic when 46-year-old George Floyd died after being handcuffed and pinned to the ground by police officer Derek Chauvin.

Chauvin was filmed kneeling on Floyd's neck for more than eight minutes. Floyd had been accused of using a counterfeit $20 bill at a local deli in Minneapolis. All four officers involved in the incident were fired. In April 2021, Chauvin was convicted of second-degree unintentional murder, third-degree murder and second-degree manslaughter. In February 2022, the three other officers were found guilty of depriving Floyd of his civil rights when they helped with the restraint that led to his death.

Floyd's killing came on the heels of two other high-profile cases in 2020. On February 23, 25-year-old Ahmaud Arbery was killed while out on a run after being followed by three white men in a pickup truck. And on March 13, 26-year-old EMT Breonna Taylor was shot eight times and killed after police broke down the door to her apartment while executing a nighttime warrant.

On May 26, 2020, the day after Floyd's death, protestors in Minneapolis took to the streets to protest Floyd's killing. Police cars were set on fire and officers released tear gas to disperse crowds. After months of quarantine and isolation during a global pandemic, protests mounted, spreading across the country in the following days and weeks.

Kamala Harris Becomes the First Woman and First Black US Vice President, 2021

In January 2021, Kamala Harris became the first woman and first woman of color to become vice president of the United States. Then-candidate Joe Biden had nominated Harris in August 2020 during the Democratic party's "remote" national convention. Harris, whose mother immigrated to the United States from India and whose father immigrated from Jamaica, was the first person of African or Asian descent to become a major party's vice presidential candidate-and the first to win the office.

In her victory speech in November 2020, Harris said that she was thinking "about the generations of women, Black women, Asian, white, Latina, Native American women-who throughout our nation's history have paved the way for this moment tonight-women who fought and sacrificed so much for equality and liberty and justice for all."

Sources

Ferguson shooting victim Michael Brown. BBC.
George Floyd Protests: A Timeline. The New York Times.
Tamir Rice. PBS.org.
The Matter of Black Lives. The New Yorker.
The Hashtag Black Lives Matter. Pew Research.
The Path to Eric Garner's death. The New York Times.
Timeline of Murder Trial of Amber Guyger. ABC.

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Black History Milestones: Timeline | HISTORY

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African American history began with slavery, as white European settlers first brought Africans to the continent to serve as enslaved workers. After the Civil War, the racist legacy of slavery persisted, spurring movements of resistance. Learn important dates and facts about the African American experience.