Black Theology as Mass Movement

C. Howard

• Publisher: Palgrave Macmillan
• Year: 2014
• ISBN:
  9781137368751
• Topic: Theology & Religion
• Subtopic: History of Religion

Black Theology as Mass Movemen t is a call to current and future theologians to stretch the boundaries of Black Liberation Theology from what has become primarily an academic subfield into a full fledge liberation movement beyond the walls of the academy.

A Letter to Future Black Liberation Theologians

That you are reading this presumes three things; that by some miracle this book has found its way to publication and somehow into your hands, that Black Liberation Theology is still relevant, and that the struggle continues.

If the above is true let me begin by saying thank you, of course for reading this little book, but more so for continuing to carry the torch down the road toward freedom, peace, and life. I do pray this small text might be of some help to you as you go along your journey. If not a help then I pray that it at least presents some useful questions that result in helpful reflection.

If there is one prayer that I offer on your behalf, one blessing that I might bestow upon you, it is the blessing of freedom. That in the end is the great goal of Black Liberation Theology, at least as I see it: To glorify God by working for freedom. Thus I pray that you might be free.

During the writing of this book, I was invited to a concert where I saw a most remarkable artist named Raul Midón. Raul is a blind guitarist of African and Argentinean descent. He played a powerful song called “Invisible Chains” that has haunted me ever since. Throughout track that keeps pace with nothing more than his melodious voice and his acoustic guitar, this gifted brother keeps returning to the phrase, “Where’s there’s a will there is a way.” An especially powerful and challenging part of the song says,

It’s a crying shame to lose the game

as a prisoner in a picture frame,

made for you and me, if only we could see,

the invisible chains.¹

Be free especially in your work as a Black theologian. Too often the work of the professional theologian invites a very subtle binding by the entrapping invisible chains of the academy. Certainly there is a kind of freedom that comes with academic work, indeed that a part of what makes it an attractive career for many of us. But the chains of which I am speaking I imagine you may have already caught glimpse of. These are chains that have the potential to affect our work and what we work on.

Some of these chains are connected to the pressures of the academy. Certainly not all, but many departments and schools foster cultures where security is (seemingly) wrapped up in the attainment of tenure and in the gaining of acceptance from one’s peers both on campus and in the field. There is a temptation to publish either for publishing sake or for the sake of acquiring tenure. These invisible chains make individuals seek out the “best” and the “right” publishers for their books because certain presses will not be impressive enough for the review committee. I say this is not intending to question the commitment to liberation that Black theologians have. Who knows the heart of another? Further I have known far too many Black theologians who are deeply committed to the doing liberating work. Rather, I share all of this with you in order to name the powers that are competing with liberative work or—liberated work.

How can academic work be free if it is beholden to the eyes and approval of a tenure committee or a review board? How can we write about liberation when we are not liberated ourselves?

I have felt this temptation in the writing of this book. I of course want this text to be well received. I would love for my peers and those who will read it to each love this book. But when we write to impress others, rather than for the cause or for the joy of writing and making art, or for God, we are not free. And, I would add when we write to impress others the creative process can be hampered, which ultimately gets in the way of the work that we are trying to do.

At some point in the writing of this book, I turned a corner and felt free. I hope that my writing grows freer overtime. I remembered, after briefly forgetting, that I am writing this book for you and not for my own reputation or my own career. I think I began to “carefully not care” after sitting with my dear friend and long time mentor James Spady—a scholar and journalist who is referenced at various times throughout this book. Spady, to this day, remains my favorite and the best writer that I know. He is a free Black man and that is reflected in each sentence that he writes. Spady has been published in academic journals, edited collections, and has written a few dozen books of his own (not to mention the hundreds of articles and interviews of his that have been published over the years). He knows how to, and at times does, write in the expected academic format for scholarly pieces. Yet, even in the deeply researched academic pieces that he has had published he writes freely. He at times uses incomplete conversational sentences, contemporary urban slang, onomatopoeias, or words and phrases that emerge out of his free ever-flowing creativity like “Wayblackmemories”. His delight in his freedom is apparent when he at times will end a paragraph by typing, “Yeaaaaaaaaaaaa!” Like our predecessors’ fighting has secured our freedoms, he has wrestled in the past with editors for his freedom and his efforts toward his own liberation have ultimately affected the liberation of the many writers that have come after him. To that I too say, “Yeaaaaaaaaaaaa!”

Like Spady I challenge you to also be free. Not only in your writing but also in the everyday liberation theology that we live. And work for freedom. Your work will be better, your life will be better, and you will have a better chance at making the world better.

One last thing. The Book of Proverbs speaks about the sojourner being at a crossroads. There she or he hears the voices of both folly and Wisdom. Folly tempts us by appealing to our insecurities and in particular to pride and arrogance. Wisdom is humble and while it may not seem like the more exciting path, it is the better way.

Don’t let pride or an unhealthy ambition be the fuel of your work. Let wisdom and love drive you. That is what I have seen in the best Black theologians over the years and it is what I pray for you.

Chaz

C H A P T E R O N E

Awakening the Sankofa Bird: The Movement-Centric Origins of Black Liberation Theology

And What Exactly Is Black Liberation Theology?

As a parent of two little girls who like me are “of color,” I both looked forward to and dreaded the day when I would have “the talk” with them. The talk to which I am referring is the one about race. The one where I get to share with them all that they have to be proud of as women of African descent. That they come from a beautiful people who have given much to the world in every field and aspect of the human experience. Yet there is another side to the talk isn’t there? It’s where I share with them the fact that there are and will be individuals who will hate and try to hurt them just because of the color of their skin. That there may be moments in life where they will be discriminated against because of how they look and how they identify. Talking about race can be a beautiful or a very challenging thing. I held both pride and pain as I sat my girls on my lap and began to introduce them to this part of themselves—to the great continuum that they are now a part of. I’m glad that we could have the discussion and work toward a narrative and definition of what it means to be Black, rather than having who and what they are be defined by others. I think it is also important here to work toward a narrative and definition of what Black Liberation Theology is before moving ahead. Black Liberation Theology also comes from a beautiful, brilliant people, from powerful world changing movements, and from a God who is Love—and continuously loving.

Defining Blackness is a complex endeavor. It might be wise to first consider the notion of race. A consideration of this historically complex term reveals the unstable character and malleability of the word. When employing the term race, some use this word to describe biological classifications of people. More recently, the term has been used to describe socially and legally constructed identities. The biological construction of race is one that perpetuates the theory that there are hereditary categories among human being based on their physical composition—especially skin color and the appearance of certain features such the shape of the eyes and the size of the nose or lips. These categories are designated by terms like Black, White, and Asian¹ (or Negroid, Caucasoid, or Mongoloid).² In other words, a biological construction believes that one’s racial classification is determined by what one looks like.

In his essay “Racial Identity and the State: Contesting the Federal Standards for Classification,”³ Michael Omi shares how racial classification moved from a solely biological basis to being connected to the law during the earliest years of American history. He explains how different states used different criteria for racial categorization. For example, the notorious “one-drop” rule employed by certain states suggested that if, within your lineage there was even one drop of African blood, you were “Negro.” Thus, the person who has blond hair and blue eyes and had just one person of African descent in their family tree eight generations ago would by these criteria would legally be considered Black although biologically they may appear to be White.

Various states have had different laws, which created terms like “quadroon” (one of their four grandparents being Negro) or “octoroon” (one of their eight great-grandparents being Negro) that classified people as Black. All of that is meant to briefly demonstrate the fact that within the United States, race is about more than just the physical features one may have (a certain pigmentation of skin or a certain type of nose or eyes or hair texture)⁴ as there are other components in how we as individuals and as a nation (and individual states) determine “what someone is.”

In many ways, this is positive because race cannot be demonstrated solely by observable features—if at all. Yet, the move from biologically based classifications of race to legally based classifications, of course, had severe consequences in the United States, particularly around certain civil rights. The right to vote, for example, in certain times and places has been extended by law to only “White men who own property.” The same was true for the right to own property, or run for legal office, or even which types of marital relationships were legal and illegal. Therefore it becomes clear why some thought it was necessary to clarify who was White and who was not—as some people who “looked White” needed to be legally reminded that they were not.

An example of how legal classifications continue to have consequence even in recent times is evidenced in the Phipps (Jane Doe) Case. Scholar James Davis describes the history in the Phipps (Jane Doe) case as going as far back as 1770. The case originates, according to Davis, with the actions of French planter Jean Guillory and his affair with his wife’s slave Margarita. Nearly 220 years later, their great-great-great-great-granddaughter, Susie Guillory Phipps, asked Louisiana courts to change the classification on her deceased parents’ birth certificate from “Black” to “White” so she and her brothers and sisters could be designated as White. They all “looked White,” according to the social construction of what White is meant to look like, and some were blue-eyed blonds. Mrs. Phipps had been denied a passport because she had checked “White” on her application although her birth certificate designated her race as “Colored.” This designation was supplied at her birth by a midwife who presumably based this information on her parents’ or family’s status in the community. Mrs. Phipps claimed that this classification came as a shock and was inaccurate, since she had always thought she was White, had lived as White, and had married two White men. Some of her relatives, however, gave depositions saying they considered themselves “Colored” and the lawyers for the state claimed to have proof that Mrs. Phipps is 33-seconds Black. That was more than enough “drops of Black blood” for the district court in 1983 to declare her parents, and thus Mrs. Phipps and her siblings, to be legally Black.⁵ This “one-drop rule” is based on the belief that Whiteness symbolized privilege, purity and that which was “good” while Blackness symbolized an underclass, contamination and that which was “other.”

The social construction of race is a third way to identify how racial categories are formed (after biological and legal). This is always the most difficult concept in this conversation for my students to grasp. Most of us can grasp the idea that some people look at physical features and categorize people into different races be they correct categorizations or not. And most can understand that the government (and other governments around the world) has sought to define what “legally makes certain people White” (the legal construction of race). Yet the social construction is often a new concept for many of the women and men in my classes. I try to clarify it with an activity called “What am I?”

In the activity I stand in front of the class and ask them what race I am. They say “Black.” I reply with “How can you tell?” And though they are a little cautious after just being told that it is a “no-no” to judge race solely by physical featured, they hesitantly say, “Because of your skin color.” “Because of the shape of your nose.” “ Because of your lips.”

I push back and say, “Well doesn’t he (a student of Mexican decent) have the same skin color that I do? And aren’t her lips similar to mine? (I say gesturing toward a student from India). After a few more comments each year, a brave student raises their hand and says,

It’s just your style. I mean you act Black. You kind of have that Black guy swag. You know, the way you walk, the way you talk in conversation. Plus I think you were in a Black fraternity weren’t you? And plus you teach Black history!

This, I try to point out, is how race is socially constructed. The student was categorizing me by means not based on my physical features or the legal racial classification of my ancestors, but instead by social cues. Overtime, in certain times, different ideas of what it means to be Black have formed in our minds with images put there through various social interactions. On television I may see that a lot of Black men act a certain way so when I see another person who fits my very basic physical requirements around Blackness and I add that to their behavior and/or style then I deduce that they are Black. One is socially trained to believe that all Black men are good at basketball, therefore when choosing teams at a pick up game, one might presume that they should “pick the Black guy” because he’s probably better than the guy from China.⁶ When some teachers see an Asian student in class sometimes, they quickly deduce that they will be on the smarter end of the spectrum because over time a part of the social construction of what it means to be “Asian” (a big group of diverse people by the way) is to be smart. The social construction of race includes the invisible attributes that we think of whe...

Table of contents

• Cover
• Title
• A Letter to Future Black Liberation Theologians
• A Letter to My Children: Faith and Hope
• A Letter to Those Who Raised Me Theologically: On Running with the Baton and Letting Nas Down
• Afterword: A Question
• Notes
• Bibliography
• Index