Histo week 14
Question.
For this final week of discussion, I’d like for you to share your general thoughts on the selections by historians David Levering Lewis and Mark Naison. Some of you did this already in the previous discussion board, so just elaborate a little more here. While both Lewis and Naison emerged as important figures within the field of African American history in the 1970s and 1980s, they couldn’t be more different in terms of their life histories and experiences. What do their respective reflections reveal about the interrelations between trajectory of scholarly specialty and developments in the changing social milieu and in the profession at large? How does each explain the ways in which they came to do their scholarly work? What and/or who do they reference as their motivations, influences? What relationship to they draw between broad changes in American society, scholarly inquiry, and generational analysis (especially as both see themselves as representative of the 4th generation of American historians)? How do you see yourself as an historian—your motivations, influences? In what ways, if any, has your interrogation of key works in Black historical studies impacted your research speciality and shaped your understanding of American history and, beyond this, world history?
Post 1
David Levering Lewis and Mark Naison’s articles both reveal the personal and professionals of African American historiography in the late twentieth century. In his article, Lewis details what he terms the fourth generation of African American historians that emerged in the 1970s and ‘80s and describes how his upbringing in a middle-class Black family from the South shaped his intellectual development. He writes that he was inspired to study African American history in-depth following the assassination of Martin Luther King Jr., a moment which Lewis describes as “a unique opportunity to write about the promise and the mirage of America as a land of opportunity” (Lewis 80). However, Lewis writes that he did not become conscious of the possibilities for historiographical expansion and dialogue until the 1970s, when he published literature on a range of topics such as the Harlem Renaissance and Garveyism that revealed Black men and women’s responses to historical, social, and political conditions that ultimately shaped the Black experience, shifting his historical focus away from Europe and toward a polycentric scope that revealed “the great complexity of African American life over time” (Lewis 83-4).
Mark Naison also examines his personal and professional experiences that shaped his development as a historian. Naiso writes that late twentieth century African American historiography resonated within a larger climate of social and political upheaval that sought to invent “a multiracial democracy in which people of African descent were full and equal partners” and help “create a language and a set of traditions that could help Americans live more comfortably in their brave new world of political equality and racial diversity” (Naison 132). Naison argues that historical scholarship has the power to “give substance and permanence to processes of contemporary social change,” such as racial and gender equality (Naison 139). He also contends that personal experiences have just as much power to shape professional historical development, discussing how his experience of being in an interracial romantic relationship in the 1960s opened his eyes to just how deeply racism is engrained within American society, with the mere prospect of an interracial relationship having “the power to turn otherwise decent people into raving lunatics” (Naison 142). Like Lewis, Naison sees his historical scholarship as part of a wider social and political movement to spearhead campaigns of justice, respect, and opportunity for all. Through such an approach, one can discern how prejudice and inequality have been ingrained within the United States’s social, political, economic, and cultural institutions and set forth the path to a better, more equitable nation for all.
As a historian, I see myself as more than a storyteller or someone who unearths stories from the past. For me, being a historian means confronting uncomfortable truths of human kind’s past and sharing these truths to forge a greater understanding of civic identity, belonging, and the parameters of belonging within any given society. I grew up in a small, rural, agrarian, and largely heterogeneous community just an hour north of Bowling Green. Growing in this community in which I am related to practically every person, I felt, and continue to feel, the need to learn more about the world and the vastness of humanity outside this community of a few thousand people and an army of cattle. When I was a K-12 student in the county’s school system, I remember regularly hearing students throw around racial and homophobic slurs without any hesitancy. At community events, it was common to hear these kids’ parents, grandparents, aunts, and uncles using this same language either to refer derogatively to other members of the community or some politician or celebrity. I was lucky enough to grow up in a sheltered household where my parents, grandparents, and most of my aunts, uncles, and cousins did not use such derogatory language. I was also lucky enough to have many teachers, particularly my AP English and AP History teachers, who emphasized the importance of individual critical thinking and stoked the embers of my cultural, historical, and sociological curiosity that has burned over the entirety of my collegiate career. I have always had an interest in history, partially from the stories my grandmother would tell me of her childhood and partially from the cross-cultural and cross-socioeconomic American Girl dolls, books, and films I cherished as a child. From my upbringing and media consumption, I have found that history can teach us a lot about ourselves- both individually and collectively as a society and a species. As I continue on my path as a historian, I hope to guide myself with critical thinking, compassion, and candor that will bring the triumphs and tribulations of the past to the present so as to begin forging a greater future.
Post 2
One similarity between these two articles is that both men depict their path toward African American history as unpredictable. On the one hand, Lewis describes his experience in a well-off Black family, with a father who sacrificed his career to assist the NAACP in court and was lauded by DuBois for it, and in which he was exposed to Afrocentric literature in the library in his home (Lewis, 69-70). However, he points out that he “simply took it for granted that people of African descent had a past full of peaks and troughs” (Ibid, 70). He explains that by looking at his upbringing, one would expect him to follow in his father’s footsteps, yet the opposite occurred; he gravitated toward European history.
In contrast, Naison, a white Jewish person, describes his youth as a “‘color-blind’ period of my life” (Naison, 140). Nevertheless, surprisingly, he became interested in African Americans after being bullied by Black students bussed to his school, where cliques formed among white and black students (Ibid). He describes how this experience “triggered more curiousity than hostility” (Naison, 141). Thereafter, his involvement in activist groups fostered a growing desire to explore the voids of American history. Similar to Lewis, Naison clarifies how his exposure to “polarization” among Black people, white peers, and his Jewish parents fueled his passion for exploring “moments of interracial solidarity” (Naison, 143). For example, this drew him to research a collation between white and Black tenant farmers during the Depression. This led him to discover the vacillating relationship between African Americans and white people affiliated with Communist organizations during Jim Crow.
Both men emphasize the turn in their academic journeys to appreciating the complexities of the African American experience. For example, Lewis describes how, after becoming associated with Civil Rights history because of his biography of Dr. King, he grew interested in factions between civil rights leaders and the role of class in creating divisions. Subsequently, he began to appreciate the consistencies and anomalies of African American history for its own intrinsic value rather than looking for what it could add to mainstream history (Lewis, 84). For example, he points out how studying DuBois revealed he was “maddeningly inconsistent,” yet his changing viewpoints provide a trove of insight into Black intellectual currents in the 1900s (Lewis, 86). At the end of his essay, Naison also points out his gratitude for his college mentors, who showed him how academic interrogation of his sources could help him illuminate the role of race in US history and appreciate “irony and ambiguity” (Naison, 145). And so, in my view, these two men, as figures of the 4th generation of American historians, exemplify the desire not only to support the presence of African American history in academic institutions but to explore the complexities of the Black experience and to observe divergent intellectual, social, and cultural movements and how class, gender, and sexuality contributed to distinct experiences.
This class has helped me better understand the ways that African Americans’ experiences are inseparable from US history from our nation’s conception to the present. Moreover, I appreciate how Dr. Rosa’s source selections have helped me understand the intellectual movements within African American history. In particular, I am interested in exploring Douglass’ abolitionism and what Foner says about Free Soilers. Overall, I believe my primary motivation in learning history is obtaining historical context. I want to know the overarching intellectual frameworks contributing to one’s experience in a given time, particularly during the Gilded Age. I wrote my bachelor’s thesis about German Americans’ experience in the Midwest during WWI, and my master’s thesis also focuses on the early twentieth century. I am extremely grateful for this class because it has expanded my understanding of African American history beyond the African American history course I took as an undergrad, which mainly revolved around the history of racism, slavery, and Jim Crow. This class has helped me think more about the Black experience and appreciate it in its own right without attempting to use this information to bolster my understanding of mainstream US history.
Furthermore, these works reveal how historians continue to seek new ways of complicating racial identity instead of relying on generalizations. I believe that a greater understanding of the Black experience and its inherent significance is especially critical amid our current culture wars. I think the first step towards fostering a more inclusive society is facilitating understanding among each other.
Post 3
I particularly enjoyed the selections from Naison and Lewis. While I would still contend that histories are very intimately tied to autobiagraphy, there is certainly room to acknowledge the immense differences in lived experience that Dr. Rosa alluded to in the framing remarks for discussion. Naison, who was raised in a lower-middle class Jewish background, ultimately arrived in the same areas of study as Lewis, who characterizes himself as being one of the ‘Talented Tenth’ in reference to the phrase coined by Du Bois. What is really worth remarking upon here in terms of their similarities is their convergence from these backgrounds into a polycentric and multiracial appreciation of history that highlights the practical potential of history as an emancipatory force. I read through a few other posts by classmates who expressed a similar sentiment as well.
I think that history as a practical tool is a view that is increasingly common and has been trending in that direction for some time. I also think this is for the better. There’s a quote by Nietzsche I used in our discussion of Berlin and Litwack that I’m going to repost here if only because I think it captures the sentiment so brilliantly (and from a figure who I imagine would probably be one of the furthest from the mind of anyone discussing African American history):
“For since we are the outcome of earlier generations, we are also the outcome of their aberrations, passions and errors, and indeed of their crimes; it is not possible to wholly free oneself from this chain. If we condemn these aberrations and regard ourselves as free of them, this does not alter the fact that we originate in them. The best we can do is to confront our inherited and hereditary nature with our knowledge, and through a new, stern discipline combat our inborn heritage and implant in ourselves a new habit, a new instinct, a second nature, so that our first nature withers away.”
It’s a deep irony of the historical profession at this point in time that so many of its scholars look to the past in order to try and navigate the future. But I think that in order to find a way forward, we have to understand where we are now and how we got here. Without that practical sense, it’s puzzling to me why anyone would ever bother with history at all. In the same essay, Nietzsche expresses the view that history so divorced from a practical application is inherently escapist and poses a danger to engaging with life. It seems to me that historians are at their best when they acting like Naison and Lewis: engaging in historical conversation with good faith and passion to attempt and triangulate where we are in the present moment as it relates to our past, and thereby illuminate at least a part of the way forward.
For myself as a historian, a lot of the influence on the way I view history comes from my background as a Marine Corps officer. Reading history for practical application to the present was something that was greatly emphasized while I was in the service, hence that I tend to reiterate that aspect of it quite a bit. I’ve also been fascinated with narrativizing and mythologizing history with the amount of interactions I’ve had with Lost Cause apologetics. There could probably be a book written about how omipresent a lot of it was when I was an undergraduate at The Citadel, which has a long history of controversy regarding Confederate iconography.
Our study into African American history this semester was deeply informative for me. I had never really encountered a diasporic framing of that history in the way that Gomez did, and it got me thinking about comparisons with other fields of inquiry I’m interested in. For example, a lot of Gomez’s and Meriwether’s discussion got me thinking about comparisons with the Irish diaspora and how similar a lot of the events were. I know in our discussion of Meriwether, I brought up a comparison between the Armalite and Ballot Box strategy employed by the Provisional IRA and the strategy employed by the ANC of maintaining a militant wing while at the same time engaging in more peaceful protest actions, essentially engaging power through the full spectrum of resistance. There’s also the interesting dynamic between activists on both sides of the Atlantic that both the African and Irish diaspora had that shaped struggles for independence, with mixed and complicated reactions on either side. Granted, this observation needs to be qualified by some differences such as a disparity of scale, with Ireland being a single island and Africa being an entire continent, but the dynamics between them are similar enough to me to merit some level of fair comparison. At the very least, this is the first engagement I’ve had with the broad strokes of African American historiography. I’ve encountered works in that field before, but this is the first time I’ve had a view of the entire conversation so that the next time I engage with a new intervention in that conversation, I have an idea of what ideas they are engaging with and can place it in a more informative context.