One part of this book that I found particularly interesting was the quote from Mayor Nutter when he admonishes the black youth of Philadelphia when he says, “You’ve damaged yourself, you’ve damaged your peers and, quite honestly, you’ve damaged your own race”. This statement highlights the experience familiar to many members of a minority of perpetually being viewed as a representative of their group. This awareness of a somewhat constant responsibility to defend and represent one’s community was particularly striking as the sentiment came from a member of this same minority.

This statement, given in 2011, highlights a reoccurring issue in the black community. Especially recently, members of the black elite, particularly black celebrities, have found the need to critique the black masses. Their critiques often underscore the inconsistencies between the political agency available to them and the agency available to the masses. When celebrities, in particular, deride the black community for its actions, these celebrities are often times neither well-informed about the issue that led to these subsequent actions, nor in the position to be making these remarks. While members of the black elite have the platform to express their ideas and sentiments about certain issues of the black community, they forget that the general black community does not have these same means.

I think this book, while it does show how powerful the people of the Seventh Ward were in facilitating some of the change they needed, it sometimes disregards the fact that the political agency that the blacks of this neighborhood had was not the ideal version of political agency. As much change as they did bring about, their methods were long and tiresome, simply because they were not afforded the main stream tactics of agency. I think it’s important to remember that, even today, having any type of agency is not a substitute for being granted full and conventional political agency.

After watching the documentary and discussing more about the specifics of DuBois’s research in The Philadelphia Negro during class, it really amazed me how little DuBois is credited (in my experience at Harvard) as a founding figure in the study of social inequality and in ethnographic methods in particular. What struck me most in the documentary’s explanation of Du Bois’ work is that he pioneered the argument that social conditions and not racial culture were to blame for the poverty of the the black 7th ward. I’m astounded, then, that this “culture argument” is not only common today, but also thriving. Examples of the argument that the extent to which a racial culture is “hard-working” or “academic” determines racial inequality include readings by Charles Murray and Amy Chua & Jed Rubenfeld that I have been assigned during my time at Harvard.

So to say that Du Bois is a founder of American sociology or ahead of his time might be understatements, because he is deeply engaged in questions that are still sources of academic contention and questions that have enormous policy implications today. Instead of reading about “the talented tenth” and “double-consciousness” several times over–both of these are historically and theoretically relevant reads–I think more students of social science should be made to understand DuBois’ place in the historiography of research on social inequality. The conversation fundamentally changes when you realize that the arguments are over a century old.

In our class discussion last week, I was most struck by the topic of “agency”, and the conversation we had about how much agency we can claim black Philadelphians had during some of the pivotal moments in the city’s history. Hunter emphasizes agency as the lens with which to analyze structure and power relations within the Philadelphian black community over the 20th century. His entire book, Black Citymakers, sets out to prove that black Philadelphians were not victims or passive bystanders to the changes taking place in the city over several decades, but actively involved in changing and making the city into what it is today, which we can likely generalize to other similar cities in the United States. However, as we discussed in class, it is not clear that Hunter completely proves his thesis. As I believe Quinn mentioned in class, many of the stories in the book seem to actually show a frustration of agency, rather than its success. While Hunter does show us the strategic moves black leadership was moving towards eventual goals, he also details time after time when black initiative is crushed by the overwhelming power of white supremacist leadership and policies, from the failure of the summer-long South Street businesses boycott to the drawn-out processes for housing reform leaving many still in deplorable conditions, to the lengthy Crosstown Expressway protests successfully shutting down the expressway, but hurting the affected neighborhoods regardless, to finally, the brief mention of the black flash mobs, and how these were met with a strong hand from the black mayor, reducing whatever the mobs’ purpose may have been, and limiting the issues that brought them there, to delinquency and hooliganism. I think a strong argument can be made that low-income blacks in Philadelphia have not had agency at all, shut down by white elites and black elites alike, both primary and secondarily marginalized. Limited agency may have been in the hands of black leadership, but this ultimately led to many of the low-income blacks’ needs not being met. This concept provides an interesting lens in which to discuss the work of Du Bois, who in The Philadelphia Negro, also frames blacks as agents. There is some difference in Du Bois’ reasoning for this, as in the time when he was writing, blacks were seen as a monolithic biologically inferior group. Du Bois wants to make clear that this isn’t the case. However, Du Bois also preferences black elites in much of his writing, stating that they, (the “Talented Tenth”) must lead the race forward. However, what has that attitude done for the black community today? We see in Black Citymakers the effect of secondary marginalization, and brought up countless other examples of this from the current day. What does this mean for the “linked fate” of the black community–or if we set aside that narrative, what does it mean for the fate of lower income blacks specifically?

In the Documentary A Legacy of Courage, I really enjoyed Dr. Zuberi’s thoughts on DuBois, and I think they really put into perspective why DuBois should be seen as a progressive. According to Dr. Zuberi, what makes DuBois so progressive is that instead of seeing blacks as “the problem,” he saw the problems facing the black community as “the problem,” under the assumption that all men are equally capable. He points out that if there are a disproportionate about of black men going to jail, the problem is not with black men, but instead with society. There is nothing inherently “wrong” with black men, obviously, and we should assume that if they had the same opportunity and surroundings as other people with more privilege, this problem of mass incarceration would not exist. Thus, the focus of DuBois is not on the problems of people (since no man is inherently problematic), but the problems facing people. Interestingly, this is essentially the same argument that Simone de Beauvoir makes in The Second Sex, but focusing on women instead of the black community. Beauvoir argues that women cannot achieve as much as men, and are even have more vices. But, she argues that the only reason women are this way is because society has put them into this role, not because woman is inherently less capable.

I think this reasoning that Beauvoir and DuBois use is extremely important, and is something we always need to keep in mind when dealing with racial issues. When we talk about the problems facing a group of people, we shouldn’t focus on the problem with that group of people, but instead the problems facing that group of people. This, I think, is the only way we can actually solve problems. Take the war on drugs for example. As many of us know, there is a huge issue of drugs infiltrating black urban neighborhoods. It seems like the most common response has been to handle “the problem of drug dealers,” leading to a massive police presence in these neighborhoods and the mass incarceration of black men, which in turn leads to a whole plethora of other social issues (single motherhood, etc.) as men are shipped away to prison. Not only has this process been devastating to communities, it arguably hasn’t made anything better. What if, though, we took the DuBoisian (I don’t know if this is a real phrase but I’m using it) approach, and focused on the “problems facing drug dealers”. What if instead of shipping away every drug felon to prison, there was more of a focus on why so many men become involved with drugs, and try to work on those issues instead. By focusing on these societal issues, I think we really get to the crux of racial problems, and I think that addressing these issues is the only thing that will ever make any concrete change.

One concept that stuck with me from class discussion last week and the week before was the idea of slavery being the ‘Original Sin’ of race in America. I see this as a particularly striking description because the Original Sin, in biblical tradition, is a stain on humanity that cannot be overcome. It characterizes human nature and society for all time, causing painful repercussions that humanity is never meant to escape from. In the Catholic tradition, each person is born already ‘contaminated’ by Original Sin. Though a very pessimistic view of race and race relations in America, I think this viewpoint at the very least demonstrates how impactful slavery truly was. It assigns to slavery the weight it actually had on the development of American society, rather than sugarcoating it as a painful era from which both the black and white communities in America should have already been able to overcome. Insomuch as the Original Sin was humanity’s fall from God’s grace, slavery doomed America to be forsaken and ‘godless’ because of its unforgivable sin.

By implying that humanity will never be able to to recover from its sin, the comparison also implies that black Americans will always be in a position of subordination. What I find most interesting about this that the community against which the sin was committed is the one that has to suffer from it. The sinner benefits perpetually from his transgression rather than being justly punished by an omnipotent God – in a clear break from the biblical tradition. Perhaps it is this lasting inequality that makes slavery the Original Sin from which America as a whole can never recover. Still, though it is slightly comforting to think that racial inequality is a curse upon the entire American society preventing it from fulfilling its full potential, it also seems to provide a justification for keeping black Americans on the lowest rung of the social ladder forever. The sense of resignation inherent in this point of view excuses continued oppression by labelling it as a natural and unbreakable component of American society. Though I agree that the effects of slavery have been long lasting and will take much more time and work to cure, I disagree with any approach that justifies racist behavior on the basis of inevitability.

Something that struck me while reading Black Citymakers was the tension between some black leaders’ self-centered goals and the impact of their actions on the black community. Edward Brown and Andrew Stevens, for example, provided an important financial service to black Philadelphians by starting the Brown & Stevens and Cosmopolitan banks. Ultimately, however, the endeavor hurt both Stevens and Brown and the black community because of the founders’ efforts to gain wealth. We see a similar phenomenon throughout Hunter’s book when he describes the failure of black political leaders to advocate for the black community in order to retain political power (i.e. the Phyllis Wheatley Community Center debacle, PAAC and its failure to acknowledge housing concerns). Black Citymakers provides evidence for the claim that when some elite blacks gain positions of power, their efforts to serve the greater black community are marred by their self-centered individual aspirations. Indeed, it seemed to me that the only instance that Hunter included in Black Citymakers of black leadership truly dedicated to serving the needs of the black community was that of Dukes and Lipscomb.

Furthermore, Morris’s portrayal of Booker T. Washington in A Scholar Denied provides greater support for this observation. According to Morris, Washington used his position of influence to bolster white prejudice and oppression of the black community while gaining fame and prestige for himself.

This pattern raises questions for me about the feasibility of Du Bois’s plan to use the skills, intellect and resources of the “Talented Tenth” to improve conditions for the black community. Does this pattern of black elite behavior weaken Du Bois’s argument for a “Talented Tenth?” If so, what might this suggest about the prospects for change in black communities? Using Lipscomb and Dukes’s example of effective black leadership in Philadelphia, one might conclude that grassroots movements led by individuals in the community in question may be the most dedicated to serving the greater black community. However, Lipscomb and Dukes lacked resources and access that elite blacks had, which at times hindered the progress of their movement; indeed, they needed support of white voters to finally defeat the Crosstown Highway project. There seems to be a dilemma for black movements in Philadelphia – elite black leaders have resources but may have ulterior motives that ultimately harm the black community, while leaders of grassroots movements are dedicated to positive change but may not have the ideal means and opportunities for achieving this change. I wonder what others think about this conflict I observed – do you agree that this dilemma exists? What evidence exists outside of these two books that supports or weakens this argument? Can we use these examples of failure by elite black leadership to critique Du Bois’s “Talented Tenth?”

The Legacy of Courage documentary did a wonderful job of juxtaposing the past and the present. Overlaying images of the Seventh Ward as it looks today with the narration of a descendent of a family who once lived there consciously puts into contrast the history of the space with its present state. Although the documentary glosses over it in the dialogue, the gentrification of the area is made more present by the difference between the black and white photographs from the late nineteenth-century and the technicolor videos of Philadelphia today.

In class, we spoke about the idea of looking at racism as durable, an “integral, permanent, indestructible component of our society.” In this framework, the fact that the United States was built as a white, racist republic permeates all facets of society still today. We see this in the glimpse of present-day Philadelphia in the documentary; although different people may live in the area, there still live people who can remember a much different time. However, the tone of the documentary does take on a more hopeful tune than durable racism might suggest. The inclusion of the story of the mural and two families coming together is much more in line with the triumph of liberal democracy camp and the American creed. The creation of the mural in the space serves as a tribute to the black families who once lived there and provides some sense of respect for the history of the neighborhood. Of course, a single mural, or a single story do not make a social movement, and it’s interesting that the documentary should take that spin. It might be interesting to look behind the motivations and audience of the creation of the video.

I found it fascinating while watching Legacy of Courage to listen to Du Bois himself talk about his decision to move from focusing wholly on the study of the black community to a theme of action, of propaganda. Morris illustrates clearly in The Scholar Denied such a transition, whereby Du Bois eventually argues that “one could not be a cool, calm, and detached scientist while Negroes were lynched, murdered, and starved”. It seems, therefore, that aspiring black political advocates were taking Du Bois’s advice with a grain of salt: as we read Hunter’s Black Citymakers, we read about this recurring theme of “secondary marginalization”, in which these advocates made concessions in order to assume positions of political power, while neglecting to a great extent the dire needs of those black families at the lower end of the socioeconomic spectrum.

The question that arises from this is whether this was the correct approach: were these black leaders right in appeasing the larger white political agenda, in order to gain those first black seats of responsibility? Or would they have been better served pursuing the Du Boisian approach, of pushing for full and comprehensive action for the greater black community? While pondering this, it is worth certainly mentioning that some of these leaders, such as R. R. Wright and Edward J. Henry of the Citizens Republican Club may not have even considered the latter approach, with their adopted stance that the influx of black southern migrants was to blame for the poor living conditions of many in the Seventh Ward. In other words, intraracial tensions contributed significantly to the pursuit of the former approach, and the secondary marginalization that came with it. In essence, this accommodationist approach is something we still see today: in a political environment still dominated by whites, it is perhaps impossible for a person of color to assume an office without giving concession to the white majority. I began by asking whether a Du Boisian approach would have been a better approach, but perhaps I should be asking whether it would have even been a viable approach. I’d be interested to see what others think; for now, with the domination of politics by rich white men even today, I’m pessimistic.

My desire to read more of Du Bois’s actual works was one of the reasons I wanted to take this course.  Although I had heard plenty of his thoughts and words quoted out of context, I wanted a deeper look. I had always thought of Du Bois as the radical, black-empowering foil to Booker T. Washington’s white submissive stance (a limited understanding that definitely flattens out a lot of their more nuanced arguments, but this was a general gist of things). However, I feel that this general dichotomy is actually somewhat false after our discussion in class about the Philadelphia Negro. Du Bois’s “prescription” for the black residents of Philadelphia centered largely on “fixing”. Fixing the family structure, fixing loose morals, fixing laziness, fixing poor attitudes and making an effort to cultivate an attitude of tolerant patience. His advice for the white residents was essentially to give black people a chance and try not to worry too much about black men being with white women. He was commissioned to do this project by white intellectuals at the university, so Du Bois was writing for his audience surely. It’s just interesting to explore my prior assumptions in light of this more in-depth exposure.

Supporting black businesses today carries more than just economic meaning, it carries social and cultural importance as well. With the frameworks of linked fates and double duty dollars in an effort to “uplift the race”, supporting black businesses in the 7th Ward was just as important then. The Brown and Stevens banks came in and gave more than business loans; they gave hope and upliftment and a sense of community. People invested their money and confidence. Yet eventually this was exploited and misused for personal gain — setting up the same distrust created by the legacy that allowed for the “economic detour” situation in the first place. The massive withdrawals and eventual closing of the banks is part of the narrative of black agency that Hunter writes on. He wants to illuminate the ways in which black citizens actively shaped the destination of the 7th Ward as non-passive participants.

Yet after reading the chapter I couldn’t help but think about the importance of context. Slavery and the imperialistic stripping of raw materials from African countries were two examples that came to mind when I thought of the ways America has profited off black bodies. Even the modern prison industrial complex can be viewed as another development in this saga. Of course, we cannot forget about the fact that the Ferguson police department actually utilized its black majority as a financial resource through purposeful fines and arrests. So when Hunter discussed the Freedman’s Bank as “a black bank using the savings and income of black depositors to advance the economic fortunes of whites who had at their disposal mainstream banks that excluded blacks” it was not really a shock  (Hunter 29). Hunter speaks on black agency and how their actions led to a crashing economy in the 7th Ward. But I think it’s equally important to really remember the context that might have shaped the actions taken. No one exists in a vacuum, and there was only a 51 year gap between the Freedmen’s Bank’s disastrous closings and the closing of the 7th Ward’s black banks. There were plenty of people who would’ve remembered the pain of losing it all. There were plenty of people who would’ve remembered being brought up by parents and grandparents only a few years removed from being economic property themselves. I’m interested in exploring these connections in class on Tuesday, I think there’s a lot Hunter decides to leave out to make his argument.

While reading Black Citymakers, I was struck by his historical analysis of the Black bank, particularly because it caused me to think when will the wealth gap between Blacks and Whites become virtually eliminated. Hunter’s look at the history of not only Brown & Stevens and Cosmopolitan, but also Freeman’s Bank was very good and helpful. I liked how he linked it back to the end of slavery.  I think it’s interesting to consider it starting then because I have seen the argument that slavery ended over 200 years ago and by now Blacks should be equal. I feel like this argument forgets how hard it was for Blacks to establish financial security as Hunter showed due to the failures of all these banks.

This portion also caused me to think about how race is sometimes is downplayed, while class is seen as the main problem, like in affirmative action debates for example. If you are a well off Black person, then the effects of race are diminished. Even though this could be true in certain contexts, I think it’s also important to consider wealth vs. income, something I remember from taking AFRAMER 10. Income is essentially wages earned from work, while wealth is based off ownership, such as cars, houses, land, etc. When people talk about class vs.  race, they often tend to think more along  the lines of income than wealth, and the reality is there is a wealth gap between Blacks and Whites that is based off race, so race cannot be ignored.

Lastly, this chapter of the book brought this question to mind; will Blacks ever be able to attain this great wealth and almost completely eliminate the wealth gap? I know that the wealth gap will most likely not be completely eliminated because of the setbacks Blacks have, but I do wonder whether this wealth gap will reduce substantially. With all the setbacks Blacks had to face, I wonder if it will simply be Blacks born into wealth becoming even wealthier, while Blacks born into poverty are stuck in the cycle of poverty. This isn’t to say that every Black born poor or rich will never be able to get out of that, but more whether or not the overwhelming majority will be able to overcome it.

Something I found particularly interesting about the “Legacy of Courage” short film was Ronnie Hodges’ account of the apprehension she felt approaching her grandmother’s house. She explains her fear that she would be seen as an intruder or potential criminal in the neighborhood, which had over time become “ritzy” and predominantly white. This gentrification can be seen not only in the former Seventh Ward of Philadelphia but in neighborhoods of major cities across the nation. It is particularly important because of its effects on the populations of the areas pre-gentrification: often black people and other people of color. Homes and local businesses in areas that are often very poor are ‘taken over’ and replaced by newly constructed upscale buildings and chain businesses. Though this phenomenon can improve the areas in an economic sense, it is also often responsible for pushing out the original residents, displacing them from their long-time homes through rising prices. The Seventh Ward, which was not long ago the center of black life in Philadelphia, is now a place where the families of black residents are afraid to knock on their grandmothers’ doors. The principle of gentrification – meaning the improvement of local houses and buildings and the influx of money into poorer communities – is not necessarily bad. Gentrification, in my opinion, is harmful when it deprives the ‘native’ communities of these benefits and leaves them with only the disadvantages. Gentrification has serious consequences, including the destruction of hubs of black history and culture. It also creates, over time, insurmountable wealth disparities: those original inhabitants who are not forced to leave get poorer, excluded from economic success, and the ‘gentrifiers’ (be them wealthy individuals or corporate businesses) generate profit and remain affluent. Further, the gentrifying agents are usually white, repeating an historical pattern on a small scale by destroying neighborhoods of historically oppressed ethnic groups. It would be interesting to hear of other benefits of gentrification that I did not address, or to see examples of gentrification that were not a harmful burden on preexisting communities. It is normal for areas to shift and change in demographics, but gentrification is an accelerated and localized agent of this change, especially in areas like the Seventh Ward which held such historical significance for a specific community.

I was struck by the comments that Philadelphia Mayor Michael Nutter made to black Philadelphia youths after a flashmob they staged wrought havoc along South Street on March 20, 2010. Admonishing them for their conduct, Nutter announced, “You’ve damaged yourself, you’ve damaged your peers and, quite honestly, you’ve damaged your own race. You’ve damaged your own race” (Hunter 214). His suggestion that they hurt, or brought shame upon, both themselves and their peers is sensible, as their disruptive behavior could lead blacks and non-blacks alike to label African-American teenagers as uncivilized, incapable of expressing political discontent in a more constructive way. However, his point that their destructive actions hurt the reputation of all black people has more profound implications, suggesting that society will generalize the actions of a handful of blacks to be representative of the entire race’s behavior.

This imperative of representing one’s race well reminds me of a conversation I had yesterday afternoon with an African American Harvard administrator. Chatting with me before a meeting, he told me that some white students may use my actions and those of other blacks at Harvard to make generalizations about black people everywhere. He added that such gross generalizations impose an unfair burden upon black students, as we must consistently monitor our own behavior. His statement upset me at first, as I thought he was suggesting that I had no latitude to make mistakes inside or outside the classroom, subject to perpetual evaluation by some of my white peers. However, reflecting on his words further over the past day, I’ve realized that he was merely acknowledging one manifestation of racism in this scholarly community that we may regard as too “liberal” or “progressive” to be susceptible to racial bias.