What Is America?

Chapter 1

However, there were many other black Americans, who lived in the vicious jaws of the second phase of slavery, segregation and discrimination, who saw their predicament in another way. They couldn’t understand how God, with His omnipotent power, could stand by and let His people suffer, day by day, by the hands of evil oppressors, during that time in our history. They couldn’t understand the ways of God unconditionally.

All down through American history, black men as Frederick Douglass, Booker T. Washington, W.E.B. Dubois, and many other stout black American forerunners, gave hope and inspiration to their depressed brothers and sisters who were locked in the vicious jaws of hate and oppression. They did all they were able to do to bring about change. However, many of them were chasten for their outspokenness and their stubborn attitude, especially W.E.B. Dubois. And some black Americans who had deep religious convictions did not desire to listen to strong earthly leadership. They considered some of those stout leader as troublemakers, and they chose to leave their troubles in the Hand of the Lord, leadership from the throne of heaven.

Several decades ago, I met one of those strong men. He was an unusual man, who seemed to have had a kind of magnetism about him. He was the late Dr. Benjamin Elijah Mays, president of Morehouse College, a male institution, for twenty-seven years. I graduated there in 1949. He touched my life most profoundly in expressing strong qualities such as pride and self-esteem, dignity and high notions, elegance and integrity of character. He projected those strong qualities through his invigorating oratory that took place in the morning assemblies. He challenged us to walk the earth in sane dignity unafraid with your heads held high. He constantly uttered those words with the kind of determined and poignant emphasis that one would not dare to question his sincerity.

Dr. Mays also insisted that one must develop the keenness of insight and the obstinacy of determination that may enable one to work within the context of the American dream, a dream that had been out of reach for black Americans. Yet, he insisted that one must be vigilant and consistent in realizing America’s myriad imperfections. But he was always optimistic that the United States would somehow eventually shed herself of her shortcomings, and update herself in the immensity of her rich potentials.

At that time, there were no black history courses in the curriculum at Morehouse College, but Dr. Mays would give us a shifting panorama of the plight of black American in their attempt to realize the American Dream. It was amazing how Dr. Mays was able to get so many distinguished persons to speak in the morning assembly. The guest speakers ran the gamut: philanthropists, newspersons, theologians, philosophers, ministers, attorneys, businessmen,—men and women who were able to make strong contributions to young men who were eager to learn. Dr. Mays’ sagacious guidance was truly a viable stimulator of self-esteem and high notions.

To emphasize how intent Dr. Mays was in providing for his students a forum for a broad variety of ideas and perceptions, I must refer to a situation that took place in the year of 1948. During the mid-forties and early fifties, it seemed that the threads that held a tolerable degree of reason and confidence among a people had broken lose. There was widespread suspicion as to who was a communist and who was not. McCarthyism was in full swing. Without sufficient evidence, several organizations and political groups were looked upon as being subversive or un-American. One of those political groups was the newly organized third party, the Progressive Party. Mr. Henry A. Wallace, former Vice-President of the United States from 1941 to 1945, ran for president on the Progressive ticket in 1948. When Mr. Wallace came to Atlanta to campaign that year, the progressive party was considered generally as anathema. Therefore it was not politically expedient to extend the usual courtesies to those of that party.

However, there was one place in Atlanta where Mr. Wallace could come to be heard and questioned, and that was the assembly room in Sales Hall at Morehouse College. There were people all over the place, curious and eager to hear Mr. Wallace speak. In order to accommodate the crowd, a mammoth public address system was placed on the campus. It was not politically popular for Dr. Mays to receive Mr. Wallace at Morehouse College in 1948. But first and foremost in his mind was to provide a broad forum of ideas and perceptions for the growth and development of young men who had learned to depend upon him as an instiller and motivator of self-esteem and high notions.

Dr. Mays left us an indomitable spirit,—a restless spirit that burns insatiably in the minds of men, an inquisitive spirit that searches for truth, a crusading spirit that seeks to make things right. Dr. Mays also left us with enduring words of truth and high notions; such as, It must be borne in mind that the tragedy of life doesn’t lie in not reaching your goal. The tragedy life is not having a goal to reach. It isn’t a calamity to die with dreams not fulfilled, but it is a calamity not to dream. It is not a disaster to be unable to capture your ideal, but it is a disaster to have no ideals to capture. It is not a disgrace not to reach the stars, but it is a disgrace to have no star to reach for. Not failure, but low aim is a sin.

Some other words of truth and high notions by Dr. Mays are; It is not what you keep, but what you give makes you happy. We make our living by what you get. We make our life by what we give. Whatever you do, strive to do it so well that no man living and no man dead, and no man yet to be born can do it any better. As we face the unpredictable future, have faith that man and God will assist you all the way. Dr. Mays was always poised to help bring about civil rights to black Americans, but the deep entrenchment of his oppressors, during that unspeakable time, was ever present to foil any fruition of his hopes and dreams.

Upon the preceding backdrop, we have discussed the plight of two groups of black Americans, in past years, who sought relief in a racially divided predicament. There were those who looked to heaven, where God is, to shield them from segregation and discrimination, the second phase of slavery. They felt that whatever happened, whether good or evil, it was God’s will. They lived by that kind of faith and confidence. However, there were others who asked the question, How can an omnipotent God stand by and let the evils of this country prevail? They didn’t conceive of God as sitting on His throne watching over His people. They saw Him as being omnipresent, but lukewarm in protecting His people.

Moreover, there were many other black Americans who seemed not to have taken any stand against the evils of their day by day existence. They made jest of their oppressors with their fenceless Berlin Wall of segregation and discrimination, the second phase of slavery. Rather than to lose their minds, they resorted to the cathartic approach. They chose to laugh instead of crying; they chose to make jokes rather than to engage in serious talk. Some of their jokes are as follow:

A black horse threw a white woman and sprained her left ankle. And the whole town was upset and spilled into the streets. When the sheriff arrived with a posse of thirty men with intense racial insensitivity, they hung the black horse and put the black saddle in jail.

A white southerner was standing at the train station with his wife and daughter to see them off to New York City to visit his sister-in-law. Just before they boarded the train, he prayed a fervent prayer to the Almighty God to keep watch over his wife and daughter. He raised his eyes toward heaven and said: Lord, my wife and daughter will soon be in New York City, that sin sick city where niggers hang around Grand Central Station with peering eyes and subterranean thoughts. And Lord, if your wind happens to blow their dresses slightly above the knee and a nigger turns his head with staring eyes, blind him, Lord! Blind him!

At breakfast time every morning, there was a white woman who just had to have her quart of white clabber milk. Her appetite for her morning drink was insatiable. One morning as she was savoring her favorite drink, her eight year old daughter said, Mama, there goes a black nigger down the road. And instantly her mother fell to the floor, as if she were having a massive seizure. When she finally came to herself, she scolded her daughter with these words, Don’t you ever say nigger while I am drinking of the clabber.

Two men were cleaning a manhole of putrid waste, a black man and a white man. The black man was down in the hole with a bucket suspended onto a rope. As he would fill the bucket, the white man would pull it to the surface to be emptied. As one of the white man’s buddies saw what was going on, he said, Are you going to let that nigger hand you shit? And that question struck him as if it were a peal of lightning. And he answered sharply, Over my dead body. So he jumped immediately down into the shitty manhole himself to hand the black man the shit. And since that day, white folk have been handing black folk all manners and aromas of shit.

The following incident was not a joke, but it was treated as a joke. I knew two men, Ben and Rufus, were working at a hospital as handymen. One day they went on a romantic ride with their girlfriends, cruising along in the hospital ambulance. When the doctor and owner of the hospital heard about it, he jumped into his car and found them on a quiet country road. When Ben and Rufus recognized him, they jumped out of the ambulance and began to run rapidly across a field. Ben said that he and Rufus were hauling ass. Then the doctor shot Rufus, and he fell to the ground, and Ben accelerated his speed and looked back and said, My time next. And he was right. The doctor took them back to the hospital and picked the bird shots out of their behinds. That was their arrest, that was their trial, and that was their permission to report to work the next day. Ben could tell that story so well that he was always in demand to tell it over and over again. Ben was recognized as the bard of the street corners.

And finally, during World War ll, two white soldiers were seriously wounded and lost a considerable amount of blood. Therefore it was imperative that they have immediate blood transfusions, in order to survive. But they had run out of white blood, and the only blood they had on hand was black blood, which happened to be red. However, they didn’t have time to go into all of the ramifications of blood mixing, for the soldiers lives were at stake. And they immediately performed the transfusions. And after a few days, the soldiers were seemingly in fair physical condition. The blood had solved the immediate problem, but the blood created also an alarmingly monumental problem—the mixing of black blood with white blood.

Therefore they assembled a team of hematologists, oncologists, and psychologists to study that rare phenomenon. And finally, after their in-depth study, they got the men together to discuss the critical findings of their study. They told the men that since there was no white blood available after their serious loss of blood, they had to transfuse black blood into their veins, with the most meticulous caution, to keep them alive. They informed the men that in the history of mankind, there had never been any mixing of white and black blood.

But they assured them, however, that their study did not yield any pathological defects. But they cautioned them to watch for a few side effects, such as, if on Saturday night, you want to rock n roll vulgarly; do a hefty high five with vociferous squalls; drink several swigs of white lightning that make you swoon; do a grinding dance with sexual simulations; or just stand upon your tiptoes and hollow just as loud as you can, you may be acting as a fool, but you are not insane, because it is that black blood coasting through your veins. And the men responded gleefully in concert: Give us another helping of that black juice!

Chapter 2

However, the world was changing gradually during and after World War ll. The agrarian population had been depleted somewhat after millions of laborers were drafted into the armed services. Therefore heavy machinery had been invented to compensate for the loss of laborers. Men and women were relocating all across the country to do defense work. Armed service persons were coming back home after the war to find their places in an altered society. Television had become a common commodity for news and entertainment. Fear of the bogeyman of communism had brought hysteria to a so-called Christian nation, with the plague of segregation and discrimination, the second phase of slavery. With all those sweeping changes, it was a good time to build a better world, not with the outworn ideas and practices of a dead past, but with the stout and lasting promise of a new tomorrow.

Yet, in spite of the far reaching changes that had taken place during and after the war, the United States insisted on holding on to the archaic demon of racial segregation and discrimination, the second phase of slavery. Many black Americans, natural born citizens of the United States, were denied the ballot. They were also not allowed public accommodations: motels, hotels, restaurants, and other amenities. They were not granted the right to live in certain neighborhoods. They were not permitted to attend public schools with white students in many states, especially Southern states. Mixed marriages were against the law.

But the United States fought communism with tooth and nail without ever asking the question, which is more repugnant in the sight of God, racism, based upon shabby Christianity, or communism? The answer is simple, racism, fixed upon shabby Christianity, the most reprehensible sin that man can ever commit, because it tells God that He did not know what He was doing when He created black Americans.

The unyielding stance of this country to hold on tenaciously to un-American deeds and actions against black Americans brought about sporadic riots, demonstrations, and other acts of social unrest. Two worlds were clashing: the pre-World War 2 world where everything was in its conservative and ancient place, segregation, discrimination, racial abuse, racial inequality, and a black law for black Americans and a white law for white Americans, a hybrid law. On the other hand, the doors of the world had been pried wide-open by the broad reach of post-World War 2. The United States referred to communism as ungodly communism. Yet, this nation was guilty of ungodly Christianity, a nation split in two by the scourge of racism. Small towns and hamlets were shocked to be opened to the world and couldn’t carry on business as usual.

Communications had been enhanced substantially, and television had become a common commodity. Black Americans were returning home from the war with a thirst for civil rights, but the old corroded and ancient monolith of racism was ever present. At that juncture in our history, something had to give. But the conventional way to solve that kind of problem would have been by brute force. And black Americans and the old establishment were poised for confrontation. But black Americans would have lost in the confrontation, and the old establishment would have lost also, because the eyes of God and the condemnation of the whole universe would have been against it. There had to be another way to save the nation from shame and derision, a novel way, a noble way, a godly way!

Chapter 3

Therefore, out of the rich experiences at Morehouse College under the guidance of Dr. Benjamin E. Mays, a young man by the name of Martin Luther King, Jr. was growing and developing. His father was the pastor of one of the leading black Baptist churches in Atlanta, Georgia. As a little boy, Martin had heard his father preaching that if you trust in God, God will make a way out of no way. Reverend King preached about how God protected Daniel in a lion den, and how He saved the three Hebrew children from the fiery furnace. With his strong faith in God, he built a platform of spiritual hope and confidence to put his weight on, but it seemed that he was timid to stand upon what he had built.

However, Reverend King’s son, Martin Luther King Jr., continued to grow and develop at Morehouse College. Academically, he was an average student. He did not live on the campus, and he was somewhat lost among the older students there who had been discharged from the armed services. They were the students who dominated leadership roles. Martin graduated in 1948. And later he earned two graduate degrees in theology, the Master of Divinity degree, and the PhD. degree, and became the pastor of a small church in Montgomery, Alabama, Dexter Street Baptist Church, located a few blocks from the state capitol. Its membership included some of the most informed black citizens of the city. While young King was pastor there, an incident occurred in the city that elicited worldwide attention.

Chapter 4

Rosie Parks, a black citizen of Montgomery, refused to give up her seat on a city bus to a white person. Another black woman had been charged with the same violation in the past. But her case was dealt with according to the segregation laws of Alabama. However, Rosie Parks was fortunate, in that there was a strange voice in town, a benignly revolutionary voice, expressing a new way to face the old demons of a morally broken nation, against the evil forces of the second phase of slavery, segregation and discrimination. His message to this broken nation was grounded in the richness and profoundness of Judeo-Christian ethics: All men and women are created equal, that they are endowed by their creator with certain unalienable rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of happiness.

Not only was King’s message grounded in Judeo-Christian theology and the uniquely powerful words from the Declaration of Independence, but his method of nonviolence: sit-ins, demonstrations, and boycotting, which seemed somewhat weird to many of his critics. It evoked big questions: How can nonviolence defeat violence? How can good abolish evil? One preacher said, David did have a sling and five rocks when he faced the Philistine giant, Goliath. But how can Reverend King face those vicious rednecks with his nonviolence? Another preacher said from the pulpit, I know I have been saved, and I know that I am a child of God. But if you smack me on my right cheek, I am not going to turn my left cheek to be smacked. I will kick your derriere. And the president of the black National Baptist Convention, U.S.A. was convinced that the court was the place to go to seek justice and equality, not the streets.

In other words, critics were saying, No we can’t, but Martin Luther King Jr. was insisting, Yes we can with God. He was not timid to walk out on the spiritual platform that his father had built. He took the quest for justice and righteousness to a higher level: not just faith, but faith and action, not just belief, but belief and determination, not just a will, but a will and a way with God. Violence is not the way, but nonviolence with God is the right way.

Therefore it would have been foolish and futile for black Americans to try to demand civil rights with the use of physical force. Martin Luther King, Jr. used spiritual force, a method that this nation was not prepared to deal with, nonviolence. This nation was well schooled in violence, but it was bankrupt in the most excellent way, nonviolence!

There were demonstrations, sit-ins, boycotts, and a willingness to go to jail and to suffer abuse. The attending violence against black Americans for trying to gain their civil rights was shamefully atrocious,—water hoses knocking them to on ground, blows to the head and body with clubs. All of those abominable acts were perpetrated by the power structure of this nation to deny black Americans of their civil rights.

The United States found itself in a twisted dilemma: How could this country talk about world democracy when it didn’t exist for black American in this nation? How could this country draft black Americans into the armed services to fight against Hitlerism when black Americans, themselves, were in bondage? To grapple with those knotted problems, common reason, love of country, and the homemade Christian way were too weak to make a difference.

It took sustained determination: a nonviolent agenda, and trust in the Almighty God to let this nation know that black Americans were living in the woods of hate and brutality, wondering in the thickets of disdain and oppression, and stifling in the sinkhole of inhumanity and scorn. What Dr King was actually saying is that there is a difference between the United States and the adjective phrase of America. Through the years, of America has gained and maintained a glorious connotation, which is expressed most appropriately in the anthem America the Beautiful: America! America! God shed His grace on Thee, and crown thy good with brotherhood from sea to shining sea.

Dr. King chose not to wait, holding on to his strong faith. But he chose to move out on his faith where the challenge and thirst for freedom was, and where he could reach for what he had been made to pledge for in public school, but never realized: One nation under God indivisible, with liberty and justice for all. That freedom was beyond his reach, because he was a black American.

However, through it all, Martin Luther King, Jr. had a dream that one day the people of this nation would open their eyes to behold the eternal beauty of America, the ever reaching dream that dwells only in the heart. But the nightmare of segregation, discrimination, and oppression was always there to foil any attempt for black Americans to attain the American dream. They killed, they brutalized, they burned, and they walked away free in the broad daylight of the nation, as if nothing had happened. Even the might of the United States that