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Waiting 'Til the Midnight Hour
Peniel E. Joseph
Social Science
African American Interest
An acclaimed chronicler of the Civil Rights Movement, Peniel Joseph presents this sweeping overview of a key component of the struggle for racial equality-the Black...
Recorded Books, Inc.
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Waiting 'Til the Midnight Hour

Reviews 6

Publisher's Weekly Review

Whereas black nationalism can be traced to Marcus Garvey (and his predecessors), Black Power was first articulated by Stokely Carmichael in 1966. This accessible survey looks at "the murky depths of a movement that paralleled, and at times overlapped, the heroic civil rights era," beginning in the late 1950s, with the rise of the Black Muslims, and ending in 1975. Joseph, who teaches Africana studies at SUNY-Stony Brook, brings to light less-known characters like the Rev. Albert Cleage Jr. of Detroit, who helped organize the 1963 Walk for Freedom a month before the March on Washington, as well as fresh judgments on figures like Malcolm X, "black America's prosecuting attorney." He analyzes the negative media coverage of Black Power, offers a discerning take on Carmichael and Charles Hamilton's 1967 book, Black Power, and recounts the emergence of the Black Arts movement. The Black Panthers also get consistent attention, in rise and decline. Drawing on a rich set of sources, including interviews and oral histories, the book also illuminates flash points in Newark, N.J.; Oakland, Calif.; and the Sixth Pan-African Congress in Dar es Salaam in 1974. Though it focuses more on politics than culturee.g., the 1968 Olympics protest gets just a footnoteit's a good introduction to the topic. (Aug.) (c) Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved

Booklist Review

Joseph, African studies professor, surveys the full geographic and political panorama of the black power movement. He begins with the Southern movement and the political organizing of SNCC and SCLC, then moves on to portray the crisis in the movement reflected by the rise of Stokely Carmichael and the breach of the traditional white-black alliance. From there, Joseph analyzes the shift to the West Coast, initiated through the rise of the Black Panthers and their leader Huey Newton becoming symbols of the black power movement. Finally, Joseph examines attempts at political organizing in the North, reflected in the black political convention in Gary, Indiana, in 1972 and Amiri Baraka's subsequent activism in Newark, which resulted in the election of a black mayor. While Joseph explores the interplay between SNCC and Martin Luther King Jr., as well as Malcolm X's symbolic engagement, he also highlights figures who were significant though more historically obscure, including Robert Williams, the Revolutionary Action Movement (RAM), and Harold Cruse, rounding out a more complete overview of this era. --Vernon Ford Copyright 2006 Booklist

New York Review of Books Review

no one becomes "not racist," despite a tendency by Americans to identify themselves that way. We can only strive to be "antiracist" on a daily basis, to continually rededicate ourselves to the lifelong task of overcoming our country's racist heritage. We learn early the racist notion that white people have more because they are more; that people of color have less because they are less. 1 had internalized this worldview by my high school graduation, seeing myself and my race as less than other people and blaming other blacks for racial inequities. To build a nation of equal opportunity for everyone, we need to dismantle this spurious legacy of our common upbringing. One of the best ways to do this is by reading books. Not books that reinforce old ideas about who we think we are, what we think America is, what we think racism is. Instead, we need to read books that are difficult or unorthodox, that don't go down easily. Books that force us to confront our self-serving beliefs and make us aware that "I'm not racist" is a slogan of denial. The reading list below is composed of just such books - a combination of classics, relatively obscure works and a few of recent vintage. Think of it as a stepladder to antiracism, each step addressing a different stage of the journey toward destroying racism's insidious hold on all of us. Biology "FATAL INVENTION: How Science, Politics, and Big Business Re-create Race in the Twenty-First Century," by Dorothy Roberts (New Press, 2011). No book destabilized my fraught notions of racial distinction and hierarchy - the belief that each race had different genes, diseases and natural abilities - more than this vigorous critique of the "biopolitics of race." Roberts, a professor at the University of Pennsylvania, shows unequivocally that all people are indeed created equal, despite political and economic special interests that keep trying to persuade us otherwise. Ethnicity "WEST INDIAN IMMIGRANTS: A Black Success Story?" by Suzanne Model (Russell Sage Foundation, 2008). Some of the same forces have led Americans to believe that the recent success of black immigrants from the Caribbean proves either that racism does not exist or that the gap between African-Americans and other groups in income and wealth is their own fault. But Model's meticulous study, emphasizing the self-selecting nature of the West Indians who emigrate to the United States, argues otherwise, showing me, a native of racially diverse New York City, how such notions - the foundation of ethnic racism - are unsupported by the facts. Body "THE CONDEMNATION OF BLACKNESS: Race, Crime, and the Making of Modern Urban America," by Khalil Gibran Muhammad (Harvard University, 2010). "Black" and "criminal" are as wedded in America as "star" and "spangled." Muhammad's book traces these ideas to the late 19th century, when racist policies led to the disproportionate arrest and incarceration of blacks, igniting urban whites' fears and bequeathing tenaciously racist stereotypes. Culture "THEIR EYES WERE WATCHING GOD," by Zora Neale Hurston (1937). Of course, the black body exists within a wider black culture - one Hurston portrayed with grace and insight in this seminal novel. She defies racist Americans who would standardize the cultures of white people or sanitize, eroticize, erase or assimilate those of blacks. Behavior "THE NEGRO ARTIST AND THE RACIAL MOUNTAIN," by Langston Hughes (The Nation, June 23, 1926). "We younger Negro artists who create now intend to express our individual dark-skinned selves without fear or shame," Hughes wrote nearly 100 years ago. "We know we are beautiful. And ugly too." We are all imperfectly human, and these imperfections are also markers of human equality. Color "THE BLUEST EYE," by Toni Morrison (1970); "THE BLACKER THE BERRY," by Wallace Thurman (1929). Beautiful and hardworking black people come in all shades. If dark people have less it is not because they are less, a moral eloquently conveyed in these two classic novels, stirring explorations of colorism. Whiteness "THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF MALCOLM X," by Malcolm X and Alex Haley (1965); "DYING OF WHITENESS: How the Politics of Racial Resentment Is Killing America's Heartland," by Jonathan M. Metzl (Basic Books, 2019). Malcolm X began by adoring whiteness, grew to hate white people and, ultimately, despised the false concept of white superiority - a killer of people of color. And not only them: low- and middle-income white people too, as Metzl's timely book shows, with its look at Trump-era policies that have unraveled the Affordable Care Act and contributed to rising gun suicide rates and lowered life expectancies. Blackness "LOCKING UP OUR OWN: Crime and Punishment in Black America," by James Forman Jr. (Farrar, Straus & Giroux, 2017). Just as Metzl explains how seemingly pro-white policies are killing whites, Forman explains how blacks themselves abetted the mass incarceration of other blacks, beginning in the 1970s. Amid rising crime rates, black mayors, judges, prosecutors and police chiefs embraced toughon-crime policies that they promoted as pro-black with tragic consequences for black America. Class "BLACK MARXISM: The Making of the Black Radical Tradition," by Cedric J. Robinson (Zed Press, 1983). Black America has been economically devastated by what Robinson calls racial capitalism. He chastises white Marxists (and black capitalists) for failing to acknowledge capitalism's racial character, and for embracing as sufficient an interpretation of history founded on a European vision of class struggle. Spaces "WAITING 'TIL THE MIDNIGHT HOUR: A Narrative History of Black Power in America," by Peniel E. Joseph (Holt, 2006). As racial capitalism deprives black communities of resources, assimilationists ignore or gentrify these same spaces in the name of "development" and "integration." To be antiracist is not only to promote equity among racial groups, but also among their spaces, something the black power movement of the 1960s and 1970s understood well, as Joseph's chronicle makes clear. Gender "HOW WE GET FREE: Black Feminism and the Combahee River Collective," edited by Keeanga-Yamahtta Taylor (Haymarket, 2017); "WELL-READ BLACK GIRL: Finding Our Stories, Discovering Ourselves," edited by Glory Edim (Ballantine, 2018). I began my career studying, and too often admiring, activists who demanded black (male) power over black communities, including over black women, whom they placed on pedestals and under their feet. Black feminist literature, including these anthologies, helps us recognize black women "as human, levelly human," as the Combahee River Collective demanded to be seen in 1977. Sexuality "REDEFINING REALNESS: My Path to Womanhood, Identity, Love & So Much More," by Janet Mock (Atria, 2014); "SISTER OUTSIDER: Essays and Speeches," by Audre Lorde (Crossing Press, 1984). 1 grew up in a Christian household thinking there was something abnormal and immoral about queer blacks. My racialized transphobia made Mock's memoir an agonizing read - just as my racialized homophobia made Lorde's essays and speeches a challenge. But pain often precedes healing. By not running from the books that pain us, we can allow them to transform us. 1 ran from antiracist books most of my life. But now 1 can't stop running after them - scrutinizing myself and my society, and in the process changing both.

Choice Review

During the last two decades, a number of important studies have appeared examining the Civil Rights Movement from 1945 through the passage of the Voting Rights Act of 1965. Few historians, however, have provided a narrative for the ten years that followed. Joseph (Africana studies, State Univ. of New York, Stony Brook) provides the missing narrative. In 11 chapters, the author highlights the major events, personalities, and controversies that characterized the movement, from CBS's coverage of the Nation of Islam in 1959 to the televised coverage of the National Black Political Convention held in Gary, IN, in 1972. Joseph argues that black power filled the vacuum left by the legal success of the Civil Rights Movement in the South and the death of its leader, Martin Luther King Jr. The most important years for black power were between 1966 and the early 1970s. During that time, there appeared new goals (economic equality) and new rhetoric (revolutionary struggle), as well as a new physical appearance for activists (the Afro and the raised fist). An intraparty struggle over the movement's direction and methods led to its decline by the 1970s. Summing Up: Recommended. All academic levels/libraries. D. O. Cullen Collin County Community College District

Kirkus Review

The rise, fall and legacy of the Black Power movement, traced from its roots in 1950s Harlem through its explosion and fadeout in the following two decades. In his well-paced debut, Joseph (Africana Studies/SUNY Stony Brook) gets beyond Black Power symbolism--afros, shades, black-gloved fists raised in the air--to examine the movement's origins, ideologies and key players. As he tells it, Black Power sprang from the intellectual tumult in northern cities like New York and Detroit, where writers and activists such as James Baldwin and Malcolm X sought to define a new, more assertive African-American identity at the same time that Martin Luther King Jr. was leading marches and sit-ins in the South. This new identity, based on black pride and awareness of history, was linked to world events such as the Cuban revolution and Ghanaian independence. As the civil-rights movement won landmark legislative victories, including the 1965 Voting Rights Act, African-Americans split on how to push toward full political and economic equality. In 1966, the young activist Stokely Carmichael coined the phrase "Black Power," calling for self-sufficiency and distancing himself from King's nonviolent approach. With the Vietnam war raging and American society in turmoil, race-related violence broke out in dozens of U.S. cities. This mayhem, combined with the assassinations of King and Robert Kennedy, fueled the rise of the Black Panthers, a militant group eventually done in by the FBI and its own poor leadership. By the 1970s, the movement's energy had splintered into other efforts, such as abortion rights, women's rights and school desegregation. Many people today, Joseph writes, associate Black Power solely with gun-toting revolutionaries. He believes it should be recognized for fostering among African-Americans an assertive identity and cultural pride. Vividly illuminates the personalities and politics of a turbulent time. Copyright ©Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.

Library Journal Review

During the early 1960s, the struggle of African Americans to break the grip of white supremacy in the United States began to develop in different directions, eventually leading to a new kind of radical movement, the Black Power movement. Rather than simply detailing the history of radical organizations, Joseph (Africana studies, SUNY at Stony Brook) also profiles several famous leaders and uses their stories to spearhead a discussion of the intellectual and practical history of Black Power as a political movement. Through this lens, Joseph offers an eloquent and accessible history of the large-scale political developments that shaped the course of the Black Power movement, from its origins in the black community in Harlem and international developments like the Non-Aligned Movement at the Bandung Afro-Asian Conference in 1955, through contemporary effects such as the development of African studies programs at U.S. colleges and radical African American labor organizing in Detroit. Enthusiastically recommended for public and academic libraries.-Emily-Jane Dawson, Multnomah Cty. Lib., Portland, OR (c) Copyright 2010. Library Journals LLC, a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.



Introduction To Shape a New World Malcolm X arrived in Harlem in the early 1950s on the heels of the contentious departure of another of its adopted, if little-known, sons. As Malcolm was bounding into Harlem's local political arena, Harold Cruse was settling downtown, still clinging to wistful dreams that he had, temporarily at least, put on hold. As a young boy, Harold Cruse dreamed of becoming a writer. For a southern-born black boy coming of age in the Great Depression, this was an ambitious goal, with long odds. Born in Petersburg, Virginia, in 1916, Cruse moved as a young boy to New York City as part of the exodus to northern cities that would shortly transform African American life. The then-largest internal migration in American history sowed the seeds for Harlem's emergence as a cultural mecca that would become the headquarters for black political resistance, intellectual achievement, and cultural innovation. A second great migration, which started during the early 1940s, of southern-born blacks (which eventually eclipsed its earlier counterpart in both density and geographical breadth), extended to cities and regions recently buoyed by the movement for civil rights. Coalitions of civil rights activists, trade unionists, Communists, and Pan-Africanists led strategic campaigns for racial justice and radical democracy that stretched from gritty Harlem neighborhoods through Detroit's industrial shop floors to Dixie's cradle, Birmingham, Alabama, and out west to Oakland's postwar boomtown.1 Cruse's favorite time was spent reading books at the local library. It was no ordinary public library. Harlem was home to the New York Public Library's Negro History Division, a repository of black history and culture founded by the Afro-Puerto Rican bibliophile, historian, and curator Arturo Schomburg. Schomburg's passion for African, Caribbean, and African American history provided the residents of Harlem's black community a window onto its past.2 In the 1950s, black nationalists stalked Harlem like itinerant Baptist preachers in search of wayward flocks, wistful for the heady post-World War I years, when "New Negroes" reshaped Afro-America with a dose of militancy as effervescent as it was unprecedented. Marcus Mosiah Garvey's dynamic presence had fueled this golden age, when the Universal African Legions (soldiers in Garvey's Universal Negro Improvement Association) held Harlem captive with precision marching, ornate uniforms, and defiantly proud stares.3 No sooner had Garvey overcome what appeared to be insurmountable organizational, financial, and political obstacles than his movement collapsed, victimized by internal ineptitude, government surveillance, and jealous rivals. Garvey's arrest on charges of mail fraud, and subsequent incarceration during the mid-1920s, made room for other advocates of interracial class struggle who, during the height of the New Negro, could barely be heard above the din of nationalist fervor. If Garvey's absence created space for radicals, the Great Depression invited another front in the war for racial equality: class-based political agitation. With organizing energies fueled by social crises, the Communist Party (CP) made small, but surprisingly robust, headway in Harlem. While Garvey stoked controversy through grand gestures aimed at coaxing dignity from Africa's descendants, the CP offered a Promethean vision of class struggle. As Cruse remembered, anyone who couldn't debate the finer points of Marx and Engels was "considered a goddamned dummy!"4 By the late 1930s, the Depression introduced the possibilities of social, cultural, and political revolution at home and abroad and reached Harlem's street corners, barbershops, churches, and other institutions. Much of Cruse's early political education took place at the Harlem YMCA, which served as a debating society, intellectual training ground, and incubator for what Cruse later described as a hotbed of political activity. The all-black neighborhood blurred class distinctions among Afro-Americans, where Harlemites rubbed shoulders with leading black literary lights.5 Virtually every block of Harlem was up for grabs: nationalists exhorting on one corner, while Socialists and others set up their headquarters fifty yards away. Pamphlets on class struggle, Pan-Africanism, and trade unionism compressed decades of social history into easily digestible prose. Walking through parts of Harlem, you risked being bombarded by pamphleteers selling, or sometimes giving away, propaganda that recounted the history of Negro oppression and offered a blueprint for black liberation. Fascism's triumphs in parts of Europe and Africa gave black Americans the opportunity to fight for freedoms abroad that they were denied at home. For blacks the fight against an overseas enemy lent urgency to domestic struggles for racial justice. Stationed in a supply company in Italy and North Africa, Cruse became friendly with Italian Communists. There were pragmatic reasons for such friendships. Preyed on by hijackers and other criminal elements, vulnerable black supply officers negotiated with the Italian Underground as a matter of professional survival and personal protection.6 Cruse returned home, more politically conscious and worldly, to a Harlem that had also matured. In fact, postwar New York City became a battleground for some of the most militant and cosmopolitan efforts to achieve racial equality in the United States, and Harlem was the movement's nerve center.7 For instance, seizing opportunities created by postwar momentum for progressive politics, the National Association for the Advancement of Colored People--the NAACP--and the Council on African Affairs joined forces to promote a human rights platform for the nascent United Nations.8 Groups such as the National Negro Labor Congress and the Civil Rights Congress, as well as leading black intellectuals (Paul Robeson, Richard Wright, and Langston Hughes among them), established relationships with Communists that ranged from dangerous flirtation to intimate association.9 Communists, through support of black criminal defendants, sharecroppers, trade unionists, artists, and writers, also played an important, hotly debated role among black activists during this period. Black sympathizers, not to mention members, viewed the CP as a potential vehicle for liberation, while anti-Communists suspected the group of playing African Americans for dupes (a fear promoted by the federal government). The majority of black folk remained neutral, accepting the CP's support in certain instances of bald-faced racial injustice while never coming close to becoming professional members. In 1946, Cruse officially joined the Communist Party. Like many in his generation, he entered radical politics at the peak of its post-World War II popularity, only to come of age amid its steady decline during the Cold War. From rural hamlets and small southern cities to giant urban metropolises, the black postwar generation challenged racial discrimination in industry, labor, housing, and domestic and foreign policy. Paul Robeson, the broad-shouldered Renaissance man who possessed the physique of a football player, the mind of an intellectual, and a sonorous bass voice that thrilled a global listening audience, emerged as the most popular spokesperson for black insurgency during the 1940s.10 Robeson's radicalism was rooted in his identification with underdogs of every race, color, and creed, an advocacy that found him proclaiming solidarity with indigenous people from Africa to the Soviet Union. Yet while leaders such as Robeson served as invaluable political mobilizers, a national black freedom movement was brokered, block by block, at the local level by far less glamorous figures.11 Ella Baker (future founder of the Student Nonviolent Coordinating Committee), in her capacity as the NAACP's branch director, helped this process unfold in cities like New York through grassroots organizing efforts that stressed cooperation with trade unions affiliated with the left-wing Congress of Industrial Organizations (CIO).12 If the end of the war ushered in dramatic changes for black Americans, it also exposed enduring problems. Wartime race riots, most infamously Detroit's 1943 orgy of violence sparked by competition over jobs and housing, bared the enormity of the unresolved crisis. Rising expectations of black veterans met with racial violence, precarious employment opportunities, and a blatant defense of segregation that found local voice from Harlem to the Mississippi Delta to parts west and national representation among powerful Washington politicians. International events paralleled, and at times intersected with, postwar black freedom struggles; events in Africa proved pivotal in this regard. The rapid decolonization of African states fostered domestic and international pan-African alliances, anchored by the stately presence of Afro-America's legendary intellectual propagandist W. E. B. Du Bois and the controversial outspokenness of Paul Robeson. Domestically, an assortment of militant organizations mirrored these developments, jointly promoting antiracism at home and human rights abroad.13 Postwar black activism heralded new hopes for racial justice in every facet of American life, though such hopes were offset by a presidential directive that established a hard peace through the threat of global war. The Truman Doctrine offered a picture of international, multiracial democracy that was, in theory, tantalizingly expansive. In practice, Truman's foreign policies created a domestic political order that sacrificed freedoms of speech and political association, not to mention agendas for racial and economic justice, at the altar of what he proclaimed to be a larger evil--Communist totalitarianism. Remnants of the black freedom struggle responded in different ways to the Cold War's assault on the civil liberties of black radicals. Robeson and Du Bois held steadfast in their commitment to Socialism and paid the price in legal troubles and tarnished reputations. Other, less stalwart, fellow travelers turned government collaborators, informing on ex-comrades. The NAACP navigated the political storms by turning inward, withdrawing from the postwar black liberal-left alliance and opting instead for a more narrow description of racial justice and domestic peace.14 Although after World War II black Americans would enjoy new rights, yet more freedoms remained to be claimed; it was the space between new rights and unclaimed freedoms that would fuel Black Power activists. In 1953, amid setbacks for radicals of all stripes and after less than a decade as a Communist, Harold Cruse left the CP. He was not alone. Like his more famous contemporaries, Richard Wright and Ralph Ellison, Cruse grew skeptical of the CP's capacity to lead a political revolution. Indeed, the Communist Party's Depression-era eloquence on race matters--exemplified by its vigorous attacks on segregation as well as the "black belt" thesis that allowed "Negro self-determination," or black nationalism, to penetrate Communist ideology--sagged in subsequent decades, weighed down by an almost evangelical sectarianism.15 Ex-Communists and former radicals responded to the CP's ideological zigzags in different ways, with Ellison embracing American universalism, despite America's stubborn resistance to black inclusion, while Wright searched, until his premature death, for new revolutionary ideals. Cruse settled on a vision of black nationalism--self-determination, unity, and the cultural politics of race--that retained the international awareness he first witnessed on Harlem street corners, read about at the New York Public Library, and experienced through service in World War II and, ironically, the Communist Party. Cruse's disappointment with Communism could be seen in bitter personal relationships with Harlem's leading literary figures, such as Lorraine Hansberry, as well as in his own failures in the field of arts and letters. Operating in social and cultural arenas that claimed pride in an older style of black activism, while at the same time searching for new political horizons, Cruse would be both a participant and a critic of Black Power politics. In his 1967 manifesto, The Crisis of the Negro Intellectual, he charged white Communists and black radicals with failing to recognize that the key to African American liberation resided in the last place anybody cared to look: in the black community's indigenous, cultural, and artistic institutions. The April 1955 Afro-Asian Conference, convened in Bandung, Indonesia, would provide hope for black radicals burned by the Cold War's scalding political climate. Paul Robeson, in his fifth year of domestic confinement after federal authorities stripped him of his passport, greeted the conference as a symbol of the kind of politics--of radical anticolonialism and self-determination--that furthered the commitment to human rights and freedom of expression that was his life's work.16 Presided over by Indonesian president Sukarno and convened by the prime ministers of Indonesia, India, Burma, Ceylon, and Pakistan, the conference featured representatives of twenty-nine nonwhite nations whose populations together exceeded one billion. Bandung's declarations against racism, colonialism, and imperialism represented a watershed event: a "third bloc" opposing both capitalism and totalitarianism. The conference marked the birth of the Non-Aligned Movement, which defied the political requirement that even the tiniest country swear allegiance to the United States or to the Soviet Union. Neutrality, however, had its cost. Behind the scenes in Washington, the State Department observed the entire proceeding with keen interest, despite its public indifference to events in this far corner of the world.17 In the United States one modest, but powerful, act of political dissent coincided with the radicalism that Bandung expressed in bold strokes. In 1955, the same year as Bandung, Martin Luther King Jr. emerged as the young leader of the Montgomery, Alabama, bus boycott. Coupled with 1954's Brown v. Board of Education Supreme Court desegregation decision, the 1950s would then be christened as the start of the modern civil rights era.18 While black southern laborers, preachers, and college students stood poised on the edge of history (destined to be regarded, for the most part, as bit players in an unfolding historical drama; character actors overwhelmed by the glamorous star power and transcendent appeal of Martin Luther King Jr. and John F. Kennedy),19 participants in the black freedom struggle reinvented themselves as political figures, cultural doyens, magazine editors, and, at times, reform-minded civil rights activists. In the 1950s, many of the activists who had come of age during the war years, such as the members of the Harlem Writers Guild, formed relationships with Malcolm X. On the surface it was an unlikely alliance, since Malcolm represented a religious group--the Nation of Islam--that eschewed political involvement, going so far as to discourage its members from voting, marching on picket lines, or participating in boycotts. Yet Malcolm's personal biography and political history made him attractive to activists seeking renewed faith in radical politics. A former Pullman porter turned full-time hustler during the 1940s, Malcolm resided on the fringes of the postwar freedom surge. By the mid-1950s, however, he was an ex-convict turned local activist, an emerging national figure in a transformed political landscape. Malcolm's short stints as a laborer and longer residence in the bowels of black urban America shaped his political activism. In a relatively brief career that would be noted for its envelope-pushing militancy, Malcolm boldly confronted democracy's jagged edges, vociferously arguing that the goals of integration fell far short of complete equality for African Americans and that, ultimately, racial liberation required a political revolution. Malcolm's radicalism, most often recognized as the prophetic prelude to the fiery black awakening of the 1960s, took initial shape during the 1950s against the backdrop of southern civil rights insurgency and Bandung. For Malcolm, links between the local and the international were self-evident, only their programmatic implications remained frustratingly unclear. Over the course of the next decade, Malcolm X, the once-wayward son of a slain Garveyite preacher, would make it his mission to find--and institute--an unprecedented revolutionary politics as part of a quest for black power that would take him from jam-packed Harlem street corners and Los Angeles mosques to British universities, Middle East pilgrimages, and African kingdoms.20 Copyright © 2006 by Peniel E. Joseph Excerpted from Waiting 'Til the Midnight Hour: A Narrative History of Black Power in America by Peniel E. Joseph All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.

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