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blackynsupremacy · 2 months ago

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THE GLAMOROUS

LIFE

boys with small talk and small minds

really don't impress me in bed

she said, "i need a man's man, baby"

diamonds and furs

love would only conquer my head

pairing: nicholas chavez x black!fem!reader

also starring: cooper koch and normani as valerie

read: part two

summary: it’s the year 1987. you and your best friend, valerie, are rising college graduates and are part of one of the most affluent african american families of the decade. yachts, designer fashion, handsome yuppies, diamonds, and grand soirées all sound like a ball, but to you, it’s so predictable. especially when it comes to dating. your not-so-friendly personality underneath all of that designer tends to be men repellent, until this one double date valerie sets up with a renowned tennis player and promising law student shifts your entire perspective.

inspo: fresh prince of bel-air, 1x19. cred to @fear-is-truth for the idea of an 80s au.

contains: lots of words, eighties au, reader is a bit toxic, yuppie culture, swearing, rudeness, alcohol consumption, arguing, nicholas gets reader together, enemies to lovers, fluff.

tags: @sabrinasopposite @supaprettyg @camiesully @zombigrlll @ellethespaceunicorn @rosiestalez @afrogirl3005 @afrowrites @elitesanjisimp @jkr820 @simply-the-best23 @gxuxhdjdu @tryingtograspctrl

“valerie, for the love of god, don’t make me go on this date. i swear on daddy’s credit card that i can get you backstage passes for the bad tour. hell, i’ll even let you get with michael if it would change your mind. just please don’t make go on this double date.”

you groan and plead while watching your best friend since birth, valerie hill, primp herself at her pristine, white vanity for a night on the town. she had a date with this tennis player named, cooper koch. apparently he was so talented in the sport, that he was well on his way to the olympics within the next year. valerie mentioned that he was bringing his friend, nicholas. she didn’t really ask about him, what he did, nor if you were down for the double date, so you were practically forced into this. you both were the heiresses of the richest black families in the nation, so going out on dates to the most exclusive and expensive restaurants with the richest bachelors were the norm for you both. for you, the norm was getting so damn predictable. all of the guys you’ve dated in the past only care about two things: getting paid and getting laid. it was enjoyable at first, but as you grew older, you realized that life shouldn’t just be about drugs, money, and sex. it should have some sort of substance, some depth, some purpose. these guys never challenged you. they talk a big game with their cars and lavish spending, but it’s all a load of materialistic bullshit. each time you give them a chance, it’s like you want to put a combination lock on your pussy and forget the numbers. that’s the energy you give out: cold, distant, snarky, rude, anything to get these yuppie ass wannabe’s out of your face.

but here you were, already showered and clad in a cream satin robe with curlers in your hair. valerie was the popular one out of you both. besides studying to take over the family business, she was a model. her face would be on commercials, billboards, and magazines. it’s no wonder why she had a line of men begging to breathe the same oxygen as her. you were studying business as well and in your free time, you would compose new masterpieces on the grand piano you were gifted when you were fifteen after perfecting the instrument since kindergarten. even with the pressure of performances, recitals, and competitions, you grew to love writing a new piece in different styles. your idols consisted of stevie wonder and quincy jones. your parents never really knew, but you were so lucky to have valerie be a support system for your passion.

your inner turmoil was interrupted at the ring of valerie’s telephone to which she picked up and answered with the customary “hello”. your brown eyes peer at her figure as your ears tune into the conversation she’s having.

“hello?… oh, hey, cooper!…uh-huh. yeah, i can’t wait either…oh, is he? well, she’s definitely looking forward to meeting him.” valerie pauses to cut her eyes at you, in which you respond with the rolling of your own.

“okay…yes, three eighty five willard lane is correct. i’ve already told the guard at the gate your names, so just give it to him and you should be good to go. thirty minutes? okay…see you then! ciao for now!” valerie blows a kiss to the receiver with a smile on her made up face and hangs the phone up. she turns to you with those alluring deep, brown eyes that’s captivated so many hearts. with a huff of her breath, she stands up from the vanity stool and saunters over to you, donning a long hot pink sleeveless evening dress that hugged her body just right. it was cut low with diamond straps paired with matching pink opera gloves and an assortment of genuine diamond jewelry that was adorned on her ears, fingers, neck, and wrists. you feel her palms on your shoulders and she gives you a knowing glance.

“i know that you’ve been burned before, but for some odd reason, i got a feeling down in my gut that this guy is exactly what you’ve been looking for. if he’s not what you expect within an hour, we can go home.”

“no bullshit?” you questioned with an arched brow.

“no bullshit, but please try not to have that stank ass attitude at dinner tonight, y/n!”

“i might bullshit on that, valerie. you know when i hear something stupid, my attitude can’t help it. i’ll try for you though! not my best, but i’ll try.”

you retort with a smirk and release yourself from a giggling valerie. you take the last thirty minutes to get ready. you don your white, shimmery strapless evening dress with matching fingerless opera gloves. you perfect your hair and makeup to your liking. to say you looked beautiful tonight was an understatement. you bashfully receive the encouraging compliments from valerie in which you reciprocate the kindness. there’s a knock on the bedroom door and valerie opens it to reveal one of the maids, letting you know that there are two gentlemen in the foyer waiting. your stomach starts to rumble with dread, but then it serves to your memory that you only have to give this man an hour of your time if he’s not up to par, so fuck it, just get it over with.

“ah, shit. is it too late to take back what i said about michael jackson?” you curse under your breath, rolling your eyes slightly.

valerie nudges you playfully, her excitement buzzing in the air, but still some annoyance towards your irritability. “girl, don’t start. they just got here, damn! you’ll never know, you might end up diggin’ on him when the night is over. now haul ass!”

you suck your teeth and quietly retort, “diggin’ my ass.”

you grab your fur boas and designer clutch handbags. valerie takes the lead and you exit her bedroom to descend down the marble staircase of the hill manor. you keep your head down to watch your step, but then you hear a male voice circulating in the room.

“wow, you guys look absolutely stunning. the talk around town certainly don’t do you ladies any justice. pardon my language, but i’d tell those shit-heads to eat every word.”

“oh, my. why, thank you, cooper! you didn’t have to get the flowers, you know.” valerie responds with an elated smile.

you look up to see two handsome, strapping young men in finely tailored suits with one of their hands casually stuffed in the pocket and each with a bouquet of red roses in the other. they were caucasian and stood tall in the six foot one range with dark brown hair. one had curly hair, the other straight. one had brown eyes, the other had green. as valerie scurries down the rest of the stairs to greet the curly haired green eyed suitor with an embrace and peck to his cheeks to graciously receive her roses, you were still a bit reluctant to move any further down the staircase. you swallowed and you slowly follow her path, your sweaty palm smooths your dress down your waist before approaching the man with the scrutinizing, yet amicable brown gaze. you’ve been all too familiar with this look before. that’s how they ease you in. to keep your end of the bargain, you simply flash your award winning smile when he guides the bouquet in your direction with a casual grin on his lips.

“i’m nicholas. nicholas chavez. you must be valerie’s friend—uh, y/n l/n, right? i have to say i agree with cooper here. you look absolutely gorgeous and it’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance. these are for you. may i?” he greets with such an air of politeness. well, all of the guys have to with their background before they show their true colors.

“roses? cute. original. sure.” you somewhat dryly respond. you thanked him and took the bouquet in one hand and gave your free hand to his for him to place his lips on the back, your stomach fluttered and your cheeks heated when his eyes nor lips didn’t pull away from you for a second. you pull your hand back before things got too awkward. after valerie calls the maid to put the flowers in a vase of water, she’s already walking out the door on cooper’s arm, leaving you and nicholas standing alone in the foyer. he turns his large frame to yours and juts his elbow out towards you,

“shall we? we don’t want to lose the reservation.” he quips with a smirk. so insufferable! typical yuppie. with a tight lipped grin, you nod and your hand circles around his—bulging bicep. well, fuck! nicholas was indeed jacked. you don’t let the tingles of your lower region let your guard down though.

“mm-hmm. i guess we shouldn’t keep them waiting.” you and him step out into the starlit evening and you stop noticing two cars, one red ferrari f40 and a black chevrolet corvette. wait a fucking minute. why the hell are there two cars? you could’ve sworn that valerie said that all four of you were taking a limousine. nicholas led you to the ferrari, while cooper led valerie to the corvette. before they could go any further, you took your hand from nicholas’ arm and called out valerie’s name in a faux friendly tone and smile.

“i apologize, fellas, but valerie, a word?” you hastily ask cutting your eyes to your best friend that protested by standing closer to cooper.

“but, y/n, we’re gonna be la—” you cut her short by taking her hand and scurrying a few feet from your dates, so they couldn’t hear your griping.

“valerie, you sneaky ass skank! you told me we were taking a limo. you ain’t said nothing about going in two separate cars! what the fuck are you trying to do!?” you hiss in a whispered tone, you were hotter than a firecracker. dumbfounded, your best friend responds with a shrug and glanced over to the confused men, sending them a wave with an embarrassed smile before shifting her focus back to you.

“girl, i didn’t know either. i guess cooper changed his mind about it before he left! i’m not mad about it though. this is our chance to get to know them one on one. i might even get lucky tonight, honey! besides, i don’t need you to scare off your and my date. ride with nicholas and don’t be fucking rude. just give him an hour. you promised.”

“not exactly.” you deadpanned.

“y/n!” she hissed in the lowest, yet sharpest warning tone.

“ugh. fine, i’ll ride with him. i’ll be—civil.”

“perfect. now let’s get our fine asses wined and dined.”

you both hurriedly walked back nicholas and cooper. like the gentlemen they were, they opened the passenger doors for you and valerie to enter their respective vehicles and buckle up. cooper and nicholas agreed to having cooper lead the way to the restaurant while nicholas followed behind. once they entered the driver’s seats, you four made your journey. you and nicholas didn’t ride in complete silence. the radio was filling the car with phil collins’ “in the air tonight” faintly in the background. nicholas eyes glanced over to your figure briefly. you sat in the passenger seat, one hand in your lap, the other propped up on the door as you looked out at the glistening city lights through the window, not uttering a single word. you seemed so cold. was it something he did? something he said? what he said earlier wasn’t really bullshit though. nicholas has encountered his share of women who were forgettable after a night of passion, but he honest to god thought that you were a breathtakingly beautiful woman with the world at her fingertips. he’d think you’d share the same sentiment as he did, but given your bored expression, perhaps not. he took the opportunity to turn the volume knob to the left to make room for small talk. nicholas clears his throat as he slightly grips the steering wheel, his eyes focusing on the road as he trails behind cooper.

“so, uh, tell me, y/n. cooper has told me that you and valerie are studying business. i assume that’s going well.”

you sigh at hearing the “b” word. it felt like such a curse. your head hurts at the very mention. you muster up an answer that’s right to the point.

“yeah, i better be or i’ll bring the greatest shame to the l/n family, so i suggest you shouldn’t assume, nicholas.” you retort dryly, gazing at your rose red manicured nails. nicholas felt a twinge of a tingling pain in his stomach. it’s almost eighty degrees out, but it just got to thirty in here. talk about a cold shoulder.

“i’m sorry. i didn’t mean to pry or make you uncomfortable. i was just trying to make conversation considering it’s a da—” you cut him short.

“i know how a date works, man. what are you? a prosecutor trying to present to me the evidence of exhibit obvious?”

“matter of fact, i am, well— studying to be. i’m in the pre-law and criminology program at my university. just like you, it’s in my bloodline.”

“oh, well. i guess it’s a change from all the guys i’ve met. they’re always waiting for their folks to kick the bucket or step down, so they could inherit a position of power that’s worth twenty years of work, but get it because they were born. they’ll spend a shit load of money and the body’s not even cold yet.”

“woah—wow. i’ve never seen it in that perspective, especially not from an heiress like yourself.” nicholas’ brows furrowed and he exasperatedly whistled.

“wow indeed, nicholas. it’s a goddamn shame. what the hell does me being an heiress got to do with it, huh?” you quiz defensively, cutting your eyes to the male. nicholas takes a deep breath and combats with a firm and calm voice,

“hey, there’s no need to get defensive, y/n. i’m just saying most people from families like ours don’t typically share the same thought as you nor care—i believe it’s an interesting perspective, not a bad one, so i don’t blame you for believing that money could easily sway someone’s morals.”

“hm.” that’s all you could respond with and you returned your gaze to the window sitting in deep thought. who the hell did nicholas chavez think he was? why isn’t he combating you with the benefits of all that luxury? did this man just—sympathize with you? something was definitely up with nicholas and not to mention, you were being a bit of a bitch towards him and he was still holding a civil conversation with you. there had to be a narcissistic, egotistical bratty yuppie prick underneath that calm and collected gentleman-like demeanor. you had a scheme: you were gonna push that limit to make sure that asshole makes an appearance at that restaurant.

the guys smoothly pull up to the entrance where the security and valet are standing. they get out of their cars to open the doors for you and valerie before handing their keys and a handsome tip to the valet to get their cars parked. you gazed up at the illuminating skyscraper of the restaurant before you. THE OPULENT HAVEN flashed itself so vibrantly in the city that even the stars had some competition. it was hypnotic to say the least. you stop your gawking when you feel a large palm rest itself on the small of your spine. your brown eyes lean up to see the familiar pair of nicholas’, a grin playing across his chiseled face.

“i take it by the way you’re staring that this is your first time here. breathtaking, isn’t it?” he softly whispers in awe with a matching expression towards the structure. you inwardly groan as your stomach does that thing again. here he goes with this fake prince charming, nice guy act. who was he to assume that you haven’t been here? you’re y/n fucking l/n for god’s sake! oh, who the hell were you kidding? this was your first time at this place and it looked like a palace. you didn’t want to let him know that though. he’s probably been here a thousand times with a myriad of women. you never forgot your scheme to release the animal within him, so you smirk with a quirked brow in his direction before you shot back in the same whispered voice,

“and who are you to assume that i haven’t been here? it just looks very elegant, nothing more. you’re acting as if i’m a damn tourist to these kinds of establishments.”

“it’s not my intention to assume, y/n. i’ve just noticed that you could see and appreciate the beauty in this building like i do. if it makes you feel any better, this is just my second time around. you don’t have to be so guarded, you know? now, let’s get inside before our party leaves us behind. after you.” he gives you a once over to the see through revolving doors where cooper and valerie are standing at the hostess’ station awaiting your arrival.

“whatever.” you grumble under your breath, rolling your eyes.

“i beg your pardon?”

“nothing—let’s just get inside.”

with a silent nod and his hand still on your back, he takes the lead for you to meet with the other two. the hostess guides you all to your table and it wasn’t long before a waiter arrived. cooper takes the initiative to request the restaurant’s finest merlot, water, shrimp cocktails, and pâté as the starting course of the evening. when the server returns again, you all agree to settle on the main course of the beef wellington and lobster thermidor, and topping it off with the crème brûlée. cooper and valerie start to break the ice with everyone at the table. you sat with your eyes down at your purse and courtly spoke whenever spoken to without getting caught peering at the ticking clock every once in a while. who knew that a fucking hour would take a lifetime? it also didn’t help that when valerie was in her own world with her precious koch boy, nicholas tried every way possible to get you to open up and with every attempt, you respond to him with such a snarky and dismissive attitude. valerie tries her best to paint you as a decent human being to the best of her ability because she really likes cooper and the last thing she needed is you scaring him off because you’re pissed at her.

“so, nicholas! do you like music? y/n sure does. i bet you didn’t know that she’s very talented at the grand piano and has been doing performances and competitions when we coming up! she even dabbles in a bit of composing.” valerie chimed, gesturing her gloved hand in your direction like you were an exhibit on display.

“yeah, i love music and that’s actually really cool, y/n. how long have you been playing for?”

“since i was five. you’re about to be a top shit lawyer, right? you do the math and get the facts.” you retort as you take a sip of wine. valerie rolls her eyes and hisses your name as cooper places a hand on hers. his forest eyes giving her the reassuring look of “let it go”. cooper knew exactly what you were doing and as his best friend, he knew that nicholas’ politeness could only be pushed so far, they all just had to wait and see it all come to a head. after your response, you noticed how nicholas clenched his jaw, cleared his throat, and his composed expression returns with a tight lipped smile. what is this guy’s deal? where’s his backbone? he’s just like the rest of these sorry ass yuppie motherfuckers.

“shot in the dark, here. seventeen years?”

“ding, ding, ding! we got a winner!” you sarcastically cheered with a toast of your wine glass.

“that’s impressive. you must be really passionate about it. what type of styles do you typically play? classical? baroque? romantic? maybe jazz?” he leans back casually in his seat awaiting your answer. you were quite surprised that a pre-law student had such a knowledge in that area.

“anything that sounds good to my ears.” you announce with an air of confidence and shrug your shoulders. there was no utterance of a thank you, not nothing. you were gonna make sure this plan to expose him for who he truly is doesn’t all go to hell. it was pissing you off that with every brash comment you made, he would kill you with cordiality.

it was pissing you off so much that even the server was catching stray bullets from you.

“excuse me, would you tell whoever the hell prepared this dish to please remake this? there’s no way this was right because i’ve had better at a fucking cheesecake factory.” the server stood with such timidity and tried plead their case on behalf of the chef.

“ma’am, we understand your concern, but i assure that the head chef has made it—“

“wait a minute, you’re telling me this is the work of your head chef? well, i guess it’s time for him to head back to culinary school because this is fucking terrible. this is ALL terrible!” your voice rose with frustration as you throw your lap cloth down on the table like a child having a tantrum and stood from your chair with your arms firmly crossed. all you could think was fuck this restaurant, fuck this date, fuck valerie, and fuck nicholas for foiling your plan. before you could bitch and berate any further, nicholas also stood up from his chair. “wait, nicholas, don’t—”, valerie tried to open her mouth to protest and deescalate the situation, but cooper gently grabbed her wrist, shaking his head to let valerie know that nicholas had this. she just needed to watch. he was composed, but he held a perfect posture with his chest was puffed up, he kept his hands flat at his side, and he looked at you with such contempt, such disappointment, before his baritone voice dominated the room.

“no, valerie, this is not okay. i’m sorry, but i’ve got to get this off my chest.” he paused. his serious, deep gaze not pulling from your curious eyes before he resumes speaking, “y/n, your behavior this whole night was completely inappropriate and unacceptable. i’m not exactly sure what your problem is with me, but i’ve done nothing, but try to be civil. i don’t know what type of guy you may think i am, but where i come from, manners and decorum count a lot wherever and to whoever, so i can’t just sit back and let your nasty, smart-ass attitude continue. you owe every single one of us an apology, especially to that poor server. now, if you refuse, we’ll take you back home and continue the night without you. do i make myself clear?”

you stood there silently, still trying to keep your guard up, but the muscles of your crossed arms loosened. the furrow of your perfectly arched brows softened and a small smile crept on your painted lips while you listen to nicholas chavez set you, y/n l/n, in her rightful place. he was respectfully getting you all the way together and boy, did you get such a titillating rush from how he was so assertive yet, still had that integrity. he was exactly the type of man you’ve been craving for in your circle. the type of man that wasn’t afraid to stand up for what’s right no matter how many times he’s given the benefit of the doubt. he’d make one hell of a lawyer. it was like you were seeing stars when his eyes bore into yours, awaiting an answer. you were so stuck in staring at him, his colossal frame stepped forward to be in closer proximity to yours. the warm chocolate hue of his pupils turn darker as they continue to stare down into your own. nicholas takes the opportunity to repeat his question with an added firmness, considering he didn’t get an answer the first time.

“y/n, do i make myself clear?”

you swallow.

“yes, nicholas.”

you were so entrapped in his softening gaze when you gave in. valerie sat in awe and confusion as she witnessed you humbly apologize to everyone for your behavior, including the server and the night went on pleasantly. plus, you decided to give nicholas more than an hour, you decided to give him a chance. there was something about him that had some potential you craved to see more of. you weren’t always the one to get second dates, but as you attentively indulge in amicable conversation with him, you’d hope you were redeemed enough to get that chance to see nicholas again. alone. although you hated him less, he was still a fine specimen of a man. he gave you a sense of warmth. that warm feeling didn’t leave when he drove you home after dinner. it didn’t leave when he walked you to the door. it sure as hell didn’t leave when he bid you a sweet goodnight with another lingering kiss to your hand. the image of his beautifully sculpted countenance burned deep within your brain. nicholas was even the type of guy that made sure you entered your home first before disappearing into the night. a regular yuppie asshole would speed off as soon as you closed his car door. your heart pounded within your chest as you stared at the ceiling while immersed in your satin rose duvet. every single shitty word you’ve ever said and every judgmental thought you’ve had towards nicholas alexander chavez was immediately transformed into immense respect and burning desire.

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odinsblog · 6 months ago

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One of the most durable myths in recent history is that the religious right, the coalition of conservative evangelicals and fundamentalists, emerged as a political movement in response to the U.S. Supreme Court’s 1973 Roe v. Wade ruling legalizing abortion. The tale goes something like this: Evangelicals, who had been politically quiescent for decades, were so morally outraged by Roe that they resolved to organize in order to overturn it.

This myth of origins is oft repeated by the movement’s leaders. In his 2005 book, Jerry Falwell, the firebrand fundamentalist preacher, recounts his distress upon reading about the ruling in the Jan. 23, 1973, edition of the Lynchburg News: “I sat there staring at the Roe v. Wade story,” Falwell writes, “growing more and more fearful of the consequences of the Supreme Court’s act and wondering why so few voices had been raised against it.” Evangelicals, he decided, needed to organize.

Some of these anti- Roe crusaders even went so far as to call themselves “new abolitionists,” invoking their antebellum predecessors who had fought to eradicate slavery.

But the abortion myth quickly collapses under historical scrutiny. In fact, it wasn’t until 1979—a full six years after Roe—that evangelical leaders, at the behest of conservative activist Paul Weyrich, seized on abortion not for moral reasons, but as a rallying-cry to deny President Jimmy Carter a second term. Why? Because the anti-abortion crusade was more palatable than the religious right’s real motive: protecting segregated schools. So much for the new abolitionism.

Today, evangelicals make up the backbone of the pro-life movement, but it hasn’t always been so. Both before and for several years after Roe, evangelicals were overwhelmingly indifferent to the subject, which they considered a “Catholic issue.” In 1968, for instance, a symposium sponsored by the Christian Medical Society and Christianity Today, the flagship magazine of evangelicalism, refused to characterize abortion as sinful, citing “individual health, family welfare, and social responsibility” as justifications for ending a pregnancy. In 1971, delegates to the Southern Baptist Convention in St. Louis, Missouri, passed a resolution encouraging “Southern Baptists to work for legislation that will allow the possibility of abortion under such conditions as rape, incest, clear evidence of severe fetal deformity, and carefully ascertained evidence of the likelihood of damage to the emotional, mental, and physical health of the mother.” The convention, hardly a redoubt of liberal values, reaffirmed that position in 1974, one year after Roe, and again in 1976.

When the Roe decision was handed down, W. A. Criswell, the Southern Baptist Convention’s former president and pastor of First Baptist Church in Dallas, Texas—also one of the most famous fundamentalists of the 20th century—was pleased: “I have always felt that it was only after a child was born and had a life separate from its mother that it became an individual person,” he said, “and it has always, therefore, seemed to me that what is best for the mother and for the future should be allowed.”

Although a few evangelical voices, including Christianity Today magazine, mildly criticized the ruling, the overwhelming response was silence, even approval. Baptists, in particular, applauded the decision as an appropriate articulation of the division between church and state, between personal morality and state regulation of individual behavior. “Religious liberty, human equality and justice are advanced by the Supreme Court abortion decision,” wrote W. Barry Garrett of Baptist Press.

So what then were the real origins of the religious right? It turns out that the movement can trace its political roots back to a court ruling, but not Roe v. Wade.

In May 1969, a group of African-American parents in Holmes County, Mississippi, sued the Treasury Department to prevent three new whites-only K-12 private academies from securing full tax-exempt status, arguing that their discriminatory policies prevented them from being considered “charitable” institutions. The schools had been founded in the mid-1960s in response to the desegregation of public schools set in motion by the Brown v. Board of Education decision of 1954. In 1969, the first year of desegregation, the number of white students enrolled in public schools in Holmes County dropped from 771 to 28; the following year, that number fell to zero.

In Green v. Kennedy (David Kennedy was secretary of the treasury at the time), decided in January 1970, the plaintiffs won a preliminary injunction, which denied the “segregation academies” tax-exempt status until further review. In the meantime, the government was solidifying its position on such schools. Later that year, President Richard Nixon ordered the Internal Revenue Service to enact a new policy denying tax exemptions to all segregated schools in the United States. Under the provisions of Title VI of the Civil Rights Act, which forbade racial segregation and discrimination, discriminatory schools were not—by definition—“charitable” educational organizations, and therefore they had no claims to tax-exempt status; similarly, donations to such organizations would no longer qualify as tax-deductible contributions.

On June 30, 1971, the United States District Court for the District of Columbia issued its ruling in the case, now Green v. Connally (John Connally had replaced David Kennedy as secretary of the Treasury). The decision upheld the new IRS policy: “Under the Internal Revenue Code, properly construed, racially discriminatory private schools are not entitled to the Federal tax exemption provided for charitable, educational institutions, and persons making gifts to such schools are not entitled to the deductions provided in case of gifts to charitable, educational institutions.”

Paul Weyrich, the late religious conservative political activist and co-founder of the Heritage Foundation, saw his opening.

In the decades following World War II, evangelicals, especially white evangelicals in the North, had drifted toward the Republican Party—inclined in that direction by general Cold War anxieties, vestigial suspicions of Catholicism and well-known evangelist Billy Graham’s very public friendship with Dwight Eisenhower and Richard Nixon. Despite these predilections, though, evangelicals had largely stayed out of the political arena, at least in any organized way. If he could change that, Weyrich reasoned, their large numbers would constitute a formidable voting bloc—one that he could easily marshal behind conservative causes.

“The new political philosophy must be defined by us [conservatives] in moral terms, packaged in non-religious language, and propagated throughout the country by our new coalition,” Weyrich wrote in the mid-1970s. “When political power is achieved, the moral majority will have the opportunity to re-create this great nation.” Weyrich believed that the political possibilities of such a coalition were unlimited. “The leadership, moral philosophy, and workable vehicle are at hand just waiting to be blended and activated,” he wrote. “If the moral majority acts, results could well exceed our wildest dreams.”

But this hypothetical “moral majority” needed a catalyst—a standard around which to rally. For nearly two decades, Weyrich, by his own account, had been trying out different issues, hoping one might pique evangelical interest: pornography, prayer in schools, the proposed Equal Rights Amendment to the Constitution, even abortion. “I was trying to get these people interested in those issues and I utterly failed,” Weyrich recalled at a conference in 1990.

The Green v. Connally ruling provided a necessary first step: It captured the attention of evangelical leaders , especially as the IRS began sending questionnaires to church-related “segregation academies,” including Falwell’s own Lynchburg Christian School, inquiring about their racial policies. Falwell was furious. “In some states,” he famously complained, “It’s easier to open a massage parlor than a Christian school.”

One such school, Bob Jones University—a fundamentalist college in Greenville, South Carolina—was especially obdurate. The IRS had sent its first letter to Bob Jones University in November 1970 to ascertain whether or not it discriminated on the basis of race. The school responded defiantly: It did not admit African Americans.

Although Bob Jones Jr., the school’s founder, argued that racial segregation was mandated by the Bible, Falwell and Weyrich quickly sought to shift the grounds of the debate, framing their opposition in terms of religious freedom rather than in defense of racial segregation. For decades, evangelical leaders had boasted that because their educational institutions accepted no federal money (except for, of course, not having to pay taxes) the government could not tell them how to run their shops—whom to hire or not, whom to admit or reject.

The Civil Rights Act, however, changed that calculus.

(continue reading)

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cartermagazine · 8 months ago

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Today In History

Elijah “The Real” McCoy, inventor and holder of around 57 patents, was born in Colchester, Ontario, on this date May 2, 1843.

McCoy was a Canadian-American of African-American descent. Born free on the Ontario shore of Lake Erie to parents who fled enslavement in Kentucky-he traveled to the United States as a young child when his family returned in 1847, becoming a U.S. resident and citizen.

His machine lubricants were so in demand that buyers of machinery insisted that they contain only the “Real McCoy” lubricants.

CARTER™️ Magazine

#elijah mccoy #carter magazine #historyandhiphop365 #wherehistoryandhiphopmeet #history #carter #cartermagazine #today in history #staywoke #blackhistory #blackhistorymonth

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getjoys · 1 year ago

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Dazzling Daisy Bloom: Her Internet Fame Journey

Some people are born to shine, and Daisy Blooms is one of them. The 22-year-old social media sensation has captivated millions of fans with her radiant smile, uplifting posts, and generous spirit. But how did she go from being a regular girl named Daisy to a dazzling celebrity known as Daisy Blooms? In this article, we will explore her remarkable journey to internet fame, and how she uses her platform to spread joy and positivity to the world.

Birth, Parents and Education of Daisy Blooms

Daisy Blooms is not her real name, but a stage name that she adopted for her social media career. Her real name is Jameliz Benitez Smith, and she was born on June 9, 2001, in the United States. She is of mixed ethnicity, as her father is African-American and her mother is Puerto Rican. She has a younger sister named Jazmin, who also appears in some of her videos.

Daisy Blooms grew up in a musical family, as her father is a rapper and her mother is a singer. She was exposed to various genres of music from a young age, and developed a passion for singing and dancing. She also learned to play the guitar and the piano. She attended a local high school in the United States, where she was popular among her peers and participated in various extracurricular activities, such as cheerleading, drama club, and choir.

In 2019, she completed her high school education and made the decision to pursue her aspiration of becoming a social media influencer. She then enrolled in an online college to study business and marketing. She enrolled in an online college, where she is studying business and marketing. She hopes to use her education to expand her brand and reach more audiences.

Rise to Social Media Stardom

Daisy Blooms started her social media career in 2022, when she was only 18 years old. She created an Instagram account under the name @jellybeanbrainss, where she posted photos and videos of herself wearing colorful outfits, posing with flowers, and sharing positive messages.

Daisy Blooms quickly gained a dedicated following due to her cheerful personality, unique style, and motivating captions. In addition to her successful Instagram account, she also established a presence on TikTok under the username @daisyblooms. Her content on this platform included dance, lifestyle, and modeling videos set to popular rap and hip-hop songs.

Daisy rose to fame on TikTok after a video of her dancing on top of a car went viral and amassed over 2 million views. As a result, she became one of the most influential and well-known celebrities on social media, with millions of followers across various platforms.

Daisy Blooms has collaborated with other notable stars such as James Charles, David Dobrik, and Emma Chamberlain. She has also secured endorsements from major brands including Nike, Sephora, and Coca-Cola. Her success has also been recognized by various magazines such as Vogue, Cosmopolitan, and Teen Vogue.

Relationship

Daisy Blooms is a social media star who has not revealed much about her relationship status. She does not share any videos or photos that indicate that she has a romantic partner, nor does she refer to anyone in her captions or comments. She seems to focus on her career and her fans, and does not disclose much about her personal life.

Social Media

Daisy Blooms has a presence on Instagram.........Read More

Source: Getjoys

#getjoys #daisy blooms #influencer

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bfpnola · 2 years ago

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Hey. It's @reaux07. If you remember my last angry history rant on Paul Robeson, I'm back for Part 2. This time? King Leopold II and his relationship to the Congo. I just finished writing a 5-page, single-spaced essay on this for class, so I'll do my best to summarize in bullet points this time rather than chunky paragraphs. This will still be long though, as a warning, but it's a necessary read. Please let me get through this, because y'all know this hurts to write.

Trigger warnings for... just about everything typically associated with mass colonization (e.g. rape, murder, torture, etc.). Tiktok below as a brief introduction first:

King Leopold II of Belgium, due to his personal unpopularity and lack of love from his parents, had low self-esteem. As his father had already made 50 attempts to colonize foreign lands to no avail, Leopold felt the only way to uplift both himself and his country was to take take control of his own colony.

He checked Sarawak, the New Hebrides, the Fiji Islands, and the Philippines. Nothing. But what was left? The Congo.

How did he learn of the Congo? Leopold hired Henry Morton Stanley, a famous Welsh explorer of the time, to cross Africa from east to west, walking and canoeing 7,000 miles.

Upon the Congo's discovery, Leopold turned his palace into a luxury hotel for the delegates of a new conference to discuss Africa's colonization, supervising every detail. He successfully lied to the major powers of Europe, making claims of charitable and philanthropic aims, and that there would be free trade amongst the African colonies. (And yes, he did give every single attendee a painting of his face... Because he could.)

Meanwhile, back in the Congo, Stanley (the explorer I just mentioned) used bribes and trickery to provide official treaties with the various chiefs of the land in case Leopold ever needed legal proof of land ownership. (Ex of said trickery: One report noted that a village assumed "the white man controlled the sun.")

In 1891 and 1892, Leopold released decrees stating that both vacant land and produce of the forests exclusively belonged to Belgium and that natives could only harvest for the state.

Enforcing Leopold’s rule were 16,000 Africans equipped with modern Belgian-made automatic rifles.

Outing Attempt #1: One African American man, George Washington Williams, during his trip compiled a report to be sent to the American secretary of state. In this letter, Williams remembers bets being taken on who could shoot the native people in the head first, among other instances of vile treatment. While the document never made it back to Williams’ home country, it was eventually found in Europe where he later died.

By this point, the Congo was actually ruining Leopold’s finances and he was growing desperate. But to his surprise, he happened to pick the one spot where rubber grew in abundance, just as the demand for cars and bicycles rose internationally, John Dunlop, a Scottish veteran, having just invented the first pneumatic tire.

Because of this, rubber-prominent areas were the targets of mass exploitation and punishment if daily and weekly rubber quotas were not met.

Missionaries began to write not just to one another, but back home in disgust of these aforementioned “punishments,” one man’s writings put in missionary magazines and national newspapers in Europe. These punishments included rape, tying people up to trees, cutting off men's heads and genitals to be displayed along the fences of Congolese villages, cutting women’s breasts off, and most notably...

Attempt #2: The world, if only momentarily, saw BASKETS after BASKETS of right hands that had been cut off as proof that each of the cartridges given to the Africans had been fired and killed one of their own people. These hands were then smoked for preservation and brought back to their officers.

What did Leopold do once this information came out alongside photos of child mutilation? Acknowledge the abuses and moved on almost immediately.

In Europe, the rubber was processed in a city called Antwerp, ironically named after a mythological giant who also cut off hands. To this day, the connection between such a name and Belgian history has not been made by the general public as countless documents by the Belgian Ministry of Foreign Affairs are kept secret to maintain an image of untouched royalty.

One commissioner in charge of a district in Congo, Leon Fievez, produced one ton of rubber a day, boasting of 1,000 people killed, 162 villages destroyed, burning gardens and plantations so people would starve, and having “only” used 3,000 cartridges. He was nicknamed the “Devil of the Equator” and rightly so.

Attempt #3: One day, a man named Charles Stokes, a British trader working for the Germans, entered the picture. Stokes was arrested for trading in state territory, despite those former claims of free trade, and sentenced to death. Leopold was forced to pay compensation to both Britain and Germany for his death, both countries now increasingly aware of the Congo’s dark reality.

To cover it up, Leopold made claims of the Congo opening up to new companies. Let's be real: His men were on the boards of all these new companies and he took 50% of the profits.

In particular were these "concession companies" where the "hostage system" was set up. Agencies, with official hostage licenses authorizing such, would take the wives of rubber collectors for up to 15 days until the quota was met.

On the 15th day, the men of the Congo either got their wives back or faced further punishment, often death. For the agents, the 15th day meant it was time to calculate commissions, and for the king? It was proof that this new hostage system worked.

These abusive concession companies lasted over 10 years until formal competition arose in South America and Asia.

Attempt #4: Then came Edmund Dene Morel, a half-French, self-taught shipping clerk turned investigative journalist who wrote in The Speaker of the abuses faced by the Congolese, backed up by evidence, not just speculations.

Due to Morel’s growing specialization in West African affairs, he was able to not only send out 15,000 brochures and 3,700 letters in six months after his move to Wales, but start his own newspaper, West African Mail.

By 1903, Roger Casement, an ally to Morel’s cause, spent two months traveling the upper Congo, recording African testimonies. He, too, realized that missionaries were key witnesses and went to visit Joseph Clark (a missionary of 20 years) for 17 days.

Through these reports, which grew to 50 pages in length, Casement and Morel were able to solidify Belgium as perpetuating the worst colonial system Africa had ever known. Punishments included Africans performing public incest for the colonists' entertainment, decapitation, women being stabbed with wooden spikes up their vaginas, and one woman tied up to a tree and slashed straight in half from her left shoulder through her abdomen and out the other side.

The West African Mail even reported on a part of Congo no one knew existed, private property within private property called the “Crown Domain” on the other side of Lake Tumba, which gained 231 million euros alone, all sent directly to King Leopold II. Crown Domain was 10x 5)3 size of Belgium.

Founded by Morel, Liverpool became the headquarters of a coalition called the Congo Reform Association. He also published a book called Red Rubber (1906). I think you’ll find the cover particularly striking! Check out the hand in the bottom right corner being weighed against King Leopold II on the left.

Leopold obviously not having this, commissioned a number of books and monthly magazines to clear up the mess. This didn't work. Obviously.

He even tried to send his own international commission to control what the Congolese said in 1904, to no avail. This was due to a missionary named John Harris who had taken the accounts of various people in the area and sent them back to Morel.

In one particularly heartbreaking moment, a chief brought to Leopold’s judges 110 twigs for each of the entire villages, not just people, killed by the Belgian state, naming every last one.

By the time they returned to Europe, the governor-general committed suicide and, upon being asked, Harris suggested Leopold should be sent to the gallows by the relatively new International Court of Justice.

The commission's report vindicated Casement and Morel. Leopold had tricked no one. EVERYONE in Belgium was calling him out.

Leopold ordered all of the Congo State Records to be burned.

In 1908, the Congo became a Belgian colony, not longer Leopold’s personal property. The state still made claims of "civilizing" the Africans after Leopold's death though, utilizing the leftover mineral exploitation industry with no guilt.

At least during his funeral, which he was denied of having privately, the entire city booed his body <3 well deserved. By this point, he had become Europe’s most hated man of the time.

And in case you were wondering, Casement and Morel were both accused to pro-German sympathies during WWI and executed.

I would like to add more detail but I think I’ve hit a character limit. Just know that Congo’s population was cut in HALF, in some places as much as 60-90%. Villages after villages were burned, as shown through so many soldiers’ and missionaries’ journals. This was a genocide of over 10 MILLION PEOPLE y’all. Hearing this story was truly SICKENING, but here’s the BBC 4 documentary we watched for class for more: Congo: White King, Red Rubber, and Black Death.

What truly gets me is just how OTHER colonizers were calling this man out after finding out the full truth… For me, that feels like extra proof of how truly messed up this was if THEY were disturbed too.

And what feels truly insidious was how Leopold made sure to institutionalize all of his wrongdoings and was so… obviously knowing about every wrongdoing, I mean writing in letters to make sure no one else found out. Please…

Linking my angry history rant on Paul Robeson from last semester here.

Happy Black History Month.

#belgium #king leopold ii #democratic republic of congo #history #black history month #colonialism #tw genocide #tw rape #tw torture #tw massacre #the congo #tw incest #resources #bipoc #undescribed #reaux speaks #black lives matter

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lboogie1906 · 7 months ago

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Elizabeth Duncan Koontz (June 3, 1919 - January 6, 1989) was the first African American president of the National Education Association which at that point was an 820,000-member Association of Classroom Teachers. She was born in Salisbury, North Carolina. Her parents were Samuel E. Duncan, former president of Livingstone College, and Lena Bell Jordan Duncan, an educator at Salisbury’s Dunbar Elementary School. The last of seven children, She began elementary school at four and graduated salutatorian of her class from Joseph Charles Price High School and enrolled in Livingstone College. Three years later, she received a BA. She earned an MA from Atlanta University. She married Harry Koontz (1947) a mathematics educator.

In 1960, she became the first African American to serve as secretary of the NEA. She authored Guidelines for Local Associations of Classroom Teachers.

She held several positions as an educator in North Carolina and served as president of the Association of Classroom Teachers of the NEA (1965-66) her career break came in 1968, as president of the National Education Association. Her term in office was highlighted when she established the NEA’s Human and Civil Rights Division. She was appointed the first African American director of the US Department of Labor Women’s Bureau by President Richard Nixon. She collaborated globally and addressed relevant and pressing issues in an attempt to eliminate discrimination against women and minorities in the workforce. She was a proponent of the Equal Rights Amendment. She appeared on the covers of the August 1, 1969, Jet magazine and the October 1969 issue of Teacher.

She received honorary doctorates from Livingstone College, Howard University, Coppin State College, Eastern Michigan University, Northeastern University, and Bryant University, Indiana University. An elementary school in Salisbury was named in her honor.

She was the assistant state school superintendent in North Carolina (1975-82). She was a member of Zeta Phi Beta Sorority. #africanhistory365 #africanexcellence #zetaphibeta

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justforbooks · 2 months ago

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Cissy Houston

American gospel, pop and soul singer who co-founded the Sweet Inspirations

The career of the American singer Cissy Houston, who has died aged 91, exemplified the vital force underlying so much modern popular music: the close relationship between African-American sacred and secular idioms, specifically the influence seeping from Black gospel music, with its deep emotional roots and eruptions of ecstatic fervour, into the fabric of R&B, soul and pop.

Houston spent 30 years as the “minister of music” at the New Hope Baptist Church in her native Newark, New Jersey. But she also sang, often with her nieces Dionne and Dee Dee Warwick, on many of the great pop hits of the 1960s and 70s, from the Drifters’ On Broadway through Van Morrison’s Brown Eyed Girl, Aretha Franklin’s (You Make Me Feel Like a) Natural Woman, Dusty Springfield’s Son of a Preacher Man and Paul Simon’s Mother and Child Reunion to David Bowie’s Young Americans.

As a founder member of a vocal group known as the Sweet Inspirations, she toured and recorded with Elvis Presley. After leaving the group in 1970 to raise her family, she pursued a solo career, recording albums and appearing in New York night clubs, which reached its peak with two Grammy awards for her traditional gospel albums Face to Face in 1997 and He Leadeth Me the following year.

She also became known as the mother of the singer Whitney Houston, whose enormous worldwide success, following her appearance in the 1992 film The Bodyguard, attracted attention to a private life that included a turbulent marriage to the singer Bobby Brown and problems with drug addiction.

Whitney, who had begun her singing career under her mother’s tutelage in the New Hope choir, was found dead in the bath of a Beverly Hills hotel in 2012, aged 48. Three years later Whitney’s daughter Bobbi Kristina Brown, a singer and reality TV personality, died after being discovered in similar circumstances, aged 22.

Cissy Houston was born Emily Drinkard, the eighth and last child of Delia Mae (nee McCaskill) and Nitcholas “Nitch” Drinkard, natives of Georgia who moved to New Jersey in the 1920s. Delia died when Cissy – a childhood nickname that stuck – was eight, followed 10 years later by her husband. Cissy went to live with her married older sister, Lee Warrick, whose children included Dionne and Dee Dee, both only a handful of years younger than their aunt.

Virtually from infancy Cissy and her brothers and sisters had been encouraged by their parents to sing in church. They formed a vocal group, into which Cissy was enrolled when she was five. “I used to get so mad,” she told Rolling Stone magazine in 1978. “We’d be out playing in the sun with the other kids and my older sister, Marie, would make us come in for rehearsal.”

The Drinkard Singers achieved national renown, eventually appearing at Carnegie Hall and the Newport Folk festival. In 1954 Cissy took charge of the New Hope choir, which increased from 15 to 60 voices during her years in charge.

A first marriage in 1955 to Freddie Garland brought her a son, Gary, but ended in divorce. In 1964 she married John Houston, an army veteran who became her manager and with whom she had two children, Michael and Whitney.

By the time the second marriage brought her a change of surname, she was working regularly as a backing singer on pop recording sessions, in demand for her three-octave range. With the two Warrick sisters (who would alter their spelling to Warwick) and a friend, Doris Troy, she formed a unit that was soon busy in New York studios providing backing vocals on hits by Solomon Burke, Chuck Jackson and many others.

When all three of her colleagues left to pursue solo careers, she replaced them with Estelle Brown, Sylvia Shemwell and Myrna Smith. Among their regular employers was the Atlantic Records producer Jerry Wexler, who recruited them for sessions with Franklin, with Cissy providing the coloratura soprano flourishes featured on Franklin’s Ain’t No Way in 1968. Wexler also gave them their name, which formed the title of their most successful single, Sweet Inspiration, a top 20 hit when released on Atlantic in 1967.

While bringing up her children, Cissy continued to record and make occasional appearances. Although she made several solo albums for a variety of labels and producers, she was never able to match the solo successes in the pop charts of the Warwick sisters or Troy. But when Burt Bacharach recorded his own versions of some of his greatest hits in 1971, he chose her to sing One Less Bell to Answer, Mexican Divorce and All Kinds of People. In 1976 she was featured in Gospel Fuse, a gospel opera composed by Carman Moore and performed with the San Francisco Symphony orchestra, conducted by Seiji Ozawa.

On the 1989 album Whitney, which would sell more than 20m copies around the world, she joined her daughter for a duet on I Know Him So Well, from the musical Chess. In 1992 she and Jackson were reunited for a fine R&B album titled I’ll Take Care of You. By the time she achieved her Grammy gospel successes, secular music was occupying less of her time, although in 2006 she, Whitney and Dionne Warwick recorded a song called Family First for the Hollywood rom-com Daddy’s Little Girls.

In 1998 she published her autobiography, How Sweet the Sound. Fifteen years later, in Remembering Whitney, she told the harrowing story of her long but unavailing struggle to help her daughter overcome her various problems.

Both her marriages ended in divorce. She is survived by her two sons, six grandchildren and nine great-grandchildren.

🔔 Cissy Houston (Emily Drinkard), singer, born 30 September 1933; died 7 October 2024

Daily inspiration. Discover more photos at Just for Books…?

#just for books #Cissy Houston #in memoriam

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girlactionfigure · 2 years ago

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“Don't ever let injustice go by unchallenged," his mother told him.

He was a rebel, a self-described “angry misfit”.

He and a friend would survive an ambush by KKK members who tried to force their vehicle off the road.

Born in Manhattan on March 1, 1927, and raised in Depression-era Harlem, he said he spent his life “in a constant state of rebellion.”

“His parents were mixed-race undocumented immigrants who constantly changed jobs, apartments and even their names to avoid authorities,” wrote Andrew R. Chow in Time Magazine. “Throughout my childhood we lived an underground life, as criminals of a sort, on the run,” [he would] write in his 2011 memoir.

Life for him as a child “was rife with hardship and sorrow, . . . His alcoholic father beat him bloody; his schoolyard years were full of fights waged with “bottles, garbage cans, rocks, hands and feet.” When he was a toddler, he accidentally cut himself in the eye with scissors, blinding himself in one eye for the rest of his life. [He] was also dyslexic, and his poor eyesight led him to drop out of school in the ninth grade, leaving him few career prospects.”

Poverty “defined” him, he wrote in his memoir.

“A day after his 17th birthday, he enlisted in the Navy and soon was disabused of romantic notions of military fellowship,” wrote Adam Bernstein of The Washington Post. “Minor infractions landed him for two weeks at the Naval Prison in Portsmouth, Va., where he saw German POWs receiving better treatment.”

“The injustice of this sickened me,” he wrote, adding that the experience “radicalized” him politically.

“Despite his service he was often turned away from segregated restaurants or concert venues.”

“The all-too-frequent incidents of prejudice kept me in an almost constant state of simmering rage,” he wrote.

When he returned, he found work as a janitor in a Harlem apartment building. A grateful tenant gave him tickets to the American Negro Theatre, where he started connecting with like-minded people. One of those, another janitor at the theater, became a life-long friend.

While looking for an acting job, he and his newlywed wife lived on her teacher’s salary in a $55-a-month apartment.

“In the meantime, he found a mentor in the African American entertainer Paul Robeson, a leading activist for civil and union rights who was hounded by federal authorities for his alleged socialist sympathies,” wrote Bernstein. Urged by Robeson, [he] began using folk songs to decry racism, poverty and other social ills.”

“In 1956, [he] decided to record an entire album of Caribbean island songs, much to the chagrin of his label, RCA, who felt it would be too “ethnic,” according to Chow. But [his album] was a runaway success: It made history as the first album to sell a million copies in the U.S., and embarked on a 99-week Billboard chart run that wouldn’t be matched until Michael Jackson’s Thriller more than a quarter-century later.”

Wrote Joshua Jelly-Schapiro of New York Magazine:

“In 1956, a Harlem-bred child of Caribbean immigrants [became] bigger than Elvis. But where Elvis built Graceland, [he] used the proceeds from [his album]” to assist a young Martin Luther King Jr. and his movement for civil rights. Along with his friend, the former janitor, Sidney Poitier, they became outspoken voices for justice and racial equality.

This Harlem-bred child of undocumented immigrants was born as Harold George Belanfanti Jr., but his parents had Americanized his name.

Harry Belafonte smashed “a series of barriers during five decades as a movie, TV and stage star, “ wrote Bernstein. “His artistic and humanitarian work frequently overlapped, reflecting his belief that ‘the role of art isn’t just to show life as it is but to show life as it should be.’”

He became “a dynamic force in the civil rights movement,” according to the New York Times.

This is a new story from the Jon S. Randal Peace page to honor the life and achievements of Harry Belafonte, who died of congestive heart failure Tuesday, April 25, at the age 96 at his New York home, according to his longtime spokesman.

The Peace Page focuses on past and present stories—some seldom told, others simply forgotten, still others intentionally ignored. The stories and chapters are gathered from writers, journalists, and historians to share awareness and foster understanding—to bring people together—and, as such, they are available all year in the Peace Page archives with new stories appearing each week throughout the year. We encourage you to learn more about the individuals and events mentioned here and to acknowledge the writers, educators, and historians whose words we present. Thank you for being here and helping us share awareness.

~~~~~

Growing up, Belafonte would refer to “my people” as “gangsters”, but clarified that by saying, “I don’t mean major American crime; I mean, as an immigrant, if you can’t find work inside the law, you find work outside the law. Running numbers and so on. Which is, of course, a characteristic of the poor, who find ways to break the rules, since the rules are always stacked against them.”

When he joined the Navy in 1944, he was hoping for adventure and glory on the Eastern front of World War II. “But the armed forces were still segregated, with African Americans often relegated to dangerous grunt work like handling live ammunition.”

When he “later enrolled in the Dramatic Workshop of the New School of Social Research,” his classmates included “Marlon Brando, Walter Matthau, Bea Arthur, Rod Steiger and Tony Curtis,” according to writer Drew Weisholtz.

When he released his history-making album “Calypso,” he said “It’s a song about my father, my uncles, the men and women who toil in the banana fields, the cane fields of Jamaica.”

"The song is a work song," he said. "It's about men who sweat all day long, and they are underpaid. They're begging for the tallyman to come and give them an honest count: 'Count the bananas that I've picked so I can be paid.' When people sing in delight and dance and love it, they don't really understand unless they study the song — that they're singing a work song that's a song of rebellion."

"When people thought he was just singing about good times in the islands, he was always like infusing messages of protest and revolution in everything he did," John Legend said.

“There had never before been any singer that popular with White middle-class audiences as well as Black audiences,” the cultural critic and scholar Henry Louis Gates Jr. said in an interview. “In that sense, he was an agent of change, the musical voice of civil rights.”

“Using music to espouse universal brotherhood, Mr. Belafonte encouraged audiences to sing along to calypso, protest and chain-gang songs, the ballad ‘Danny Boy’ and the Hebrew folk song ‘Hava Nagila’, according to The Washington Post.

“A two-time Grammy Award winner, Belafonte also won a Tony Award for best actor in a featured role in a musical for ‘John Murray Anderson’s Almanac’ in 1954,” according to Weisholtz.

“The first Black producer in television, he also won an Emmy Award in 1960 for his special ‘Tonight with Belafonte.’ In 2015, he was recognized with a Jean Hersholt Humanitarian Award at the Oscars, giving him coveted EGOT status.”

Despite his popularity, Belafonte “still met with plenty of resistance, especially as he entered previously segregated spaces,” wrote Chow. “While walking up Coldwater Canyon while filming his first Hollywood role, Bright Road, he was arrested and charged with illegal loitering. In Las Vegas, he was turned away from the resort he was playing at and instead told to stay at a dingy colored motel across town. A Chicago club’s manager initially refused to let him into his own show.”

In one famous incident, “Mr. Belafonte and White British singer Petula Clark were performing a duet of the antiwar song ‘Paths of Glory’ on an NBC special,” according to Bernstein. “An advertising manager for the automaker Chrysler-Plymouth, which was sponsoring the show, objected when Clark spontaneously touched Mr. Belafonte’s arm.

“The executive, who interrupted the song and had called for a retake, was later reprimanded by Chrysler and called Mr. Belafonte to apologize. ‘Your apology comes 100 years too late,’ the singer replied. NBC kept the scene when the show was televised. Mr. Belafonte later told an interviewer, “It is essential to television and industries to know that people like [this] exist. I’m tired and frustrated by what I’ve had to go through in this medium.”

~~~~~

“At the height of his mainstream fame, Belafonte stepped back from entertainment to devote the bulk of his time to the burgeoning Civil Rights Movement,” according to Time Magazine. “He became a key economic engine and behind-the-scenes organizer for many of the sit-ins, freedom rides and marches that would sweep the South and propel social and federal change.”

“He became one of Martin Luther King Jr.’s most trusted confidants, serving as a mediator between King and John F. Kennedy’s White House; he stood at the front lines at the March on Washington and the final march from Selma to Montgomery.”

“Belafonte’s global popularity and his commitment to our cause is a key ingredient to the global struggle for freedom and a powerful tactical weapon in the civil rights movement here in America. We are blessed by his courage and moral integrity,” King once said.

“In the immediate wake of the Birmingham protests in 1963, when thousands of children were jailed by Bull Connor’s police forces, [Belafonte] raised hundreds of thousands of dollars and worked closely with King, Attorney General Robert Kennedy and union leaders to bail scores of children out of jail,” wrote Chow.

“He also brought Brando, Charlton Heston, Paul Newman and Tony Bennett to the 1963 March on Washington, where King delivered his ‘I Have a Dream’ speech — a critical show of White support that made King’s address all the more universal in its appeal,” according to the Washington Post.

And, he “used his friendships with Frank Sinatra, Marlon Brando, Lena Horne and Henry Fonda to raise more than $100,000 to fund the Freedom Rides in 1964 that challenged racial segregation in interstate transportation.”

This was the time he and Poitier sped down the highway as a pursuing group of the Ku Klux Klan fired gunshots at them.

“Whenever we got into trouble or when tragedy struck, Harry has always come to our aid, his generous heart wide open,” Coretta Scott King wrote of Belafonte in her autobiography.

Martin Luther King Jr.'s daughter Bernice King remembers, "When I was a child, Harry Belafonte showed up for my family in very compassionate ways. In fact, he paid for the babysitter for me and my siblings . . . I won’t forget.”

“Belafonte also persuaded JFK to approve airlifting a planeload of Kenyan students to America in 1961,” according to Joshua Jelly-Schapiro of New York Magazine.

Belafonte remembered, “We had the airlift, right. Myself, Jackie Robinson, Eleanor Roosevelt, and a woman called Cora Weiss. And we brought Kenyan students, before independence . . . we got them visas to enter American universities. And one of our lifts—and we didn’t have many—on one of those planes, we had Barack Obama’s father.”

“In the decades to come he would expand his empathetic push to a global scale, fighting against apartheid in South Africa, famine in Ethiopia, and genocide in Rwanda,” wrote Chow. “He became a UNICEF Goodwill Ambassador . . . and railed fiercely against the Iraq War.”

He “was also one of the driving forces behind ‘We Are the World,’ the star-studded charity single that raised more than $60 million for Ethiopian famine relief after its 1985 release,” according to Larry McShane and Peter Sblendorio of the New York Daily News. “He appeared in the video with an assortment of fellow musical legends, including Michael Jackson, Stevie Wonder, Bruce Springsteen, Ray Charles and Bob Dylan.”

And, speaking of Dylan, “during the recording of his 1962 album ‘Midnight Special,’ Belafonte brought in a recently-transplanted Minnesota musician to play harmonica. The young man, named Bob Dylan, made his recording debut playing on the title track.”

“At pivotal moments, he was one of the most critical supporters of the civil rights movement,” said Taylor Branch, a Pulitzer Prize-winning civil rights historian. “Harry was a strong force for keeping people on an even keel.”

“After King’s assassination in 1968, Mr. Belafonte became a roving humanitarian without portfolio,” wrote Bernstein. “He helped start TransAfrica, a lobbying group that pressed for economic sanctions against South Africa’s apartheid regime. He lobbied for the release of Nelson Mandela and then helped coordinate the future South African president’s first visit to the United States after his liberation in 1990.”

“Belafonte also created the Gathering For Justice in 2005 to stop child incarceration and put an end to racial inequity in the justice system,” wrote Weisholtz.

~~~~~

“There was never a performer who crossed so many lines as Harry,” Bob Dylan wrote in his 2004 memoir.

“He could play to a packed house at Carnegie Hall one night and then the next day he might appear at a garment center union rally,” Dylan wrote. “To Harry, it didn’t make any difference. People were people. He had ideals and made you feel you’re part of the human race.”

“You know,” Dylan added, “he never took the easy path, though he could have.”

“I wasn’t an artist who became an activist,” Belafonte reflected on his 90th birthday. “I was an activist who became an artist.”

Harry Belafonte was an activist into his 90s. He told NPR in 2011 that was something he learned from his mother.

"She was tenacious about her dignity not being crushed. And one day, she said to me — she was talking about coming back from a day when she couldn't find work. Fighting back tears, she said, 'Don't ever let injustice go by unchallenged.'"

"Harry Belafonte, a Trailblazer and Hero to us all," said Oprah Winfrey. "Thank you for your music, your artistry, your activism, your fight for civil rights and justice—especially risking your life back in the day to get money to the movement. Your being here on Earth has Blessed us all."

He once said, “I’ve always looked at the world and thought, ‘What can I do next? Where do we go from here? How can we fix it?’”

“And that’s still how I look at the world, because there is so much to be done.”

~ jsr

youtube

The Jon S. Randal Peace Page

#Harry Belafonte #Youtube

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reasoningdaily · 1 year ago

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Welcome to Black People’s Recipes!

Here you will find an assortment of Black cultural recipes for dinner, dessert, appetizers, side dishes, drinks, vegan meals, and more. Our recipes highlight the staple dishes found within African American, African, and Caribbean communities. We pride ourselves in sharing our family-favorite recipes that are prepared the right way and true to historical traditions.

Brandi Crawford is a cookbook author and the owner of Stay Snatched and Simple Seafood Recipes. She specializes in quick and easy meals for dinner along with Southern and soul food cuisine. Brandi loves to share recipes that are easy to follow that never compromise on taste. She grew up cooking alongside her mom and granny throughout her entire childhood and early years.

Brandi and Stay Snatched have been featured in Women’s Health Magazine, Shape Magazine, Parade Magazine, Essence Magazine, Country Living Magazine, Southern Living Magazine, BuzzFeed, Delish, The Kansas City Star, Kansas City Spaces, Greatist, and more.

She is the author of The Super Easy Air Fryer Cookbook and has been featured on Good Morning America, where she shared tips on how to live a healthy lifestyle that is sustainable and tips on meal prepping.

Meet Jessica from Jessica in the Kitchen, a vegan food blog. Jessica is an award-winning photographer, videographer, and home chef! She has been cooking and blogging for the last 12 years and without a doubt, she LOVES cooking. She focuses on simple, approachable, and SEASONED vegan meals and will be sharing all of her favorites with you here.

Fun Fact: She is a born and raised Jamaican and also grew up in the British Virgin Islands (also in the Caribbean) and will be throwing her favorite cultural dishes into the mix, too. Her mixed Caribbean upbringing heavily influences her love of well seasoned, bright, and fresh dishes. On the baking side, she comes from a family of caterers and bakers. She can’t wait to share that side with you too, in her baked goods!

Tanya Harris is the founder and owner of My Forking Life, a food site where she focuses on sharing easy and flavorful recipes with a heavy focus on Caribbean and Southern cuisine. Tanya grew up in a Caribbean household and lived in various cities in the Southern United States.

Tanya’s obsession with cooking developed later in life when she wanted her growing family to experience all the delicious meals she ate growing up. Now Tanya shares this same experience with her loyal followers and fans.

Fun Fact: Tanya is an avid cookbook collector and owns over 200 cookbooks! She likes to browse these books in her free time for inspiration on new recipes and ideas.

Jocelyn Delk Adams is the founder, author, and national television personality behind the food website Grandbaby-Cakes.com which serves millions of readers per year. On Grandbaby Cakes she gives her family’s, particularly her grandmother’s, cherished generational recipes her modern spin while preserving their original charm and spirit.

Jocelyn is a regular on the TODAY Show and Good Morning America, and has been featured as a judge on Food Network shows “Beat Bobby Flay” and “Santa’s Baking Blizzard” and Disney Channel and Disney Plus “Disney Magic Bake Off”, and in publications such as People Magazine, Food and Wine Magazine, Parents Magazine, New York Times, Washington Post, Better Homes and Gardens Magazine, O (The Oprah) Magazine, Essence Magazine, Huffington Post, Bon Appetit, Southern Living Magazine, and many others.

Shannon Epstein aka Fit Slow Cooker Queen is a home cook & recipe developer living in Los Angeles. Shannon is a gadget cook who specializes in slow cooker, Instant Pot, and air fryer recipes.

Fun fact: Shannon moved 9 times before she graduated high school.

Davinah from Dr. Davinah’s Eats is a former educator turned full-time foodie & entrepreneur. She came to blogging by accident after remaking comfort food recipes to fit a low-carb way of eating on Instagram. Her seared scallops and cauliflower rice risotto, crispy fried air fryer chicken without flour, and keto bang bang shrimp went viral and the blog became her way to store and share her recipes.

Her main website focuses on everyday low-carb comfort food and air fryer recipes for foodies. Black People’s Recipes allows her to go back to where her love for food started – making traditional recipes with her mom and other women in her family.

Besides being a foodie, Davinah is a trained data scientist, real estate investor, new mom, and wife. She loves organizing her life in excel sheets and solving random math problems.

Fun fact: feeling adventurous, she climbed the Coba Pyramid (137 feet) in Mexico, but was too scared to come back down. So, she scooted one step at a time back to the ground!

#Welcome to Black People’s Recipes #Black Food #Black Cooking #Black People Cooking #Black People's Recipes

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successfulblackparenting · 4 months ago

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New Studies Reveal: All Parents Face Toxic Stress, Racism Exacerbates the Burden for Black Parents

Recent studies highlighted by the U.S. Surgeon General and the American Psychological Association (APA) show that while parental stress is a widespread issue, “41 percent of parents say that most days they are so stressed they cannot function and 48 percent say that most days their stress is completely overwhelming compared to other adults.” The U.S. Surgeon General’s Advisory on the Mental…

#African American parent magazine #African American parenting #African American parenting magazine #African American parents #Black children education #black parent magazine #black parenting #Black parenting magazine #black parents #community resilience #coping with parental stress #family support networks #Mental Health Disparities #overcoming racial bias #racism and mental health #stress in Black families #successful black parenting #successful black parenting magazine #systemic inequality

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sweetdreamsjeff · 4 months ago

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Jeff Buckley: They Don't Even Know Me Yet

Martin Aston, MOJO, January 2003

In 1992 Jeff Buckley gave his first ever press interview. A decade later, MOJO unearths this incredible, little-seen document.

AUTUMN IN NEW YORK, 1992. A tiny East Village cafe, the Sin-e. It's packed, but there's a seat near the very front, under the singer's nose. His, eyes are clenched shut. He's nervous, edgy, but it's a truly memorable show; jittery, comical, thrilling, mesmeric. When he's singing the voice is pure, stretching high-low, curling around a song. He closes on a song that could very well be a lullaby, and your eyes close with his.

Three days later, in another tiny cafe, via a mutual friend who knows Tim Buckley is your all-time favourite singer, and who told you, 'You gotta hear his son', you meet Jeff. He's dressed down — plaid shirt, jeans — which draws you to the face; short, thatched hair, looming eyes, rich lips, a wary expression. It's his first ever interview, and he's nervous, defensive. The first thing he says, almost before handshakes, is whether you're here purely because of Tim. No, but then again, yes. He accepts that there's little point writing about Jeff simply because you love Tim, any more than you can avoid Tim because of Jeff. In the end, only Dutch magazine OOR takes a chance on an interview with a total unknown: based, of course, on the familial connection to Tim. The interview is never published in the UK. By the time everyone catches up with Jeff the interview is out of date. But now, given his death and enshrined appeal, it's timeless.

When did music first make an impact on you?

As a child. There was my mother's breasts and then there was music. It felt like another person in the house that floated with me everywhere. All my life, I've sung along to the radio, stuff like [Spiral Staircase's] 'I Love You More Today Than Yesterday'. My mum would drive me to school, playing mellow Californian radio, stuff like Chicago, Crosby Stills and Nash, Blood Sweat and Tears, Sly and the Family Stone, James Brown, The Temptations, every day! She married a car mechanic, who couldn't carry a tune, but he had amazing taste and he turned me on to Booker T, Led Zeppelin and Joni Mitchell, Hoyt Axton and Willie Nelson. My mum pretty much sung to me — she's a classically-trained pianist and cellist. So it was mainly me and my mum, because my parents split before I was born. I hung around my grandmother too — she'd play me stuff like The Chambers Brothers.

It's rare to hear someone smitten with both traditional blues and modern blues. I'm thinking of your cover of 'Fare Thee Well'.

That's Dink's Song. It was originally written by a washerwoman. That's where the best music came from, from old European-American criminals bringing Africans to America. My favourites are Robert Johnson and Bukka White, The Staple Singers, Billie Holiday. I cover 'Strange Fruit', too. I figured I wouldn't be able to meet these people, so I learn from them by hearing them sing. Some of the coolest music is Johnny Cash, which isn't a black or white thing. I love Mariachi music, Ray Charles, Edith Piaf, the Sex Pistols, Muddy Waters…I just saw gifts dangling from them and wanted to take it. I guess I want to be an archetypal entertainer, an archetypal bard, a minstrel. I guess I have a romantic vision. Even though punk happened to me, and Robert Johnson, I want to be a realty good storyteller, and those songs have great stories.

What do you love about 'Twelfth Of Never'?

I cover the Nina Simone version. It's just the way she does it. I can't get into Elvis's version, it doesn't capture my imagination, though he had a beautiful voice. Every time I hear 'Can't Help Falling In Love', I cry. I can't separate Charles Manson from The Beatles or the Clambake movie from Elvis, though. But I love all music. I'm the Cocteau Twins' biggest fan, too. They allow their deepest eccentricities to be the music itself, and not just something they want to project. Liz Fraser is one of the only originals. They're just regular people, too. I got to meet her once, she was very shy, which puts a weird curve on music as well. Imagine that sound coming out of her mouth when she's in the kitchen scrambling eggs.

Was music your first true love?

Besides sex? One surrounds the other. I can remember being obsessed with my stepfather's stereo, getting into trouble for using it. He was really possessive of control over it, like a car. It was expensive equipment, so I was really careful. Then one day, I wanted to listen to a live bootleg of Jimi Hendrix, and he went mad. I had a tape player in my room, I shared it with another kid in the family. You had to stick a hanger in it for it to work.

How do you feel when you open your mouth and sing?

Like it's real. I feel like crying. I feel like I am crying! It's the middle point between laughing and immense joy and crying. I feel the best when I'm singing.

When did you start?

In front of an audience at a family get-together. My stepfather got drunk and fell asleep in front of everyone, and my grandmother got really embarrassed, so to direct attention away from him, I sung every Elton John song I knew. I was a huge fan then. They gave me some silver dollars for doing it. I was 13 (laughs). My friend and I started play electric guitars, you know, 'Stairway To Heaven', for a talent show at junior high school. We lost…We were living in southern California then. I later had a band in northern California, in Willetts, called Axxis. It wasn't my idea. It's one of the 19 cities I've lived in, I attended four high schools. One I spent two weeks in. My mum was quite a gypsy.

What did you make of your own voice?

I hated it, but I got over it. I'm horribly self-critical. I think the first time I heard it, I thought no way could I ever keep anything from anyone, it was all there in the voice. Some ways that people sing, they put it across in language, and it's almost impossible, because they have a wall between them and the expression. I'm trying to get deeper in the hole, trying to learn things when I hear voices.

Did the concept of singing on a stage come easily to you?

It was totally natural, I just did it. It was like going to the beach, like, I'm going into the ocean! I never thought about it. I first sang at a dance in Northern California Methodist Church, to high school kids. When I was 13, I already knew what I wanted to do. My all-time favourite was Led Zeppelin, and I knew I wanted to belong to that. In the '70s, there was an overspill of rock life, which becomes coffee table material, with books on Kiss and rock stars on TV. I knew it was possible for some people to do it for a living. I spent hours listening to Magical Mystery Tour. I felt like an archaeologist, which is fine, because I liked dinosaurs! But that was the wrong direction.

I left home when I was 17, because I was tired of moving around. I played in lots of LA bands, just to make money. There was a reggae band for a while, The AKB Band, a rag-tag motley crew, with one rasta guy. I played guitar. We ended up backing up U-Roy, Shinehead and Judy Mowatt, and at the Bob Marley day at Long Beach. We did cheesy session work for demos, too.

What did the experience teach you?

The simplicity. I guess it didn't teach me much at the time. It's like your parents telling you what not to do. But Pablo, the rasta, everything he said about playing makes sense now. Forget the next band. I then decided not to spread myself that thin. I didn't like southern California, LA especially. Hollywood isn't a real town, but that's the reality of it. I'd wanted to see New York since I saw it on TV when I was 12, to experience the energy, so I took off in 1990. I got a couple of jobs, and went hungry for a long while, before I got an offer to record songs in LA, so I flew back, and recorded four songs. I went back-and-forth a bit, before I met Gary Lucas at a show in New York, at a tribute show to my father. I thought playing with Gary would be interesting but it turned out to be a disaster. We had two completely different paths…the cart was before the horse. But I learnt to go out and sing, in impossibly intimate settings, when guys are right up against you. You learn how to move a room. The biggest challenge is to put a song across live. The audience shouldn't see your face, or your body, they should just hear you.

Do you enjoy the New York scene?

I dig it. If I was in LA, I wouldn't be doing anything, but here, there's a real respect. There's a respect for anything original. Maybe I'm overpoweringly romanticising New York, but so many amazing things happen here on an ordinary level, like Lou Reed lives here, wow! I first heard him in '76 but he got into my soul, it just takes one time, like Helen Keller…it's just the sound of the song. I was in somebody else's car, feeling lonely. Heroin is so beautiful, like a big black kiss, the way it builds. He sounds like a punk who knows everything. He's got such erudition, but he's not too smart.

What stage are you at right now?

Always at the beginning. I'd love to make a record. Clive Davis at Arista wanted to sign me but he hadn't heard me, it was just on the basis of what his right hand man, the head of A&R, had said. I plan to start from what matters. In September, I'll perform all new material, a lot of covers, and I wanna find people to play with. Yeah, a band, just because of the certain feeling I need. An energy.

Can I raise the delicate matter of your dad, Tim?

Sometimes, with people who knew him, they've come for a nice night out, but they see me, they don't think about him. Those who do, I don't hang around them. We're different. The people who knew him, they have apparently a very magic memory, but it's been a claustrophobic thing all my life. I knew him for a total of nine days. He never wrote, never called.

Do people claim that you're just your father's son?

If anyone mentions that, I walk. If I go to a club, and some writer uses that area, then I rip the shit down and say, Fuck you, see you later, we can talk about this next time, because I'm on my own.

Do you listen to his records?

Yeah, mostly to learn about him as a person. He wrote a couple of songs about me and my mother, which is sometimes tough. His style has nothing to do with what I do. It's funny that we were born with the same parts, but when I sing, it's me. Technically, I can do what he did, but our expression is not the same, it's a completely different sphere. His was a different time, influenced by Dylan and the folkies. I don't even talk like him. But I can do a good impersonation of him, knitting up my eyebrows, which makes people laugh.

As far as music goes, so many people who I know and love, who give me so much, they don't even know me yet. I want to make something completely new. I was into Miles Davis in 1984, he said he could tell when people were paying tribute to him but it was just copying. The only way to pay tribute is to bring something new to the fold. I want to work so hard that everything of me bums away, like the chemical in the match. Which leaves what really is me, or what I think is me. It can be such a joy. Like the Beatles, they were geniuses, you know? Music's like a sign language between people, so when a guy from Iran or America hears The Beatles, they go 'Wow!' They don't think of killing each other. There's something about music that hits the cavemen in us, even more than a speech or painting. I just want to achieve my own vibe. I want to go someplace else. There's more ways of saying 'I love you', more ways of saying 'where the hell do I fit in?', more ways of saying 'why doesn't anyone love me?, 'when is somebody going to want to kiss me?' I'm sick of waiting, waiting to be understood. And it's nothing arty, nothing lofty, it's just fucking different, and I want to leave this world behind a little so that maybe I will see that it's bigger and I haven't left it at all.

#jeff buckley #jeffbuckley #Jeff Buckley: They Don't Even Know Me Yet #Martin Aston #MOJO #January 2003 #1992

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lotus-flower-writes-history · 1 year ago

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The Unofficial Black History Book

Janet Collins (1917-2003)

The history of ballet began around the 1500s in Italy. The term "ballet" stems from the Italian word "Ballare," meaning to dance. When ballet was introduced to America in the early twentieth century, it was a new form of art. Unfortunately, African Americans couldn't be part of ballet culture for many years, saying that our bodies were wrong for ballet.

Until one woman broke one of the last major color barriers in classical ballet,

This is her story.

Janet Faye Collins became the first African American prima ballerina and one of the very few prominent black women in American classical ballet. And the first black prima ballerina to perform with the Metropolitan Opera Ballet in New York City, New York.

She broke one of the last major color barriers in Classical Ballet.

Janet Collins was born on March 2, 1917, in New Orleans, Louisiana. Her mother was a seamstress, and her father was a tailor. They moved to Los Angeles, California, in 1921, when she was four years old.

She started taking private dancing lessons at a Catholic community center, and ironically, Collin's parents urged her to study painting rather than dance. Because at that time, art seemed to offer more opportunities to gifted African Americans than classical dance.

Collins studied art on a scholarship at Los Angeles City College and later at the Los Angeles Art Center School.

But she continued her dance training and attracted the attention of Adolph Bohm, Carmelita Maracci, and Mia Slavenska. All prominent dance instructors agreed to work with her. She continued her dance training with Carmelita Maracci, who was one of the few dance teachers at the time to accept black students.

At the age of 15, Janet prepared to audition for Leonide Massine and the De Basil Ballet Russe Company. The company was performing in Los Angeles during its American tour and advertised for an aspiring young dancer to audition for the company.

When it was Janet's turn, she was one of the best to audition. She moved with such beauty and grace that all the other ballerinas applauded her.

Massine saw her talent and accepted her into the company. But only under one condition...

He told her she would have to paint her face white for performances.

Going further into my notes, she was told that she would either need "special roles" created for her or dance with a white face to disguise the fact that she was black.

Collins left the audition in tears and vowed to perfect her art so that race would not be an issue.

In an exchange quoted in U.S. News & World Report, she responded, "I thought talent mattered, not color."

Collins found a cold reception in professional ballet, despite her training. However, she didn't let that set her back, and she continued to perform.

In the 1930s, when she was still in her teenage years, she performed as an adagio dancer in vaudeville productions.

In 1940, she became the principal dancer for the Los Angeles musical productions of "Run Little Chillun" and "The Mikado in Swing". At this time, she worked with the Katherine Dunham Dance Company.

In 1943, she performed in the musical film "Stormy Weather," and in 1946, she appeared in the film, "Thrill of Brazil."

In 1949, Collins made her New York debut after performing her own choreography on a shared program at the 92nd Street NY. In the same year, and after two more performances, Dance Magazine named her "The most outstanding debutante of the season."

Collins made her debut as a prima ballerina on November 3rd, 1948, at the Las Palmas Theater in Los Angeles, and critics praised her as a one-of-a-kind performer.

Zachary Solov, the Metropolitan Opera House's ballet master, noticed her in a Broadway production of Cole Porter's "Out of this World" in 1951. Solov then invited Collins to join the Metropolitan Company when she was 34.

November 13th, 1951: Collins broke a color barrier after her performance of ‘Aida'. She was the first African American prima ballerina with the Metropolitan Opera after a year of joining the Corps de Ballet. It marked the first time a black artist had joined the permanent company.

Unfortunately, Collins faced racism on the road as the company toured southern cities, despite her success in New York.

She was kept off stage due to Race laws, and sometimes her parts were performed by understudies who were white.

She remained at the Met until 1954. She would then go on to tour across the United States and Canada. She then began teaching ballet, which included using dance in the rehabilitation of the handicapped.

She also taught at the School of American Ballet, the San Francisco Ballet School, and the Harkness House.

Janet retired from performing and teaching in 1974. She spent the last years of her life painting religious subjects in her studio in Seattle.

Janet Collins died on May 28th, 2003, in Fort Worth, Texas, at 86 years old.

Despite all that was thrown at her, Janet Collins made a legacy for herself by becoming the first African-American Prima ballerina with the Metropolitan Opera and breaking its color line.

The 16th Street Baptist Church Bombing

Juneteenth

___

My Resources

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