Many find it hard to explain why they consider lighter skin complexions to be more beautiful than others and although deep down we all know the truth, when faced with a critic’s opinion they're still never completely honest with us as to why they deem darker tones to be inferior. These beauty standards have roots that travel for miles, like a spider’s web there are so many factors that feed into this discussion. These beauty standards are so embedded and have been normalised throughout the centuries, that they are still visible today in different countries and cultures. "Skin Mutilation in the Black Community" is a comprehensive view on why this beauty standard exists, and how it has shaped melanated people’s psyche and decision making when they decide to permanently alter their skin with dangerous bleaching creams. Investigating key events in history and societal norms, I interview melanated women who have bleached their skin before, placing their beliefs under a microscope. I also sit down to talk with Clinical Director and Counselling Psychologist, Rameri Moukam, who owns Pattigift therapy. Rameri is best known for her work with the house of commons to implement legislations that create positive change for protecting black people from racial abuse within the mental health institution. In this book we seek to understand if the act of skin bleaching is a manifestation of ‘Post traumatic slave syndrome’ and self-hatred that requires medical and psychological intervention. Join us in this discussion…

This volume traces contemporary struggles over black political representation to the civil rights movement, and two competing models of black citizenship - "good black citizenship," and the black nationalist conceptualization of citizenship characterized by an emphasis on authenticity. Examining the intersections of race, citizenship, and ethics, the book argues that the emergence of good black citizenship as the dominant form of black political representation has narrowed who is considered a full member of society, while simultaneously relegating individuals who do not reflect good citizenship to the margins.

Rooming in the Master's House is a strikingly original portrait of the black conservative movement by two of the most celebrated African American scholars. Asante and Hall show that today's black conservative movement can be traced to the original class and social distinctions created during slavery when certain Africans were given positions in the master's house and consequently felt that they were better than the Africans who worked in the fields. Using historical and social sources, the authors weave a narrative explaining how the house Negro syndrome continues in current discourses on the black community and in American Politics.

This report considers the situation of black people with disabilities in Brazil. In particular, the authors focus on the historical context, relevant law and policy, and a variety of issues faced by such persons. These include vulnerability to violence, increased likelihood of incarceration, inaccessible facilities, experiences of racism and ableism, barriers to employment, access to social services and security, and a lacking care policy. Emphasis is placed on the experiences of women and quilombolas in relation to the aforementioned issues. The report argues for the need to situate the present situation within Brazil’s historical context, specifically slavery and colonialism. It emphasizes the need for more robust data with respect to black people with disabilities. The authors call for recognition of intersectional discrimination by the relevant bodies at every level and recommend more effective policy to ensure the livelihoods of the affected groups are improved. This resource is an excellent point of reference for lawyers, activists, campaigners and community leaders seeking to advance the rights and well-being of black people with disabilities in Brazil.

In 1948, Moss Kendrix, a former New Deal public relations officer, founded a highly successful, Washington, D.C.-based public relations firm, the flagship client of which was the Coca-Cola Company. As the first black pitchman for Coca-Cola, Kendrix found his way into the rarefied world of white corporate America. His personal phone book also included the names of countless black celebrities, such as bandleader Duke Ellington, singer-actress Pearl Bailey, and boxer Joe Louis, with whom he had built relationships in the course of developing marketing campaigns for his numerous federal and corporate clients. Kendrix, along with Ebony publisher John H. Johnson and Life photographer Gordon Parks, recognized that, in the image-saturated world of postwar America, media in all its forms held greater significance for defining American citizenship than ever before. For these imagemakers, the visual representation of African Americans as good citizens was good business. In Represented, Brenna Wynn Greer explores how black entrepreneurs produced magazines, photographs, and advertising that forged a close association between blackness and Americanness. In particular, they popularized conceptions of African Americans as enthusiastic consumers, a status essential to postwar citizenship claims. But their media creations were complicated: subject to marketplace dictates, they often relied on gender, class, and family stereotypes. Demand for such representations came not only from corporate and government clients to fuel mass consumerism and attract support for national efforts, such as the fight against fascism, but also from African Americans who sought depictions of blackness to counter racist ideas that undermined their rights and their national belonging as citizens. The story of how black capitalists made the market work for racial progress on their way to making money reminds us that the path to civil rights involved commercial endeavors as well as social and political activism.

Contributions by Alice Knox Eaton, Mar Gallego, Maxine Lavon Montgomery, Evelyn Jaffe Schreiber, Shirley A. Stave, Justine Tally, Susana Vega-González, and Anissa Wardi In her eleventh novel, God Help the Child, Toni Morrison returned to several of the signature themes explored in her previous work: pernicious beauty standards for women, particularly African American women; mother-child relationships; racism and colorism; and child sexual abuse. God Help the Child, published in 2015, is set in the contemporary period, unlike all of her previous novels. The contemporary setting is ultimately incidental to the project of the novel, however; as with Morrison’s other work, the story takes on mythic qualities, and the larger-than-life themes lend themselves to allegorical and symbolic readings that resonate in light of both contemporary and historical issues. New Critical Essays on Toni Morrison's “God Help the Child”: Race, Culture, and History, a collection of eight essays by both seasoned Morrison scholars as well as new and rising scholars, takes on the novel in a nuanced and insightful analysis, interpreting it in relation to Morrison’s earlier work as well as locating it within ongoing debates in literary and other academic disciplines engaged with African American literature. The volume is divided into three sections. The first focuses on trauma—both the pain and suffering caused by neglect and abuse, as well as healing and understanding. The second section considers narrative choices, concentrating on experimentation and reader engagement. The third section turns a comparative eye to Morrison's fictional canon, from her debut work of fiction, The Bluest Eye, until the present. These essays build on previous studies of Morrison’s novels and deepen readers’ understanding of both her last novel and her larger literary output.

Operating on many levels, this plurality-in-unity affects narrators, chronologies, individuals, couples, families, neighborhoods, races.

A revealing work of public history that shows how communities remember their pasts in different ways to fit specific narratives, Race, Place, and Memory charts the ebb and flow of racial violence in Wilmington, North Carolina, from the 1730s to the present day.  Margaret Mulrooney argues that white elites have employed public spaces, memorials, and celebrations to maintain the status quo. The port city has long celebrated its white colonial revolutionary origins, memorialized Decoration Day, and hosted Klan parades. Other events, such as the Azalea Festival, have attempted to present a false picture of racial harmony to attract tourists. And yet, the revolutionary acts of Wilmington’s African American citizens—who also demanded freedom, first from slavery and later from Jim Crow discrimination—have gone unrecognized. As a result, beneath the surface of daily life, collective memories of violence and alienation linger among the city’s black population.  Mulrooney describes her own experiences as a public historian involved in the centennial commemoration of the so-called Wilmington Race Riot of 1898, which perpetuated racial conflicts in the city throughout the twentieth century. She shows how, despite organizers’ best efforts, a white-authored narrative of the riot’s contested origins remains. Mulrooney makes a case for public history projects that recognize the history-making authority of all community members and prompts us to reconsider the memories we inherit.  A volume in the series Cultural Heritage Studies, edited by Paul A. Shackel  Publication of the paperback edition made possible by a Sustaining the Humanities through the American Rescue Plan grant from the National Endowment for the Humanities.