Voices of Legacy: An Essay on Influential Black Historians and Their Enduring Impact

The tapestry of African American history has been intricately woven by generations of scholars dedicated to uncovering, preserving, and interpreting the Black experience. From early pioneers who documented lives erased from mainstream narratives to contemporary thinkers reshaping the boundaries of historical scholarship, Black historians have played an essential role in broadening the lens through which we understand the past.

This essay offers a curated exploration of notable Black historians, alphabetized for clarity, each of whom has contributed uniquely to the field—whether through groundbreaking publications, archival preservation, or radical reimaginings of power, race, and identity. Their work not only illuminates the past but also equips future generations with the tools to understand their place in history.

Henry E. Baker was an early 20th-century African American historian and patent examiner known for documenting Black inventors. His pivotal work, The Colored Inventor, showcased the contributions of African Americans to science and innovation—a field often neglected in mainstream historical narratives.

Richard Bailey is a historian of African American life in Alabama. His book They Too Call Alabama Home: African American Profiles, 1800-1999 offers biographical sketches of Black figures in Alabama history and contributes to state-based African American historiography.

Georgia Benton is recognized for her scholarship on African American history in the context of education and religious life, particularly focusing on the South. While she may not have one landmark book, her essays and academic leadership have been influential.

Howard H. Bell contributed significantly to Black abolitionist historiography. His edited collection Minutes of the Proceedings of the National Negro Conventions, 1830–1864 helped illuminate the political activism of free African Americans before the Civil War.

Charles L. Blockson was a renowned historian and bibliophile. His collection of African American artifacts and documents is one of the most significant in the U.S. His notable work, The Underground Railroad: First-Person Narratives of Escapes to Freedom in the North, documents the lived experiences of escaped slaves.

Keisha N. Blain is a contemporary historian of African American and African diaspora history. Her influential book Set the World on Fire: Black Nationalist Women and the Global Struggle for Freedom reshaped understandings of Black women’s activism and nationalism.

Blanche Burton-Lyles is less widely known in mainstream historical circles as an academic historian. She is more recognized as a pianist and cultural advocate, though she may appear in cultural history narratives. Her inclusion suggests the broader scope of history beyond academia.

Clayborne Carson is best known for his work as editor of The Autobiography of Martin Luther King, Jr. and as the director of the Martin Luther King, Jr. Research and Education Institute at Stanford. His scholarship has shaped the understanding of the civil rights movement.

N. D. B. Connolly is a modern historian focusing on race, capitalism, and the urban South. His major work, A World More Concrete: Real Estate and the Remaking of Jim Crow South Florida, examines the intersection of racial inequality and real estate economics.

William Henry Dorsey was a 19th-century collector and amateur historian whose scrapbooks of Black life in Philadelphia provide a rich archive. Though not an author in the traditional sense, his work laid groundwork for later scholars.

Dayo Gore is a historian of radical Black women's politics. Her book Radicalism at the Crossroads: African American Women Activists in the Cold War challenges dominant narratives by highlighting the activism of women marginalized in historical memory.

Annette Gordon-Reed is a Pulitzer Prize-winning historian best known for The Hemingses of Monticello: An American Family, which explores the lives of Sally Hemings and her descendants, reshaping the narrative of Thomas Jefferson and slavery.

Paula Giddings is a feminist historian and journalist. Her seminal work When and Where I Enter: The Impact of Black Women on Race and Sex in America remains a cornerstone in the study of Black women’s history.

Evelyn Brooks Higginbotham is a leading historian of African American religion and women. Her book Righteous Discontent: The Women’s Movement in the Black Baptist Church, 1880–1920 has been foundational in understanding gender and faith in Black history.

Gerald Horne is a prolific historian of African American and African diaspora history. Among his many influential books is The Counter-Revolution of 1776: Slave Resistance and the Origins of the United States of America, which provocatively reframes the American Revolution as partly a reaction to the threat of slave rebellion.

Ida E. Jones is an archivist and historian of African American institutions and leaders. Her biography Mary McLeod Bethune in Washington, D.C.: Activism and Education in Logan Circle focuses on the life of the iconic educator and activist.

Robin D. G. Kelley is a cultural historian with a focus on radical politics, music, and Black intellectual life. His book Freedom Dreams: The Black Radical Imagination is widely celebrated for weaving together historical analysis with visionary political thought.

David Levering Lewis is a two-time Pulitzer Prize winner for his two-volume biography of W.E.B. Du Bois. This monumental work offers a detailed and critically acclaimed portrait of one of America’s most influential Black intellectuals.

Akbar Muhammad was a historian of Islam and the African diaspora. His work includes scholarship on the transatlantic slave trade and the spread of Islam among African Americans. His research bridged African, Islamic, and Black American studies.

Wilson Jeremiah Moses is a scholar of African American intellectual history. His influential book The Golden Age of Black Nationalism, 1850–1925 critically examines religious and political ideologies among Black nationalists.

John Bracey Jr. was a pioneering scholar in the field of African American Studies. He was instrumental in developing Black Studies programs and contributed to edited collections on race and social movements.

Deborah Willis is a photographer, curator, and historian of African American visual culture. Her book Reflections in Black: A History of Black Photographers, 1840 to the Present documents the artistic and historical contributions of Black photographers.

Carter G. Woodson is often called the "Father of Black History." He founded The Journal of Negro History and launched what is now Black History Month. His groundbreaking book The Mis-Education of the Negro remains a foundational critique of systemic racism in education.

The scholars highlighted in this essay represent far more than academic achievements—they are torchbearers of memory, justice, and truth. From Carter G. Woodson’s foundational vision to contemporary voices like Keisha N. Blain and Robin D. G. Kelley, these historians have carved out intellectual spaces where Black lives are centered and valued. Their writings, collections, and teachings form a powerful counter-narrative to historical exclusion, challenging us to remember, to reckon, and to reimagine. As we continue to navigate a world grappling with questions of race, identity, and belonging, the legacy of these historians remains both a compass and a call to action.

Walking Magnets

We are walking magnets, energy in constant motion. Everything around us vibrates with energy, which is why it's essential to keep your vibration positive. Energy flows where attention goes, so guard where you focus. Never tune into the negative frequencies of life. Keep your energy high, and let your vibration remain strong.

Racism has long been woven into the fabric of American society. Growing up in Dallas, Texas, during the 60s and 70s—one of the most racially divided cities at the time—I rarely encountered racism firsthand. The reason? My energy never attuned itself to that toxic station.

Much of this mindset can be traced back to my parents. They taught my brother and me from an early age that we were just as good as anyone else, regardless of race. I remember when I was around four or five years old. My father worked for a company that had an ice skating rink on the lower level. One weekend, when the building was mostly empty, he took me with him. This was in 1965 or 1966, when Jim Crow laws still held sway in the South. There, side by side, were "whites only" and "colored" drinking fountains.

I'm sure my father checked to make sure no one was watching before he picked me up and let me drink from the whites-only fountain. His only comment was simple: "It tastes the same, doesn't it?" At the time, I didn’t fully grasp what he meant. But over the years, that moment became a profound lesson. My father had taught me, without words, that people are not defined by the color of their skin. We are all the same. Humanity is divided only by character, moral compass, and the capacity to love.

As we navigate through life, we move through various magnetic fields—emotional, physical, spiritual—each surrounded by invisible forces. Just as a magnet attracts iron, certain people, places, or ideas can attract us, while others repel us. Beliefs, too, act as magnets: they draw in evidence that supports them and push away anything that contradicts them.

To maintain a high frequency, it's crucial to minimize exposure to draining influences. Avoid getting lost in the endless scroll of negativity, whether through social media, news, or toxic people. Positive energy is contagious. Clear your space—both physical and mental. A peaceful environment calms the mind and makes room for new energy. Surround yourself with uplifting music, acts of kindness, and moments of compassion. Even the smallest gestures can shift the energy around you, boosting your own vibration and spreading light to others.

Racism's Trump Card: The Apocryphal Jesus

Christianity emerged within the Roman Empire, taking root in Judea before expanding across the empire through the infrastructure provided by Roman rule. Its spread was facilitated by imperial support, particularly after Emperor Constantine's conversion. By 380 CE, Emperor Theodosius I had issued the Edict of Thessalonica, making Christianity the official religion of the empire. Over time, Christianity supplanted pagan traditions and became deeply intertwined with political and military campaigns, particularly during the Crusades and the age of European colonial expansion.

Christianity served as a justification for European colonialism, including the exploitation and subjugation of African nations. Under the guise of spreading Christian doctrine, European powers such as Britain, France, and the Netherlands sought to "civilize" indigenous populations. This often meant forced conversion and the erasure of traditional beliefs and cultural identities. Missionaries and colonial administrators imposed European customs, seized native lands, and employed coercion and violence to suppress indigenous ways of life.

The ideology of colonialism in Africa was built on the "Three C's": Civilization, Christianity, and Commerce. The mission was not just to introduce European governance and economic systems but also to use religion as a tool for control. The long-term effects of this forced assimilation persist today, leaving many African and African-descended communities struggling with cultural alienation, economic disenfranchisement, and generational trauma.

One of the most enduring consequences of this religious indoctrination is the financial devotion of Black Americans to the Church. Research indicates that 51% of Black churchgoers either tithe—giving 10% of their income—or regularly contribute to their congregation. Given that the median Black household income in 2022 was approximately $52,000 per year, even a modest contribution of 2.5% amounts to around $108 per month per household. When applied across millions of churchgoers, this translates to an estimated $1.75 billion to $2.63 billion per month, or between $21 billion and $32 billion annually.

Now, imagine if even a fraction of this wealth was redirected into Black communities rather than church coffers. This financial infusion could revolutionize economic conditions, funding education, businesses, housing, and healthcare. It would eliminate much of the need for government aid, which historically has been misallocated to benefit White Americans over African Americans. The Homestead Act, for example, disproportionately granted land to White families while denying Black Americans the same opportunities for generational wealth.

This is why Jesus and Christianity remain racism’s trump card—no pun intended. Black Americans have been conditioned since birth to believe that an apocryphal figure demands 10% of their earnings. They are further bound by scriptures such as Genesis 2:17, which warns against seeking knowledge beyond religious doctrine. This belief system echoes the tactics of slave owners, who forbade enslaved people from reading to maintain their subjugation.

Fast forward to the 21st century, and figures like Donald Trump capitalize on this same mindset. During his campaign, he famously declared, "I love the uneducated," acknowledging that ignorance is the handmaiden of tyranny.

A populace steeped in faith-based submission is easier to control, ensuring that resources are funneled into religious institutions rather than community development.

Tithing, once a mandatory tax in various societies, is now a voluntary—though often coerced—donation. In Black churches, it is supplemented by offerings, frequently referred to as "Love Offerings," which fund building projects, debt reduction, or missionary work. Yet, despite billions flowing into religious institutions, the Black community sees little tangible return on investment. The church continues to flourish while economic conditions for Black Americans remain stagnant.

If the 35 million Black Christians in the United States redirected just half of their estimated $25 billion in annual donations—$12.5 billion—into their communities, they could build self-sustaining infrastructures. Schools, businesses, and healthcare facilities could thrive, eliminating reliance on a government that has historically marginalized them. Meanwhile, White America resists aiding Black communities not out of malice alone, but also because much of the funding intended for lower-income families is redirected to poor White Americans, who outnumber African Americans at least three to one.

The sobering reality is that as long as the majority of Black Americans continue to believe in a literal Jesus—an invention of Western mythology—they will remain ensnared by the very system that oppresses them. These devout believers must awaken to the economic manipulation at play and cease the billion-dollar hemorrhaging into institutions that do nothing to improve their daily lives.

The church has failed to uplift the Black community in any meaningful way, proving itself to be an instrument of control rather than liberation.

In conclusion, Christianity, as it has been taught to Black Americans, functions as a mechanism of economic and intellectual subjugation. The financial contributions made to the church yield no return on investment, perpetuating cycles of poverty and dependence. Until Black Americans recognize that Jesus is racism's trump card, they will continue to invest in a system that extracts their wealth and power while offering nothing in return. The path forward requires breaking free from religious conditioning and redirecting resources to build a future grounded in self-sufficiency and empowerment.