Mark Anthony Neal's Blog, page 1077

Black Music Month 2011: Urban Soul | "Ghetto Fabulous | The Post Soul Generation"

Tags: VH1 Rock Docs, Reality TV Shows, Reality TV Shows 6
Urban Soul: The Making of Modern R&B
A film by John Akomfrah

Part Five: "Ghetto Fabulous | The Post-Soul Generation"

Trailer: Jamel Shabazz, Street Photographer (dir. Charlie Ahearn)

Trailer for Jamel Shabazz feature documentary by Wild Style director Charlie Ahearn.

Ask a Sista: Black Women Muse on Politics, Policy, Pop Culture and Scholarship

fstv2 on livestream.com. Broadcast Live Free

NetRootsNation 2011
Ask a Sista: Black Women Muse on Politics, Policy, Pop Culture and Scholarship

Featuring:

Jenifer Daniels | @thefriendraiser
Zerlina Maxwell | @ZerlinaMaxwell
Janee Bolden | @JaneeTMB
Cheryl Contee | @ch3ryl
Chloe Hilliard | @ChloeHilliard
Dr. Goddess (Kimberly Ellis) | @drgoddess

Starting in Jerusalem: A Word About the Black Church

Starting in Jerusalem: A Word About the Black Church by CJ Rhodes | Special to NewBlackMan
Friday's "village forum" about what congregations can do about the war on drugs was amazing. Our presenters raised our consciousnesses and invited us to think critically and compassionately about what we can do to make maximum impact.
The discussion period prompted some interesting thoughts not only about strategies for congregational engagement, but also about the complications of movement building with diverse communities. A couple of comments emerged about the centrality of (black) churches in our conversation. Some participants felt that having a conversation about strategies and solutions that were limited to how black churches should get involved was parochial and isolating. Thus, an invitation to interracial and interfaith dialog and witness was given. As a means of public reflection, I would like to share with you a few thoughts I have about that.
First, though I'm deeply rooted in my Southern Afro-Protestant formations (namely, Baptist, United Methodist, and Pentecostal), I've long been committed to a cosmopolitan vision of the beloved community. My spiritual, intellectual and cultural journey led me through ecumenical Christianity, Judaism, Islam, Buddhism, and various Western and Eastern philosophies. I have deep roots and wide wide branches and believe that any justice journey must ultimately lead us to the liberation and flourishing of all peoples.
Second, I believe that many of the solutions and strategies needed to promote holism, shalom, justice for any group would only be enriched by diverse conversations and philosophies. Thus, any movement needs the creative tension of racial, cultural, religious, gender, etc., diversity to help us be as sustainably and creatively transformative as possible. I know my own witness to human flourishing has been deepened by my encounters with other beliefs, perspectives, and worldviews.
Third, since we live in a pluralistic society, we need persons who can speak in tongues, as it were, people who can communicate to many different audiences in many different ways.
That being said, I must also state the following:
As a black man from the South, a native son of Mississippi, I'm ever convinced that black Americans, particularly but not exclusively black Christians, have to embrace our agency and collective self-determination. This doesn't mean that non-blacks or non-Christians can't help us. I encourage allies to help us wage war against the powers. But for the sake of our collective dignity, worth, and genius, we need to see intelligent, creative, passionate, engaged people that look like us making a difference. We have to know, our children need to know, that despite the myths of black inferiority, we are black, beautiful, bold, brilliant, and blessed!
Also, the black church, a central spiritual, cultural, and political institution in our communities, must be born again and remember its first love. As a black pastor of a historic black church, and as a public theologian, I am moved to invite black churches to revival and reform, so that our spiritual genius may indeed bring faith, hope and love to our worlds. Many pastors and congregations gravely underestimate the power--both spiritual and otherwise--that we possess. We could turn our cities upside down if we understood that.
Indeed, I desire for any and all persons to partner with the African American community in any endeavor. I also want more of "us" to understand the global contexts in which we live and strive. But we can't neglect the blessed gifts that we can offer ourselves and others. We must see ourselves the way the Creator does and stand tall enough to reach the crowns of glory and honor that hover over our heads. 
 ***
CJ Rhodes is Senior Pastor at The Historic Mt Helm Baptist Church. He Studied MDiv at Duke University

Nolan & Sydney Smith Honor Their Father Through Foundation

The Family of the Late NBA player, Assistant Derek Smith Treats Every Day Like Father's Day by Liz Clarke | The Washington Post
Derek Smith taught his son that great basketball players never take a play off. He taught him that no amount of money, fame or possessions could ever mean more than family.
And in the years following Derek Smith's death, at 34, of an undetected heart defect, Nolan Smith, then 8, developed an expertise that no one wants: How to go on without a father who reached his massive arms up to heaven the day his children were born and rearranged the universe with them at its center.
In so many ways, Nolan and Sydney Smith have followed in their father's footsteps, learning from their mother, Monica, and Derek's former NBA teammates and proteges (Johnny Dawkins and Juwan Howard chief among them) the type of man he was and the values he would have wanted at their core.
Sydney, now 25, graduated from Louisville, where a gym is named for her father, who helped lead the Cardinals to the 1980 NCAA championship.
Nolan chose Duke to be closer to "Uncle Johnny" — then-associate head coach Johnny Dawkins — a former teammate of Derek's on the Philadelphia 76ers. Like his dad, Nolan helped lead his school to an NCAA championship, in 2010. On Thursday, he's expected to follow his father once again when his name is called in the NBA draft.
But before drawing his first NBA paycheck, Nolan and his sister are doing something to give their loss meaning, establishing a foundation to help children who have lost a loved one. Through the  Sydney & Nolan Smith Foundation, they'll personally mentor a handful of boys and girls each year while trying to help a larger group through camps and other events. They'll help with college scholarships, as well, and provide retreats and counseling for grieving single parents.

One of six children reared by a single mother in rural Georgia, Derek Smith told Monica soon after they married following a four-year courtship that he was going to be the best father ever. And he followed through, just as he had on the basketball court, where he earned a reputation as a fierce, unrelenting defender.
When Sydney was born, Derek got a license plate that read, "ILVUSYD."
And when Nolan was a toddler, he turned down a lucrative contract extension from the Boston Celtics and retired after nine NBA seasons, explaining that he wanted to be sure, given that he had only one good knee left, that he'd able to run and play with Nolan as he grew up.
Three years later, Washington Bullets Coach Jim Lynam coaxed Derek back to the league as an assistant coach by promising he could bring Nolan to every practice, training camp, home game and trip he wanted.
Overnight, 6-year-old Nolan became the Bullets' 13th man. He showed up for practice in full gear, got his ankles taped by the trainer, did drills with Howard and Chris Webber and was a ball boy at home games, with his big sister and mother looking on from the stands.
In many ways, Howard and Webber were children, too, when Derek Smith joined the Bullets' staff, tasked with getting the young stars to play with the same grit he had.
"He taught me how to be a professional," Howard said. "He always told me, 'Hard work and determination equal success.' I never forgot that, working hard to not let myself down or, more importantly, not let Derek Smith or the memory of him down."
After returning from trips, Derek Smith would drive the children to school the next morning and frequently stay for class, taking a seat behind a tiny desk just to be with them. And when the family watched TV in the evening, Derek, Nolan and their dog Snickers shared one recliner.
"For someone who was on the road 40-some times a year, I don't think he missed a beat with both of us," Sydney recalls.
Naturally, the whole family was aboard the week-long cruise to Bermuda that the Bullets sponsored in 1996 to entertain staff and supporters. During a reception the final night, Aug. 9, Derek Smith halted mid-sentence and collapsed.
Monica was paged over the ship's intercom. The children came running. And all three were by his side as paramedics worked in vain.
"The world is not as good as it was a week ago," Charles Barkley said, eulogizing Derek Smith at a Louisville funeral service that drew 3,000 mourners.
Bullets owner Abe Pollin gave Monica season tickets for life and, later, a job in the legal department, urging her to never lose sight of her NBA family. And the Bullets players made a pact to stay close to the children, wherever their careers took them.
"Whenever you lose a family member, loved ones pull together and support each other," Howard said. "It's not just by default; that's what you do."
The next summer, Nolan attended Duke's basketball camp and stayed with Uncle Johnny's family. The same year, at age 9, he told his mother, "I'm the man of the house now." He shouldered his responsibility quietly, never putting more than two things on his Christmas list, never letting on when he outgrew his sneakers (like Christmas, an annual occurrence.)
As promised, Derek's friends phoned the children frequently. They told endless stories about their father. With each major event in their lives — high school graduation, college graduation, a big game or even a painful defeat — they told the children how proud their father would be.
Nolan was the first player on the D.C. Assault AAU team who had lost his father. Sadly, others followed. Each time, Nolan knew what to do and what to say, just as Sydney would when some of her friends recently lost a loved one.
Once they paused to reflect, it struck them as fitting to extend a hand beyond their own circle of friends. Their foundation (www. sydneyandnolan.org) is the result.
And Dawkins, now Stanford's head coach, has no doubt that it would have been a particularly proud week for Derek Smith — not because his son will become an NBA player, but because of the man his son has become.
"That's what everyone who touched Nolan's life wants to see: That he continues to be like his dad, which was more than a basketball player," Dawkins said. "And that has come shining through."

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RIP Clarence Clemons

RIP Clarence Clemons (and the kozmic significance of the ordinariness it all) by Bob Davis | Soul-Patrol.com

I have written about Clarence Clemons many times in the past, however it has never been enough. I say that simply because people like him simply never get quite enough credit because their accomplishment is in the extraordinary manner that they go about doing what should be ordinary, but isn't.

1973 - FRESHMAN ORIENTATION

Next fall my daughter will be a college freshman. That means later this summer, she will be attending something called "freshman orientation." Here in the Davis household the topic of "freshman orientation," has been the topic of much conversation over the past few days. The passing of Clarence Clemons takes me back to my own "freshman orientation," at the University of Pittsburgh way back in 1973.

Freshman orientation is supposed to be a period of time when you as the recent high school graduate, but not yet college freshman can be introduced to your selected institution of higher learning in earnest. You get to live in the dorms, you get to learn about the administrative procedures in registering for classes, you get to learn about the support system available to you at the institution and more. It is designed to assist you with the transition between high school & college. I am all but certain that they vary from college to college, yet are all designed to be somewhat similar.

In 1973 my freshman orientation at the University of Pittsburgh was all of the above, strongly enhanced by something else that was quite unexpected, and yet at the same time something quite significant. You see perhaps because it was 1973 or perhaps it was the University of Pittsburgh or perhaps for reasons that I am completely unaware of, the memory of my own freshman orientation of almost 40 years ago is completely filtered thru the haze of "sex, drugs & rock n' roll." And at the very center of that "haze" is Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band.

You see the University of Pittsburgh has arranged for Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band to perform in nearby Schenley Park for what seemed like morning, noon and night for all 4 days of freshman orientation. Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band were onstage performing whenever I happened to be in the park (which was as often as I possibly could be…..LOL)

The first thing that I noticed was that while the band was integrated, the crowd was almost 100 percent white. The music however seemed rooted in 1950's/1960's R&B and Doo Wop, so it was "retro." Yet at the same time it was contemporary and fresh. During that freshman orientation weekend I returned to that park many times, because I dug the whole scene (it was much like I had envisioned Woodstock to have been,) yet each time I returned, I was stunned by the fact that while there were many Black students attending freshman orientation weekend, almost none of them were in the park. One one occasion I did see a Black student in the park and we sought each other out. His name was Kevin Amos, who has been my friend ever since that day and whose name you will recognize from his many contributions to Soul-Patrol.com over the years.

1984 - JERSEY SHORE



In 1984 I found myself living in Red Bank New Jersey. I been living and working as an operations manager in Houston Texas for a well known "enormous nationwide public utility." As you all may recall 1984 was the year when the "enormous nationwide public utility" was deregulated and broken up. This "break up" created opportunities for employees who were willing to relocate to the New Jersey headquarters of the "enormous nationwide public utility." And I was one such employee. I headed for New Jersey for not only a new home, a new career and yet another intersection with Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band, at a transitional moment in my life.

As things would turn out I ended up living in Red Bank for no particular reason other than the fact that a friend of mine from HS was now living there and he offered me a place to crash, during my transition. Many of you will recall that 1984 was also the year when Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band became a nationwide/worldwide musical and cultural phenomena. And I found myself living in the very place that was the heart & soul of the culture from which sprang Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band.

In fact Clarence Clemons was from Red Bank, New Jersey. If you were to drive down the main drag (RT 35) thru Red Bank New Jersey, you would think that you had somehow been transported to a place in the Middle America. On RT 35 you will see beautiful early 20th century homes, tree lined streets with children playing, leading to a downtown area that looks like it could be in a Jimmy Stewart movie.

However if you peel back the onion just a bit you will find a small city where quite literally the Blacks live on one side of the tracks and the whites live on the other side of the tracks. Despite that legacy of segregation, the flip side of Red Bank as well as all of the dozens of other towns/cities stretching along the coast of New Jersey that make up this mythical place called "The Jersey Shore," is that it's probably among the most liberal places that you could possibly find in the United States. You see the real life "Jersey Shore" (not the TV show) is the complete antithesis of current day "2011 Tea Party Amerika."

As such race relations are quite a bit different then they are in almost anyplace else that I have ever lived in the United States, north, south, east or west. The reality of the Jersey Shore is that you have a large geographical area, with a large Black/White population where there is in fact something that approaches racial harmony. Oh to be certain, the Jersey Shore is by no means perfect, but it approaches the very ideal of what the people who fought so hard for something called "integration," during the last century had envisioned during that fight.

An understanding of what life is like at the Jersey Shore provides a quick answer to not only the "concept of "Bruce Spingsteen/Clarence Clemons," but also to their reality. I have seen "music/culture experts" at publications like Rolling Stone Magazine, eMpTVy, etc. describe the relationship between Bruce/Clarence as being somewhat analogous to that of Huck Finn & N*gger Jim. I would suggest that while that description might sound ok, that it is somewhat misleading (and also panders to a lingering kind of racism.) Huck & Jim weren't "equals." Not only were Bruce/Clarence "equals," but based on my own personal observation of 1984 Jersey Shore life, they weren't all that unusual either. I can tell you for a fact that wherever you went in the summer of 1984 you could see Black kids and White kids hanging out together. You could see Black families and White families hanging out together. You could see the vision of America that many Americans had been hoping for many generations would become a reality in actual practice all along the streets and boardwalks of the mythical place called "The Jersey Shore."

The music of the Jersey Shore is the same way. It harkens back to the roots of Rock n' Roll itself, where the guitar and the sax were at the heart of the music. The integrationist 1950's notion that lies just under the surface of rock n roll, "equal parts blues & country," serving as a musical metaphor for "equal parts black & white," serves as a revolutionary concept for a nation whose very creation is rooted in slavery of those who were constitutionally declared as "3/5 th's of a human being."

Only a place like the Jersey Shore, could give to us an integrated musical entity like Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band to remind us all not only what Rock n' Roll is supposed to sound/look like, but more importantly to remind us all what we are supposed to be like. To remind us all of just how "ordinary" our "extra-ordinariness" is actually supposed to be.

2006 - ROCK N' ROLL HALL OF FAME INDUCTIONS

In March of 2006 I traveled from New Jersey to NYC to do my then annual coverage of the Rock n Roll Hall of Fame Inductions at the Waldorf-Astoria. The primary reason I went was to interview the family of Miles Davis, who was being inducted that year. I had done the interview the night before the day/night of the induction. As I written before here on Soul-Patrol, it is the daytime of the induction, when the rehearsals take place that is my whole reason for being there as opposed to the actual awards ceremony at night. The Rock n Roll Hall of Fame Induction REHERSALS are perhaps the very best LIVE PERFORMANCES that I have ever been personally a witness to in my life. On top of that, the opportunities that I have had to speak with the legends of music in such a casual setting have provided me with experiences that I simply are unable to describe to you in words.

One of the most memorable of many such experiences was in 2006, when I spotted Mr. Clarence Clemons inside of the rehearsal hall (actually the same ballroom where the awards ceremony was to take place later.) I walked up to Clarence Clemons and I introduced myself. I mentioned to him during my introduction that I had once lived in Red Bank, NJ for a period of time in the 1980's and Clarence hugged me.

He said "I don't really know why you are here, and yes I have heard of your publication, but you do realize the kozmic significance of you and I being here at this place, at this moment in time, don't you?"

As I looked around the room, of course I knew EXACTLY what Clarence meant. Although the room was packed with people, very few of them besides Clarence, our friend Greer Brooks-Muldoon and myself were Black Americans.

I said to Clarence, "this meeting has the EXACT same kozmic significance as the very first time that I ever saw you perform live, during freshman orientation at the University of Pittsburgh, back in 1973."

I then told Clarence the story of me seeing the integrated Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band, perform over the course of an entire weekend, during my freshman orientation.

He smiled and said "I told you it was kozmic.."

We then proceeded to have a one hour conversation about music, life, race, money and a whole lot more in a way that if you had been listening, you would have no idea that it was the very first time that Clarence & I had ever spoken with each other. Instead it sounded like two people who had known each other for 35 years. About ¾ of the way thru the conversation, I realized that I hadn't turned on my tape recorder and that this had in fact been one of the very best interviews/conversation that I had ever conducted. I also realized that if I had turned the tape recorder on, that the conversation would have been nowhere near as good or life effecting. (But I was able to get him to cut a Soul-Patrol Radio Station id .

6/19/2011 - TODAY

Clarence Clemons passed away yesterday, but today is also Fathers Day. This past Friday, I got the best Fathers Day present that I could possibly get as I watched my daughter walk to the podium and receive her HS diploma.

As I am sitting here composing this piece about the passing of Clarence Clemons, I can't help but to think of how the people who fought so hard for integration in the 1950's weren't doing so, just for the sake of doing so. They did so because they believed that integration would lead to equal opportunity for all of those who wanted to fully participate in American society. I too am a believer in that concept, have tried to live my life accordingly and tried to extend that notion to my daughter. My hope is that as she moves forward in her life that she will understand that the only restrictions on her are the ones that she places upon herself.

Clarence Clemons in his public life was a real life symbol for that philosophy. He was also one hell of a nice person, that I was privileged to admire from a far for decades and when I finally got the chance to spend some time with immediately connected with and in one day learned that although we had never met prior to that day, we had indeed been friends all along. That's because we had been "kindred spirits." And I say all of this simply to say that, if you have led your life in a certain kind of way, you are also probably a "kindred spirit," with Clarence Clemons, and most likely would have become his frind if you were ever to meet him, just like I did...

At the 2011 Soul-Patrol Convention on July 23 in Philadelphia, one of our panel discussions will be a topic entitled "WHO STOLE THE SOUL FROM ROCK N' ROLL." I have absolutely no doubt that Mr. Clarence Clemons will be listening in to that conversation and smiling. I also have absolutely no doubt that his name is going to be mentioned at least once or twice :)

*** Bob Davis is co-owner/creator (with his brother Mike) of the award winning http://www.soul-patrol.com/ website. He is also the web master/moderator/editor/radio program director of Soul-Patrol.

Forgotten Fathers: Parenting and the Prison Industrial Complex

Forgotten Fathers: 
Parenting and the Prison Industrial Complex by David J. Leonard | special to NewBlackMan
Happy father's day to all the fathers and grandfathers, but especially to those in Attica, San Quentin, Angola, and countless other prisons throughout the United States. For many, this is a day of celebration, of happiness and reflection. It is a day where kids give their dads homemade gifts and extra-special hugs. While everyday as a parent brings smiles and laughter, it is day where it is hard not to feel special as a dad. Yet, it should also be a day of reflection, where we as a society think about those who are unable to celebrate as a family. I am speaking about those among us who as  Angela Davis laments have disappeared from the public imagination: incarcerated fathers.
According to a report entitled  "Children of Incarcerated Parents," in 2007 America was home to 1.7 million children (under 18) whose parent was being held in state or federal prison – that is 2.3 percent of American children will likely be celebrating father's day away from dad. Despite hegemonic clamoring about family values, the prison industrial complex continues to ravage American families. Since 1991, the number of children with a father in prison has increased from 881,500 to 1.5 million in 2007. Over this same time period, children of incarcerated mothers increased from 63,900 to 147,400. Roughly half of these children are younger than 9, with 32 percent being between the ages of 10 and 14.
The problem is even more pronounced when looking at Black and Latino fathers. The numbers are startling: 1 in 15 black children lives away from their parent because of incarceration. For Latinos that number is 1 in 41, compared to 1 in 110 for white children. For incarcerated African Americans (1 in 3 black men are currently in prison, jail, on probation or parole), father's day isn't simply a day of disconnect from their sons and daughters, grandsons and granddaughters, but one that highlights their separation from their own fathers and entire family. 
The consequences of America's war on drugs (a war principally waged against black and brown America), of America's "New Jim Crow"  (see Michelle Alexander's work), are evident on this day. Too many fathers, particularly black and Latino fathers, will celebrate alone, away from their sons and daughters. Writing in response to the widespread debate about the state of black fatherhood, Michelle Alexander makes clear the links between the new Jim Crow and "missing black fathers" in America. "Here's a hint for all those still scratching their heads about those missing black fathers: Look in prison,"  writes Alexander. She continues,
The mass incarceration of people of color through the War on Drugs is a big part of the reason that a black child born today is less likely to be raised by both parents than a black child born during slavery. The absence of black fathers from families across America is not simply a function of laziness, immaturity, or too much time watching Sports Center. Hundreds of thousands of black men have disappeared into prisons and jails, locked away for drug crimes that are largely ignored when committed by whites.
The systematic efforts to break-apart families, destroy communities, and separate fathers and mothers from their children is a direct result of the incarceration of drug users. According to Alexander, as of 2005, 4 in 5 drug arrests were for possession by individuals with no history of violence; in the 1990s alone, a period that saw a massive expansion of America's war on drug users, 80 percent of those sent to prison were done so for marijuana possession. Yet, again we see how this is not a war on drugs or even illicit drug use, but use within the black community even  though whites are far more likely to use illegal drugs.  In a number of states, between 80 and 90 percent of all drug convictions have been of African Americans.
The impact of the war on drugs transcends father's day. The systematic effort to dismantle families results in isolation and disconnection from community, support systems, and loved ones 365 days per year. It has resulted in a brain drain and systematic removal of grandfathers and grandmothers, fathers and mothers, sons and daughters – entire communities. On average, children live 100 miles away from their incarcerated parents. A 2000 U.S. Department of Justice Report found that over half of America's prisoners have not been visited by their children. An expansive and far-reaching criminal justice system touches so many of our lives.
In 2007, my wife gave birth to our son. Without question, this day was one of the most joyous and heart-wrenching days of life. In addition to his birth coming 1-year after the death of our daughter Sophie (she died the day after she was born), it was about 24 hours after I hadt one of the most painful conversations with my father.
The memory is still vivid. I was sitting in my office, preparing for parental leave of absence, when my phone rang. I could hear the sadness and fear in his voice. He had been convicted and was facing jail time. He was scared of losing his career, the life that he had worked so hard for up until that point, and a future of seeing his kids and grandkids grow up. Listening to my father's voice was disheartening; the prospect of having to tell my children that grandpa wasn't going to be there for our next visit was terrifying then for many months to come. Thankfully (and revealing the ways in which privilege operates within the criminal justice system), our family never had to see him go jail. I did, however, see the financial and personal difficulties that besiege so many families. Too many families are being split apart because of expanding and overzealous criminal justice system. Too many fathers and mothers have to tell their children that they have to go away. Too many children wake up each and every day with a parent locked up. Too many children have to go through a metal detector simply to deliver a father's day wish today.
Last year, in  "Imagine What Father's Day Is Like for All the Dads and Sons in Prison," Stephen H. Phelps offered the following father's day reminder: "Let us take advantage of this Father's Day to turn our well-wishing toward the ends for which our hearts are shaped; toward compassion for every son and every father who is in prison. And especially for black and brown men in prison." Reminding us all that "these men are your sons. We are all their fathers," Phelps calls upon us to collectively remember those who are unable to share this day with their children, who because of the troubling war on drugs are unable to be the fathers they would like to be. So, on the 40th anniversary of the racially-based and ineffective war on drugs, lets work toward the greatest present of all to not only fathers, but mothers, children, and our society at large: its end. 
***
David J. Leonard is Associate Professor of Comparative Ethnic Studies at Washington State University, Pullman. He has written on sport, video games, film, and social movements, appearing in both popular and academic mediums.  His work explores the political economy of popular culture, examining the interplay between racism, state violence, and popular representations through contextual, textual, and subtextual analysis. He is the author of Screens Fade to Black: Contemporary African American Cinema and the forthcoming After Artest: Race and the War on Hoop (SUNY Press).

Daddy's Record Collection

Mark Anthony Neal pays homage to his father's record collection. Neal is a professor with the Department of African and African American Studies at Duke University and author of New Black Man: Rethinking Black Masculinity .