On the 50th anniversary of the Black Panther Party, Pearlman’s new book American Justice on Trial: People v. Newton compares the explosive state of American race relations in 1968 to race relations today with insights from key participants and observers of the internationally-watched Oakland, California death-penalty trial that launched the Panther Party and transformed the American jury “of one’s peers” to the diverse cross-section we often take for granted today. The book includes comments from Newton prosecutor Lowell Jensen, pioneering black jury foreman David Harper and TV journalist Belva Davis, as well as from Huey Newton’s older brother Melvin Newton, former Panthers Kathleen Cleaver, David Hillliard and Emory Douglas. It also includes comments from civil rights experts including Bryan Stevenson, Barry Scheck and John Burris. This book complements the nonprofit documentary project of the same name for which Pearlman is co-producer/co-director on behalf of Arc of Justice Productions, Inc.
The Richmond Crusade for Voters, founded in 1956 to directly oppose Massive Resistance and the Stanley Plan, has served the city of Richmond for 60 years. Despite efforts to suppress minority voter turnout, the Richmond Crusade for Voters thrived at motivating voters to participate in local, state, and national elections. The organization was skilled at mobilizing African American voters, and its purpose, then and now, is to increase the voting strength of the citizens of Richmond. Images of Modern America: The Richmond Crusade for Voters provides a pictorial history of one of the nation's most influential voter education and voter registration organizations through vintage and contemporary images.
With captivating lyricism, Amazon Wisdom Keeper transports us into the multicultural upbringing and transformation of Loraine Van Tuyl, a graduate psychology student and budding shamanic healer who’s blindsided by startling visions, elusive drumming, and her inseverable mystical ties to the Amazon rainforest of her native Suriname.
Is she in the wrong field, or did her childhood dreams, imaginary guides, and premonitions somehow prepare her for these challenges? Did Suriname’s military coup and her family’s uprooting move to the US rob her from all that she knew and loved at thirteen to help reveal her soul’s purpose, or is she losing her mind by entertaining far-fetched questions and hunches that can’t be answered or proven—like wondering if her perplexing life story is shedding light on the double-binds in her field on purpose, and suspecting that her soul’s daunting blue print was plotted long before she was even born? Van Tuyl wrestles with these questions and more as she embarks upon her risky quest, enduring test upon test in search of her true self and calling while enrolled in a rigorous academic program that regards intuitive healing methods as unscientific—and even unethical.
In I Will Not Be a Pawn, a prison corrections officer provides a unique perspective on the complex relationships and hierarchies of the prison system and how life behind bars has both changed and stayed the same.
Joseph S. Spicer Sr. details his life both within the Department of Corrections and outside. His memoirs provide a powerful look at corruption and courage.
Spicer notes that corrections officers aren’t supposed to stand out. They are supposed to be homogenous units designed to aid the more important pieces without drawing any attention to themselves. In short, they are the pawns of the corrections system. Spicer began to see prison life as one big game of chess, with he and his fellow officers being thrust out on to the board for use as sacrificial lambs.
Join Spicer as he looks back on his time at the Department of Corrections—using the “king,” “queen,” and “bishop” as examples of rampant corruption within the system—and details his refusal to be anyone’s pawn. To the readers, he imparts lessons learned from his bosses, his coworkers, and the prisoners themselves.
Three guys I didn’t recognize stood outside the door as I came down the steps of a Chicago apartment building. I had just finished up collecting newspaper fees for delivering the daily paper. One stepped inside, walked toward me, and said, “What’s up?” I looked at him and said, “What’s up with you?” As he stepped closer I saw a gun in his waistband and it made me think of my father, who always said, “Think before you react, son.” If I reach for his gun, I thought, he could be faster than me. He also had buddies just outside the door. My decision was made for me when the boys stepped into the hallway and surrounded me. It took me only a second to think, Is your life worth ninety bucks of newspaper collection fees? I pulled the money out of my pocket and handed it over, and he said, “Now that’s what I’m talking about.” He pulled out his gun, pointed it at me, and pulled the trigger. I knew at a young age in my city of Chicago that more bad things were happening than good, especially for me, an African American growing up in the ’60s and ’70s, living on the South Side.
Given that, our teachers should have been our role models. Yet when held after class one day, my teacher told me, “To set you on the right path, I want you to strive to be . . . a custodian.” I jumped up and said, “I don’t want to be no janitor.” He said, “Now, now, you’re a ‘N’ and there’s not a lot of opportunities for ‘N’s.” I ran to the Stump, the crumbling steps of an apartment building where I knew Mrs. Hannaberry would be, and I told her what my teacher had said. She hugged me and responded, “You are better than this, and you are going to do better. Let no one tell you different. The first thing you must do is believe in yourself. Do you believe?” The Stump prepared me for my life-long journey. It shaped me to see a brighter future, realize I had a future. It all started at the Stump—my way out.
Often spoken at the end of a prayer, a well-known Sioux phrase affirms that “we are all related.” Similarly, the Sioux medicine man, Brave Buffalo, came to realize when he was still a boy that “the maker of all was Wakan Tanka (the Great Spirit), and . . . in order to honor him I must honor his works in nature.” The interconnectedness of all things, and the respect all things are due, are among the most prominent—and most welcome—themes in this collection of Indian voices on nature.
Within the book are carefully authenticated quotations from men and women of nearly fifty North American tribes. The illustrations include historical photographs of American Indians, as well as a wide selection of contemporary photographs showing the diversity of the North American natural world. Together, these quotations and photographs beautifully present something of nature's timeless message.
Privilege Through the Looking-Glass is a collection of original essays that explore privilege and status characteristics in daily life. This collection seeks to make visible that which is often invisible. It seeks to sensitize us to things we have been taught not to see. Privilege, power, oppression, and domination operate in complex and insidious ways, impacting groups and individuals. And yet, these forces that affect our lives so deeply seem to at once operate in plain sight and lurk in the shadows, making them difficult to discern. Like water to a fish, environments are nearly impossible to perceive when we are immersed in them. This book attempts to expose our environments. With engaging and powerful writing, the contributors share their personal stories as a means of connecting the personal and the public. This volume applies an intersectional perspective to explore how race, class, gender, sexuality, education, and ableness converge, creating the basis for privilege and oppression. Privilege Through the Looking-Glass encourages readers to engage in self and social reflection, and can be used in a range of courses in sociology, social work, communication, education, gender studies, and African American studies. Each chapter includes discussion questions and/or activities for further engagement.