Edited by Azizi Powell
This pancocojams post presents six online excerpts about the changing population of Black Americans and the changing definitions of who is "African American".
The content of this post is presented for socio-cultural and historical purposes.
All copyrights remain with their owners.
Thanks to all those who are quoted in this post.
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Click https://pancocojams.blogspot.com/2022/11/the-2020-us-census-bureaus-switch-from.html for a closely related pancocojams post entitled "The 2020 U.S. Census Bureau's Switch from The Terms "Race-Hispanic" Or "Race-Non-Hispanic" To "Race" Or "Race Alone" Reflects This Nation's Diversity".
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EXCERPT #1
From https://www.smithsonianmag.com/history/the-changing-definition-of-african-american-4905887/ The Changing Definition of African-American
How the great influx of people from Africa and the Caribbean
since 1965 is challenging what it means to be African-American
by Ira Berlin, February 2010
"Some years ago, I was interviewed on public radio about the
meaning of the Emancipation Proclamation. I addressed the familiar themes of
the origins of that great document: the changing nature of the Civil War, the
Union army’s growing dependence on black labor, the intensifying opposition to
slavery in the North and the interplay of military necessity and abolitionist
idealism. I recalled the longstanding debate over the role of Abraham Lincoln,
the Radicals in Congress, abolitionists in the North, the Union army in the
field and slaves on the plantations of the South in the destruction of slavery
and in the authorship of legal freedom. And I stated my long-held position that
slaves played a critical role in securing their own freedom. The controversy
over what was sometimes called “self-emancipation” had generated great heat
among historians, and it still had life.
As I left the broadcast booth, a knot of black men and
women—most of them technicians at the station—were talking about emancipation
and its meaning. Once I was drawn into their discussion, I was surprised to
learn that no one in the group was descended from anyone who had been freed by
the proclamation or any other Civil War measure. Two had been born in Haiti,
one in Jamaica, one in Britain, two in Ghana, and one, I believe, in Somalia.
Others may have been the children of immigrants. While they seemed
impressed—but not surprised—that slaves had played a part in breaking their own
chains, and were interested in the events that had brought Lincoln to his
decision during the summer of 1862, they insisted it had nothing to do with
them. Simply put, it was not their history.
[…]
In 1965, Congress passed the Voting Rights Act, which became
a critical marker in African-American history. Given opportunity, black
Americans voted and stood for office in numbers not seen since the collapse of
Reconstruction almost 100 years earlier. They soon occupied positions that had
been the exclusive preserve of white men for more than half a century. By the
beginning of the 21st century, black men and women had taken seats in the
United States Senate and House of Representatives, as well as in state houses
and municipalities throughout the nation. In 2009, a black man assumed the
presidency of the United States. African-American life had been transformed.
Within months of passing the Voting Rights Act, Congress
passed a new immigration law, replacing the Johnson-Reed Act of 1924, which had
favored the admission of northern Europeans, with the Immigration and
Nationality Act. The new law scrapped the rule of national origins and
enshrined a first-come, first-served principle that made allowances for the
recruitment of needed skills and the unification of divided families.
This was a radical change in policy, but few people expected
it to have much practical effect. It “is not a revolutionary bill,” President
Lyndon Johnson intoned. “It does not affect the lives of millions. It will not
reshape the structure of our daily lives.”
But it has had a profound impact on American life. At the
time it was passed, the foreign-born proportion of the American population had
fallen to historic lows—about 5 percent—in large measure because of the old
immigration restrictions. Not since the 1830s had the foreign-born made up such
a tiny proportion of the American people. By 1965, the United States was no
longer a nation of immigrants.
During the next four decades, forces set in motion by the
Immigration and Nationality Act changed that. The number of immigrants entering
the United States legally rose sharply, from some 3.3 million in the 1960s to
4.5 million in the 1970s. During the 1980s, a record 7.3 million people of
foreign birth came legally to the United States to live. In the last third of
the 20th century, America’s legally recognized foreign-born population tripled
in size, equal to more than one American in ten. By the beginning of the 21st
century, the United States was accepting foreign-born people at rates higher
than at any time since the 1850s. The number of illegal immigrants added yet
more to the total, as the United States was transformed into an immigrant
society once again.
Black America was similarly transformed. Before 1965, black
people of foreign birth residing in the United States were nearly invisible.
According to the 1960 census, their percentage of the population was to the
right of the decimal point. But after 1965, men and women of African descent
entered the United States in ever-increasing numbers. During the 1990s, some
900,000 black immigrants came from the Caribbean; another 400,000 came from
Africa; still others came from Europe and the Pacific rim. By the beginning of
the 21st century, more people had come from Africa to live in the United States
than during the centuries of the slave trade. At that point, nearly one in ten
black Americans was an immigrant or the child of an immigrant.
African-American society has begun to reflect this change.
In New York, the Roman Catholic diocese has added masses in Ashanti and Fante,
while black men and women from various Caribbean islands march in the West
Indian-American Carnival and the Dominican Day Parade. In Chicago, Cameroonians
celebrate their nation’s independence day, while the DuSable Museum of African
American History hosts a Nigerian Festival. Black immigrants have joined groups
such as the Egbe Omo Yoruba (National Association of Yoruba Descendants in
North America), the Association des Sénégalais d’Amérique and the Fédération
des Associations Régionales Haïtiennes à l’Étranger rather than the NAACP or
the Urban League.
To many of these men and women, Juneteenth celebrations—the
commemoration of the end of slavery in the United States—are at best an
afterthought. The new arrivals frequently echo the words of the men and women I
met outside the radio broadcast booth. Some have struggled over the very
appellation “African-American,” either shunning it—declaring themselves, for
instance, Jamaican-Americans or Nigerian-Americans—or denying native black
Americans’ claim to it on the ground that most of them had never been to
Africa. At the same time, some old-time black residents refuse to recognize the
new arrivals as true African-Americans. “I am African and I am an American citizen;
am I not African-American?” a dark-skinned, Ethiopian-born Abdulaziz Kamus
asked at a community meeting in suburban Maryland in 2004. To his surprise and
dismay, the overwhelmingly black audience responded no. Such discord over the
meaning of the African-American experience and who is (and isn’t) part of it is
not new, but of late has grown more intense.
[…]
New circumstances, it seems, require a new narrative. But it
need not—and should not—deny or contradict the slavery-to-freedom story. As the
more recent arrivals add their own chapters, the themes derived from these various
migrations, both forced and free, grow in significance. They allow us to see
the African-American experience afresh and sharpen our awareness that
African-American history is, in the end, of one piece."
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EXCERPT #2
From https://www.usatoday.com/story/news/nation-now/2018/02/21/black-history-african-american-definition/1002344001/ Who is an ‘African American’? Definition evolves as USA does
Tracy Scott Forson, updated Feb 22, 2018
"There was a time when being black in America meant you were
most likely descended from one or more enslaved Africans who had survived the
trans-Atlantic slave trade. However, as the number of African and Caribbean
blacks immigrating to the USA has increased, so have the chances that someone
who identifies as black or African American is a first- or second-generation
immigrant.
According to the Pew Research Center, the number of African
immigrants in the USA has risen about 2,500% since 1970 — from 80,000 in 1970
to about 2.1 million in 2015. That number increases to 3.8 million black
immigrants when those from Caribbean nations are counted, according to 2013
data.
The influx of foreign-born blacks has energized the debate
about what “African American” means today. Does that category include people
like the model Iman and the singer Rihanna — born in Somalia and Barbados,
respectively — or can only those whose family trees were violently uprooted and
replanted on U.S. soil hundreds of years ago claim that designation?
At the Smithsonian National Museum of African American
History and Culture, exhibits are inclusive, representing the wide range of “Americans
of African descent affected by the historical American experience,” said Ariana
Curtis, the museum’s curator for Latino history and studies. “We understand
that the African-American experience in the United States is diverse.”
While many black immigrants embrace the African-American
label and culture, not all are quick to jump into a melting pot that might
dilute their distinct cultures.
Eliza Thompson arrived in the USA as a child and identifies
as Ghanaian. She prefers to think of the country as a salad bowl rather than a
melting pot. “The lettuce is still the lettuce,” Thompson says. “Mixed
together, the lettuce, carrots and tomatoes all work. In the melting pot, you
lose your identity.”
[...]
There can also be a reluctance to identify as African American because of negative stereotypes of U.S.-born blacks, says Wayne Fairweather, a Jamaican-American who emigrated as a teen. ... when he was exposed to stereotypes of U.S.-born blacks, he tended to believe them....
However, many foreign-born blacks come to recognize the effects of institutional racism, he says. “People joke about Jamaicans having multiple jobs, but after working and working and not getting ahead, you start to realize what racism is and how it affects you,” he says.
Joanne Hyppolite, a curator at the Smithsonian museum who was born in Haiti, says: “Black immigrants come here, and they’re introduced to American race relations. You begin to see a shift in perspective in their own understanding of how race works in America.” ...
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EXCERPT #3
From https://www.pewresearch.org/social-trends/2021/03/25/the-growing-diversity-of-black-america/ The Growing Diversity of Black America, by Christine Tamir, March 25, 2021
46.8 million people in the U.S. identify as Black
"Terminology
The Black population of the United States is diverse. Its
members have varied histories in the nation – many are descendants of enslaved
people, while others are recently arrived immigrants. The Black population also
has nuanced ethnic and racial identities reflecting intermarriage and
international migration. As a result, there are key distinctions in demographic
and economic characteristics between different parts of the national Black
population, highlighting its diverse multitude of backgrounds.
The U.S. Black population is also growing. In 2019, 46.8
million people in the U.S. identified their race as Black, either alone or as
part of a multiracial or ethnic background. That is up from 36.2 million in
2000.1 The Black share of the U.S. population is higher today than in 2000 as
well. About 14% of the national population said they were Black in 2019, up
from 13% who did so in 2000.
At the same time, the Black population’s racial
self-identification is changing. Among those who self-identify as “Black or
African American,” the share who say it is their only racial or ethnic identification
has declined over the past two decades. In 2019, 40.7 million, or 87%,
identified their race as Black alone and their ethnicity as non-Hispanic, while
around 3.7 million, or 8%, indicated their race was Black and another race
(most often White) and not Hispanic. Another 2.4 million, or 5%,
self-identified as both Black and Hispanic, or Black Hispanic.2But these shares
have changed since 2000. Then, 93% identified their race and ethnicity as Black
alone.
The nation’s Black population is changing in other ways too.
A growing share are foreign born, the population is aging (though some segments
are significantly younger), and a growing share are college graduates. These
trends and more are explored in this report…
Measuring racial and ethnic identity
Racial identity – as measured by the U.S. decennial census –
has changed over time. The census has drastically changed since its first
administration in 1790. Then, only two racial categories were included: free
(which mostly included White people) and slaves (who were mostly enslaved Black
people). The Census Bureau has modified terms used to refer to people of
non-White racial identities throughout the years, in accordance with the
politics and sensibilities of the times. For example, in the 2020 census, those
who selected “Black or African American” as their race were asked to write more
about their origins, reflecting a more nuanced understanding of Black racial
identity. (For more about how racial and ethnic categories have changed over
time, see “What Census Calls Us.”)
Today, decennial census and American Community Survey data
is collected in a different manner than for most of the nation’s history.
Respondents choose their racial response categories themselves. This was not
true for over a century of censuses. Prior to 1960, one’s racial identification
was selected by a census-taker – a Census Bureau employee who administered the
survey on paper and chose a racial category on a person’s behalf. However,
starting that year, some respondents could self-identify, or chose their own
racial category. Self-identification was expanded in subsequent censuses to
include virtually all respondents. Additionally, starting in 1980, census data
included information from the entire population on Hispanic or Latino ethnic
identity in addition to their racial identification.And the 2000 census marked
the first time respondents were able to include themselves in more than one
racial category; prior to that year, multiracial respondents could select only
one racial category.
It’s important to note that racial and ethnic
self-identification is highly personal and can change as one’s relationship
with their identity changes. For example, an analysis of 168 million Americans’
census forms linked between 2000 and 2010 indicated that 10 million people
identified their racial and/or ethnic background differently between the two
census forms. Multiracial Americans were one of the population groups that were
more likely to change their racial identification between the two decennial
census years.”…
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EXCERPT #4
From https://www.pewresearch.org/fact-tank/2022/01/27/key-findings-about-black-immigrants-in-the-u-s/ Key findings about Black immigrants in the U.S.
by Christine Tamir, January 27, 2022
..."One-in-ten Black people in the U.S. are immigrants. The
number of Black immigrants living in the country reached 4.6 million in 2019,
up from roughly 800,000 in 1980. This increase accounted for 19% of the growth
in the overall Black population, which increased by 20 million during the same
period. The Black immigrant population is projected to account for roughly a
third of the U.S. Black population’s growth through 2060.
A sizable share of Black Americans have recent immigrant
connections. In addition to the 12% of Black people who were born in a foreign
country themselves, roughly 9% are second-generation Americans, meaning they
were born in the U.S. and have at least one foreign-born parent. Combined,
these two groups account for 21% of the overall Black population – comparable
to the share among Americans overall, but lower than the share among Hispanics
or Asian Americans and Pacific Islanders.
[…]
Among Black immigrants, the year of immigration differs by
birth region. African-born Black immigrants stand out for their more recent
arrival in the U.S.: Three-quarters immigrated in 2000 or later, with over
four-in-ten (43%) arriving between 2010 and 2019 alone. Black immigrants born
in other regions – the Caribbean, Central America or Mexico, or South America –
came to the U.S. earlier than their African-born counterparts, on average, with
majorities of all three regions arriving before 2000.
Together, these two regions accounted for 88% of all Black
foreign-born people in the U.S. in 2019.
Between 2000 and 2019, the Black African immigrant
population grew 246%, from about 600,000 to 2.0 million. As a result, people of
African origin now make up 42% of the country’s foreign-born Black population,
up from just 23% in 2000.
Still, the Caribbean remains the most common region of birth
for U.S. Black immigrants. Just under half of the foreign-born Black population
was born in this region (46%).
Jamaica and Haiti are the top countries of origin for Black
immigrants. These two countries accounted for 31% of the U.S. Black immigrant
population in 2019 (16% and 15%, respectively). But their combined share was
down from 39% in 2000, highlighting the growing diversity among Black
immigrants. Nigeria and Ethiopia were the next most common birthplaces for
Black African immigrants in 2019, with roughly 390,000 and 260,000 immigrants,
respectively."...
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EXCERPT #5
From https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/African_Americans
"African Americans (also referred to as Black Americans and
Afro-Americans*) are an ethnic group consisting of Americans with partial or
total ancestry from sub-Saharan Africa.[3][4] The term "African
American" generally denotes descendants of enslaved Africans who are from
the United States.[5][6][7] While some Black immigrants or their children may
also come to identify as African-American, the majority of first generation
immigrants do not, preferring to identify with their nation of origin.[8][9]
African Americans constitute the second largest racial group
in the U.S. after White Americans, as well as the third largest ethnic group
after Hispanic and Latino Americans.[10] Most African Americans are descendants
of enslaved people within the boundaries of the present United States.[11][12]
On average, African Americans are of West/Central African with some European
descent; some also have Native American and other ancestry.[13]
According to U.S. Census Bureau data, African immigrants
generally do not self-identify as African American. The overwhelming majority
of African immigrants identify instead with their own respective ethnicities
(~95%).[9] Immigrants from some Caribbean and Latin American nations and their
descendants may or may not also self-identify with the term.[7]
[...]
Terminology dispute
In her book The End of Blackness, as well as in an essay for
Salon,[327] author Debra Dickerson has argued that the term Black should refer
strictly to the descendants of Africans who were brought to America as slaves,
and not to the sons and daughters of Black immigrants who lack that ancestry.
Thus, under her definition, President Barack Obama, who is the son of a Kenyan,
is not Black.[327][328] She makes the argument that grouping all people of
African descent together regardless of their unique ancestral circumstances
would inevitably deny the lingering effects of slavery within the American
community of slave descendants, in addition to denying Black immigrants recognition
of their own unique ancestral backgrounds. "Lumping us all together,"
Dickerson wrote, "erases the significance of slavery and continuing racism
while giving the appearance of progress."[327]"...
-snip-
Contrary to what is stated in this Wikipedia page, since at least the late 1990s, "Afro-Americans" has been considered an outdated referent which has been replaced by the referent "African American".
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EXCERPT #6
From https://abcnews.go.com/US/controversial-group-ados-divides-black-americans-fight-economic/story?id=66832680 "Controversial group ADOS divides black Americans in fight for
economic equality"
American Descendants of Slavery advocates are stirring
debate and anger online.
By Samara Lynn, January 19, 2020
…."ADOS stands for "American Descendants of
Slavery" -- a movement which some critics fear could drive a wedge between
voters in the black community just months ahead of the 2020 election.
The movement, which has gained traction on social media in
recent months, has attracted the attention of some academics like Cornel West
and politicians like Williamson, who spoke at an event for the group in the
fall, though many are loathe to associate themselves with it -- either for or
against.
ADOS advocates are adding a whole new layer to the
conversation on reparations and economic justice by advocating only for black
descendants of slaves and not the black community as a whole.
Their advocacy leaves an entire group of people,
American-born descendants of immigrants, some of whose families have been in
the U.S. for generations -- many whose families may have survived decades if
not centuries of institutional racism -- in limbo in the conversation. And the
focus has pitted ADOS adherents against people like journalist Roland Martin,
who is descended from Haitian immigrants. It also appears not to address the
American descendants of slaves from other countries, including for example
Haiti, and whether they should be entitled to reparations.
Disparities exist between the two populations. A 2015 Pew
Research report showed that U.S.-born black people were less likely to have a
bachelor’s degree than black immigrants -- 19% versus 26%.
The same report also showed that foreign-born black people have
a $10,000 higher median income than U.S.-born -- at $33,500.
There are myriad theories and studies on why these gaps
exist but the fact that many black immigrants are outpacing black Americans
economically and educationally, compounded with the vast racial wealth gap
between black and white America, adds fuel to the ADOS movement.
ADOS' singular focus on black descendants of slavery, and
its supporters often combative approach, has sparked controversy and
comparisons to a long line of nativist thinking that has gained traction from
time to time throughout U.S. history.
There are also concerns from some critical of ADOS that the
hashtag is linked to posts spreading disinformation and political division
ahead of the presidential election. However, ABC News found no concrete
evidence that the ADOS movement is part of the disinformation campaigns that
plagued the 2016 election.
Pushback
Critics, many of them other black people, have accused ADOS
advocates of spewing hateful, xenophobic rhetoric and of online harassment.
High-profile black politicians, influencers and journalists, including Kamala
Harris, Joy Reid, Jonathan Capehart and others, have been attacked by ADOS
accounts for having non-American lineage -- Reid, for instance, has immigrant
parents -- or because they have questioned the authenticity of ADOS social
media profiles, accusing them of being trolls.
[…]
Yvette Carnell and Antonio Moore are the two most-followed ADOS
activists on social media. They have both engaged in heated and controversial
exchanges on Twitter and what some might call targeted harassment.
Some have even accused ADOS Twitter accounts of deliberately
pushing a far-right narrative under the guise of reparations support.
[…]
Kamala Harris, the former presidential candidate, is of
Indian and Jamaican descent. Carnell has tweeted that she has issues
surrounding Harris' solidarity with black people descended from slaves.
Rapper and activist Talib Kweli is an outspoken ADOS critic.
While he is also an activist for black economic empowerment and is
pro-reparations, he disagrees with ADOS’ rhetoric.
“I don’t think [Carnell and Moore] are being disingenuous
about wanting reparations. What I think they are being disingenuous about is
the fact that they are clearly anti-black immigrant … and aligning with the GOP
on immigration.”
[…]
Alvin Bernard Tillery, Jr., Ph.D, is an associate professor
of political science at Northwestern University. He has written about the issue
of reparations and the sources of racial inequality. Tillery began to take
notice of ADOS’ web activism over the last two years or so, he said.
While Tillery said that ADOS is not really advocating any
new ideas, “they’ve attracted pushback because they have the radical thesis
that if there's going to be reparations for slavery, that it should really only
be targeted to persons who are the descendants or legacies of actual American
slaves,” said Tillery.
“The reason that we're having this debate around ADOS … is
because I think this notion that we have as black people is that skin color is
tantamount to unity and belonging,” he said.
Darity agrees. "Black American descendants of slavery
have a distinctive ethnic identity because of our distinctive origins in the
community that was enslaved in the United States," he said. That
distinctive identity, he said, is a central premise of ADOS.”…
-snip-
Click https://adosfoundation.org/ for the website for the ADOS Advocacy Foundation.
**
Full Disclosure:
I'm not a supporter of the ADOS movement.
The ADOS organization would probably not consider me to be an "American Descendant Of Slaves" because I can't trace my ancestry to a person who was enslaved in the United States.
My light skinned Black father may have had an ancestor who was enslaved in the United States. He was long term fostered by a Black couple in Michigan and I know nothing about his biological family (and very little about his foster family). Given his skin color, it's likely that my father had one Black and one White biological parent, but there's no documentation of that.
My maternal grandparents were from Barbados and from Tobago. They came to the United States in the early 1920s and my mother was born in New Jersey in 1924. I was told that my grandmother's mother was "half Black and half White", but I don't have any documentation of that. For what it's worth, my grandfather was darker skinned than my grandmother. I don't recall them ever visiting the Caribbean, and only have a vague recollection of my grandmother cooking any Caribbean meals.
I grew up in Atlantic City, New Jersey with hardly any contact with the family who raised my father. I also have had no contact with the Caribbean side of my family. However, I vaguely recall stories about one Bajan aunt visiting our family when I was little. Also, my sister (who has maintained some contact with a cousin from that side of the family) told me that a few of our Bajan relatives emigrated to the United Kingdom.
While I recognize my Caribbean roots, I don't consider myself to be West Indian. I self-identify as African American and as Black American.
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