Abstract
Aldon Morris on a life of anti-racist activism.
All my adult life I have participated in struggles for social justice. Indeed, I agree with the great Black abolitionist, Frederick Douglass: “If there is no struggle there is no progress. Power concedes nothing without a demand. It never did and it never will.” As a young person, I participated in the Civil Rights and Black Power movements. I also became involved in campus-based diversification movements in the 1970s when I entered junior college in Chicago, and I have continued my involvement throughout my career.
Prior to the late 1960s and early ‘70s, predominantly White universities only had a handful of Black students—and even less Black faculty. There were no programs for Black Studies, Asian American Studies, Women Studies, Latinx Studies, and Indigenous studies. Thus, the composition of students and faculty at these institutions were nearly all White. When I entered college, I was acutely aware of Black exclusion and learned from the Civil Rights Movement that it would take protest to transform these institutions.
As an undergraduate at Bradley, I organized protests to increase the number of Black students on campus. I did the same thing as a graduate student in sociology at Stony Brook, even as I was warned that my activism might hamper my chances of earning a doctorate. As an assistant professor at Michigan in 1980, I again gravitated to struggles to diversify its students and faculty. While under review for tenure, I participated in a sit-in at the Dean’s office; he made sure to focus his gaze on me. I also participated in the South African Anti-Apartheid movement, and, during the 1985 ASA meeting, I was arrested along with Dan Clawson and Cheryl Gilkes for demonstrating at the South African Embassy. Upon moving to Northwestern in 1988, I became involved with similar struggles to diversify its students and faculty. I supported the Asian American Hunger Strike to create Asian American Studies and became the first director of Northwestern’s Asian American Studies program following those protests. While associate and interim dean of the College of Arts and Sciences, I worked to diversify Northwestern across multiple departments.
These struggles achieved some gains but were also limited. The number of Black students at Bradley today is the same as it was 45 years ago, and it took 40 years for another Black male to earn a doctorate in sociology at Stony Brook after me. Black student enrollment at Michigan is 4%, and Black faculty and students constitute less than 6% at Northwestern.
Why do these racial inequalities persist, and why has protest been necessary to protect even minimal gains? White privilege— and White gatekeeping—is one obvious answer. The belief in Black inferiority continues unabated. Institutional demands are another answer. Social and bureaucratic inertia ensure the durability of operating procedures anchored in presumptions of White supremacy. Few risk-averse students and faculty will use their precious energy to protest inequalities; they hoard it to try and meet steep expectations for high GPAs and lengthy CVs. Thus, the racially unequal status quo lives on.
It has been challenging to constantly participate in movements and protests while embracing the rigors of academic life. Many times, I wished I could function free of racism-induced righteous indignation, unburdened by the duty to make change. I recall a White colleague who once shouted at me, “You love conflict!” Nothing is farther from the truth. I love peace and collegial relations. I don’t want to bring these pains home, negatively affecting my family and friends. But still, out of necessity, I have shouldered protests tackling racial inequality.
When I first observed civil rights activism, I was struck by the demonstrators’ optimism. I still remember protesters at the March on Washington carrying placards declaring “free by 63.” As I, too, protested, I could not have imagined that, in the second decade of the 21st century, so much work would remain. Today, I soberly face the awful fact that racism will be a burden for my children’s children and many generations to follow. Yet, I know one thing: If there is no struggle, there will be no progress.
Today, I soberly face the awful fact that racism will be a burden for my children’s children and many generations to follow.