#unc press

It’s never too early to start talking to your kids about North Carolina pride.  A new storybook, spearheaded by The NC African American Heritage Commission and published by UNC Press, celebrates our state’s African-American heritage in classic “A is for” form.

My N.C. from A to Z is a 32-page board book written by Michelle Lanier and illustrated by Dare Coulter.  Each letter of the alphabet introduces an African American person or place who shaped North Carolina’s arts, culture, and social-justice legacy.  

“B is for Black Wall Street,” one entry reads.  “Black Wall Street is a term that describes historic Parrish Street, a four-block area in downtown Durham, N.C., where African American enterprise thrived in the late 1800s and early 1900s.”

Other pages introduce education and civil rights pioneer Charlotte Hawkins Brown; Freedom Hill, among the oldest towns chartered by free African Americans; and Thomas Day, a renowned nineteenth-century craftsman from Milton.

Lanier is an author and scholar rooted in what she calls Afro-Carolina.  She advocated for legislation to create the NC African American Heritage Commission, and after serving as its founding director, she became the first African-American director the N.C. Division of State Historic Sites.  She also teaches at Duke’s Center for Documentary Studies.

Coulter, an N.C. State graduate, is an award-winning illustrator, sculptor, and public artist who specializes in large-scale sculptures and murals, and her work here looks vibrant and bigger than life.  She has previously illustrated children’s books such as Now I Lay Me Down to Sleep and You Are My Sunshine.

My N.C. from A to Z is available for $14.95 from UNC Press.

[email protected]

Left of Black S11 · E17 | Black Marriage in Popular Culture with Aneeka Ayanna Henderson    

Left of Black S11*E2: Derrick E. White and the Legacy of Black College Football

During the time of Jim Crow segregation, HBCU's have nurtured some of the brightest talent to be seen on the football field. From producing intensely competitive student athletes to employing some of the greatest coaches in the game, like the legendary Jake Gaither of Florida A&M University (FAMU), Black colleges have a tradition of putting forth the best of the best. But did integration bring an unfair advantage to PWI's (pre-dominantly white institutions) who then started recruiting Black talent away from the HBCU teams? Prof. Neal sat down with University of Kentucky Professor of History Derrick E. White on his latest book, Blood, Sweat, and Tears: Jake Gaither, Florida A&M, and the History of Black College Football, to discuss. Purchase Prof. White's book here: https://uncpress.org/book/97814696524...

Paul Revere's caricature of King Philip (1772)

Last post, I wrote briefly about Philip F. Gura's biography of William Apess, and I discussed some of the links between Apess and Hosea Easton. Along with the links between Apess and the abolitionist movement, I have been intrigued with the relationship between Apess and the literary production of the period. Gura speaks to this topic some; however, as a historian, he presents the historical facts surrounding the relationship. In this post, I will briefly outline my thoughts on how Apess, and specifically his references to King Philip, relate to the emergence of a distinct American literature during the early part of the nineteenth century. I will not go in to great detail, but the information will provide a quick view that I plan to explore further in the future.

At the beginning of his autobiography A Son of the Forest (1829), William Apess claims that his "grandfather was a white man and married a female attached to the royal family of Philip, king of the Pequot tribe of Indians, so well known in that part of American history which relates to the wars between the whites and the natives" (3-4). On the surface, this statement on his ancestry does not appear unique In an autobiography. While it does reinforce that Native Americans have not vanished from New England, Apess's specific deployment of King Philip, and his later Eulogy on King Philip (1837) serves another more subversive motive. 

In his Eulogy on King Philip, Apess begins by stating that he does "not arise to spread before you the fame of a noted warrior, whose natural abilities shone like those of the great and mighty Philip of Greece, or of Alexander the Great, or like those of Washington--whose virtues and patriotism are engraved on the hearts of [his] audience" (277). Instead, Apess presents a eulogy for Philip to present him as a man who exhibited sympathy, nobleness, talents, and other aspects of leadership and civilization.  

By linking himself to King Philip through his lineage and the eulogy, Apess seeks to respond to the increasing relevance of King Philip during the American cultural mileu of the 1820s and 1830s. Starting with James Eastburn and Robert Charles Sands's Yamoyden, A Tale of the Wars of King Philip: In Six Cantos (1820) and Washington Irving's "Philip of Pokanoket" in his Sketch Book (1819-1820), Philip made his appearance in American literature. His presence continued through the decade with texts that obviously pulled from Irving, Charles, and Sands or from Philip's story directly. These texts included Lydia Maria Child's Hobomok (1824), Catharine Maria Sedgwick's Hope Leslie (1827), James Fenimore Cooper's The Wept of Wish-Ton-Wish (1829), and John Augustus Stone's Metamora; or, The Last of the Wampanoags (1829). Adding to this resurgence,the North American Review in 1831 argued:

But as it was, Philip did and endured enough to immortalize him as a warrior, a statesman, and we may add, as a high-minded and noble patriot. Whatever might be the prejudice against him in the days of terror produced by his prowess, there are both the magnanimity and the calmness in these times, to do him the justice he deserves. He fought and fell,--miserably, indeed, but gloriously,--the avenger of his own household, the worshipper of his own gods, the guardian of his own honor, a martyr for the soil which was his birth-place, and the proud liberty which was his birthright. (419)

Earlier, when the North American Review provided its thoughts on Sedgwick's Hope Leslie in 1828, the reviewer claims "that the characters of our first settlers, the peculiar features of their age, their troubles, their struggles, their wars, government, manners, opinions, and institutions, all fresh and singular, with the wild scenes amidst which they moved, and the wild men by whom they were surrounded, furnished the most admirable materials for literary fabrics of purely national manufacture, and original patterns, both in poetry and prose" (12). 

Image that appeared in Apess's Eulogy

Even if the authors presented their Native American characters as noble and highlighted their "prowess," the Native Americans inevitably vanished at the end of the novel, poem, or play, reinforcing the belief that Native Americans would disappear under the feet of "civilization" as it methodically plodded towards them. Along with this, the texts arose out of national discussions surrounding Native American removal, specifically Cherokee and Creek, in the Southeastern United States. This is the mileu that Apess wrote within. This is the mileu that brings a heightened significance to his ancestry and to his eulogy for his ancestor. This is the mileu that Apess countered by showing the United States that Native Americans existed, and thrived, among them. 

This post only touches on the broad topic of King Philip, William Apess, and American literature that I outline here. I am doing more research on this topic, so stay tuned for more in the future. If you would like to find out more about King Philip, his life and his impact of early American culture, see Jill Lepore's The Name of War: King Philip's War and the Origins of American Identity (1998). What are your thoughts? Observations? Let me know in the comments below. 

Note: Philip was not King of the Pequots, as Apess says. Barry O'Connell and Philip F. Gura discuss this. 

Apess, William. On Our Own Ground: The Complete Writings of William Apess, a Pequot. Ed. Barry O'Connell. Amherst: University of Massachusetts Press, 1992. 

"Hope Leslie; or Early Times in Massachusetts." North American Review 26.59 (1828): 403-420.

If you are at all interested in Native American or Early American literature, I would highly recommend reading Philip F. Gura's biography of William Apess (Pequot). The Life of William Apess, Pequot chronicles Apess's life based partly on Apess's own writings but also on historical documents such as newspapers, correspondence, and other items. Gura takes all of this information and paints a portrait of Apess that further solidifies the activist's importance in our understanding of American history and literature by showing how Apess existed within the specific miles of early nineteenth century America and how he worked tirelessly to argue for the rights of his own people and other Native American tribes, from the Mashpee to the Cherokee.

There are many aspects of Apess's life and career that are worth more in-depth discussion, and those are the aspects that I want to briefly explore today. The most interesting aspect of Apess's career, and the one that I have written about before, deals with his interaction with the abolitionist movement and more specifically with participants in that movement. As I have mentioned before, William Lloyd Garrison repeatedly put notices for Apess's lectures in his abolitionist newspaper The Liberator. This, however, is only the tip of the iceberg. While now concrete evidence exists, at least to this point, that Apess came into contact with African American activists such as David Walker, Hosea Easton, Maria Stewart, and others, Gura makes the point that it is not beyond the realm of possibility that Apess interacted with, or at least heard and knew of, these individuals. 

Gura does not spend an exorbitant amount of time on the links between Apess and these other activists; this is partly understandable because the book serves as a biography and not as a literary analysis. In this respect, Gura mirrors Maureen Konkle's and others quick mentions of the possible connections between activists like Apess and Easton. Even though we know that each of these authors focus on the rights of oppressed groups, when we delve into the texts in greater length than Grua does, we discover that each of these authors have similarities on the rhetorical level that need to be examined. I examine these rhetorical connections in relation to the influence of Scottish Enlightenment rhetoric in "We wish to plead our own cause": Rhetorical Links Between Native Americans and African Americans during the 1820s and 1830s. 

In my work, I discuss the ways that Apess and Easton both draw on the idea of sympathy to highlight the "psychological disposition, historically formed, [that] had to be eliminated" (Gura 59). Both authors describe the ways that language and wide held beliefs of the inferiority of "colored" people led to psychological indoctrination of the racist ideas in the minds of whites and oppressed groups. Apess does this in his autobiography A Son of the Forest and other writings. In his autobiography Apess relates a childhood story where, as an indentured servant, he was picking berries in the forest and came across a couple of "dark skinned" women. Perceiving them to be "Indians," he ran home to his master scared that they would harm him. His fears arose from the negative images that his master and other whites painted of Native Americans. Elsewhere, Apess rejects the use of the disparaging term "Indian," pointing out its negative effects on the psyche of those who say it and hear it. 

Likewise, Easton, in his A Treatise on the Intellectual Character, and Civil and Political Condition of the Colored People of the U. States; and the Prejudice Exercised towards Them: With a Sermon of the Duty of the Church to Them (1837), highlights the dangerous effects of words, in his case "nigger." Easton writes, "Negro or nigger, is an opprobrious term, employed to impose contempt upon them as an inferior race, and also to express their deformity of person" (105). He then proceeds to discuss the way the term becomes a marker through its use in describing body parts, seats of discipline in schools, and as a specter who could come and discipline or take away a child when he or she becomes unruly. All of these uses, among whites, becomes "most disastrous upon the mind of the community; having been instructed from youth to look upon a black man in no other light than a slave, and having associated that idea the low calling of a slave, they cannot look upon him in any other light" (108).

What I did not consider upon first researching the connections between Easton and Apess was each activist's relation to the Methodist ministry. Grua notes that both men become linked together because each on did not have the ability to ascend to permanent places within the church ministry because of their race. When I begin to expand on this work, I plan to look at this aspect, especially in relation to the continued idea of sympathy and sentimentalism. What are your thoughts? What other links do you see between the authors mentioned in this post? As usual, let me know in the comments below. 

Note: Hosea Easton was possibly mixed race (African American and Wompanoag).

Easton, Hosea. To Heal the Scourge of Prejudice: The Life and Writings of Hosea Easton. Eds. George R. Price and James Brewer Stewart. Amherst: University of Massachusetts Press, 1999. 

Sweet Potato

As a child, I used to think I didn’t like sweet potatoes. When I grew older, I actually realized it wasn’t that I didn’t like sweet potatoes; I didn’t like the candy-coated, marshmallow-topped “sweet potato soufflés” that are often found on the Southern table. Now, during the fall and winter months, I eat sweet potatoes at least once a week. I absolutely love them. I crave roasted…

Left of Black S5:E5: New Black Southern Studies

Left of Black host and Duke University Professor Mark Anthony Neal is joined via Skype by University of Memphis Sociologist Zandria F. Robinson, author of This Ain't Chicago Race, Class, and Regional Identity in the Post-Soul South (UNC Press). Addressing the current state of Southern Studies, Professor Robinson highlights the efforts of fellow scholars “looking for that post-Civil Rights, Black Southern experience--how do we document that, how do we tell that story?” noting that “we can find it in hip-hop, we can find it in film, we can find it in visual art.”

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Left of Black is a weekly Webcast hosted by Mark Anthony Neal and produced in collaboration with the John Hope Franklin Center at Duke University and in conjunction with the Center for Arts, Digital Culture & Entrepreneurship (CADCE).

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Episodes of Left of Black are also available for free download in @ iTunes U

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Follow Left of Black on Twitter: @LeftofBlack

Follow Mark Anthony Neal on Twitter: @NewBlackMan

Author and NYT writer, Constance Rosenblum writes on "Celebrating the regional pride of University Presses" on the NYU Press blog.

Columbia University Press's blog features a post by Sheldon Pollock, who is the Arvind Raghunathan Professor of South Asian Studies at Columbia University. Pollock calls upon the university and its faculty to become more involved with university presses. CUP has a second post by Jennifer Crewe, editorial director and associate director at CUP, describes university presses’ willingness and ability to innovate to meet new intellectual and economic challenges.

University of North Carolina Press director John Sherer writes about his recent transition from New York trade publishing back to his roots at UNC Press, where he first began his career in publishing more than 20 years ago.

At the University of Alabama Press blog, Lila Quintero Weaver, first time author, tells us “Why University Presses Matter.”

"Open for Business" by University of Virginia Press author Catherine Allgor is available to read on UVA Press's blog.