While Gordon’s desire to advance black emigration to Liberia appeared anachronistic, it reflected an aspect of black nationalist thought that remained prominent among a cohort of older activists and intellectuals during the 1950s. In the United States, other veteran black nationalists, including longtime UNIA activist Ethel M. Collins, supported black emigration to Liberia. Under the auspices of the Rehabilitation Committee—a group established in 1943 for the purpose of reviving the UNIA and advancing Marcus Garvey’s mission—Collins and other UNIA activists organized mass community meetings in Detroit in which they emphasized the need and significance for blacks to relocate to the West African nation.43
In the late 1940s, members of an offshoot of the PME also supported the Langer Bill. Chicago-based black nationalist activist Lucreacy (Lucrecia) Rockmore, the wife of former PME leader Joseph Rockmore, supported efforts to relocate to Liberia and publicly backed efforts to pass the Langer Bill. Lucreacy had been a member of the PME during the 1930s along with her husband, Joseph Rockmore—a member of the organization’s 1938 delegation to Liberia. Along with David Logan, Joseph had traveled to Liberia on behalf of the PME to observe conditions on the ground in preparation for relocation plans. In the months following the trip to Liberia, the relationship between Rockmore and Gordon grew sour after Gordon caught wind of his efforts to launch his own organization. Other PME members alleged that Rockmore stole some of the funds the PME had raised for emigration plans.44
During the early 1940s, he and his wife had launched their own black nationalist organization in Chicago called the Sons and Daughters of Africa, Inc. to facilitate plans for relocation to Liberia on their own terms. Relying on some of the contacts Rockmore had made during his 1938 visit to Liberia, the Sons and Daughters of Africa, Inc. hoped to hasten black emigration to Liberia during the Great Depression. While the specific membership numbers are unclear, the Sons and Daughters of Africa, Inc. attracted a following of mostly disaffected members of the PME who were frustrated with the slow pace of progress toward realizing emigration plans. In April 1941, during a heated argument over Rockmore’s alleged theft, a PME organizer in Chicago fatally shot Rockmore and injured his wife, Lucreacy.45 Determined to advance the cause of emigration in her husband’s absence, Lucreacy launched a new organization in the late 1940s—now called America’s Sons and Daughters Association, Inc.46
Similar to the PME, America’s Sons and Daughters Association, Inc. publicly endorsed black emigration. However, unlike the PME, the organization focused on identifying and training skilled workers who might be able to help improve Liberia’s destabilized economy. “In our organization we have skilled people in agricultural and building construction,” Lucreacy explained in a 1949 letter to Cox. “We [are] preparing to have those skilled in their respective trades to teach those who desire to learn,” she continued. Relying on an earlier promise by former Liberian President Edwin Barclay—who claimed he would back African American relocation to Liberia during the 1930s if prospective emigrants had certain skills and capital—Lucreacy Rockmore held fast to Liberian dreams.
From her base in Kingston, Jamaica, Amy Jacques Garvey followed suit. Like Lucreacy Rockmore, Jacques Garvey imagined the postwar era as an opportune moment to revive efforts to advance black emigration to Liberia. While Rockmore worked diligently to build a base of support for her cause in the United States, Jacques Garvey made one last-ditch effort to revive Theodore Bilbo’s original Greater Liberia Bill.47 During the late 1940s, she launched yet another letter-writing campaign, seeking to convince others to back the bill in an effort to improve the lives of black men and women in the diaspora. Moreover, she saw racial separatism—by way of emigration to Liberia—as a practical way to remedy many of the social challenges facing people of African descent in the United States and on the African continent. “Both materially and spiritually (meaning racially and socially),” she insisted, “black and white will benefit [from emigration].”48 Once again, her appeal fell on deaf ears.
Although most veteran black nationalists advocated black emigration without ever setting foot on the African continent, some managed to relocate to Liberia during the postwar era. Amy Ashwood was among this cohort of black nationalist activists and intellectuals. In 1946, with the help of her old friend Lapido Solanke from the West African Students’ Union (WASU), Ashwood relocated to Monrovia, where she developed a close relationship with Liberian President William V. S. Tubman.49 In a 1946 letter to Tubman, she emphasized the longstanding pride and respect she had for Liberia, describing it as “the only Black republic in Africa.”50 Ashwood was so excited about Liberia that she made attempts to become a Liberian citizen, emphasizing her pride and her desire to help improve the nation’s political standing and image on the international stage.51 “I have read many books [and] newspaper articles published on Liberia,” Ashwood explained to President Tubman, “and noticed that the trend has invariably been to degrade, expose the country to ridicule and make capital out of any deficiencies from which all countries founded on similar grounds must struggle to fulfill their destiny.”
“Because of the pride I now feel in becoming a Liberian citizen,” she continued, “and because I know of the aims, aspirations and hope of millions of denationalized Blacks who look with jealous pride to [Liberia]; I not only beseech or recommend, but I demand that [a] Cultural Relations Department be established.” This Cultural Relations Department would be responsible for disseminating accurate information on Liberia’s history and culture to various publicity outlets. Moreover, this proposed department would create “libraries, women’s voluntary services . . . recreation camps, playgrounds, parks, old folks homes [and] social clubs” in an effort to counter public criticisms of Liberia as being underdeveloped. In so doing, Ashwood insisted that these developments would attract “qualified and ambitious and well trained people of African descent from all over the world.” She envisioned that a Cultural Relations Department would help to “promote a better understanding between Liberians and other races [and] encourage and inspire National patriotism in the hearts of the people.”52
On the surface, Ashwood’s suggestions appear to be well-meaning attempts to improve conditions in Liberia. Yet, her recommendations shed light on Ashwood’s civilizationist outlook—one that was characteristic of other black nationalists during this period. Her statements offer a glimpse into how black nationalists often viewed Liberia as a symbol of hope and freedom while embracing a civilizationist impulse of racial uplift.53 Rather than addressing the economic and political challenges that Liberia was facing during this period, Ashwood appeared to be far more concerned with enhancing Liberia’s image abroad. She was also deeply concerned about the kind of people Liberia might attract, emphasizing the need for “qualified and ambitious and well trained people” who would help to modernize the country. These statements underscore how Ashwood’s engagement with Liberians was very much circumscribed by Western ideas and attitudes about modernity.54 In this way, Ashwood’s perspectives stood in direct contrast to those of civil rights activists and intellectuals such as Paul Robeson, chairman of the Council of African Affairs (CAA), who eschewed racial uplift ideology and argued that Africans would liberate themselves.55
From 1946 to 1949, Ashwood resided in Liberia, traveling across the country to meet with African officials and other leaders in an effort to forge new political connections.56 Much like she had done before World War II, she also spoke before audiences of black women, addressing the need to expand the rights and opportunities for women of African descent on the continent and throughout the diaspora. Her manuscript, Mother Africa, which she began writing while in Liberia, discussed her admiration for Liberia—and the African continent as a whole—as well as her concerns about the unique challenges facing West African women.57 Ashwood’s sojourn to Liberia and the time she spent residing in Monrovia underscore the place of prominence Liberia held among veteran black nationalists in the postwar era.
Significantly, Ashwood’s
experiences mirrored those of James R. Stewart—Marcus Garvey’s successor in the UNIA. In 1949, Stewart relocated to Monrovia with his family after several years of leading the new UNIA headquarters from Cleveland, Ohio. Determined to advance the cause of “African redemption,” Stewart established a new home in Liberia and worked to revive a local UNIA chapter. There he led a chapter of the UNIA in Monrovia from the late 1940s to 1964, working alongside local activists committed to advancing African nationalism.
In 1949, Stewart, with the assistance of President Tubman, established a UNIA settlement called “Liberty Farm” on 200 acres of land in the remote community of Gbandela. The commercial farm in Liberia, which featured an elementary school and several modern buildings, provided a space for Stewart and other UNIA members to advance the goals of racial separatism, black political autonomy, and economic self-sufficiency. Several UNIA activists from the United States relocated to Liberia to join Stewart on “Liberty Farm” during the late 1940s.58 Similar to Ashwood, Stewart and his supporters maintained a civilizationist outlook, desiring to improve conditions in Liberia largely on their own terms. To that end, they envisioned their efforts as crucial steps toward civilizing Liberians—often cloaked in the language of “modernization.”59
Veteran black nationalists, including James Stewart, Amy Ashwood, and Lucreacy Rockmore, maintained the belief that Liberia provided the ideal site from which to advance black liberation and nation building. While the challenges facing Liberia during the 1940s were not remarkably different from the 1930s—the nation was still steeped in debt, and tensions between elite Americo-Liberians and indigenous groups persisted—these men and women continued to view Liberia as a source of hope and opportunity. This particular stance underscored one key distinction between an older generation of black nationalists and younger activists. By and large, a new generation of black nationalists in the postwar era had little interest in Liberia—even as they were committed to African liberation and engaged with activists on the continent.
Black nationalists, old and young, believed that black people would never be able to experience full equality in the United States. In their view, efforts to advance citizenship rights were meaningful but failed to overturn a system of white supremacy that shaped the very foundations of the United States. From the vantage point of many older black nationalists, emigration was still a relevant and even necessary response to white supremacy. Even as the United States underwent an unprecedented period of social change during the 1950s, Gordon insisted that a black nationalist agenda was one that fully embraced black emigration to West Africa. “We are strictly nationalist,” she argued, “and [therefore] we want our own nation in our own country, Africa.”60 Despite her assertion, this matter remained a fraught issue among those who embraced black nationalism.61 For many younger black nationalists, the liberation of Africa and the establishment of black governments would end colonialism, prove black capability, and provide a figurative and actual homeland for black people.
If black nationalists could not agree on the specific terms of racial separatism, domestic civil rights activists were certainly unsympathetic to that cause. During the 1950s, black political leaders in mainstream organizations such as the NAACP continued to resist black emigration as a political strategy. Gordon categorically dismissed these individuals as “intellectuals,” underscoring what she perceived as their disconnect with the black masses. Referencing the biblical Christmas story, Gordon argued, “It is a strange thing to us that history fails to teach people anything. Don’t they know it was the shepherd boys that saw the star of Bethlehem? The intellectuals of our race will never support a back to Africa program [because] they fail to see the star.”62 In a letter to George W. Armstrong, a white supremacist judge residing in Mississippi, PME activists pointed out that there were “many self-respecting people of African descent, who have been working for many years trying to go back to Africa, where we were kidnapped from and brought here against our will.”63 Their emphasis on “self-respecting people of African descent” alludes to the class tensions at the center of much of these public debates on black emigration. In effect, by employing this phrase, PME members were sending the clear message that black people who desired to leave the United States—regardless of their educational background or socioeconomic status—equally deserved to be recognized and respected.
During the 1950s, Gordon and her supporters attempted to draw a clear line between their political work and the efforts of mainstream civil rights leaders. Even as both groups were united by a common desire to liberate black people, differences in approaches and political strategies rose to the surface. Reflecting their commitment to black separatism and economic self-sufficiency, PME activists argued, “We want a free independent nation of our own in Africa where we can build our own military [academies] and such other institutions as we as a nation see fit.”64 Emphasizing distinctions between some of her political interests and those of civil rights activists, Gordon criticized efforts to integrate schools and other public spaces. Although many black activists celebrated the Supreme Court’s 1954 decision in Brown v. Board of Education to integrate public schools, Gordon saw the development as a pointless feat: “Suppose we do mix the schools, don’t you still have the race problem? It is a waste of time and many innocent lives [lost] to try to mix the schools.”65 “We have mixed schools in the North and here in the [Midwest] and it does not help the race issue [one] bit,” she added. Appealing directly to white Americans, Gordon argued, “We [know] that we are no longer wanted in the United States . . . [therefore] assist us in getting federal aid to send us to all parts of Africa; instead of resorting to bloodshed; as is going on in Alabama, Florida, and Tennessee.” Alluding to the Montgomery bus boycott, Gordon maintained, “We [would] rather be in Africa riding in an ox wagon, rather than being in America fighting the White man about his bus.”66 Though her comments were meant to shed light on the limitations of the Civil Rights Movement, they also reflected her image of Africa as a relatively backward place.
Despite the problematic way she defended her commitment to black emigration in this instance, Gordon tried to help others understand the practicality of her proposal. Beyond a utopian ideal of constructing an independent black nation in Africa, Gordon envisioned relocation as a solution to addressing the social ills facing people of African descent during the 1950s. She pointed to an overcrowded job market and housing discrimination as factors that contributed to African Americans’ inability to experience upward social mobility: “We are being pushed around worse now than ever due to the displaced persons of Europe being brought into this country. It is impossible to get a place to live with money. There are just no houses for us and something must be done.”67 “All decent houses and jobs are being provided for the white people . . . the white people coming in here from Europe are crowding us out,” Gordon added.68 Therefore, she insisted that relocating to Africa would help lift black people out of the depths of poverty.
More specifically, she imagined finding a wealth of job opportunities on the continent: “We hope to make our own jobs . . . we first want farms to produce our own food. Then we will be able to build any kind of industry that we can get facilities to build.”69 With these goals in mind, she pointedly and passionately asked, “How long shall we have to wait for something to be done for the poor black peoples of this country? We should have been in Africa long ago,” she reasoned.70 While few black Americans disagreed with Gordon’s perspectives on the challenges facing people of African descent in the United States, most rejected Gordon’s proposed solution to leave the country. Despite Gordon’s best efforts, many continued to dismiss her views. By her own account, several mainstream black newspapers refused to publish any of her articles on the issue of emigration.71
By the mid-1950s, the prospects of securing federal assistance to relocate to Africa were rapidly disappearing. And as the modern Civil Rights Movement gained increasing momentum, Gordon and her supporters found themselves grasping
at straws. Senator Langer’s bill, much like Bilbo’s, never moved any further than the Senate floor. “The condition of the world is so dark for black people,” Gordon painfully observed in 1954, “it is hard to believe that our government will do anything for us. They seem to have forgotten all about the suffering slaves in America.”72 In one instance, she tried to obtain support from the American Colonization Society (ACS), but the organization’s leaders were no longer interested in black emigration. Naturally, Gordon grew discouraged, recognizing that her efforts would not yield the immediate and tangible results she desired. At the same time, she maintained a glimmer of hope as she witnessed conditions improving for people of African descent across the globe. In one of the last letters she wrote before her passing, Gordon expressed a profound of sense of joy over victories gained in African liberation struggles: “We are so grateful to [know] there are . . . colonies [in Africa] free now.”73
If the wave of independence victories on the African continent signaled to black activists that global black liberation was imminent, then it signaled to veteran black nationalists that black emigration was perhaps more likely than ever before. No doubt it was an indication that there were now more options available beyond Liberia as a potential site for black relocation. These new potential sites included Ghana, which became a new prospect for emigration following the nation’s independence in March 1957. Indeed, by the late 1950s, Ghana emerged as a symbol of triumph and hope for black men and women everywhere.74 Liberia, which had long occupied the black nationalist imagination, gradually became less significant for many veteran black nationalists desiring to witness firsthand the unraveling of colonial rule in Africa. In the late 1950s, Benjamin Gibbons, who had been a passionate champion for emigration to Liberia, identified Ghana along with Guinea and Nigeria as new prospects for black relocation.75 Even Gordon lost the passion for Liberia in the late 1950s, viewing Ghana and other African nations as new viable options.76
Set the World on Fire Page 23