Black Like Me, 50 Years Later
Last edited Sun Mar 2, 2014, 03:07 AM - Edit history (1)
John Howard Griffin gave readers an unflinching view of the Jim Crow South. How has his book held up?
By Bruce Watson
Smithsonian Magazine
John Howard Griffin, left in New Orleans in 1959, asked what "adjustments" a white man would have to make if he were black. (Don Rutledge)
John Howard Griffin had embarked on a journey unlike any other. Many black authors had written about the hardship of living in the Jim Crow South. A few white writers had argued for integration. But Griffin, a novelist of extraordinary empathy rooted in his Catholic faith, had devised a daring experiment. To comprehend the lives of black people, he had darkened his skin to become black. As the civil rights movement tested various forms of civil disobedience, Griffin began a human odyssey through the South, from New Orleans to Atlanta.
snip
“Black Like Me disabused the idea that minorities were acting out of paranoia,” says Gerald Early, a black scholar at Washington University and editor of Lure and Loathing: Essays on Race, Identity, and the Ambivalence of Assimilation. “There was this idea that black people said certain things about racism, and one rather expected them to say these things. Griffin revealed that what they were saying was true. It took someone from outside coming in to do that. And what he went through gave the book a remarkable sincerity.”
snip
Across the South in the summer of 1959, drinking fountains, restaurants and lunch counters still carried signs reading, “Whites Only.” Most Americans saw civil rights as a “Southern problem,” but Griffin’s theological studies had convinced him that racism was a human problem. “If a white man became a Negro in the Deep South,” he wrote on the first page of Black Like Me, “what adjustments would he have to make?” Haunted by the idea, Griffin decided to cross the divide. “The only way I could see to bridge the gap between us,” he would write, “was to become a Negro.”
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As the civil rights movement accelerated, Griffin gave more than a thousand lectures and befriended black spokesmen ranging from Dick Gregory to Martin Luther King Jr. Notorious throughout the South, he was trailed by cops and targeted by Ku Klux Klansmen, who brutally beat him one night on a dark road in 1964, leaving him for dead. By the late 1960s, however, the civil rights movement and rioting in Northern cities highlighted the national scale of racial injustice and overshadowed Griffin’s experiment in the South. Black Like Me, said activist Stokely Carmichael (Kwame Ture), “is an excellent book—for whites.” Griffin agreed; he eventually curtailed his lecturing on the book, finding it “absurd for a white man to presume to speak for black people when they have superlative voices of their own.”
Read more: http://www.smithsonianmag.com/arts-culture/black-like-me-50-years-later-74543463/#ixzz2ulJcEouv
= new reply since forum marked as read
Notice she gave it two out of five stars.
Cindy's review Apr 29, 09
2 of 5 stars
Read in February, 2009
Couldn't find the exact cover of the one that I read. My copy is very old and very dogeared. Looks like more people have it on thier to-read shelves than have actually read it. In fact it is an old paperback with the actual price of 60 cents as selling price. I have a hard time seeing skin color on people. I know that prejudice is really felt by people, especially in the era of this book. But i just don't feel it.
Thankfully, she doesn't feel it.
Racism, that is 
see posts above for Cindy's thoughtful analysis. I have told this story before, but here it goes again. In a grad school creativity class, I posted a poem titled "never trust the white man," which was something my blond haired, grey eyed great grandmother used to say. The poem was about her life, and why she clung to the drop of African blood in her makeup. The poem told the story of her life...we believe she and her brother were the orphaned children of slaveowners who were adopted by enslaved people. Anyhoo...to make a long story short, I got attacked by my fellow classmates for posting about her life. They did not want to hear about the white mob who forced my great grandparents to leave town in the middle of the night. They felt "offended" by my family's real life experiences. A friend told me: they are not used to hearing us, or our stories. She was right.
our lifetime, xfundy! 
