Commentary

COMMENTARY: The Miseducation Of Black Public Intellectuals

THE AFRO — It was twenty-five years ago this week that I stood outside of the Elmina Castle in Ghana with a small group of friends and made a joint commitment to fight to help to co-create the type of world that we believe that we needed to live in. I was committed to fighting for a world where the very ideas of peace and social justice and equality and wholeness would be commonplace and wide-spread. I have always believed that every mountain wanted to be climbed, every ocean wanted to be crossed, and every dream once spoken out loud wanted to be realized.

Published

7 years ago

October 1, 2019

Oakland Post

Dr. Kaye Wise Whitehead (Courtesy Photo)

By Karsonya Wise Whitehead

It was twenty-five years ago this week that I stood outside of the Elmina Castle in Ghana with a small group of friends and made a joint commitment to fight to help to co-create the type of world that we believe that we needed to live in. I was committed to fighting for a world where the very ideas of peace and social justice and equality and wholeness would be commonplace and wide-spread. I have always believed that every mountain wanted to be climbed, every ocean wanted to be crossed, and every dream once spoken out loud wanted to be realized.

We laughed that night and talked about how we did not want to hide our work in an ivory tower, and we wanted to stay engaged. We said that we were going to be radicals, no matter the cost or where it took us. We wanted to be Black public intellectual radicals even if we did not know at the time what that meant. Back then, it meant that while our peers were starting their careers, we were climbing Mount Kilimanjaro and walking through the last place that captured Africans saw before they were kidnapped from their land. It meant writing and publishing our work in newspapers and chapbooks, compiling our books at the local Kinkos, and selling them out of our trunks. It meant wearing our hair natural, listening to The Last Poets, and trying not to sell-out and get a job where we had to sell pieces of our soul to stay alive.

Back then, it was about the show and not the substance; the flash and not the back-breaking work; and immediate gratification and not the slow walk to justice. It was about overthrowing the system from the outside and not trying to reform it from within. Today, 25 years later, it means something else. Mychal Denzel Smith wrote that the role of the public intellectual is to proffer new ideas, encourage deep thinking, challenge norms, and model forms of debate that enrich our discourse. For Black public intellectuals that work delves deep into questions around white supremacy, white nationalism, and White racism. For me, it means that I allow my activism to expand into every facet of who I am because, as Audre Lorde once wrote, the personal is always political.

In a 2015 essay for The New Republic, Michael Eric Dyson described a Black digital intelligentsia as a community of Black writers and activists who were engaging in critical thinking work online. He said that they worked to “contend with the issues of the day, online, on television, wherever they can.” I wrestle with this today as I work to reconcile the radical I was back then with the radical academic that I am right now. I am working within the system, still struggling, still fighting but bending my life a little bit every day to fit my job. I still wonder what the role of a Black public intellectual is. Is it to speak to White people about race or is about profoundly engaging with the questions that have plagued Black people since we first arrived in this country? Questions like, “who are we?” Who do we want to become? Why are we here? And what does freedom look like when it is defined by us and applied to us?

As a Black public intellectual, I know that I stand on the shoulders of all of those who have come before me—Ida B. Wells, Alice Dunbar Nelson, Audre Lorde, and Lucille Clifton Black women who loved Black people and challenged whiteness in their writing and in their lives. I stand taller knowing that I stand on truth as much as I can. I stand side by side with justice as often as I can. I stand up to questions about equality when I can. And, I stand ready to lift as I climb knowing that the view on the top is better if the space is shared with all who desire to see. I stand here because Harriet ran, Ella organized, Ida wrote, Bessie flew, Dorothy knitted, Mary taught, Fannie got tired, Sweet Honey sang, Assata resisted, Barbara spoke up, Rosa and Claudette didn’t get up, Angela couldn’t be stopped, Coretta picked up the dream, and Shirley brought her own chair, Constance argued and changed the law, and because I am a descendant of enslaved and freed Black women who chose to survive who decided to go forward rather than backward.

I recognize my privilege, and I embrace the complications that come with seeking and demanding and claiming space in this country, at this time. 25 years later, and one thing remains the same: I still believe that this country is a beautiful place and that we, collectively, can change it, shape it, coax it, and cajole it to be a better place. We can be the ones that we have been waiting for, and we must be the ones who take back our country, piece by piece, vote by vote, without ever stopping, relenting, giving up, or giving in. Baltimore is not Elmina Castle, but I stand here like I stood there ready to commit, ready to fight, and ready to engage.

Karsonya Wise Whitehead (todaywithdrkaye@gmail.com; Twitter: @kayewhitehead) is the #blackmommyactivist and an associate professor of communication and African and African American studies at Loyola University Maryland. She is the host of “Today With Dr. Kaye” on WEAA 88.9 FM and the author of the forthcoming book, “i speak for the unforgotten: a year of dispatches from Baltimore.” She lives in Baltimore City with her husband and their two sons.

Disclaimer: The views and opinions expressed in this article do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of The Afro-American Newspapers.

This article originally appeared in The Afro.

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Black History

IN MEMORIAM: The Rev. Leon “Sonny” Clark, Longtime Orange County Pastor and Community Leader, Dies at 72

Rev. Leon William “Sonny” Clark, the longtime pastor of New Spirit Baptist Church in Santa Ana and a prominent faith and community leader in Orange County, passed away on September 9 at the age of 72. Born in Bennettsville, South Carolina, Clark was a U.S. Navy veteran who dedicated his life to service. He served various Southern California churches before leading New Spirit Baptist Church for over 22 years, extending his work into counseling, mentoring, and civic engagement, and supporting the African American community. To learn more about his life and contributions, read more.

Published

2 days ago

September 28, 2026

Post News Group

The Rev. Leon “Sonny” Clark. File photo.

By Bo Tefu, California Black Media

Rev. Leon William “Sonny” Clark, longtime pastor of New Spirit Baptist Church in Santa Ana and a respected faith and community leader in Orange County, died Sept. 9. He was 72.

Born Oct. 2, 1953, in Bennettsville, South Carolina, Clark was a U.S. Navy veteran who later built a life of service centered on family, faith, ministry, and community.

Clark began his formal ministry at Metropolitan Baptist Church in Altadena in 1978. After acknowledging his call to ministry in 1980, he preached his first sermon and went on to serve churches throughout Southern California, including Second Baptist Church in Riverside, Mount Vernon Baptist Church in Rubidoux, Antioch Missionary Baptist Church in Pomona, and Friendship Baptist Church in Yorba Linda.

In November 2003, Clark was called to lead New Spirit Baptist Church in Santa Ana, where he served as pastor for more than 22 years. His work extended beyond the pulpit through counseling, mentoring, civic engagement, and efforts to strengthen Orange County’s African American community.

Clark served on the Orange County Heritage Council and supported efforts to preserve and celebrate African American history and culture. He helped organize the Orange County Black History Parade and Unity Festival, served on the Interfaith Committee and the Orange County Transit Authority, and served as president of the Orange County Ministers Conference.

In 2024, the City of Santa Ana recognized Clark for his contributions to the community. He also received the Orange County Southern Baptist Association Hall of Faith Award and was previously honored as Pastor of the Year by the Orange County Heritage Council.

Clark is survived by his wife, Andrea Joyles Clark; six children, Shawn Williams, Le Ondra Clark Harvey, Kyla Coward, Joshua Clark, Marissa Clark and Ashley Clark; grandchildren and great-grandchildren; siblings; extended family; and the New Spirit Baptist Church congregation.

A wake will be held Thursday, Oct. 1, from 4 to 8 p.m. at New Spirit Baptist Church, 701 S. Sullivan St. in Santa Ana, with a remembrance service from 5 to 6:30 p.m.

A Celebration of Life will be held Friday, Oct. 2, at Friendship Baptist Church, 17145 Bastanchury Road in Yorba Linda. Viewing begins at noon, followed by the service at 1 p.m.

Burial will take place Monday, Oct. 5, at 10:15 a.m. at Riverside National Cemetery.

Clark often shared a guiding principle that shaped his ministry: “Start where you are. Use what you have. Do what you can.”

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Black History

Remembering Chauncey Bailey as Student Journalists Face Threats to Truth-Telling

Nearly two decades ago, Oakland Post reporter and editor-in-chief Chauncey Bailey was tragically murdered for investigating a crooked business. His assassination shocked the journalism world and is remembered as student journalists today face increasing threats and censorship. A former classmate of Bailey and chair of the Student Press Law Center notes a significant rise in calls from students seeking legal advice amid a hostile environment. This situation highlights the importance of protecting young journalists and their pursuit of truth. Read more to learn about Bailey’s legacy and current challenges facing student press.

Published

3 days ago

September 27, 2026

Post News Group

By Steven A. Holmes Special to The Post

It is nearly 20 years since Chauncey Bailey, a crusading journalist, was murdered

on an Oakland street corner, gunned down to prevent him from writing stories about a

crooked business.

I hope people remember Bailey, a reporter and editor-in-chief for the

Oakland Post, the city’s Black newspaper. He had already written several articles about

the problems of a business called Your Muslim Bakery and was working on another

when the bakery’s owner ordered an employee to kill Bailey.

His murder shocked the journalism world that found the idea of an American

reporter killed for doing his job unfathomable. For me, the shock and sadness were also

personal.

I knew Bailey. In the mid-1970s we were classmates in the Michelle Clark Memorial

Foundation program, the precursor to the Institute for Journalism Education Summer

Program. A program, backed by the Ford Foundation, that provided intensive training

for fledgling minority journalism students and then placed them in jobs at newspapers

and television stations.

I’m reminded of Bailey and that program when I visit the East Bay at the end of

September to discuss the future of student journalism. To me, the visit will not only

evoke memories of Bailey. It will also be an opportunity to hone strategies to protect and

support student journalists who are under attack today, maybe not in the way that took away Chauncey Bailey, but an attack, nonetheless.

Spurred by the hostility toward the free press emanating out of Washington, high

school and college journalists are facing a barrage of censorship and harassment from

school administrators and local officials.

The 24-hour hotline staffed by the Student Press Law Center (SPLC), the non-profit I chair, has seen a 35% increase in calls from student journalists seeking legal advice on censorship, libel and copyright issues during the past two years, as well as a tripling in the number of complaints of harassment, including threats of firing, of faculty advisors.

I am not suggesting today’s national climate is as dangerous as the murderous

intentions of Yusef Bey IV, the man who ordered Bailey’s assassination. But the

harassment of student journalists does kill something else. It can destroy the desire of

student journalists to continue their growth to become professional news gatherers and

producers – something the country will always need.

It is that professional maturation that I’m reminded of when I think back on Chauncey

Bailey.

Truth be told, when we were classmates back in 1974 Bailey was the class clown,

known more for his sardonic wit than his writing or reporting talent. I have vivid

memories of Bailey sitting at his desk in the back of the room regaling us with sarcastic

comments. Sure, he was funny.

And he didn’t exhibit the level of reporting skills of our other classmates such as Milton Coleman who went on to be the Deputy Managing Editor of the Washington Post or Alexis Scott who for years has run the Atlanta Daily World.

After a series of reporting jobs in Hartford, Connecticut, Detroit, Michigan, and Oakland, Bailey had risen in talent and skill to helm this very newspaper. A tip from a source led Bailey to look into the possibility that Bey was running Your Muslim Bakery into bankruptcy. Word that Bailey was working on that story filtered back to Bey who ordered the journalist killed.

On August 2, 2007, Bailey was shot three times at point-blank range as he walked to work.

So, when I think of my trip to the East Bay my thoughts go to journalism’s past

represented by Chauncey Bailey’s sacrifice and what the staff and the board of SPLC

can do to secure the current and future work of student journalists.

Steven A. Holmes is a former Pulitzer Prize-winning journalist. His novel “Black Messiahs” was published in May this year.