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The case for uppercase: Commentary on style, dignity, and Black culture

I spent the first five years of my journalism career as a sportswriter, in a newsroom that sorely lacked diversity. Looking back on my tenure, I can count the number of Black journalists, including myself, on one hand. I left that particular publication to start my career at an African American newspaper. The change was profound. It was a smaller newspaper, yet a more soulful 苍别飞蝉辫补辫别谤.听

One of the first lessons I learned at that Black publication was the importance of the word 鈥淏lack.鈥� I learned the distinction between 鈥淏lack鈥� in terms of race and 鈥渂lack鈥� in terms of the color of an item. The capitalization of the 鈥淏鈥� in Black when it comes to race is a cultural, political, and spiritual act. It gives power to the idea of being Black in opposition to and defiance of white supremacy and a white-dominated society.

The case for uppercase has roots in African American history and specifically in Black journalism. The discussion dates back to an 1878 editorial from Ferdinand Lee Barnett, the founding editor of The (Chicago) Conservator monthly newspaper. Barnett, who championed the cause of capitalizing the word 鈥淣egro,鈥� expressed in his 鈥淪pell It With A Capital鈥� editorial that the failure of white people to capitalize 鈥淣egro鈥� was to 鈥渟how disrespect, to indicate a stigma, and to fasten on a badge of inferiority.鈥�

Fifteen years later, a Black female journalist, educator, and anti-lynching activist began to write for The Conservator 鈥� Ida B. Wells. She and Barnett married in 1895, after which she became the owner and editor of the publication.聽After being denigrated during her lifetime by The New York Times and other press, Wells was posthumously awarded the Pulitzer Prize just last month, almost 90 years after her death.聽

Another noted civil rights activist took up the capitalization cause near the turn of the century 鈥撀燱.E.B. Du Bois. The famous sociologist, and Harvard University鈥檚 first Black doctorate recipient,聽wrote a social study titled 鈥淭he Philadelphia Negro,鈥� in which he made a powerful declaration through a modest footnote:

鈥淚 shall, moreover, capitalize the word (Negro), because I believe that eight million Americans are entitled to a capital letter.鈥�

Du Bois鈥� footnote, however modest, may be the most important in Black literature, by virtue of its dedication to humanity. That was also the purpose of Du Bois鈥� 15-month study, which sought to 鈥減resent the results of an inquiry undertaken by the University of Pennsylvania into the condition of the forty thousand or more people of Negro blood now living in the city of Philadelphia.鈥� The study was a revelatory look into the lives of Black people:聽

Their occupations and daily life, their homes, their organizations, and, above all, their relation to their million white fellow-citizens.

In short, it was a look at despair and disparity. The end goal was to 鈥渓ay before the public such a body of information as may be a safe guide for all efforts toward the solution of the many Negro problems of a great American city.鈥�

The capitalization of the 鈥淣鈥� in Negro, of the 鈥淏鈥� in Black, isn鈥檛 just an act of anger or audacity 鈥� it鈥檚 an act of advocacy.

Du Bois later established Phylon, a semiannual peer-reviewed academic journal that covered race and culture from a Black perspective, at Atlanta University (later Clark Atlanta University) in 1940. Close to 35 years after Phylon was founded, Donald L. Grant and Mildred Bricker Grant published a journal article titled 鈥淪ome Notes on the Capital 鈥楴.鈥欌�� It was a nine-page article that captured the highlights of the case for capitalization, all the way up to the Black Power movement of the 1960s.

The article鈥檚 opening paragraph outlines the tireless battle for respect and dignity:

Although Juliet asked, 鈥淲hat鈥檚 in a name?鈥� and maintained that 鈥渁 rose by any other name would smell as sweet,鈥� black people in the United States have been much concerned with the terms used in their identification as a distinct group. Stripped by the slave system of their tribal or national designations, the people of African descent in the United States have accepted a variety of designations while rejecting those they have considered derogatory or degrading. Men of color, Colored, Negro, Afro-American, and Freedmen are but a few of the terms that have been acceptable to various Black Americans at various times. From the age of Booker T. Washington to the post-World War II Freedom Movement, the term Negro, the Spanish word for black, was the one most widely accepted. During this period blacks waged a campaign to win acceptance of the practice of spelling Negro with a capital 鈥淣,鈥� rather than with the belittling small 鈥渘.鈥� Since all other racial and ethnic designations were capitalized, the small 鈥渘鈥� was just one more form of discrimination.

These notes, in a journal literally birthed from one of the original champions of the case for uppercase, went on to highlight how cultural pride turned into power:

The increased militancy among blacks which developed from the Great Migration, the Harlem Renaissance, and World War I experiences was reflected in increased pressures from blacks to capitalize Negro. When Marcus Garvey鈥檚 Universal Negro Improvement Association met for its great convention in New York City in 1920, the eleventh of fifty-four statements in its 鈥淒eclaration of Rights鈥� was: 鈥淲e deprecate the use of the term 鈥榥i鈥攅r鈥� as applied to Negroes and demand that the word 鈥淣egro鈥� be written with a capital 鈥楴.鈥欌��

This debate 鈥� and historical oppression of style 鈥� is ironic. Black people have contributed so much to American culture,聽from聽fashion and dance to art and literature. It鈥檚 very difficult to experience a commercial on TV today without a catchy, hip-hop tune or posturing. This appropriation and exploitation of Black culture 鈥撀爏ans Black people 鈥� reminds me of a lament seen on social media: 鈥淭hey want our rhythm, but not our blues.鈥�

White supremacy has capitalized off of Black style 鈥� and struggle 鈥� for generations. It has no place to tell me whether I can capitalize the name of my race. It鈥檚 not enough for Black 鈥� with a capital 鈥淏鈥� 鈥� to be a right. It should be a universal rule.

Ken Makin is a freelance writer and the host of the 鈥淢akin鈥� A Difference鈥� podcast. You can follow him on Twitter聽@differencemakin.