Herb Boyd, a stalwart of American journalism, education, and activism, has spent his life elevating the narratives of the African American community. Born on November 1, 1938, in Birmingham, Alabama, Boyd’s journey led him from the turbulent racial tensions of Detroit, Michigan, to becoming a celebrated figure in academia and writing.

His life is a testament to the indomitable spirit of a generation that stood up for civil rights and social change. Further, his connection to Malcolm X, a transformative leader, shaped his path early on. In a riveting interview inside the National Newspaper Publishers Association’s (NNPA) headquarters in Washington, Boyd discussed his life and career, which include authoring 30 books but, perhaps most importantly, fighting for freedom, justice, and equality.

“I call myself a Triple-A man. Not the automobile club, but activist, academic, and author,” Boyd said while inside the NNPA’s sprawling studios filming an episode of the PBS-TV and PBS-World show, The Chavis Chronicles. “The activist came first, and that put me in the streets and in contact with many vibrant leaders,” he recalled.

While not precisely a “Johnny Come Lately,” Boyd was in lockstep with other activists. But one has always touched him more deeply than any of the others. “Malcolm is my centerpiece; my activism grew out of him,” Boyd asserted.

It was in the early 1960s that Boyd met Malcolm X and attended one of his lectures at the Detroit Temple No. 1. He said the experience left an indelible mark on him, igniting his passion for activism. Malcolm’s emphasis on education led Boyd to enroll at Wayne State University, aligning his academic pursuits with his activist ideals.

Boyd’s leadership during Detroit’s activism-rich period of the 1960s set the stage for his subsequent contributions to academia and journalism. He said the parallel rhythms of Detroit and Harlem, both significant hubs of African American culture and political engagement, deeply resonated.

“These cities became the crucibles in which my ideals took shape,” Boyd insisted. A columnist for the New York Amsterdam News, Boyd’s work includes a prolific collection of books that delve into African American history, culture, and civil rights struggles.

Titles like “Autobiography of a People,” “Jazz Space Detroit,” and “African History for Beginners” stand as monuments to his dedication to preserving and amplifying the stories of the marginalized. Writing, for Boyd, is a form of activism – a way to give voice to those who lived through history and to expose the injustices that must be confronted.

Throughout his career, Boyd has garnered numerous awards and honors, including the American Book Award in collaboration with Robert Allen and several first-place awards from the New York Association of Black Journalists.

“Our history is a testament to our resilience,” Boyd stated. “From the horrors of slavery to the civil rights movement, African Americans have never wavered in their pursuit of progress. Our challenges today require unity and a commitment to healing and progress. Just as the 1960s were a vital period, we’re still grappling with understanding that era’s impact and lessons. The path forward involves learning from history, bridging divisions, and continuing the fight for justice with hope and determination.”

Watch Boyd and others this fall on The Chavis Chronicles on PBS.

The post Herb Boyd: A Lifetime of Activism, Writing, and Legacy appeared first on New York Amsterdam News.

* This article was originally published here

EDITOR’S NOTE: This article was originally published on June 30, 2019

Several dyears ago, Louis Sharp called the Amsterdam News seeking assistance on a historical item. He was trying to verify something he remembered from his past.

In 1963, he was a volunteer working with Bayard Rustin, the key coordinator of that year’s March on Washington. He wanted to install a plaque in the Apollo Theater, where the headquarters of the march was located, but to do so, he needed proof that Rustin operated from this site.

A reporter at the AmNews was able to find two sources to show that Rustin indeed worked out of the Apollo, but he also worked out of Friendship Baptist Church on 130th Street, where the Rev. Thomas Kilgore was the pastor, and where James Kilgore, of no relation, is the current pastor.

“The offices were staffed by more than a hundred volunteers and paid workers,” wrote Jervis Anderson in his biography of the great leader “Troubles I’ve Seen.”

Now that Sharp, who doesn’t recall working at the church, has his proof, it’s a matter of getting the Apollo to accede to his wishes. If that doesn’t work, he should consider placing the plaque at the church. One of the most famous photos of Rustin at work, with a phone in one hand and a cigarette in the other, was taken at the church.

It was from this station that the irrepressible Rustin coordinated one of the largest demonstrations in U.S. history. Orchestrating the transportation alone—the hundreds of buses scheduled to descend upon the nation’s capital—was enough to exasperate the most inexhaustible worker.

But this was nothing for the tireless Rustin, who, as A. Philip Randolph’s right-hand man, was also significantly involved in the threatened March on Washington in 1941, one in which President Franklin D. Roosevelt surrendered to with the promise to end racial discrimination, particularly in plants so important in the manufacture of military weapons and material.

Aug. 28, 1963, was clearly a glorious day in the life of Dr. Martin Luther King and Randolph. “As the thousands dispersed—there were a quarter of million in attendance—from the Lincoln Memorial, singing ‘We Shall Overcome,’ Rustin saw Randolph standing alone at a deserted end of the platform. He walked over and put an arm around the old man.” Anderson recounted. “I could see he was tired,” Rustin once recalled, according to Anderson. Rustin continued: “I said to him, ‘Mister Randolph, it seems that your dream has come true.’ And when I looked into his eyes, tears were streaming down his cheeks. It was the one time I can recall that he could not hold back his feelings.’”

Yes, it was a grand moment for Randolph and King, but we should not ignore the vital role Rustin played in bringing this enormous affair together. It was also sad that King had succumbed earlier to pressure from Adam Clayton Powell Jr.’s threat to expose Rustin’s homosexuality if his presence at the march wasn’t minimized.

Rustin may have been shoved out of the spotlight, but that was never a problem for him. Though he was a fantastic speaker and performer, he was just as comfortable and competent behind the scenes, and this is something that Randolph recognized and deeply appreciated.

Thousands gathered again to commemorate the 50th anniversary of that great day in 2013, and as they assemble, let us hope that a moment was taken to pay homage to Bayard Rustin in the same way that Louis Sharp tried to in his own determined way.

The post Bayard Rustin: the March on Washington and its ties to Harlem appeared first on New York Amsterdam News.

* This article was originally published here