Group items matching

in title, tags, annotations or url

During the African-American Civil Rights Movement, it was the black churches that held the leadership role. Black churches were the main points of operations in regards to the Civil Rights Movement.

Instead, women formed missionary societies to address all manner of local and international needs, from the support of job training in their communities to funding for African American missionaries to Africa. They worked on urban ills, established reading groups, and advocated for better living conditions. They also wrote for religious periodicals, promoting quite traditional ideals of Victorian womanhood, respectability, and racial uplift. Women also continued work among their less fortunate counterparts in the rural South, in what continued to be an uneasy alliance. Like male religious leaders, too, they protested the creeping effects of Jim Crow laws and the systematic violence of lynching.

In fact, black women have long been regarded as the backbone of the black church. But their extensive and significant contributions are made as lay leaders, not as religious heads of churches.

The Kentucky General Assembly passes the Kentucky Civil Rights Act and Governor Edward T. Breahitt signs it into law on January 27, 1966. The Act prohibits discrimination in employment and public accommodations based on race, national origin, color, and religion. Kentucky becomes the first state in the South pass a civil rights law. It becomes the first in the south to establish enforcement powers over civil rights violations on a state level. The Kentucky Commission on Human Rights becomes the state enforcement authority of the Act.    The Kentucky Commission on Human Rights publishes "Negro Employment in Kentucky State Agencies" in February 1966, tracking for the first time African American employment statistics of the state government workforce. On August 26, 1966, the Kentucky Commission on Human Rights opens an office in Louisville, Ky., to “increase field service activities in the western half of the state, where some 70 percent of Kentucky’s Negroes live,” say state officials.

Since its founding in 1905 by Upton Sinclair, Jack London, Clarence Darrow, Norman Thomas and other well known writers and civic leaders, the League for Industrial Democracy has been an outstanding American educational organization dedicated to increasing democracy in our economic, political, and cultural life. To this end League members are devoted to the struggle for full racial equality, the abolition of poverty, the strengthening of trade unions and cooperatives, the expansion of civil liberties, the extension of public ownership and democratic economic planning, and the realignment of our political organizations with a view toward making them more responsive to the will of the people.

“Affirmative action” means positive steps taken to increase the representation of women and minorities in areas of employment, education, and business from which they have been historically excluded. When those steps involve preferential selection—selection on the basis of race, gender, or ethnicity—affirmative action generates intense controversy.

nlike African-Americans and Hispanics, women were getting PhDs in substantial and growing numbers. If the affirmative action required of federal contractors was a recipe for “proportional representation,” then Revised Order No. 4 was bound to leave a large footprint on campus. Some among the professoriate exploded in a fury of opposition to the new rules, while others responded with an equally vehement defense of them.[3]

The city’s two daily newspapers, the Herald and the Leader, worked hand in hand with respected pillars of the community and decided to ignore the revolution. The press took their orders from the powerful and didn’t report one of the biggest news stories in American history. Lexington had demonstrations, sit-ins and other protests, but the papers didn’t acknowledge their complicity in telling a lie until earlier this month.

The white citizenry of Lexington decided that pretense was preferable to the truth and chose not to point out the elephant in the living room. “Good” white people like Fred Wachs, general manager and publisher of both newspapers, said they wanted change, but didn’t think that anyone demanding it was worthy of an expenditure of newsprint.

The godfathers of Lexington told people where they could and could not live, and could and could not work, and could and could not go to school and yet were not labeled rabble rousers. That honor fell on those who risked death, injury and loss of livelihood to demand a just society.

The second wave of feminism <script src="http://adserver.adtechus.com/addyn/3.0/5308.1/1371336/0/170/ADTECH;target=_blank;grp=550;key=false;kvqsegs=D:T:2886:1362:1359:1357:1346:1341;kvtopicid=724633;kvchannel=HISTORY;misc=1291082559495"></script> The women’s movement of the 1960s and ’70s, the so-called “second wave” of feminism, represented a seemingly abrupt break with the tranquil suburban life pictured in American popular culture. Yet the roots of the new rebellion were buried in the frustrations of college-educated mothers whose discontent impelled their daughters in a new direction. If first-wave feminists were inspired by the abolition movement, their great-granddaughters were swept into feminism by the civil rights movement, the attendant discussion of principles such as equality and justice, and the revolutionary ferment caused by protests against the Vietnam War. Women’s concerns were on Pres. John F. Kennedy’s agenda even before this public discussion began. In 1961 he created the President’s Commission on the Status of Women and<script src="http://adserver.adtechus.com/addyn/3.0/5308.1/1388674/0/170/ADTECH;target=_blank;grp=550;key=false;kvqsegs=D:T:2886:1362:1359:1357:1346:1341;kvtopicid=724633;kvchannel=HISTORY;misc=1291082559533"></script> appointed Eleanor Roosevelt to lead it. Its report, issued in 1963, firmly supported the nuclear family and preparing women for motherhood. But it also documented a national pattern of employment discrimination, unequal pay, legal inequality, and meagre support services for working women that needed to be corrected through legislative guarantees of equal pay for equal work, equal job opportunities, and expanded child-care services. The Equal Pay Act of 1963 offered the first guarantee, and the Civil Rights Act of 1964 was amended to bar employers from discriminating on the basis of sex. Some deemed these measures insufficient in a country where classified advertisements still segregated job openings by sex, where state laws restricted women’s access to contraception, and where incidences of rape and domestic violence remained undisclosed. In the late 1960s, then, the notion of a women’s rights movement took root at the same time as the civil rights movement, and women of all ages and circumstances were swept up in debates about gender, discrimination, and the nature of equality.

The economic and social circumstances of their community affected black women and their perceptions of the world. The informal networks that characterized much of their nineteenth-century efforts remained important, but the increasing population compelled them to give way to new formal, structured groups designed to improve their status and that of their community. African American women in Buffalo had keen notions of the meaning of community and they were deeply involved in the creation of their twentieth-century Buffalo. These women persistently had struggled to improve the lives of their people. 

Beginning in the late 19th century, women's clubs organized in the United States, and were critical in identifying the need for libraries, as well as organizing for their construction and long-term financial support through fundraising and lobbying government bodies.[1] Women's clubs were instrumental in the founding of 75-80 percent of the libraries in the United States.[2] Carnegie's grants were catalysts for library construction based on organizing by women's clubs.

Under segregation black people were generally denied access to public libraries in the Southern United States. Rather than insisting on his libraries being racially integrated, he funded separate libraries for African Americans. For example, at Houston he funded a separate Colored Carnegie Library because black people were prohibited from using the "white" Carnegie Library there.[4]

This coincided with the rise of women's clubs in the post-Civil War period, which were most responsible for organizing efforts to establish libraries, including long-term fundraising and lobbying within their communities to support operations and collections.[6] They led the establishment of 75-80 percent of the libraries in communities across the country.[7]