These activists bear little resemblance to the civil rights pioneers of yore. They don't do sit-ins or marches. They aren't getting arrested fighting for their rights.

But quietly, deliberately, blacks in their teens and 20s are rediscovering activism in numbers not seen for decades.

"I think our young people are finally sensing a state of emergency," says Jamal Harrison Bryant, director of the youth and college division of the NAACP. A generation ago, "our parents had a visible goal: desegregation, bring the signs down, sit where you want. But the problems now are invisible. I see a hunger in young people's eyes. They want to know, 'What can I do about it?' "

Experts say the trend began in the early 1990s and has taken on steam in the past few years, motivated by the Million Man March held in Washington in 1995 and by the dismantling of such social programs as welfare and affirmative action. Spurred by their activist forebears and by increasing awareness that the struggle is far from over, younger African-Americans are getting involved en masse.

For example, Million Youth Movement rallies next month in Atlanta and New York are expected to draw thousands and focus in part on voter participation, which speaks to another growing realization among young blacks: They carry tremendous political clout.

Of those who are of voting age -- 10 percent to 15 percent call themselves conservative or Republican.

Not only are they politically active, many talk of starting businesses, investing money, building capital -- taking care of their own.

At the heart of their movement is the sentiment that, with the political and social gains of the 1950s and 1960s in place, the next crucial step will be made not just by demonstrating in the streets but by wielding a hefty checkbook.

"Young African-Americans are more interested in economic equality than they are in traditional civil rights," says Susan MacManus, a political science professor who studies youth activism at the University of South Florida in Tampa. "The arena is not the same today, but the cause is a common one: Racial equality is the thread through it all.

"Younger blacks have never had trouble getting on a bus or registering to vote, but they've all heard about their cohorts having problems getting jobs and getting promotions."

The NAACP's Bryant saw evidence of the new fervor last month in Atlanta, where more than 3,500 teen-agers attended the annual convention of the Baltimore-based National Association for the Advancement of Colored People. The numbers had leapt more than 50 percent over recent years.

The next frontier

At the convention, Vice President Al Gore called economic empowerment "the next great civil rights frontier."

Many young blacks agree.

David Bositis, a policy analyst with the Joint Center for Political and Economic Studies, a Washington-based black think tank, says no one has quantified the social shift of young black activism. But anecdotal evidence shows something is afoot, he says.

"Some black Generation X-ers are looking to forge their own identity, with references to things like they're going out there to take care of themselves and the government isn't going to be there for them," he says.

While respecting the groundwork of their predecessors, they want to elevate the movement to a new level.

At each of the NAACP convention's youth workshops, hundreds asked questions, debated one another -- and enjoyed themselves.

At one meeting, young black professionals urged teens to save their money religiously and to work longer and harder than they might think necessary. "Stop and think about it," one panelist said. "Bill Gates is the richest man in America, but he still goes to work every day."

Another session addressed delayed gratification: Don't buy expensive sneakers -- save to buy the athletic shoe store. Teens were urged to think of themselves as a group with spending power.

"I think we've become too comfortable," Bryant, 27, said after the convention. "Our parents' parents would not have bought $125 sneakers. Even in my generation that would not have happened. A lot of our young people have Walkmans and trendy clothes and don't have a personal computer and are always saying they're broke. This is a matter of fighting the culture."

Many are fighting.

Michael Hunt, a 15-year-old Baltimorean, attended the convention and is determined that his generation will leave society on surer footing than they found it.

"Young people were never taught to get involved. We were never taught we could make a difference," says Hunt, who is active in Baltimore's NAACP youth chapter at his school, Baltimore Polytechnic Institute, and his church, New Shiloh Baptist.

"But people are opening doors to us now," he says, "They're seeing the youth do the right thing."

The activity is not limited to teen-agers, nor to the NAACP.

Resurgence of interest

Many traditional civil rights organizations throughout the country see a resurgence of interest from young adults.

Since the early 1980s, the National Urban League has had a program for young professionals to pool their resources and energy. But after a few years, the Young Professionals Movement all but died for lack of interest, says Kenneth W. Austin, 30, who heads the program from the league's New York offices.

In the past three years, however, the chapters in Philadelphia and Washington have begun to flourish, Austin says, and each has membership that is several hundred strong. In the past year, staff members in Dallas, Milwaukee, Denver, Atlanta and Austin, Texas, have made moves to reignite their chapters, he says.

"This is a nationwide phenomenon, it has just welled up in our affiliates. Young people -- lawyers, doctors, bankers -- they're coming together to find an outlet for their activist bent," Austin says.

"Maybe 10 years ago or so people were so interested in doing the climbing, nobody really focused on helping. Now these people who are climbing the corporate ladder and looking to help others."

Perhaps more tellingly, African-Americans in their 20s and 30s are uniting outside the auspices of traditional civil rights organizations to network, start businesses and invest their hard-won educational and economic gains in their communities.

Ernie Jarvis, a Washington financier in his 30s, started a group called Metropolitan Access about three years ago to give African-American professionals greater access to the power elite the city. In quarterly meetings, he arranges big-name speakers that attract hundreds.

At each gathering, participants are urged to introduce themselves to someone outside their personal and professional circles and pledge to do business with one another -- or at least remember one another when it comes time to make a business referral.

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Economic empowerment

"It's time for us to keep our money in our community," Jarvis says. "It's about economic empowerment. Bottom line."

It's also about giving back: Metropolitan Access also pairs black professionals with city youth who may need mentors and academic tutors through a more traditional civil rights organization, Mentors Inc. in Washington.

Anti-affirmative action policies around the country are getting young blacks involved.

"A lot of the young people are very active on the West Coast -- they see what's going on with [California's anti-affirmative action] Proposition 209," says Rodney Braddock, 24, an activist from San Jose, Calif. "A lot of this stuff used to fall on deaf ears, but a lot of youth are now becoming active."

Bryant calls the anti-affirmative action sentiment "the invisible enemy," making it "harder to strike up a bandwagon because you can't see it in the same way that you could protest a [segregated] water fountain or a restaurant."

He says, "We always look at racism as a historical asterisk, not as something that's happening every day, right now."

Pub Date: 8/10/98