In the late 1950s, the Caucasian writer John Howard Griffin dyed his skin black and traveled the South in an attempt to experience firsthand what it was like to be "colored" in America. With no intention whatever of emulating him, I have had, over the course of the last seven years, a small taste of what Mr. Griffin encountered. All I did was wear a bright yellow jacket with the letters NAACP imprinted on the back. Given my experiences with it, I was not surprised by some recent depictions of the NAACP as a racist organization.
As a professor of philosophy at a Maryland university, I had the privilege of developing a course in African-American thought, a source of great fascination for me. Some students of African-American descent who took that course asked if I would be interested in serving as faculty advisor to the campus chapter of the NAACP. Until then, the organization had figured in my academic scholarship but not my personal life. I accepted the offer with alacrity because of my admiration for its historical achievements and interest in fostering student participation in it. Shortly thereafter, I was among the many delegates who received a jacket when registering for a Maryland NAACP conference.
It was, I quickly discovered, both well insulated and lightweight — perfect for early spring golf outings. So I wore it without a thought one early March morning at a North Carolina course. The remarks that I heard were not said to my face, but they were said loud enough to ensure I would hear them. The gist was that the only appropriate response was Ku Klux Klan attire. This comparison of the NAACP to the KKK was something new to me. But the similarity between these organizations seemed self-evident to those ridiculing my jacket — and me for wearing it.
To say that the NAACP is the black version of the KKK is a bit similar to saying that President Barack Obama is like Hitler. These are comparisons that — however outrageous on their face — help to articulate deeply held resentments. They allow those who make them to portray themselves as victims and to turn the tables on those whom they see as their ideological enemies. But they reveal a profound and lamentable lack of historical understanding.
Throughout its long and distinguished history, the NAACP has espoused equality for all peoples and respect for the dignity of every human individual. The Baltimore-based organization — the nation's oldest civil-rights group — has never considered color a criterion of worth or a measure of character. It has consistently advanced public policies that promote inclusivity, not exclusivity. Moreover, it has always practiced the political virtues it preaches: It has sought to bring about change through rational persuasion, legal argument and a humane rhetoric. In all of these respects, it has been, and is, the opposite of all the racist organizations, movements and individuals to which the historically uninformed compare it.
My little encounter with the uninformed at the North Carolina golf course was the worst but not the only such incident I experienced. A fellow church member, for example, responded to my jacket by remarking, in a supposedly joking tone, that "You don't look like a Negro." As time wore on, I became self-conscious about wearing it. This reminded me of something said by an Asian member of a roundtable on race in which I was a sometime participant. "Race," she said, "is a 24-hour reality for me." One can take one's jacket off but not one's skin.
Blessedly, the jacket facilitated another kind of meeting. One day, as I was emptying my vehicle at the county landfill, the African-American operator of the bulldozer jumped down from his cab and came over to talk with me. He started by asking, with a friendly smile, if I knew I had the letters "NAACP" on my back. We talked about the 2008 election, then in full swing. Hope is the boon of such encounters. I haven't lost it.
I did, however, almost lose my jacket. It had acquired some campus fame, and I offered to have it auctioned off at a Philosophical Society fundraiser. At one point, my wife and I were bidding against each other, but we dropped out at $250. The gavel finally came down at $340. The winner was a consortium of three alumni. Receiving the jacket from the auctioneer, they promptly gave it back to me. I wear it now in retirement every chance I get.
Jerome Miller taught philosophy for 37 years at Salisbury University. His e-mail is jamiller@salisbury.edu.