"Everything we hoped she'd be": contending forces in Hopkins scholarship.
Recently I ran a Pauline Hopkins search on Amazon.com. I was curious as to whether a publisher had reissued any of her three novels originally serialized in The Colored American Magazine and reprinted in one volume in the Schomburg collection. Having worked on Hopkins for some years, I felt confident that I knew all her work; I wasn't expecting any surprises. But I was surprised to find A Love Supreme by Pauline Hopkins--a book completely unknown to me--available from The X Press, along with two of the magazine novels, now published separately. As it turns out, A Love Supreme is the X Press's new title for Hopkins's first novel, Contending Forces. The cover of this edition features a photograph of a sultry, dark-skinned woman gazing up at the viewer positioned above her. The back cover touts the novel as a political fiction and, perhaps appealing to a modern audience's notion of "political," attempts to hide the book's use of the "tragic mulatta" convention, a convention that has troubled literary scholars. But even more startling is The X Press's reprinting of her last serialized novel, Of One Blood. Now just One Blood, the cover sports a man visibly of African decent (unlike the novel's protagonist, who passes as white for the majority of the novel). His head shaven and his chest bare, he carries what appears to be an African artifact--possibly a spear. The back cover's sexy and aggressive description bears almost no resemblance to the novel's character or plot: "Medical student Reuel Briggs doesn't give a damn about being black and cares less for African history. When he arrives in Ethiopia on an archeological trip, his only interest is to raid as much of the country's lost treasures as possible so that he can make big bucks on his return to the States." (1) Anyone familiar with this novel would be surprised at the tone used here to describe a protagonist who is subdued, even depressed, until falling in love and who, inspired by that love to make his fortune, goes on the archeological trip as the team's doctor, where he engages in numerous philosophical discussions about Ethiopia as the true source of civilization.
Initially, I was taken aback at this reworking of Hopkins. These reprints attempt to lift Hopkins out of the post-Reconstruction milieu in which she lived and wrote and set her down in an era of radical race activism reminiscent of the nineteen sixties. They flatten out her complexity and try to fit her into a comfortable pattern of race activism that will, presumably, sell to modern readers. But upon reflection I began to wonder whether her recent scholarly recuperation lends itself to--even calls into being--such a revision of her oeuvre. Hopkins has been recovered as a radical race activist, and scholarship clings to and celebrates accounts of her radical politics in spite of evidence complicating these accounts. The defining feature of her activism is her firing from the editorship at The Colored American because of her radical politics, an event that has become almost a commonplace in Hopkins scholarship. (2) This explanation for Hopkins's leaving The Colored American certainly makes for a satisfying narrative for scholars who wish to see her as a radical race activist, and I do not seek to dismiss this profile out of hand. However, when we trace the history of this claim about Hopkins's firing and examine The Colored American itself for evidence of Hopkins's and the new management's politics, we find ourselves in a labyrinth of contradictory evidence and other possible explanations for Hopkins's departure. Indeed, there is very strong evidence, as I will show, that the new management objected more to Hopkins's gender politics than to her race politics. And yet the race radicalism thesis remains intact, if not the primary grounds for her recent popularity. I want to argue that attributing Hopkins's departure from The Colored American to irreconcilable differences in race politics indicates less about Hopkins than it does about literary scholarship; more broadly, this construction of Hopkins's history invites us to consider the ways scholarly desire informs scholarly practice. In its eagerness to cast Hopkins as a radical race activist, scholarship has oversimplified the complexity of her politics and has indicated a bias in its own notion of radical politics.
In spite of the recent of scholarly activity, we know relatively little about Pauline Hopkins's work at The Colored American Magazine. We know she had a relationship with the publication from its inception. She contributed a story, "The Mystery Within Us," to the first issue (May 1900), and her novel Contending Forces--published by the Colored Co-operative Publishing Company, the same press that published The Colored American--was promoted in the magazine and offered for a time as a premium to subscribers. We know that at some point during the next four years her involvement intensified, culminating in her assuming the position of editor, probably sometime in 1902. (3) And we know she left the magazine in 1904, the same year the magazine changed hands and moved from Boston to New York. The magazine gave notice of her leaving in its "Publisher's Announcements," along with some lukewarm praise for her service, citing poor health as the reason she was stepping down. (4) This explanation becomes suspect, however, when we learn that, just a few months after leaving The Colored American, she published a solicited article and a series in The Voice of the Negro. Ann Allen Shockley's 1972 article "Pauline Elizabeth Hopkins: A Biographical Excursion into Obscurity" takes The Colored American's ill health explanation largely at face value. But Abby Arthur Johnson and Ronald M. Johnson discovered an alternative explanation--"explicit commentary on her resignation," they said--in The Crisis. Based on this finding, Johnson I and Johnson assert in their 1977 article "Away from Accommodation" that Hopkins was forced out of the editorship of The Colored American when her non-conciliatory, radical politics became ill-suited to the accommodationist agenda of the new management, an argument that has been remarkably influential. They explain:
In the November 1912 issue of Crisis, Du Bois explained that Hopkins had not been "conciliatory enough" for the new management: "As a white friend said: 'If you are going to take up the wrongs of your race then you must depend for support absolutely upon your race. For the colored man to-day to attempt to stand up to fight would be like a canary bird facing a bulldog, and an angry one at that.'" Charles S. Johnson, editor of Opportunity from 1923 to 1928, substantiated the claim years later, saying that Hopkins "made no attempt to modify the magazine's expressions out of consideration for the white persons from whom most of the support was obtained." (328)
The Johnsons state confidently that Hopkins's inadequate conciliation led to her dismissal, and certainly that is a plausible explanation. However, an examination of the Crisis article as a whole indicates that locating answers about Hopkins's resignation here necessitates logical leaps. While the article describes political dissent at The Colored American, it does not pretend to provide an explanation for Hopkins's leaving--indeed, it doesn't mention it. Entitled "The Colored Magazine in America," this piece endeavors to provide a history of African American periodicals. Starting with the first--which it cites as The African Methodist Episcopal Church Magazine of 1841 (5)--the author traces a progression of magazines, providing a brief history of each, from The Colored American to The Voice of the Negro, and culminating with The Crisis. (6) The article reads in this history an evolutionary trajectory, ending with a celebration of The Crisis as "the latest candidate for popular favor," which the author is certain will be "permanently successful" (34). The article constructs a survival-of-the-fittest narrative, outlining the promising starts of both The Colored American and The Voice, and identifying the fatal weaknesses that led to their demise.
This context is important for understanding the statements upon which Johnson and Johnson base their argument. The Crisis, as the organ of the NAACP and the particular platform of its editor, W. E. B. Du Bois, positioned itself very clearly in the battle between radical and conservative race politics, specifically the conservativism represented by Booker T. Washington. (7) The publication prided itself on its radical, non-conciliatory race politics, and this article serves that agenda by focusing its analysis of previous publications on their tendency toward accommodationism, a tendency it portrays as a weakness (much as Johnson and Johnson's article" Away From Accommodation does). With this in mind, we can examine more fully what The Crisis said about The Colored American:
In later days, the Colored American Magazine, started by a colored man who put the savings of his life from days' labor into it, was first issued in Boston in 1900, and rapidly attained a wide circulation. At its zenith it distributed 15,000 copies. Then, however, its troubles began. It was at one time sold for debt, but Colonel William H. Dupree rescued it, and it seemed about to take on new life when further difficulties occurred. It was suggested to the editor, who was then Miss Pauline Hopkins, that her attitude was not conciliatory enough. As a white friend said: "If you are going to take up the wrongs of your race then you must depend for support absolutely upon your race. For the colored man to-day to attempt to stand up to fight would be like a canary bird facing a bulldog, and an angry one at that." The final result was that the magazine was bought by friends favorable to the conciliatory attitude, and transferred to New York, where it became so conciliatory, innocuous and uninteresting that it died a peaceful death almost unnoticed by the public. (33)
I quote at length here because it is crucial to see the direction this description takes and the information it does not give. The article credits the magazine with a strong start at the hands of a working man--other sources tell us this man was Walter W. Wallace (Braithwaite 116)--so dedicated to the cause of the race that he was willing to invest his life's savings in a much needed race publication. According to the article, Wallace's dedication was rewarded by the magazine's popularity, but financial difficulties rendered the publication vulnerable to compromise. An unspecified outside party criticized the magazine and, specifically, the editor, Hopkins, for the radical voice that purportedly was prompting white readers to withdraw their financial support. But the article does not specify any action taken against Hopkins.
The publication's financial difficulties required its rescue on two occasions. The article does not give details, but August Meier, in an article I discuss below, tells us that the second transfer of power occurred in 1904 and that the "friends favorable to the conciliatory attitude" were friends of Booker T. Washington's, information undoubtedly familiar to the readers of The Crisis. Although Washington strongly denied any ties with the magazine, letters indicate that he had an interest in The Colored American Magazine from its start. (8) This description suggests that, while The Colored American started out with high ideals and struggled valiantly to remain true to them, financial constraints forced it to compromise its vision. It succumbed to an accommodationist position, which inevitably led to its end.
A look at the rest of the article further clarifies the context of the statements on The Colored American's politics. Its narrative of early magazines' development along the radical-conservative continuum continues in its description of The Voice of the Negro, which came into existence in 1904, the year The Colored American changed hands, making it that magazine's competition for several years, an eventuality that fits nicely into the article's survival-of-the-fittest thesis. (9) The Voice's editor, Jesse Max Barber, initially "sought to use the new journal to coalesce the growing dissonance among black leaders" (Daniel 370), and toward this end he printed contributions from both sides of the debate. But Barber developed an adversarial relationship with Booker T. Washington, and The Voice became increasingly aligned with the radicals. Du Bois, a regular contributor to The Voice, used it to promote, among other things, the founding of the Niagara Movement, which renounced the accommodationist politics set out by Washington in his famed "Atlanta Compromise" speech of 1895 (Daniel 370-71). Given The Voice's oppositional relation to Washingtonian politics, it is not surprising that the Crisis article heralds it as "the greatest magazine which the colored people had had" (33). The Voice's glory is short-lived, however, and the explanation for its end sounds familiar:
The editorial work was well done. The business side, on the other hand, under a succession of men, was not as well attended to; nevertheless, it was not a failure, and the magazine might still be alive had it not been for sinister influences within and without the race that wished either to control or kill it; and finally, had it not been for the Atlanta riot. Mr. Barber found himself continually hampered by interests which were determined to edit his magazine for him. When he asserted his independence these interests appealed to the firm which was backing him and finally so impressed them that they determined to unload the proposition on a new corporation. Stock in the corporation sold slowly, but it was beginning to sell when the instigators of the Atlanta riot drove Mr. Barber from the city. Removing to Chicago, Mr. Barber found himself facing the task of re-establishing his magazine with practically no capital. He made a brave effort, but finally had to give up and The Voice of the Negro ceased publication. (34)
The Crisis asserts that, while The Colored American's financial hardships caused it to knuckle under to accommodationist influences, under Barber's leadership The Voice remained true to its convictions and resisted the "sinister influences" that sought to control its message. This strength rendered it superior to its competitor and predecessor. Poor business sense and a lack of capital are then blamed for the magazine's ruin. Significantly, while the article asserts a link between the magazines' commitment to race politics and their financial stability, it glosses over the fact that, in spite of superior political strength, The Voice failed for the same reason that the early (Hopkins-controlled) Colored American failed--lack of money.
The article ends with a description of the final--and superior--magazine in its evolutionary trajectory, The Crisis. Underlining the importance of business sense and financial stability in a magazine's health, the article describes the Crisis offices at length, enumerates the staff members, provides a picture of "The Crisis Business Force," and emphasizes its connection with the NAACP. Presumably its fidelity to radical race politics goes without saying. With its evolutionary narrative, this article, possibly written and certainly published by Du Bois, seeks to establish the superiority of radical politics over Washingtonian conservatism. Its description of the political dissension at The Colored American, then, needs to be understood in this light. While there may have been political conflict, the evidence is insufficient to assume that this conflict led to Hopkins's dismissal.
Johnson and Johnson refer to a 1928 Journal of Negro History article by Charles Johnson to corroborate the information they found in the Crisis piece. This article, "The Rise of the Negro Magazine," also provides a history of black journals, and while the author reports the same events transpiring at The Colored American Magazine as had The Crisis, Johnson does not posit the same evolutionary thesis. Although Johnson would eventually become president of Fisk University, an affiliation that might suggest an alignment with the radical race politics touted by the Crisis thesis, his article pointedly takes a more neutral stance. Contrasting sharply with the "cold irony" with which, he charges, "the reporting of incidents [by The Crisis] was fraught" (15), Johnson claims for the Journal of Negro History--and his article--the "authoritativeness and dignity that one would expect in a scholarly historical publication" (16). On the subject of accommodationism and "the agreeable philosophy of Mr. Washington"--much maligned in the Crisis article--he adopts neutrality, focusing instead on the effect of financial constraints on political positions:
... the more direct the appeals to Negroes, the less the support from that necessary outside group of subscribers and contributors. Compromise positions lessened Negro support and subsequently readers, and by the same gesture reduced outside interest in supporting something that was not read or was without influence. In either case, they were doomed. (9)
Unlike the author of the Crisis article, Johnson does not identify any forward progress, but rather indicates that the magazines were equally "doomed" to failure due to financial vulnerability, regardless of their political loyalties. Indeed, almost in rebuttal to the Crisis article, Johnson asserts that, "even though, in point of time, one magazine followed another, it would be stretching the point to impute any marked influence of one upon the other" (7). He does not fault a conciliatory position, as did The Crisis. Therefore, in his accounts of The Colored American and The Voice of the Negro, absent are the "sinister influences" that try to pressure the editors. In his account of The Colored American's history, he simply reports that the editor chose one approach over another:
The Colored American, edited in Boston by Miss Pauline Hopkins, reached a circulation of 15,000 but through poor management was sold for debt. It was bought by a wealthy friend and restored to the editor but in the end became again involved in debt. The editor made no attempt to modify the magazine's expressions out of consideration for the white persons from whom most of the support was obtained. When again it fell into debt, it was purchased by friends who felt that there was greater usefulness in a more conciliatory policy. It was transferred to New York City where, after a brief period, it ceased to appear. (12-13)
While Johnson does imply that Hopkins's political stance led to the magazine's financial difficulties, this is understood in the context of his previous assertion that financial difficulties were inevitable, regardless of politics. The fact that the new owners saw greater usefulness in conciliation certainly provides the opening for assuming that Hopkins was fired as a means of drawing greater support for their publication. New management would, logically, institute changes in the magazine's editorial staff in an effort to increase sales. But Johnson's account also emphasizes the change in publishing venue from Boston to New York, another possible staffing factor. The important point is that Johnson does not specify reasons for, nor does he refer to, Hopkins's dismissal.
Such gaps leave us with more questions than certainties. A first-hand account from a contemporary of Hopkins's and a member of The Colored American staff sheds a rather different light on the question. William Stanley Braithwaite, who had been a contributor to The Colored American, published his own history of this publication--which he credits as "Negro America's First Magazine"--in Negro Digest in 1947. His account grows out of his personal reminiscences of his experience as a contributor to the periodical and his recollections are inaccurate in some instances. (10) Nevertheless, while he seems to be ambivalent at best about Washington's take-over of the magazine--he would become an assistant editor for The Crisis, suggesting his position on the radical side of race politics (Johnson 15)--he says nothing about political conflicts nor does he mention the circumstances surrounding Hopkins's dismissal when the magazine changed hands. Instead, Braithwaite depicts a tangle of interpersonal conflicts--"friction between the directing members of the organization" (119)--as the cause of the magazine's trouble. He credits founder Walter Wallace with a heroic dedication, as had the Crisis article, and portrays the "current struggle" as a force "raging to destroy [his] dream" (119). And he criticizes R. S. Elliott, a white man in charge of production, for shaping the magazine "to insure the largest measure of personal benefits" (120), benefits he leaves unspecified. But his most vehement attack he reserves for Hopkins, whom he portrays as something of a "temperamental" prima donna:
As a novelist Miss Hopkins regarded herself as a national figure, in the company of Charles W. Chesnutt and Paul Laurence Dunbar[,] and as such felt free to impose her views and opinions upon her associates in the conduct of both the book and magazine publications. Miss Hopkins resented bitterly Elliott's veiled authority, and was generally critical of Wallace's literary incompetence though it was chiefly due to his vision and enthusiasm that her own literary ambition had found its opportunity. (120)
Braithwaite indicates that infighting and incompetence led to weakness in the publication--weakness he characterized in a 1902 letter to Charles Chesnutt as "mediocrity" (11)--and that this weakness caused both The Colored American Magazine and the Colored Cooperative Publishing Company to be sold to Fred Moore--a friend of Washington's--who became editor. An assistant editorship was given to Washington's nephew, Roscoe Conklin Simmons. Moore, Braithwaite explains, "had already gained control of the weekly newspaper, the New York Age," and "it was now openly known that both publications ... under the management of Fred R. Moore, were controlled by Booker T. Washington" (121). In this version of the events, the magazine's floundering provided an opening for Washington to expand his influence in the press and to provide positions for his friends and relations.
Further undermining the certainty of the political differences thesis is a 1953 article by August Meier in the Journal of Negro History, "Booker T. Washington and the Negro Press: With Special Reference to the Colored American Magazine." Meier's account concerns Washington's "considerable degree of control over the Negro press" (67). He provides minimal information on The Colored American in the years prior to Washington's takeover, but as his article is relatively critical of Washington, the dismissal of Hopkins for political reasons, had it occurred, would serve his argument well. However, he mentions neither Hopkins nor her politics. In fact, according to Meier, even prior to Washington's takeover "the magazine veered more and more toward an emphasis upon economic advancement and Negro support of Negro business--two important themes in the philosophy of Booker T. Washington" (69).
If these disparate accounts indicate far less certainty about why Hopkins left The Colored American Magazine than the recent scholarly consensus suggests, a close look at the magazine itself does not significantly clear things up. Presumably, if Hopkins had been fired for her politics, the magazine under Washington's influence would evince a change from a radical to a more conciliatory race publication. Johnson and Johnson believe it did:
Directed by Moore and Washington, Colored American Magazine shifted dramatically in tone. A conciliatory approach was discernible as early as May 1904. The editorial for this issue, which was either written or influenced by Moore, contained statements at opposition with the ringing denunciations formerly penned by Hopkins. (Propaganda 12) (12)
Moreover, they believe this change comports with what they see as Washington's overall agenda for "spread[ing] the gospel of accommodationism" through the African American press: "With the emergence of Booker T. Washington, accommodationism increasingly supplanted the earlier protest tradition" (Propaganda 3).
However, as I have indicated above, August Meier did not see a change in the magazine coinciding with Washington's takeover; rather, he traces a gradual shift beginning prior to the new management's tenure. Moreover, Meier asserts that the new editor of Washington's choosing, Fred Moore, was not purely accommodationist himself: "Only once did he adopt Washington's characteristically accommodating phraseology towards the white South. On the contrary, he was sometimes moved to vigorous criticism, couched in language Washington never employed" (80-81). Although Meier believes Washington wished to use the periodical press to bolster his reputation and voice his political philosophy--and in his extensive study of Washington's letters and papers, he offers evidence that Washington attempted to control the content of magazines under his purview--he also discovers that Washington's powers were limited:
In short it is apparent that Washington could not exercise a dictatorial policy in regard to the Negro press. While powerful, he needed the support of the press as much as certain journals needed him. In such a situation, and given the dynamics of American society, a large amount of compromise was necessary. It is difficult to see how it could have been otherwise. (88)
And Brian Joseph Benson, in his entry on The Colored American in Black Journals of the United States, concurs, seeing limited evidence of Washington's influence: "Despite emphasis current scholarship has placed on Colored American as part of Booker T. Washington's public relations empire, through which he allegedly promoted industrial education at the expense of higher education and directed 'assimilationist" politics for black Americans, the magazine reflects a broad range of Afro-American thinking" (124-25).
Similarly, Hopkins's own work at The Colored American Magazine reflects a far broader political range than the assertion of race radicalism would suggest. There are radical moments in which she expresses strong belief in the need for African Americans to agitate and fight for their rights. Her November 1902 article "Munroe Rogers," for example, attacks the South for its "pitiless" treatment of blacks, and indicates that "dynamite bomb throwing" would not be unprompted behavior on the part of these disenfranchised citizens. "If affairs remain as they are now," she writes, "there must come a revolution" (22). Further evidence of her radicalism and her unwillingness to accommodate whites came in her response to a reader. In March 1903, The Colored American printed a letter to the editor along with Hopkins's reply ("Editorial" 397-400). The writer of the letter--a white woman--complains about the mixed relationships portrayed in the stories, "love between colored and whites" (398). Hopkins retorts sharply:
It is the same old story. One religion for the whites and another for the blacks. The story of Jesus for us, that carries with it submission to the abuses of our people and blindness to the degrading of our youth. I think [the writer] has a great work to do--greater than she can accomplish, I fear--to carry religion to the Southern whites. ... I am glad to receive this criticism for it shows more dearly than ever that white people don't understand what pleases Negroes. You are between Scylla and Charybadis [sic]: if you please the author of this letter and your white clientele, you will lose your Negro patronage. If you cater to the demands of the negro trade, away goes Mrs.--. (399-400)
Hopkins's answer anticipates Charles Johnson's assessment of the no-win situation faced by the African American periodical press. Moreover, it provides rather stark support for the assertion that she failed to comply with the wishes of white readers. (That the Norton Anthology of African American Literature includes this exchange of letters among its Hopkins texts illustrates the appeal this radical voice holds for Hopkins students and scholars.)
But Hopkins also expressed more moderate positions. She offered support --if guarded at times--specifically to Booker T. Washington in October 1901, when she celebrated his contributions to the race in an installment of her "Famous Men of the Negro Race" series. She appears to have sought balance in the magazine, giving consideration--and print space--to both conservative and radical opinions. A series begun under Hopkins's editorship in January 1904, "Industrial Education--Will it solve the Negro Problem?" featured answers by "the greatest thinkers of the black race," including both Booker T. Washington and W. E. B. Du Bois. (13) She takes up this subject again in her April 1904 "In the Editor's Sanctum" column, making this statement: "Apropos of intellectual vs. industrial training, it is well to look at both sides of the question occasionally through the eyes of highly cultured, well-trained business men" (300). This moderate piece goes on to summarize neutrally the position of John C. Freund, a white follower of Washington's, who minimizes the value of classical education for the purpose of achieving success in life.
In short, while Hopkins at times spoke out strongly in favor of a radical politics, at other times she spoke more moderately. Indeed, her philosophy is not easy to pin down, a fact that supports Meier's and Benson's observation that The Colored American Magazine did not voice a strongly radical position under Hopkins's leadership, nor did it change decidedly after her departure.
In the face of considerable evidence to the contrary, both in the early documents reporting on The Colored American's change in management and in the later analysis of the effects of that change on the publication, one wonders why the political differences thesis has been so influential in our understanding of Pauline Hopkins, and I will return to a discussion of this question. But I want first to offer an explanation for Hopkins's leaving the magazine that seems to have been overlooked in the scholarship. I have argued--as have others--that the magazine's political tone and its position on the race politics continuum did not change dramatically with the change in management; we do see, however, a change in the magazine's gender focus. From the covers featuring portraits of successful African American women surrounded by floral borders to the advertisements promoting goods traditionally associated with women, The Colored American under Hopkins's leadership seems to have been designed for readers much like Hopkins herself: middle-class, at least modestly educated, ambitious--either professionally or socially--and interested in and informed about racial uplift and the race community.
In describing the change that took place at The Colored American under new management, Johnson and Johnson assert that the magazine's subject matter shifted from literature to business. While "more and better fiction and poetry was published by the Colored American Magazine during the years Pauline Hopkins was editor than at any other time in its history," they state, Fred Moore signaled a lack of interest in belletristic writing in a November 1904 editor's column (Propaganda 6) in which he indicates that the goal of the magazine will be to "'publish articles showing the advancement of our people along material lines, believing that the people generally are more interested in having information of the doings of the members of the race, rather [than] the writings of dreamers or theorists'" (qtd. in Propaganda 12). This goal comports with the Tuskegee emphasis on success through material gain, as opposed to the intellectual advancement associated with Du Bois and his "talented tenth." (14) As Johnson and Johnson observe, Moore echoes Washington's language when he describes his interest in " 'the stories of the men and women who have struggled up from slavery, the stories of our school teachers, their sacrifices and their successes, the stories of our business men'" (Propaganda 13).
However, as Meier has pointed out, such an interest was nothing new for The Colored American Magazine. While the magazine did publish a significant amount of poetry and fiction, including three of Hopkins's serial novels and several of her short stories, it also featured, under Hopkins's editorship, numerous accounts of successful African Americans' lives. As if anticipating Moore's interest in "our school teachers," Hopkins dedicated three installments of her series "Famous Women of the Negro Race" to "Educators." And the publication regularly featured articles, written by Hopkins and others, on successful businesswomen who had "struggled" for success. Surely the story of Mrs. Hattie M. Hicks would have satisfied Mr. Moore: "Born in Lexington, MO, of poor, but deeply religious parents, she was forced out into the work-a-day world to earn her own livelihood" (Smith, "Noted" 507). Mrs. Hicks's persistence gained her an apprenticeship in a hairdressing establishment where she learned the arts of millinery, dressmaking, hairdressing, and wig making, among others. She eventually went into business for herself and, after a period of struggle, became successful and offered her services to other young African American women to train them in the business. The exemplary Mrs. Hicks was featured on the cover of the July 1903 issue, as were other women with successful stories: Miss Lena V. Isham, one of the "foremost" public-school teachers of Richmond, Virginia (Feb. 1901); Miss Nora Perkins, a "saleslady and soliciter [sic] with a well-known sewing-machine merchant" in Chicago whose employer praised her skill as a business woman (Aug. 1903); and Miss Annie McNorton, "a successful teacher in Norfolk, Virginia" (Sep. 1903). Such examples evince a strong interest in business success, an interest made explicit in this piece published in February 1901 (long before Moore's editorship):
There is no denying the fact that money rules the world. The nation that is powerful financially is as strong as the rocks of Gibraltar. When we become bankers, property-holders, and merchants to an alarming degree, all this talk of "color" will immediately disappear. There is no "color" if the question is one of dollars and cents. One must be in a position to demand before he can expect to command. Our best hope lies in the commercial world. The sooner we realize this fact the better it will be for us. Many of our present barriers will become surmountable when we attain a higher degree of financial standing. (Smith, "Chicago" 286).
This piece aligns itself with the materialist position voiced by Washington, citing the acquisition of wealth as a clear means to race improvement. But as the examples above suggest, one key feature of The Colored American under Hopkins's editorship is its focus on African American women. And yet this point has been largely overlooked in the scholarship. Why?
One answer might be found in the relatively scant body of research done on sexism in the turn-of-the-century black community, a lack resulting from a downplaying of the issue by women from this time. According to Nellie McKay, black women writers of the early twentieth century "explore racism and gender oppression in their writings, especially in fiction and autobiography," but, as she explains, "because they were working within the black tradition of protest against white racism, they handled this issue more overtly than they tended to do with gender oppression, especially as that existed within the black community" ("Reflections" 159). Nonetheless, there is evidence to indicate that African American women experienced sexism within their community. An article in The Colored American laments the fact that "the exclusion of competent Negro women from many branches of work in the business world continues indiscriminately" (Smith, "Chicago" 286). Evelyn Brooks Higginbotham documents gender disparity in the African American church in Righteous Discontent: The Women's Movement in the Black Baptist Church, 1880-1920. She describes efforts by African American women to "convince the men that women were equally obliged to advance not only their race and denomination, but themselves." As she explains, the churches were built on a "nonracist appropriation of the Christian faith"; however, while "the 'nonracist' principle called attention to a common tradition shared by black churches, it masked the sexism that black churches shared with the dominant white society." (121). Anna Julia Cooper documents this sexism in A Voice from the South, where she expresses frustration with the men of her race who "seem thoroughly abreast of the times on almost every other subject" but "drop back into sixteenth[-]century logic" when faced with the woman question (85). She describes the double discrimination felt by African American women:
She is confronted by both a woman question and a race problem, and is as yet an unknown or an unacknowledged factor in both. While the women of the white race can with calm assurance enter upon the work they feel by nature appointed to do, while their men give loyal support and appreciate countenance to their efforts ... the colored woman too often finds herself hampered and shamed by a less liberal sentiment and a more conservative attitude on the part of those for whose opinion she cares most. ("Colored" 573)
Cooper's statements demonstrate that gender politics were an important part of African American women's lives and impinged upon their progress. Even Hopkins herself, in a 1906 letter, described her experience of sexism in the reception of her ideas on race progress: "I have argued the union of the Negro with labor for a number of years," she wrote to journalist John Edward Bruce, "but being only a woman have received a very small notice." (15)
Elsa Barkley Brown sets Cooper's and Hopkins's concerns and Higginbotham's scholarship in historical context when she argues that immediately after emancipation African American women enjoyed power and equality with their male counterparts--particularly in community and church governance--but this power was steadily eroded until, by the turn of the century, black women sought "not a new authority but rather a lost authority, one they now often sought to justify on a distinctively female basis." Brown calls into question "scholars' assumptions of an unbroken line of exclusion of African American women from formal political associations in the late-nineteenth century" and instead seeks to explain "why women by the 1880s and 1890s needed to create their own pulpits from which to speak--to restore their voices to the community" (112). I am arguing that Hopkins made of The Colored American one such pulpit, and I suggest that perhaps it was this political agenda--her gender politics rather than her race politics--that alienated her from the Washington management at The Colored American.
We have evidence of gender bias specifically in the Washington camp. Meier's article provides some almost inadvertently. He reports that, although Fred Moore tended to criticize the South, no evidence indicates that Moore was ever reprimanded or asked to tow the accommodationist line, whereas when Mary Church Terrell "strayed too far from the Tuskegee line in her criticisms of the south," she was chastised in the pages of The Colored American (81n49). The magazine itself gives a fuller account of the story. At a 1907 meeting of the National Association of Colored Women in Detroit, Terrell denounced the sexual vulnerability of an African American servant girl in a white home, and she charged the South with "plott[ing] to shut out the children of the blacks from an education" ("Southern View" 413). The Colored American criticizes her outspokenness:
While she was talking that way, Southern white men were paying many thousand dollars in taxes to support Negro schools. Negro women employed in white homes know that their best friends are their employers and there is race peace and good feeling throughout the South. Such intemperate utterances, based upon exceptions to the usual rule, will be deplored by the thoughtful people of both races. ("Southern View" 413)
Meier judges this to be a minor event, as its relegation to a footnote suggests. But it indicates a double standard in the expectations for women and men in Terrell's--and Hopkins's--time: Outspokenness on the part of the male editor was overlooked, while a woman's criticisms were not. A similar incident of intimidation and chastisement occurred the same year between Washington and Fannie Barrier Williams. In 1907, Washington and his company took over The New York Age, a newspaper for which Williams wrote a regular column. When she wrote something Washington judged to be too focused on women's activities, she had to apologize to Washington in order to maintain the column ("Fannie" 651).
I do not wish to denounce Washington as a misogynist. Indeed, Cynthia Neverdon-Morton documents Washington's support for women when she points out that Tuskegee always employed large numbers of women and that "Booker T.
Washington was firmly committed to education for women" (34-35). And in his 1907 book The Negro in Business, Washington gestures toward gender equity when he notes in his preface his constant surprise and delight at "the number of colored men and women ... engaged in various lines of business" (1; emphasis mine). His attention to women falls away as he proceeds, however, and his purpose and audience become quite clear: "I desire ... to tell ... what a number of our more successful men have been able to do in the field of business, with the hope that an increasing number of our young men may be encouraged by these examples to take advantage of the opportunities open to them in this direction" (1). And his book bears out this goal, featuring celebratory portraits of successful men of business. Women are present only as wives in these success stories or, in one case, as a journalist covering a meeting of the National Negro Business League. It seems that, when Washington thinks of people in business, he thinks of businessmen.
However, between 1900 and 1904, the years of Hopkins's involvement with The Colored American, the magazine focused largely on the activities, interests, and businesses of women. (16) The early covers, with their scrolling floral borders surrounding portraits of race women, signal the magazine's content and intended audience (fig. 1). Its subtitle, which describes the magazine as "an illustrated monthly devoted to literature, science, music, art, religion, facts, fiction, and traditions of the negro race," champions the artistic aspects of culture as an important vehicle for race progress. New artwork introduced in 1902 still features a floral design and the same descriptor, but adds drawings of Frederick Douglass and Phillis Wheatley as equally important forebears of race progress (fig. 2). The magazine's second issue announced Hopkins as the editor of "The Women's Department." This column appeared only one time, but its disappearance did not seem to result from lack of interest; the magazine continued to feature stories of women's business successes, to provide information on women's clubs, and to report on women's social activities. In fact, the short life of "The Women's Department" may have been due to its redundancy with the interests of the magazine as a whole. Many of the advertisements, too, target a specifically female readership: Ozono and Hartona hair straighteners and face bleach, Easter garments, and the Irene How Sanitarium, which is "licensed for the treatment of ladies of any nationality." One ad touting the opportunity for a home business raising Belgian hares and canaries--which promise to "fill your home with added cheer and happiness"--appeals to the adherence to domestic ideology prevalent among African American middle-class women (Tare 59-64).
[FIGURES 1-2 OMITTED]
With the change in management at The Colored American came a change in gender focus and target audience, a change anyone looking at the issues published during the transition could scarcely miss. The publication continued to report on women's clubs periodically, and in 1907 it ran a series entitled "Woman's Part in the Uplift of Our Race." (17) But such features stand out as anomalous in light of the magazine's overall appeal to a male audience. Two new cover styles featured prominent businessmen or other male leaders of the race whose stories would be featured within. In the first, soft, floral borders have been replaced with a thorny rose briar (fig. 3). This design was introduced under Hopkins's editorship, perhaps an indication that she had received criticism and had attempted to balance the gendered focus of the publication. The "Publishers' Announcements" column from March 1904 describes the new artwork as "prophetic--thorns and thistles for our past mingled with roses which indicate hope for the future" (223). No explanation is offered, however, for the replacement of women's portraits with men's on the March, April, and May covers. The other design accompanied the start of Moore's editorship in June 1904 (fig. 4). Here, the portrait of the successful race man is flanked by drawings of representational race men: one a scholar, as indicated by his cap, gown, and reading material; the other a working man, indicated by his apron and tool. The magazine's subtitle has been shortened, reducing the earlier design's long list of cultural elements to one concise focus: "the interests of the colored race." Although interests could be read as a broad, inclusive word subsuming the previous topics and communicating them more succinctly, interests also connotes financial gain and hints at the narrower business focus of the magazine. Previously the magazine had balanced accounts of business success with fiction, poetry, and race news--both political and social. It devoted significant print space to women's social activities, featuring photographs of socially prominent women. A reader glancing through earlier and later issues of The Colored American will be struck by the replacement of women's pictures with those of successful businessmen, in the same vein as those Washington highlighted in The Negro in Business. Johnson and Johnson observe that "business received much attention, as Moore published essays on the Business League; the Afro-American Building Loan and Investment Company, of which he was president; and the Afro-American Realty Company, of which he was secretary and treasurer. The journal boomed as well the achievements of black businessmen in New York, Boston, and other metropolitan centers" (Propaganda 13). Indeed, Washington's expressed fear that the magazine would seem to be the organ of the National Negro Business League indicates how close it came to that. (18) "The Masonic Department," reporting on the activities of the fraternal order of masons, became a regular column in September 1904. And the ads targeted a male audience as well. Typical advertisers included the Afro-American Realty Company (selling shares in its company), Block Bros. Havana Cigars, and Waterman the Hatter, Clothier, and Outfitter.
[FIGURES 3-4 OMITTED]
The transformation that occurred in The Colored American after Hopkins's editorship ended--and a likely reason for her leaving the magazine--was a shift in focus and target audience. Perhaps Hopkins learned a lesson from this. Years later, she would try again to reach African American readers with another journal, The New Era. In 1916 she and her former colleague Walter Wallace began this publication, the cover of which might have struck readers familiar with The Colored American's early years with a strong sense of deja vu (fig. 5). And yet, there is evidence of compromise here--further evidence, perhaps, of her political flexibility. The magazine's cover still features a successful race woman--a composer and vocal teacher--but without the floral border. Instead, the cover art features the books and pen of classical education on one side and the factory, train, and ship of industry on the other. Its professed focus on the "world-wide interests of the colored race" carries forth the material emphasis of the post-Hopkins Colored American Magazine. But the nationalistic icon of the eagle, wings outstretched, belies its "world" focus (as does the decidedly Northeastern U.S. focus of the column "Around the World of Color"). And as a premium for subscribing to The New Era, the magazine offered a portrait of "the Great Race Leader," Booker T. Washington. Hopkins's new magazine, then, marks balance on several fronts. She maintains her interest in culture, highlighting the stories of successful singers and actors, and publishing installments of several poems and a self-authored novella. But also she shows an interest in business and politics--that of men as well as women--with a series on vocational job possibilities, as well as a "Men of Vision" series (reminiscent of her Colored American series "Famous Men of the Negro Race"), in which she features Leonard Andrew Grimes, abolitionist cum successful businessman. Unfortunately, these changes did not bring the results she needed. The New Era appeared for only two issues, and its failure, for reasons unknown, marked the end of Hopkins's literary career (McKay, "Introduction" 8). Perhaps, having watched the changes that took place at The Colored American Magazine, which suggested that a women's race magazine would not make it, Hopkins tried to offer a publication that was "all things to all people." But this, as Charles Johnson observed and as she herself realized in her response to the angry reader, could not ensure success.
[FIGURE 5 OMITTED]
Hopkins may very well have been dismissed or edged out of The Colored American Magazine for political differences, but it appears that the offending politics may not have been about race but about gender and her sense of a worthy and strategic audience for a race journal. Hopkins crafted The Colored American specifically to address a female readership, a readership whose interests were set aside under the new management. Why does it matter? Why so painstakingly untangle the "he said, she said" narrative explaining Hopkins's dismissal from The Colored American Magazine? The answer brings me back to the claim that Hopkins's radical race politics cause her to be fired from The Colored American. It comes down to this: The tenacity of the myth of Hopkins's political radicalism in the face of ample evidence of other explanations for her dismissal offers significant insight into the values and desires of contemporary literary scholarship.
Specifically, the eliding of the gender politics at play in this event may point to a bias in scholarship. As I mentioned above, until fairly recently there has been a tendency to privilege the radical-conservative division in the African American community over the gender division. Certainly such a tendency may explain how early texts interpreted the dynamics at The Colored American. That Meier relegates to a footnote the information about Mary Church Terrell being chastised for her outspokenness on women's issues without apparently noticing or commenting on the gender disparity evident in the incident suggests a priority of race over gender in his 1953 analysis. And Braithwaite's criticisms of Hopkins--in particular his distaste for her literary ambition--may indicate an expectation on his part as to how a female writer and editor ought to behave and what place she ought to assume. (19) Perhaps influenced by this bias, scholars trying to rescue Hopkins from the "oblivion" identified by Shockley have, consciously or unconsciously, sought to link her to radical race activism in an attempt to make a strong case for her importance. Hopkins's race activism may have seemed more worthy of recovery than her championing of women and women's issues.
Not only an example of gender bias, however, the analysis of Hopkins's situation points to an ongoing problem of "one-factor analyses" which oversimplify the complexities of identity and politics. Gloria Hull, Patricia Bell Scott, and Barbara Smith aptly identify this tendency with the title of their collection All the Women Are White, All the Blacks Are Men, But Are White, All the Blacks Are Men, But Some of Us Are Brave. In their introduction to the collection, Hull and Smith trace the invisibility of African American women as a result of their falling through the cracks of emerging Black movements and women's movements in the 1950s, '60s, and '70s. This blind spot has not been limited to political activism, but has infiltrated scholarly practice as well. According to Evelyn Brooks Higginbotham, "Afro-American history ... has accentuated race [over gender] by calling explicit attention to the cultural as well as socioeconomic implications of American racism but has failed to examine the differential class and gender positions men and women occupy in black communities." The result of this oversimplification, she asserts, has been a monolithic conception of the "black community" and "black experience." Significantly, "this discursive monolith most often resonates with a male voice and as the experience of men" ("Metalanguage" 6). Cornel West, too, observes this phenomenon, which he describes as the "Black male monopoly on the construction of the Black subject" (263).
The political differences thesis that has persisted in Hopkins scholarship, then, raises an important question: Does the monolith of the essential black male subject continue to influence our scholarship and our understanding of this crucial time in American history? Much progress has, of course, been made in recent scholarship to understand and complicate the relationship between gender and race oppression. By reconsidering the termination of Hopkins's editorship at The Colored American Magazine, I hope to participate in this ongoing revisionary scholarship, following Higginbotham's directive to "challenge both the overdeterminancy of race vis-a-vis social relations among blacks themselves and conceptions of the black community as harmonious and monolithic" (17). Certainly, the popular story of Hopkins's differences with Washingtonian politics has very powerfully challenged harmonious conceptions of the black community. But if we are to understand the obstacles faced by women like Hopkins in their pursuit of racial uplift and their drive for racial equity, we must not overlook the way gender figured into their struggle.
(1.) The X Press also published Hopkins's Hagar's Daughter in its "Black Classics" series. The cover of this reprinting, compared to the other two, is quite subdued.
(2.) Nellie McKay refers to this scholarly consensus in her introduction to Unruly Voices, the collection of criticism on Hopkins's work: "More critics believe, as Du Bois explicitly stated a few years later, that she was forced out in a clash of political ideologies between herself and the new owners" (7). For other scholars who cite this explanation, see Gaines 443; Grueser ix; Kassanoff 158-59; Sawaya 84; Yarborough xlii-xliii.
(3.) The dating of Hopkins's editorship is tricky. Charles Johnson, in 1928, made a reference to The Colored American Magazine and stated that Pauline Hopkins edited it. Johnson and Johnson have dated her editorship from 1902 to 1904. Hopkins contributed regularly to the publication from its beginning, but she is not identified as editor throughout. She was named editor of the "Women's Department" in the second issue and listed as literary editor starting in July 1903. However, the magazine did not consistently name its publication staff, and no one other than Hopkins was ever named as editor until she left the magazine in 1904.
(4.) The announcement read: "On account of in-health [sic] Miss Pauline Hopkins has found it necessary to sever her relations with this Magazine and has returned to her home in Boston. Miss Hopkins was a faithful and conscientious worker, and did much toward building up the magazine. We take this means of expressing our appreciation of her services, and wish for her a speedy return to complete health" (Colored American Magazine 7 [Nov. 1904]: 700).
(5.) Charles Johnson's 1928 article "The Rise of the Negro Magazine" would name The National Reformer, the monthly magazine of the American Moral Reform Society of Philadelphia, as the first "Negro magazine," dating it from approximately 1830 (9-10).
(6.) No author is given for this piece. Johnson and Johnson attribute it to Du Bois, and Richard Yarborough (xlvin17) suggests that William Stanley Braithwaite may have written it.
(7.) The rivalry between Washington and Du Bois had begun in earnest in 1903 with the publication of Du Bois's The Souls of Black Folk. In 1905, shortly after the takeover of The Colored American, Du Bois published an article in The Voice of the Negro attacking the "Tuskegee machine" for "the elusive organization through which Washington influenced Negro life in America by [, among other things,] his control over a part of the Negro press" (Broderick 72-73; see also Harlan 85-86).
(8.) According to August Meier, "Washington owned a few shares of stock in the company [that published The Colored American Magazine] in 1901, but disposed of them when it was charged that he was attempting to control this and other journals" (68).
(9.) "By late 1905, at least, Washington was frankly viewing ... [Colored American Magazine) as a rival of the 'radical' Voice of the Negro' (Meier 75).
(10.) For example, Braithwaite asserts that Hopkins's first novel, Contending Forces, was serialized in The Colored American before being published. Although the first installment of the novel was printed in the magazine as an advertising gimmick, the novel was in fact published the same year the magazine began running, and was promoted in the fourth issue of the journal. He also charges Hopkins with being critical of Walter Wallace, the magazine's founder and president of Colored Cooperative Publishing Co. However, the fact that Hopkins and Wallace went into partnership years later to start another magazine, The New Era, suggests that their relationship was not so strained as Braithwaite remembers. Finally, he makes some errors on dates, placing a 1904 dinner with John C. Freund in 1903, and crediting Booker T. Washington's nephew Roscoe Conklin Simmons with the role of editorial director from 1904 to 1909, when we know that Simmons left the magazine in 1906 (Meier 70).
(11.) Letter dated 31 Dec. 1902. From the Charles Chesnutt Collection in Fisk University Archives, Box 1, Folder 3.
(12.) The question of when the change in management actually occurred complicates this claim. Meier identifies the June 1904 issue as Fred Moore's first (71), and the textual evidence bears this out. Although new cover artwork, which I'll discuss at length below, began to be phased in as early as March 1904, the May 1904 issue appears to be the last issue that Hopkins edited. The May 1904 issue came out of Boston, not the New York office associated with the new editor, Fred Moore. In the May issue, the editorial page is unsigned, as it had been in previous issues; in June, it is attributed to Fred Moore. Moreover, the May issue announces, "Miss Hopkins will present the Colored American Magazine personally to our patrons during the summer months in a series of public meetings" ("Editor's Sanctum" 383), further suggesting that June was te be the first month of her absence, and the first issue we should look to for signs of change.
(13.) The series appeared in the following issues of volume 7: Jan. 1904:13-21; Feb. 1904: 87-92; Mar. 1904: 185-90; Apr. 1904: 247-49.
(14.) In his biography of Washington, Louis R. Harlan documents Washington's "priority of the economic over the political approach" (218). See his chapter "Up From Serfdom" (202-37). Du Bois criticized Washington's policy in a 1904 article: "Earn a living; get rich, and all these things shall be added unto you. Moreover, conciliate your neighbors, because they are more powerful and wealthier, and the price you must pay to earn a living in America is that of humiliation and inferiority" (qtd. in Broderick 71).
(15.) From the John E. Bruce Papers at the Schomburg Center for Research in Black Culture, New York, Microfilm Reel 1. I am indebted to John Gruesser for bringing this letter to my attention.
(16.) For a more detailed analysis of the Colored American Magazine as a women's magazine and, specifically, as an organ of Black New Womanhood, see Bergman, "'A new race of colored women.'"
(17.) The series appeared in two issues--12.3 (Mar. 1907): 222-23, written by Cornelia Bowen, and 12.4 (Apr. 1907): 264-67, by lone E. Gibbs.
(18.) According to Johnson and Johnson, Washington asked Moore in September 1905 to lower the profile of the National Negro Business League and of Washington himself. "It will be hurtful," Washington warned, "for the public to get the idea that your magazine is the special organ of the League" (qtd. in Johnson and Johnson, Propaganda, 14).
(19.) Carby makes a similar observation: "Braithwaite has praise only for the men on the journal and seemed to think that Hopkins should have remained in grateful and silent submission for having had the opportunity to publish in the Colored American Magazine (192 n7).
Benson, Brian Joseph. "Colored American." Black Journals of the United States, Ed. Walter C. Daniel. Westport: Greenwood P, 1982. 123-30.
Bergman, Jill. "'A new race of colored women': Pauline Hopkins at the Colored American Magazine." Feminist Forerunners: New Womanism and Feminism in the Early Twentieth Century. Ed. Ann Heilmann. London: Pandora P, 2003.87-100.
Braithwaite, William Stanley. "Negro America's First Magazine." 1947. The William Stanley Braithwaite Reader. Ed. Philip Butcher. Ann Arbor: U of Michigan P, 1972. 114-21.
Broderick, Francis L. W. E. B. Du Bois: Negro Leader in a Time of Crisis. Palo Alto: Stanford UP, 1959.
Brown, Elsa Barkley. "Negotiating and Transforming the Public Sphere: African American Political Life in the Transition from Slavery to Freedom." The Black Public Sphere. Ed. Black Public Sphere Collective. Chicago: U of Chicago P, 1995. 111-50.
Carby, Hazel V. Reconstructing Womanhood: The Emergence of the Afro-American Woman Novelist. New York: Oxford UP, 1987.
"The Colored Magazine in America." Crisis 5 (Nov. 1912): 33-35.
Cooper, Anna Julia. "The Colored Woman Should Not Be Ignored." 1892, Black Women in White America: A Documentary History. Ed. Gerda Lerner. New York: Vintage, 1972. 572-74.
--. A Voice from the South. 1892. The Voice of Anna Julia Cooper. Ed. Charies Lemert and Esme Bhan. Lanham: Rowman & Littlefield, 1998. 49-196.
Daniel, Walter C, ed. Black Journals of the United States. Westport: Greenwood P, 1982.
"Editorial and Publishers' Announcements." Colored American Magazine 6 (Mar. 1903): 397-400.
"Fannie Barrier Williams." Call and Response: The Riverside Anthology of the African American Literary Tradition. Ed. Patricia Liggins Hill, et al. Boston: Houghton, 1998. 651-52.
Gaines, Kevin. "Black Americans' Racial Uplift Ideology as 'Civilizing Mission': Pauline E. Hopkins on Race and Imperialism." Cultures of United States Imperialism. Ed. Amy Kaplan and Donald E. Pease. Durham: Duke UP, 1993. 433-55.
Grueser, John Cullen, ed. The Unruly Voice: Rediscovering Pauline Elizabeth Hopkins. Urbane U of Illinois P, 1996.
Harlan, Louis R. Booker T. Washington: The Wizard of Tuskegee, 1901-1905. New York: Oxford UP, 1983.
Higginbotham, Evelyn Brooks. "African-American Women's History and the Metalanguage of Race." "We Specialize in the Wholly Impossible": A Reader in Black Women's History. Ed. Darlene Clark Hine, Wilma Kind, and Linda Reed. Brooklyn: Carlson, 1995. 3-24.
--. Righteous Discontent: The Women's Movement in the Black Baptist Church, 1880-1920. Cambridge: Harvard UP, 1993.
Hopkins, Pauline Elizabeth. Hagar's Daughter. 1902. London: X P, 2000.
--. "In the Editor's Sanctum." Colored American Magazine 7 (Apr. 1904): 295-302.
--. A Love Supreme [Contending Forces]. 1900. London: X P, 1995.
--. "Munroe Rogers." Colored American Magazine 6 (Nov. 1902): 20-26.
--. One Blood [Of One Blood]. 1903-04. London: X P, 1996.
Hull, Gloria T., and Barbara Smith, "Introduction: The Politics of Black Women's Studies" All the Women Are White, All the Blacks Are Men, But Some of Us Are Brave. Ed. Hull, Patricia Bell Scott, and Smith. Old Westbury: Feminist P, 1982. xvii-xxxii.
Johnson, Abby Arthur, and Ronald M. Johnson. "Away From Accommodation: Radical Editors and Protest Journalism, 1900-1910." Journal of Negro History 62 (Oct. 1977): 325-38.
--. Propaganda and Aesthetics: The Literary Politics of African-American Magazines in the Twentieth Century. Amherst: U of Massachusetts P, 1979.
Johnson, Charles. "The Rise of the Negro Magazine." Journal of Negro History 13 (Jan. 1928): 7-21.
Kassanoff, Jennie A." 'Fate Has Linked Us Together': Blood, Gender, and the Politics of Representation in Pauline Hopkins's Of One Blood." Gruesser 158-81.
McKay, Nellie Y. "Introduction." Gruesser 1-20.
--. "Reflections on Black Women Writers: Revising the Literary Canon." Feminisms: An Anthology of Literary Theory and Criticism. 2nd ed. Ed. Robyn R. Warhol and Diane Price Herndl. New Brunswick: Rutgers UP, 1997. 151-63.
Meier, August. "Booker T. Washington and the Negro Press: With Special Reference to the Colored American Magazine." Journal of Negro History 38 (Jan. 1953): 67-90.
Neverdon-Morton, Cynthia. Afro-American Women of the South and the Advancement of the Race, 1895-1925. Knoxville: U of Tennessee P, 1989.
"Publishers' Announcements." Colored American Magazine 7 (Mar. 1904): 223.
Sawaya, Francesca. "Emplotting National History: Regionalism and Pauline Hopkins's Contending Forces." Breaking Boundaries: New Perspectives on Women's Regional Writing. Ed. Sherde A.
Inness and Diana Royer. Iowa City: U of Iowa P, 1997.72-87.
Shockley, Ann Allen. "Pauline Elizabeth Hopkins: A Biographical Excursion into Obscurity." Phylon 33 (1972): 22-26,
Smith, Albreta Moore. "Chicago Notes." Colored American Magazine 2 (Feb. 1901): 285-91.
--. "Noted Business Women of Chicago: Mrs. Hattie M. Hicks." Colored American Magazine 6 (July 1903:) 507-09.
"Southern View of Mrs. Terrell." Colored American Magazine 13 (Dec. 1907): 412-13.
Tate, Claudia. Domestic Allegories of Political Desire: The Black Heroine's Text at the Turn of the Century. New York: Oxford UP, 1992.
Washington, Booker T. The Negro in Business. 1907. Chicago: Afro-Am P, 1969.
West, Cornel. "The New Cultural Politics of Difference." The Cultural Studies Reader. Ed. Simon During. London: Routledge, 1993. 256-67.
Yarborough, Richard. "Introduction." Contending Forces: A Romance Illustrative of Negro Life North and South, by Pauline Hopkins. New York: Oxford UP, 1988. xxvii-xlviii.
Jill Bergman is Assistant Professor of English at the University of Montana. She has recently published on the New Woman, maternity, and race, and is currently co-editing Our Sisters' Keepers, a collection of essays on women and poverty relief in the nineteenth century. She is also completing a book on motherhood and the nation in the work of Pauline Hopkins. Bergman wishes to express her indebtedness to Brady Harrison, Sara Hayden, Anya Jabour, Cristina Alfar, John Gruesser, and the readers at the African American Review for their comments and encouragement on earlier drafts of this essay.
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|Publication:||African American Review|
|Date:||Jun 22, 2004|
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