Unblock History

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@UnblockHistory

Culture • History • & More

Joined February 2024

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Unblock History @UnblockHistory Jul 29, 2024

Below: A rare, original Civil Rights era flyer/poster from the Black Panthers, offering free hot breakfast for black children every school morning in Berkeley, California.

In the same time period, in Washington, D.C., a high-ranking law enforcement official described the Panthers as the "greatest thre@t" to the country.

In using the phrase the "greatest thre@t," was Director J. Edgar Hoover, who is on record detesting the Panthers and what they stood for, referring to the media image of the Panthers with we@pons, or a concern that educated, healthy black boys would one day become educated, healthy black men?

There are no other copies of this approximately five decades old flyer known to exist.

Unblock History @UnblockHistory Oct 12

Thrifted both for $10: a 1970s kids chair with a distorted blackf@ce image and a vibrant painting of a woman with natural hair.

One shows how casually stere0types were provided to children. The other celebrates women like Melba Tolliver and @ShebaTurk who have faced challenges and still insisted on regularly wearing their hair naturally as television news reporters and anchors.

How much has the underlying sentiment responsible for the second image of a beautiful black woman’s vibrant afro actually replaced the underlying sentiment responsible for the image on the childs chair?

Unblock History Verified account @UnblockHistory Oct 7

Less than a week after seeing a larger-than-life representation of black women’s natural (albeit blue) hair (a San Francisco street artwork called “Sheba 3”; the red, white and blue image), two more visualizations/interpretations crossed my path—one ugly and one beautiful—while thrift shopping last night. I purchased both pieces for about $10.

Starting with the ugly. Based upon early research, the kids chair was likely produced in the 1960s or early 1970s by a company that had a manufacturing plant in Alabama. The image on the seat is stereotypical bl@ckface. Kids (probably not black kids) literally sat on a distorted image of a black girl during their formative years. These kids would now be adults in their mid 50s. Could these kids have matured and left behind the r@cism their parents obviously engaged in, as evidenced by them purchasing a chair like this?

The painting, acquired the same night as the chair at a different Goodwill, is clearly more modern and a 180 degrees different representation than that of the chair. Vibrant colors embrace the afro of a beautiful black woman. (Please do not infer that black women cannot be beautiful without wearing their hair naturally.)

I highlight and celebrate public women like Melba Tolliver, the first black anchor on national television. She wore an afro on air at a White House event in the 1970s despite her bosses telling her not to. I highlight and celebrate a modern day anchor at CBS Los Angeles, Sheba Turk, who was disparaged earlier in her career by some viewers for wearing her hair in a natural.

I do this to combat the negative images of black women that refuse to completely go away. Manufactured caricatures—like the one on the kids chair—are a reminder that not that long ago images like this were mass produced—affecting children who are now adults. And a reminder that there is more work to be done.

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Unblock History @UnblockHistory Oct 9

All hair the Queens. Two of New Orleans finest being true to their roots.

Unblock History Verified account @UnblockHistory Oct 7

Less than a week after seeing a larger-than-life representation of black women’s natural (albeit blue) hair (a San Francisco street artwork called “Sheba 3”; the red, white and blue image), two more visualizations/interpretations crossed my path—one ugly and one beautiful—while thrift shopping last night. I purchased both pieces for about $10.

Starting with the ugly. Based upon early research, the kids chair was likely produced in the 1960s or early 1970s by a company that had a manufacturing plant in Alabama. The image on the seat is stereotypical bl@ckface. Kids (probably not black kids) literally sat on a distorted image of a black girl during their formative years. These kids would now be adults in their mid 50s. Could these kids have matured and left behind the r@cism their parents obviously engaged in, as evidenced by them purchasing a chair like this?

The painting, acquired the same night as the chair at a different Goodwill, is clearly more modern and a 180 degrees different representation than that of the chair. Vibrant colors embrace the afro of a beautiful black woman. (Please do not infer that black women cannot be beautiful without wearing their hair naturally.)

I highlight and celebrate public women like Melba Tolliver, the first black anchor on national television. She wore an afro on air at a White House event in the 1970s despite her bosses telling her not to. I highlight and celebrate a modern day anchor at CBS Los Angeles, Sheba Turk, who was disparaged earlier in her career by some viewers for wearing her hair in a natural.

I do this to combat the negative images of black women that refuse to completely go away. Manufactured caricatures—like the one on the kids chair—are a reminder that not that long ago images like this were mass produced—affecting children who are now adults. And a reminder that there is more work to be done.

View quoted post on X

Unblock History @UnblockHistory Oct 7

Less than a week after seeing a larger-than-life representation of black women’s natural (albeit blue) hair (a San Francisco street artwork called “Sheba 3”; the red, white and blue image), two more visualizations/interpretations crossed my path—one ugly and one beautiful—while thrift shopping last night. I purchased both pieces for about $10.

Starting with the ugly. Based upon early research, the kids chair was likely produced in the 1960s or early 1970s by a company that had a manufacturing plant in Alabama. The image on the seat is stereotypical bl@ckface. Kids (probably not black kids) literally sat on a distorted image of a black girl during their formative years. These kids would now be adults in their mid 50s. Could these kids have matured and left behind the r@cism their parents obviously engaged in, as evidenced by them purchasing a chair like this?

The painting, acquired the same night as the chair at a different Goodwill, is clearly more modern and a 180 degrees different representation than that of the chair. Vibrant colors embrace the afro of a beautiful black woman. (Please do not infer that black women cannot be beautiful without wearing their hair naturally.)

I highlight and celebrate public women like Melba Tolliver, the first black anchor on national television. She wore an afro on air at a White House event in the 1970s despite her bosses telling her not to. I highlight and celebrate a modern day anchor at CBS Los Angeles, Sheba Turk, who was disparaged earlier in her career by some viewers for wearing her hair in a natural.

I do this to combat the negative images of black women that refuse to completely go away. Manufactured caricatures—like the one on the kids chair—are a reminder that not that long ago images like this were mass produced—affecting children who are now adults. And a reminder that there is more work to be done.

Unblock History @UnblockHistory Aug 14

Pictured: Certified platinum award plaque for Ice Cube’s second album “Death Certificate”

Released on October 29, 1991, “Death Certificate” marked a defining moment in the evolution of politically conscious hip-hop. Building on the social commentary of his debut album, Ice Cube used “Death Certificate” to examine issues including racism, economic inequality, gang violence, media representation, and black self-determination. Organized into two thematic sections—“The Death Side” and “The Life Side”—the album juxtaposes stark portrayals of life in inner-city L.A. with calls for community empowerment and social change. Although several tracks generated controversy upon release, “Death Certificate” has come to be recognized as one of the most influential and provocative recordings of the early 1990s.