The advocates of Black Power reject the old slogans and meaningless rhetoric of previous years in the civil rights struggle. The language of yesterday is indeed irrelevant: progress, non-violence, integration, fear of “white backlash,” coalition. . . . One of the tragedies of the struggle against racism is that up to this point there has been no national organization which could speak to the growing militancy of young black people in the urban ghettos and the black-belt South. There has been only a “civil rights” movement, whose tone of voice was adapted to an audience of middle-class whites. It served as a sort of buffer zone between that audience and angry young blacks. It claimed to speak for the needs of a community, but it did not speak in the tone of that community. None of its so-called leaders could go into a rioting community and be lis- tened to. In a sense, the blame must be shared-along with the mass media-by those leaders for what happened in Watts, Harlem, Chicago, Cleveland, and other places. Each time the black people in those cities saw Dr. Martin Luther King get slapped they became angry. When they saw little black girls bombed to death in a church and civil rights workers ambushed and murdered, they were angrier; and when nothing happened, they were steaming mad. We had nothing to offer that they could see, except to go out and be beaten again. We helped to build their frustration. We had only the old language of love and suffering. And in most places-that is, from the liberals and middle class-we got back the old language of patience and progress. . . . Such language, along with admonitions to remain non-violent and fear the white backlash, convinced some that that course was the only course to follow. It misled some into believing that a black minority could bow its head and get whipped into a meaningful position of power. The very notion is absurd. . . . There are many who still sincerely believe in that approach. From our viewpoint, rampaging white mobs and white night-riders must be made to understand that their days of free head-whipping are over. Black people should and must fight back. Nothing more quickly repels someone bent on destroying you than the unequivocal message: “O.K., fool, make your move, and run the same risk I run-of dying.” Next we deal with the term “integration.” According to its advocates, social justice will be accomplished by “inte- grating the Negro into the mainstream institutions of the society from which he has been traditionally excluded.” This con- cept is based on the assumption that there is nothing of value in the black community and that little of value could be created among black people. The thing to do is to siphon off the “acceptable” black people into the surrounding middle- class white community. The goals of integrationists are middle-class goals, articulated primarily by a small group of Negroes with middle- class aspirations or status. . . . Secondly, while color ...

1. The advocates of Black Power reject the old slogans and
meaningless rhetoric of previous years in the civil rights
struggle.
The language of yesterday is indeed irrelevant: progress, non-
violence, integration, fear of “white backlash,” coalition. . . .
One of the tragedies of the struggle against racism is that up to
this point there has been no national organization
which could speak to the growing militancy of young black
people in the urban ghettos and the black-belt South. There has
been only a “civil rights” movement, whose tone of voice was
adapted to an audience of middle-class whites. It served as
a sort of buffer zone between that audience and angry young
blacks. It claimed to speak for the needs of a community, but
it did not speak in the tone of that community. None of its so-
called leaders could go into a rioting community and be lis-
tened to. In a sense, the blame must be shared-along with the
mass media-by those leaders for what happened in Watts,
Harlem, Chicago, Cleveland, and other places. Each time the
black people in those cities saw Dr. Martin Luther King get
slapped they became angry. When they saw little black girls
bombed to death in a church and civil rights workers ambushed
and murdered, they were angrier; and when nothing happened,
they were steaming mad. We had nothing to offer that they
could see, except to go out and be beaten again. We helped to
build their frustration.
We had only the old language of love and suffering. And in
most places-that is, from the liberals and middle
class-we got back the old language of patience and progress. . .
.

2. Such language, along with admonitions to remain non-violent
and fear the white backlash, convinced some that
that course was the only course to follow. It misled some into
believing that a black minority could bow its head and get
whipped into a meaningful position of power. The very notion is
absurd. . . .
There are many who still sincerely believe in that approach.
From our viewpoint, rampaging white mobs and
white night-riders must be made to understand that their days of
free head-whipping are over. Black people should and must
fight back. Nothing more quickly repels someone bent on
destroying you than the unequivocal message: “O.K., fool, make
your move, and run the same risk I run-of dying.”
Next we deal with the term “integration.” According to its
advocates, social justice will be accomplished by “inte-
grating the Negro into the mainstream institutions of the society
from which he has been traditionally excluded.” This con-
cept is based on the assumption that there is nothing of value in
the black community and that little of value could be
created among black people. The thing to do is to siphon off the
“acceptable” black people into the surrounding middle-
class white community.
The goals of integrationists are middle-class goals, articulated
primarily by a small group of Negroes with middle-
class aspirations or status. . . .
Secondly, while color blindness may be a sound goal ultimately,
we must realize that race is an overwhelming fact
of life in this historical period. There is no black man in the
country who can live “simply as a man.” His blackness is an
ever-
present fact of this racist society, whether he recognizes it or
not. It is unlikely that this or the next generation will witness

3. the
time when race will no longer be relevant in the conduct of
public affairs and in public policy decision-making. . . .
“Integration” as a goal today speaks to the problem of blackness
not only in an unrealistic way but also in a
despicable way. It is based on complete acceptance of the fact
that in order to have a decent house or education, black
people must move into a white neighborhood or send their
children to a white school. This reinforces, among both black
and white, the idea that “white” is automatically superior and
“black” is by definition inferior. For this reason, “integration”
is a subterfuge for the maintenance of white supremacy.
The Albany we found in October when we came down as SNCC
field workers was quite different from the Albany we now
know. Naturally, though, many things remain the same. The
swift flowing, cool waters of the Flint River still cut off the
east side of the city from the west. The paved streets remind
visitors that civilization may be thought to exist in the area
while the many dusty, sandy roadways in residential areas cause
one to wonder where tax money goes. Beautiful homes
against green backgrounds with lawns rolling up and down hills
and around corners held up by the deep roots of palm and
pine trees untouched by years of nature’s movement, sunny days
with moonlit nights-this was the Albany we had been
introduced to in October. But this was not the real Albany; the
real Albany was seen much later.
Albany is known by its people to be “liberal.” Located in the
center of such infamous counties as “Terrible Ter-
rell,” “Dogging Douglas,” “Unmitigated Mitchell,” “Lamentable
Lee,” “Unbearable Baker,” and the “Unworthy Worth

4. County.” It stands out as the only metropolitan area of any
prominence in Southwest Georgia. It is the crossroads of rural
people in villages and towns within a radius of ninety miles. It
was principally because of its location that Albany was
chosen as the beachhead for Democracy in .
Initially, we met with every obstacle possible. We had come
down with the idea of setting up office in Albany and
moving on shortly to Terrell County. This idea was short-lived.
We found that it would take more time than we thought to
present this city of 23,000 Negroes with the idea that freedom is
worth sacrifice. . . .
The first obstacle to remove . . . was the mental block in the
minds of those who wanted to move but were unable
for fear that we were not who we said we were. But when
people began to hear us in churches, social meetings, on the
streets, in the poolhalls, lunchrooms, nightclubs, and other
places where people gather, they began to open up a bit. We
would tell them of how it feels to be in prison, what it means to
be behind bars, in jail for the cause. We explained to them
that we had stopped school because we felt compelled to do so
since so many of us were in chains. We explained further
that there were worse chains than jail and prison. We referred to
the system that imprisons men’s minds and robs them of
creativity. We mocked the systems that teaches men to be good
Negroes instead of good men. We gave an account of the
many resistances of injustice in the courts, in employment,
registration, and voting. The people knew that such evils existed
but when we pointed them out time and time again and
emphasized the need for concerted action against them, the
people
began to think. At this point, we started to illustrate what had
happened in Montgomery, Macon, Nashville, Charlotte,
Atlanta, Savannah, Richmond, Petersburg, and many other cities
where people came together and protested against an

5. evil system. . . .
From the beginning we had, as Student Nonviolent Coordinating
Committee field people, visited the NAACP
Youth Chapter, introduced ourselves and outlined our project
for Voter-Registration. We pointed out differences between
the two organizations and advanced the hope that we could work
together.
From this point we initiated meetings in the churches of the
city. We had introduced ourselves to the Baptist
Ministerial Alliance and the Interdenominational Alliance. We
were given their support as groups and many churches
opened their doors to us; others were afraid for one reason or
another.
To these churches we drew the young people from the College,
Trade and General High schools, and on the
street. They were searching for a meaning in life. Nine
committees were formed-Typists, Clubs, Writing, Telephone,
Campus, communication, Sunday School communication,
Ministerial communication, Boy and Girl Scouts, and a central
committee of eighteen persons. Some of those were members of
the NAACP Youth Chapter. They kept coming to the work-
shops we were holding every night at different churches. . . .
That same morning, five or six of us got together at the home of
a local citizen and planned again to go to the bus
terminal. At three o’clock, nine students approached the bus
station, which is located only one block away from the pre-
dominantly “Negro” business area. Upon seeing the neatly
dressed students walk toward the station, a large number came
from the poolrooms, lunchrooms, liquor stores, and other
places. . . .

6. The stories of faraway cities and their protests turned over in
their minds. Was this a dream or was it really hap-
pening here in Albany? The students symbolized in the eyes of
them who looked on, the expression of years of resentment-
for police brutality, for poor housing, for dis[e]nfranchisement,
for inferior education, for the whole damnable system.
The fruit of years of prayer and sacrifice stood the ageless
hatched-men of the South, the policeman, but the children of
the new day stood tall, fearless before the legal executioners of
the blacks in the DEEP south.
The bus station was full of men in blue but up through the mass
of people past the men with guns and billies
ready, into the terminal, they marched, quiet and quite clean.
They were allowed to buy tickets to Florida but after sitting
in the waiting room, they were asked to leave under the threat
of arrest. They left as planned and later filed affidavits with
the Interstate Commerce Commission. The idea had been
delivered. In the hearts of the young and of the old, from that
moment on, Segregation was dead-the funeral was to come later.
There was a meeting of minds which came about as a result of
this action. It was a momentous occasion! The gath-
ering was scheduled for one Friday evening, at a citizen’s home.
The proposed number of five had grown to a total of
twenty interested persons who had been invited by the initial
five. No one imagined the importance of this meeting. Its objec-
tive was to organize and thereby discipline a group to negotiate
with the city officials. It was generally understood that the
entire group would go before the officials but later three men
were chosen to represent the group (THE ALBANY MOVE-
MENT). This committee presented to the Mayor the displeasure
of the community with Segregation as connected with the
following: Train station, Bus terminal, Library, Parks,
Hospitals, City Buses, Juries, Jobs and other public facilities.

7. There
was no reasonable consequence of the meeting with the Mayor;
it was as if there had never been communication.
But the importance of this meeting of the representatives of the
Albany community at the home of a citizen lies
in its structure. The real issue immediately took the floor in the
form of a question: Would the organizations involved be
willing to lose their identity as separate groups and cooperate
under the name of “THE ALBANY MOVEMENT”? All of
the organizations had to caucus-Baptist Ministerial Alliance,
Interdenominational Alliance, Criterion Club, Lincoln Heights
Improvement Association, Federated Women Clubs of Albany,
National Association for the Advance of Colored People and
its coordinate groups-Youth Council-Albany Voters League, and
the Student Nonviolent Coordinating Committee. There
were other interested persons who were members of such groups
as the American Legion, Masons, Elks, etc., but not
there as official representatives. These groups later gave their
support. After a short period of deliberation the groups were
ready to give their opinions. All of the groups were willing to
lose their identit[ies] in the local organization except the
NAACP, whose delegates requested time to receive directives
from the national office.
The Albany Movement soon grew to the statue of “Spokesman”
for the “Negro” community; a representative
social unit with extraordinary powers of negotiations had been
born. . . .
[T]he first mass meeting was called at one of the larger
churches in the city-Mount Zion. A week before the
meeting, enthusiasm had already been developing. There was a
men’s day exercise at which the Reverend Ralph Abernathy,
Treasurer of the Southern Christian Leadership Conference, was
the main speaker. He had been invited by the local church,

8. but his soul-searching message touched the hearts of many,
mounting enthusiastic anticipation for the mass meeting.
The night of the first Mass Meeting came! The church was
packed before eight o’clock. People were everywhere,
in the aisles, sitting and standing in the choir stands, hanging
over the railing of the balcony upstairs, sitting in trees out-
side near windows, and about twenty or thirty ministers sat on
the pulpit in chairs and on the floor side by side. There was
no bickering. Soon a young doctor of the community took
charge of the gathering, leading in the freedom songs which
have
grown out of the student movement during the last two years.
Petitions were laid before Almighty God by one of the min-
isters and a challenge was directed to the assembly by the young
doctor. Then arose a tall, silver-haired, outspoken veteran
of the struggle. He spoke [in a] slow and determined [manner].
He referred to attempts last year to unify the community
in protest against literary abuse of black men in the local paper
and filled in with vivid detail the developments to the date
of the Mass Meeting. Appearing also on the program was the
indefatigable, only, local Negro lawyer, C. B. King. He
stood flatfooted and thundered with his explosively deep voice,
striking at both the inaction of the church and its hypocrisy.
He also condemned local leadership in other areas for
procrastination. At times he sounded like the prophet of doom
but
before he had finished, in his highly polished speech, he
declared that our only hope was unity. This had been the real
reason for the Mass Meeting-to weld the community into one
bond of reason and emotion. The force to do this was gen-
erated by accounts of the released who individually described
the physical situation and mental state of each, in jail.

9. When the last speaker among the students, Bertha Gober, had
finished, there was nothing left to say. Tears filled
the eyes of hard, grown men who had known personally and
seen with their own eyes merciless atrocities committed by
small men without conscience. As Bertha, with her small frame
and baby voice told of spending Thanksgiving in jail
along with other physical inconveniences, there was not a dry
eye to be found. And when we rose to sing “We Shall Over-
come,” nobody could imagine what kept the top of the church
on four corners. It was as if everyone had been lifted up on
high and had been granted voices to sing with the celestial
chorus in another time and in another place.
I threw my head back and closed my eyes as I sang with my
whole body. I remembered walking dusty roads for
weeks without food. I remembered staying up all night for two
and three nights in succession writing and cutting stencils
and memeographing and wondering-How Long? I remembered
thinking about home, a thousand miles away and fun,
games, dancing, movies, boatrides, tennis, chess, swimming,-
LIFE; this was history.
But when I momentarily opened my eyes something good
happened to me. I saw standing beside a dentist of the
city, a man of the streets singing and smiling with joyful tears
in his eyes and beside him a mailman with whom I had
become acquainted along with people from all walks of life. It
was then that I felt deep down within where it really counts,
a warm feeling and all I could do was laugh out loud in the
swelling of the singing.