A notable increase in immigration into the United States over the past half century, coupled with its recent geographic dispersion into new communities nationwide, has fueled contact among a wider set of individuals and groups than ever before. Past research has helped us understand Whites’ and Blacks’ attitudes toward immigrants and immigration, and even how contact between Blacks and Whites have shaped their attitudes toward one another. Nevertheless, how contact between Blacks and Whites may correspond with attitudes toward immigrants is not as well understood. Drawing on an original representative survey, we examine U.S.-born Whites’ and Blacks’ attitudes toward Mexican and South Asian Indian immigrants within the context of ongoing relations between the former two U.S.-born communities. Informed by research on the secondary transfer effect (STE), we model how the frequency of contact between U.S.-born Whites and Blacks predicts each group’s receptivity toward two differentially positioned immigrant groups, first-generation Mexicans and South Asian Indians. Multivariate analysis indicates that, among Whites, more frequent contact with Blacks is positively associated with greater receptivity toward both immigrant outgroups, even after controlling for Whites’ individual perceptions of threat, their direct contact with the two immigrant groups, and the perceived quality of such contact. Among Blacks, however, we find less consistent evidence that frequent contact with Whites is associated with attitudes toward either immigrant group. While varied literatures across multiple disciplines have suggested that interracial relations among the U.S.-born may be associated with receptivity toward immigrant newcomers, our results uniquely highlight the importance of considering how U.S.-born groups are positioned in relation to immigrants and to each other when examining such effects.

Historical studies of the War on Poverty have overwhelmingly focused on its consequences in African American communities. Many studies have grappled with how War on Poverty innovations co-opted a thriving African American social movement. This paper explores the impact of War on Poverty programs on the development of a political cadre of Mexican American grassroots leaders in Oakland, California. It investigates how coordinated 1960s protests by Mexican American organizations reveal Oakland's changing racial/ethnic conditions and shifting trends in the state's relationship to the urban poor. It demonstrates how a national shift to place-based solutions to poverty devolved the “problem of poverty” from the national to the local level and empowered a new set of actors—community-based organizations—in the fight against poverty. This essay argues that the devolution of federal responsibility for welfare provided the political and institutional opening for the rise of powerful Mexican American organizations whose goal was the recognition of a “Mexican American community” meriting government intervention. This essay also demonstrates how Mexican American organizations mobilized in relation to African American social movements and to geographies of poverty that were deemed exclusively Black.

Little controversy remains about the profound shifts in the demographic landscape of the United States since the mid-1960s. Far more controversial is whether this transformation will bring about a new politics of race. This paper argues that a key to settling this debate is a clearer specification of the “identity-to-politics” link: the nexus between a population defined by shared racial and ethnic labels and a collective group politics based on those definitions. The paper articulates some potential pitfalls in how this nexus is commonly specified in empirical research and proposes an approach that distinguishes five key processes that are typically lumped together in linking shared demographic categories to common political destinies: definition, identification, consciousness, venue selection, and choice. The paper describes an example of this approach (the case of ethnoracial classification and the empirical measurement of race) and concludes by discussing its potential utility and limitations.

This article investigates why deeply entrenched racial inequality persists into the post-civil rights era in the United States. It challenges individual-level explanations that assume persistent racial inequality is the result of either White bigotry, which is diminishing, or the failure of Blacks to take advantage of the opportunities opened up by the civil rights legislation of the 1960s. We propose an alternative explanation for durable racial inequality. Contemporary color lines, we argue, result from the cumulative effect of racial discrimination and exclusion, a process in which Whites accumulate racial advantages to the detriment of African Americans and Latinos. These cumulative inequalities are produced and sustained by competition between racial groups to acquire and control jobs and other resources, and by institutional practices and public policies. Individual choice in the form of intentional racism has little to do with the persistence of racial inequality. Our analysis suggests that Americans' current understanding of the concept of equality of opportunity is out of sync with the realities of durable racial inequality, and needs to be revised.

This paper argues that researchers may be misgauging family resources by focusing narrowly on the nuclear family when measuring these resources. While social scientists have long been interested in the ways that families' material resources affect their ability to provide for their offspring, the traditional measures of family resources have emphasized parents' income and parents' wealth, although the interest in the latter is relatively new (Conley 2009 [1999]; Haveman et al., 2001; Oliver and Shapiro, 2006 [1995]). This paper attempts to shift the focus to the extended family, and it uses data from the Panel Study of Income Dynamics (PSID) and the Child Development Supplement (CDS) to paint a portrait of the volume of wealth that is available in the grandparent generation of a child's family tree. After theorizing about the potential ways that grandparent wealth can affect children's life chances, the research shows that there are substantial differences in extended-family wealth by race. The Black/White wealth ratio is on the order of 0.11 in the grandparent generation at the median, which indicates that the typical Black child has grandparents with only about eleven cents of wealth for every dollar that the grandparents of the typical White child possess. Some implications of this wealth gap for children and society are discussed.

The politics of affirmative action are currently structured as a litigious conflict among elites taking polarized stances. Opponents call for colorblindness, and defenders champion diversity. How can marginalized activists subvert the dominant terms of legal debate? To what extent can they establish their legitimacy? This paper advances legal mobilization theory by analytically foregrounding the field of contention and the relational production of meaning among social movement organizations. The case for study is two landmark United States Supreme Court cases that contested the University of Michigan’s race-conscious admissions policies. Using ethnographic data, the paper analyzes BAMN, an activist organization, and its reception by other affirmative action supporters. BAMN had a marginalized allied-outsider status in the legal cases, as it made a radical civil rights claim for a moderate, elite-supported policy: that affirmative action corrects systemic racial discrimination. BAMN activists pursued their agenda by passionately defending and, at once, critiquing the university’s policies. However, the organization’s militancy remained a liability among university leaders, who prioritized the consistency of their diversity claims. The analysis forwards a scholarly understanding of the legacy of race-conscious policies.

Considered costly, divisive, and backward-looking, reparations for slavery and Jim Crow appear to have no place in the politics of the “postracial epoch.” This essay proposes that the dismissal of reparations concedes too much. First, I contend that the conjunction of postracial discourse, on the one hand, and deepening racial inequalities, on the other, demands a counter-language, one that ties the analysis of the present to the historical conditions out of which it was produced. I explore reparations as a political language that (1) situates political claims within the historical framework of slavery, reconstruction, and segregation; (2) links past to present to future in its demand for concrete forms of redress; and (3) has played an important role in African American political life and in contemporary democracies in transition. Second, in contrast to much of the reparations scholarship, I focus on the demands of democracy rather than justice. Doing so both helps to evade some of the technical questions that have prevented full consideration of the political work of reparations and provides a vehicle for redefining both governmental and civic responsibility in the shadow of slavery and Jim Crow.

Latino and Black males are more likely to suffer serious violent victimization compared to White males, and it is likely that economic disadvantage and other individual level differences play a key role in these disparities. This study of self-reported data from the National Crime Victimization Survey (1973–2010) is the first effort to assess three important issues: 1) the extent to which the relationship between serious violent victimization and race and ethnicity can be accounted for by age, location of residence, poverty status, and employment; 2) whether these factors have similar influences among Black, White, and Latino males; and 3) whether the net risk for violence associated with race and ethnicity has diminished over time. Our results show that disparities between Black and White male violent victimization decrease approximately 70% once age, location of residence, poverty status, and employment are taken into account, and that differences between Latinos and White males are fully accounted for by these factors. Poverty status is the only factor that varies in the strength of its association with violence across groups. We also find little evidence to suggest that the association between race, ethnicity and victimization risk changed significantly from 1973 to 2010, once other factors are considered. Despite notable declines in violence over this time period, Black and White disparities in male victimization persist over the past four decades; however, the relationship between poverty status and violence has increased some for Black and White males.

Since the killing of Trayvon Martin, the Stand Your Ground law has come to emblematize contemporary racial injustice. Yet, the legitimacy of the statute endures, as more than thirty-three states maintain and enforce some version of Stand Your Ground. This article probes the legitimacy basis for Stand Your Ground by excavating and reconstructing its formative logic. Drawing on archival records of the Florida state legislature’s 2005 pioneering of the statute, I examine how lawmakers justified its introduction, design, and enactment. I find that proponents of Stand Your Ground framed it as a response to the cost impositions of criminal prosecution and civil action. In introducing Stand Your Ground, they sought to protect self-defensive actors against the burdens of administrative and judicial proceedings by granting them civil immunity. During the mark-up process, legislators held an extensive debate over the intended beneficiaries and victims of Stand Your Ground. Racial codes animated this debate: “drug dealers,” “gangs,” and “cop killers” represented the types of criminal subjects whom the legal protections of Stand Your Ground should exclude, while “violent criminals” in the “bad part of town” represented the intended objects of the statute’s authorization of deadly force. Ultimately, legislators translated the concerns raised during this debate into statutory design choices that baked race into Stand Your Ground.

It matters how people view the police—and that there is a substantial racial gap in these views. Research has primarily focused on police experiences to explain generally less-positive views among Black Americans. We recommend a subtle but vital shift in focus, seeking instead to explain the remarkably more favorable average views about the police among White Americans. Utilizing comparable data from two 2016 American National Election Studies surveys, we explore the role of contact with the police, politics, and three different dimensions of racial attitudes and views, finding views about the police among White Americans to be shaped in primary ways by concerns about Black Americans. These factors, and racial resentment in particular, explain a significant portion of the average difference in views of the police between Black and White Americans. We discuss the implications of this subtle shift in focus, particularly for work which sets positive views about the police as the goal.

W. E. B. Du Bois once remarked that “It was in Germany that my first awakening to social reform began” (Aptheker 1982, p. 275). This essay examines the intellectual impact of Du Bois's voyage to Berlin from 1892 to 1894. His acquisition of empirical social research methods under the tutelage of German historical economists, particularly Gustav von Schmoller, armed him with the intellectual and methodological tools he needed in his effort to attack pervasive biological determinist theories in the United States. Using empirical techniques grounded in a “system of ethics” as his conceptual guideposts, Du Bois analyzed race as not a biological but a social phenomenon. To be sure, this was no easy task. He was also a “race man,” who, loyal to his moral commitment to building a program of racial uplift, sought legitimacy as a social scientist from his fellow American sociologists, who summarily ignored his work. Struggling to serve his roles as both scientist and race man, Du Bois functioned within an intellectual space of double consciousness, constantly vacillating between two communities and two voices. In the end, Du Bois would successfully bring the scientific method to the race question, using inductive methods in his sociological studies on the African American experience. This approach made possible his seminal work The Philadelphia Negro (1899) and, subsequently, his research at Atlanta University. In the final analysis, his empirical research stood its ground, successfully advancing a new paradigm for examining race based on the idea that the putative racial hierarchy, theoretically grounded in biological determinism, was nothing more than a social artifact buttressed by racism. He further demonstrated how the economic disparity between Whites and Blacks functioned as the prime catalyst for “a plexus of social problems” that plagued African American life (Du Bois 1898, p. 14). His conclusions were a radical departure from the work of many American sociologists, many of whom were sympathetic to social Darwinism—his most formidable challenge.This essay would not have been conceived without the steady support and constant pushing of my dear friends and colleagues, all of whom have read or heard this paper at various stages: Anne Harrington, Robert Brain, Stephen C. Ferguson, Fanon Che Wilkins, Craig Koslofsky, Matti Bunzl, Peter Fritzsche, Frederick Hoxie, Dianne Pinderhughes, Jason E. Glenn, Bernadette Atuahene, Adam Biggs, Charlton Copeland, and Bikila Ochoa.

We examine the interlinked migrations between the Dominican Republic and Haiti, between the Dominican Republic and the Commonwealth of Puerto Rico, and, finally, migrations from these three countries to the United States. The literature tends to draw stark differences between race and racism in the United States and the nonracial societies of Puerto Rico and the Dominican Republic. However, although Blackness is a contextual category, through analyzing how “Black” migrants are racialized using these three contexts, we find that there is a simultaneously global and local derogation of “Blackness” that places Black migrants at the bottom of socioeconomic hierarchies. Further, these migrants remain largely outside of conceptions of the nation, and thus Blackness is constructed as a blend of racial phenotype and national origin, whereby native “Blacks” attempt to opt out of Blackness on account of their national identity. This dynamic is particularly true in the Caribbean where Blanqueamiento, or Whitening, is made possible through a dialectical process in which a person's Whiteness, or at least his or her non-Blackness, is made possible by contrast to an “Other.” Consequently, we argue that immigration becomes a key site for national processes of racialization, the construction of racial identities, and the maintenance of and contestation over racial boundaries.

The Moynihan Report of 1965 will soon be fifty years old, and some social scientists now venerate it as a sterling application of social science data and analysis by the federal government. This author, who was directly involved in events connected with the release of the Report, does not agree; this article examines the shortcomings of the Report. I argue that Moynihan's analysis, which intended to investigate the ties between Black male unemployment and the Black family, actually devoted most of its attention to the high proportion of single-parent families in the poor Black population, treating it as one symptom of a “tangle of pathology” that stood in the way of this population's escape from joblessness and poverty. Today, the Report is being hailed as having predicted the current and still worsening state of the poor Black family. Moynihan's work is also being reinterpreted as an early application of cultural analysis, thereby further drawing attention away from the job-related issues which led Moynihan to undertake his study. Moynihan himself made significant contributions to antipoverty policy later in his career, but his Report does not deserve the worship it continues to receive.

In this paper I argue that time is a social determinant of health, and one that perpetuates racial health inequalities. Specifically, Black people in the United States experience time losses across numerous domains throughout the life course, putting them at risk of disproportionate morbidity and mortality. Fundamental cause theory holds that social conditions structure health through pathways to resources including money, knowledge, power, prestige, freedom, and social networks. Racialized time indirectly harms health by disrupting or denying access to these flexible resources and by undoing utility among those that are obtained. Racialized time harms health directly when it produces stress and exacerbates conditions of racial subordination. I examine racialized time in three categories: 1) Black people spending too much time to meet basic needs; 2) Black people having less time spent on them than is required; and 3) lost years of (good quality of) life. Linkages between time and health disadvantage exist in material resources, interactions with the state, intimate lives, public space, and cognitive processes.

Concern over intergenerational ethnic continuity, with members of minority groups seeking to ensure that youth become invested in and committed to religious, cultural, or ethnic identities, is long-standing and inherent to group boundary formation. In recent years, this concern has been particularly pronounced in the North American Jewish community, with socialization and retention of Jewish young adults emerging as one of its central preoccupations. This emphasis on Jewish continuity emerged as a central concern following the legacy of experiences with anti-Semitism and discrimination. The most significant program to emerge from this agenda is Taglit-Birthright Israel, a program that has provided over 250,000 free ten-day trips to Israel for Jewish young adults from over fifty countries. Homeland tours of this sort are increasingly common across diasporic groups, and this paper attends to the emotional work that underlies collective identity formation in these tours. Through focus groups with Taglit-Birthright participants, we find that these tours engage and mobilize competing sets of emotions, and that tour members experience dimensions of closeness and distance at once. The result is that participants are engaged in a form of identity labor: they grapple with the questions of how they should affiliate as Jews, and how they can forge an identity that carves a role for themselves in the diaspora. Drawing on the sociological concept of ambivalence, we find that collective identity is successfully forged in these trips by interrupting the notion of effortless ethnic belonging, and providing participants with a deeper understanding of the commitment required for intra-ethnic group identification and attachments.

In discussions of political obligation, it is commonly assumed that duties follow from citizenship. However, the performance of a duty by aliens can lead to citizenship status in at least one critical case: service by noncitizen soldiers. While politicians and pundits recently have called citizenship a just reward for bearing arms and these “green card troops” another example of immigrant entrepreneurship in the United States, there is a good deal of ideological ambivalence about the policy. A clear discussion of its merits is crucial, particularly because in upending the traditionally accepted relationship between obligation and membership in a community, it gives new meaning to citizenship; it also forces a choice between our egalitarian and civic republican values. In this essay, I provide a theoretical framework for evaluating the policy normatively, as well as a political analysis of why—regardless of one's normative stance—the practice of granting citizenship for military service is likely to continue into the future.

This article presents an overview of the Hispanic population of the United States, focusing on the sources of its growth, its internal composition, its connections with the countries of origin, its role in the U.S. economy, and the emerging second generation. Intergenerational differences in outlooks and self-identities and the forces leading to the emergence of a “thick” Hispanic identity in the second generation are examined. The obstacles to successful integration faced by this youthful population and evidence of both “upward” and “downward” assimilation among its members are analyzed. Implications for the field of race and ethnic relations and for public policy toward immigrants and their offspring are discussed.

Over the last two decades decision makers have sought to address problems with large concentrations of poverty and minority ethnoracial groups in the cities of Western Europe and the Anglo-American world that are the direct result of the manner in which public housing was built in the early postwar era. The United States, Canada, the United Kingdom, and Australia have developed programs that introduce “social mix” into such public housing developments. These initiatives are designed to alter the social dynamics of places with high levels of concentrated poverty and ethnoracial minority groups that are believed to magnify the disadvantages of poverty and marginalization. In this paper, I argue that this is a destigmatization strategy, but not the same kind of destigmatization strategy that has been described in the literature. Using the example of Toronto's Regent Park, a large public housing development near downtown, I develop a research agenda for understanding the gap between a quasi-state agency's efforts to destigmatize public housing sites (“place destigmatization”) and the everyday destigmatization practices and experiences of residents (“personal destigmatization”). The paper begins with a review of the putative mechanisms linking socially mixed public housing redevelopment and outcomes for residents, including social capital, social control, role modelling, and changes to the political economy of place. This review finds little evidence of these effects in the literature. Consequently, I argue for an inductive approach to the study of the outcomes of social mix, rather than the common practice of judging such outcomes against the benchmark of close, intimate relationships between new, middle-class residents and existing public housing residents. I further argue that the “normalization” of the built form that is a major part of socially mixed redevelopment is a form of place destigmatization, and may alter both material practices and representational practices related to stigma, which have very real effects on the everyday experience of residents.

As racialized and gendered structures, organizations can reinforce complex inequalities, especially with regard to emotional labor. While the literature on emotional labor is established, little is known about how race and sexual orientation shape feeling rule enforcement. Interviewing staff at university LGBTQ resource centers, we argue that feeling rules have a sexual orientation-based dimension and are experienced and enforced differently based on race. White LGBTQ staff find that they can express anger strategically to bring awareness to issues of race, but do not confront racism in their work for fear of alienating other Whites, which they believe would harm their center. LGBTQ staff of color experience organizational consequences for their anger, which is directed toward the racism they and students of color experience in the university. Lacking the credential of Whiteness (Ray 2019), staff of color find they cannot reach the benchmark set by Whites’ enthusiastic performance of emotional labor. These feeling rules operate in service of what James M. Thomas (2018) calls diversity regimes, which are performances of a benign commitment to racial equality, that retrench racial inequality by failing to redistribute resources along racial lines. By sanctioning anger toward the university—as an institution that reproduces racism—feeling rules have organizational consequences: Whites can advance through compliance and enthusiasm; staff of color are terminated or denied opportunities; and critiques of racism are silenced. While created to address diversity, LGBTQ centers are purposely not structurally positioned to radically shift resources in a way to combat racism, and feeling rules maintain these arrangements while allowing universities to claim a commitment to equality. These findings hold implications for broader concerns of racism, sexual orientation, and inequality within work organizations, especially manifestations of worker control within diversity work.