As the White populace in the United States moves toward numerical minority status by 2042, how might Whites respond to impending threat of losing their dominant group position? In particular, how will Whites react at selective, elite universities, where Asians are increasingly prominent and other non-Whites are maintaining or capturing a larger share of enrollments? Drawing on group position theory, I test White commitment to meritocracy as a public policy, using a survey-based experiment (599 California adult residents) to examine the importance grade point average should have in public university admissions. Whites decrease the importance that grade point average should have when Asian group threat is primed. However, White Californians increase the importance that grade point average should have when thinking about group threat from either Blacks or Blacks and Asians simultaneously. Ethnoracial outgroup threat shifts White support for meritocracy in different directions.

“Black male exceptionalism” is the premise that African American men fare more poorly than any other group in the United States. The discourse of Black male exceptionalism presents African American men as an “endangered species.” Some government agencies, foundations, and activists have responded by creating “Black male achievement” programs. There are almost no corresponding “Black female achievement” programs. Yet empirical data does not support the claim that Black males are burdened more than Black females. Without attention to intersectionality, Black male achievement programs risk obscuring Black females and advancing patriarchal values. Black male achievement programs also risk reinforcing stereotypes that African American males are violent and dangerous. An intersectional approach would create space for Black male focused interventions, but require parity for Black female programs.

This interview is part of a larger project on the Black prophetic tradition and its impact on today's ongoing struggle for justice and equality. We are concerned with the special challenges facing Black public intellectuals and activists, particularly with the impediments deriving from their position as outsiders in society; we consider the philosophical and political voices that helped form their own thinking as well as the social conditions that shaped them; and we reflect on the role of religion in their lives and its specific function in the Black community.2

In this essay, I contend that the elevation of Clarence Thomas to the Supreme Court, and the evisceration of civil rights it has enabled, should be understood in part to reflect a tragic mistake on the part of Black America writ large. I will argue it represents the absence of a fully embodied vision of racial justice—one that genuinely symbolizes the entire panoply of concerns that must be addressed if the quest for racial equality is to ever be fully realized in the United States. Importantly, what this essay will point to is a political and discursive failure to center the concerns of Black females at the heart of our racial justice agenda.

In 1989, Kimberlé Crenshaw published Demarginalizing the Intersection of Race and Sex: A Black Feminist Critique of Antidiscrimination Doctrine, Feminist Theory and Antiracist Politics, an article that drew explicitly on Black feminist criticism, and challenged three prevailing frameworks: 1) the male-centered nature of antiracist politics, which privileged the experiences of heterosexual Black men; 2) the White-centered nature of feminist theorizing, which privileged the experiences of heterosexual White women; and 3) the “single-axis”/sex or race-centered nature of antidiscrimination regimes, which privileged the experiences of heterosexual White women and Black men. Crenshaw demonstrated how people within the same social group (e.g., African Americans) are differentially vulnerable to discrimination as a result of other intersecting axes of disadvantage, such as gender, class, or sexual orientation.

This essay builds on that insight by articulating a performative conceptualization of race. It assumes that a judge is sympathetic to intersectionality and thus recognizes that Black women are often disadvantaged based on the intersection of their race and sex, among other social factors. This essay asks: How is that judge likely to respond to a case in which a firm promotes four Black women but not the fifth? The judge could conclude that there is no discrimination because the firm promoted four people (Black women) with the same intersectional identity as the fifth (a Black woman). We argue that this evidentiary backdrop should not preclude a finding of discrimination. It is plausible that our hypothetical firm utilized racially associated ways of being—performative criteria (self presentation, accent, demeanor, conformity, dress, and hair style)—to differentiate among and between the Black women. The firm might have drawn an intra-group, or intra-intersectional, line between the fifth Black women and the other four based on the view that the fifth Black woman is “too Black.” We describe the ease with which institutions can draw such lines and explain why doing so might constitute impermissible discrimination. Our aim is to broaden the conceptual terms upon which we frame both social categories and discrimination.

Some of the more influential research on race and education published in the last few decades comes from the work of John Ogbu and Signithia Fordham (Fordham 1988; Fordham and Ogbu, 1986; Ogbu 1978, 1987, 1991, 2003). In Ogbu's writing about the oppositional culture hypothesis, he argued that Black students frame their relationship to schooling through the lens of their historic marginalization in the United States. Out of their understanding of their systematic disenfranchisement, Ogbu suggested that “they not only generate theories [that] contradict dominant notions of status attainment and produce disillusionment about the instrumental value of school; but develop substantial distrust for school and its agents which then suppresses commitment to school norms” (Lewis et al., 2008, p. 259). Together, Fordham and Ogbu (1986) expanded on these ideas in their article on the “acting White” hypothesis suggesting that students not only disengage from school themselves, they also put pressure on their Black peers not to work hard in school lest they be accused of “acting White.” Together these two interconnected theories have gained substantial notoriety and have become part of the general commonsense about why Black students are not doing better in school—“the problem,” it is believed, is the academic disengagement or “oppositional culture” of African American students.

For the last decade, scholars have pondered how the changing ethnoracial demographics of the United States would influence the country's racial, social, political, cultural, and economic landscape. Latinos are now the country's largest ethnoracial minority and the 2012 election provided an indication of just how significant this group will be for shaping the future of the United States. Scholars of race in particular have speculated how the ethnic and racial diversity of Latinos will change existing U.S. racial dynamics with some arguing that the historical Black/White binary will remain intact with Latinos falling on one or the other side of the binary. Yet, other scholars suggest that the Black/White binary will shift to a Black/non-Black binary in which Blacks will remain at the bottom of the U.S. ethnoracial hierarchy while Asian Americans and Latinos will be grouped with Whites. Going even further, another set of scholars argues that the size of the Latino population and its more fluid racial boundaries will trigger a Latin-Americanization of U.S. race relations such that Whites will remain at the top of the hierarchy, with Blacks and a few other lower-socioeconomic-status (SES) minority groups at the bottom while there will be an intermediate group between, “the Honorary Whites,” that consists of mixed-race individuals and higher SES Asians and Latinos.

Here is a dazzling book, one that offers a rich genealogy for reflection about our current preoccupations. Open up any newspaper. Switch on any television news program. What you will read and hear is a cacophony of voices, many of them discordant, on how to fix, fund, and perhaps shrink the federal government's spending on those insurance programs first created in the 1930s by the New Deal welfare state. Equally factious are the debates on immigration policy that some hope will resolve how the republic will meet its future labor needs and how it will placate its rising Latino voting public. Will we deport eleven million workers? Will we construct electrified fences to protect our southern border from “illegal” invasion? Will we offer unauthorized immigrants a path to citizenship? Stay tuned. And while racial politics are clearly at the covert center of these polemics, the discussion of race is rarely overt probably because some now pronounce us a post-racial society.

In the early 1930s, with worldwide economies sinking deeper into what would become the Great Depression, upwards of 400,000 people crossed the U.S.-Mexico border. They were en route to what for most would be permanent relocation to Mexico.1 Though many traveled from established enclaves in the Midwest and Northeast, the vast majority came from the Southwest, where Mexican America was concentrated. Claims on both sides of the border to the contrary, the mass exodus could hardly be described as voluntary. In addition to the tens of thousands of immigrants subject to stepped-up deportation efforts and state-sponsored repatriations, countless individuals and families were intimidated, “scare-headed” (the term used by an influential local official to describe the Los Angeles campaign) or otherwise coerced into leaving lest they become burdens on the country's overtaxed relief rolls. Significant numbers of the departed were U.S. citizens, swept up in what the progressive journalist Carey McWilliams called “a determination to oust the Mexican.”2

Thanks to the work of numerous scholars, it is now well understood that African Americans were incorporated into the early twentieth-century welfare state—as it was then constituted—on a decidedly unequal basis. If African Americans were not altogether excluded by design from some programs, government officials were frequently less generous in determining the scope and extent of the benefits received by them compared to those received by Whites.