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Cynthia McKinney's was not quite a household name in America before the terrorist attacks on the United States on September 11, 2001. To those who follow the goings-on on Capitol Hill, McKinney at the time was a feisty Georgia Democratic congresswoman who gave voice to issues no one else would touch, from voting rights, reparations and U.S. intelligence on Sept. 11, to Zimbabwe's defiance of U.S. will and increasing U.S. militarism abroad. To many of her constituents in the ethnically diverse Dekalb County—which includes one of Georgia's largest populations of affluent blacks and many wealthy whites—she was the elected official who really delivered.
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 Editor's Note |
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When I was in college in the heady Black Power-African Liberation days of the late 1960s and early 1970s, we used to complain that black people just did not read—not about our history and culture; not our very true-to-life fiction; and certainly not about "the revolution" taking place at the time. "If you want to hide something from black people, put it in a book," we chorused. An unread people were an uninformed people, therefore fair game for "the oppressor." We weren't talking about college cognoscenti like ourselves, of course.
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| Final Word |
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As president of Morehouse College, the nation's premier institution of higher learning for men, I am often asked why there is still a need for a college dedicated primarily to the education of black males. People who ask this question point to the fact that since the 1970s, an increasing number of African-Americans have gained admission, matriculated and graduated from Harvard, Yale, Duke and other respected majority institutions.
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