What Would Earl Say Now? A Reflection

“If you want change, you have to go out and demand change.” Earl spoke those words decades ago while fighting for civil rights for African Americans.

I wonder what he would be thinking today about the racial unrest in America in 2020. About the pandemic that has taken the lives of disproportionate numbers of black and brown people. Twenty years have passed since Earl’s death, and while the conditions of African Americans have improved on some levels, some things are worse than they should be.

Earl’s righteous indignation surely would have exploded at the cellphone video murder of George Floyd in Minneapolis by a police officer in May. The officer’s knee on Floyd’s neck for 8 minutes and 46 seconds reignited a fire long simmering. Floyd gasped for breath, calling out for his dead mother. “I can’t breathe,” he repeated.

The world erupted in anger and flames. The deaths of Floyd, Ahmaud Arbery, Breonna Taylor, and African American men and women named and unnamed in recent years had been enough.

Earl would have been prompted to join the youth-fueled protests that shook the world in the aftermath of Floyd’s death. Earl believed in harnessing “the vigor of our youth and the wisdom of our elders to raise the level” of involvement necessary to bring about change.

The reality that this country is still caught up in the tangled web of racial hatred, police brutality, voter suppression, systemic racism, economic inequities, and other institutionalized oppression would make Earl cry out “no justice, no peace.” Or perhaps he would cry in anguish as many others did, then he would be moved to act.

Earl T. Shinhoster came of age in the 1960s as youth activist in Savannah, GA., with the National Association for the Advancement of Colored People. He remained with the country’s oldest civil rights organization until he was 49. He served as the interim CEO in the mid-1990s. Earl died on June 11, 2000, less than a month shy of his 50 birthday.

He spent his first 17 years with the NAACP as regional director, crisscrossing the seven battleground southern states. He worked to change education disparities, economic development, police violence, and other discriminatory practices.

Earl marched, led protests, and lobbied legislators for policies to improve people’s lives. He understood that marching and protesting alone would not be enough to change the oppressive laws, policies and practices that denied African Americans the same rights as their white neighbors.

Two of the issues that fueled his passion were voter registration and the removal of Confederate flags from the state houses in Alabama, South Carolina, and Georgia. Earl would be both surprised and disappointed at where we are today on those matters.

He would be proud of the number of African American mayors, federal and state legislators, judges, and local officials elected since the NAACP’s 2000 voter registration drive, which he led. He would have rejoiced when America elected its first (and only) black President , not once but twice, Barack H. Obama. “That’s a winner,” he would say with a smile.

However, his blood would have been boiling at the Republican redistricting efforts, the voter suppression tactics that kept blacks and others from voting, and the voter fraud that took place in Georgia’s last gubernatorial race. He would have been angry that Stacy Abrams was not given a fair chance of being elected Georgia’s first African American governor.

He also would be infuriated that fewer blacks are voting now. That many young people have given up on going to the polls.

“The right to vote was gained with blood, sweat and tears,” he once said. “And yet too many of us are too sorry to register. And many of us who are registered are too sorry to go out and vote.”

He pushed voter education and registration, with the intensity of a man on a mission. His work took him to elections in South Africa, Israel, and Ghana. He worked to restore the voting rights of former felons. He also urged African Americans to take seriously the need to fill out Census 2000 questionnaires. He told them the money for positive changes in communities would be lost if blacks were not counted. He would make the same plea today – fill out Census 2020.

I wonder what Earl would think now about the toppling of Confederate monuments following weeks of protests. Or that South Carolina finally removed the Confederate flag from its state capitol in 2015 after nine people were murdered during Bible study at Mother Emanuel AME Church in Charleston by a 21-year-old white racist.

Earl knew that change often takes a long time, and sometimes the resistance comes from the very people you are seeking to help. In 1986, he took on the fight against the racist symbol of the Confederacy’s lost cause. Confederate flags were symbols of racial hatred, he preached for several years.

“Many African Americans have long viewed an attack on the Confederate flag as a waste of time and a diversion from more pressing issues such as equal opportunity, affirmative action and violence in the community,” he told a reporter

Several years into the fight, Earl grew weary. Many blacks saw it as a fight that could not be won. Nothing had come of protests and lawsuits filed by the NAACP in Georgia, Mississippi, or South Carolina.

But now the symbols of racism are falling, some are being pulled down by a new generation of young activists who are willing to fight for what they believe is right. Earl would be pleased with their progress and willing to lend a hand.