History

This book examines the philosophies, experiences, and instructional programs of white and black female physical educators who taught in public schools and diverse colleges and universities, including coed and single-sex, public and private, and predominantly white or black institutions. Working primarily with female students, women physical educators had to consider what an active female could and should do compared to an active male. Applying concepts of sex differences, they debated the implications of female anatomy, physiology, reproductive functions, and psychosocial traits for achieving gender parity in the gym. Teachers’ interpretations were contingent on where they worked and whom they taught. They also responded to broad historical conditions, including developments in American feminism, law, and education, society’s changing attitudes about gender, race, and sexuality, and scientific controversies over sex differences and the relative weight of nature versus nurture. While deliberating fairness for female students, white and black women physical educators also pursued equity for themselves, as their workplaces and nascent profession often marginalized female and minority personnel. Questions of difference and equity divided the field throughout the twentieth century; while some women teachers favored moderate views and incremental change, others promoted justice for their students and themselves by exerting authority at their schools, critiquing traditional concepts of “difference,” and devising innovative curricula. Drawing on extensive archival research, this book sheds new light on physical education’s application of scientific ideas, the politics of gender, race, and sexuality in the domain of active bodies, and the enduring complexities of difference and equity in American culture.

This book is a study of black women as symbols, and as participants, in the reshaping of the meaning of black racial identity. The meanings and practices of racial identity are continually reshaped as a result of the interplay of actions taken at the individual and institutional levels. In chapters that detail the history of pre-Civil Rights Movement black beauty pageants, later efforts to integrate beauty contests, and the transformation in beliefs and practices relating to black beauty in the 1960s, the book develops a model for understanding social processes of racial change. It places changing black hair practices and standards of beauty in historical context and shows the powerful role social movements have had in reshaping the texture of everyday life. The Civil Rights and Black Power Movements led a generation to question hair straightening and to establish a new standard of beauty that was summed up in the words “black is beautiful.” Through oral history interviews with Civil Rights and Black Power Movement activists and ordinary women, the book documents the meaning of these changes in black women's lives.

This is the story of water, a valley, and a city. The city was San Francisco, the valley was Hetch Hetchy, and the waters were from the Tuolumne River watershed, located within Yosemite National Park. In 1905, for the first time in American history, a significant national opposition led by John Muir and the Sierra Club sought to protect the valley from a dam, believing that its beauty should be enjoyed by the American people. On the other side, San Franciso mayor James Phelan believed it was his civic responsibility to provide his 750,000 constituents with a pure, abundant source of water. From 1905 until 1913, the two sides fought over the destiny of the Hetch Hetchy: Would the glacier-carved valley become a reservoir or remain an inviolate part of Yosemite National Park? Finally, Congress decided the issue by passage of the Raker Act, granting the valley to San Francisco's use. By 1923, San Francisco engineers completed the huge O'Shaughnessy Dam, submerging the valley under over 200 feet of water. However, the battle did not end. Who would control the vast watershed of the Tuolumne River: The City of San Francisco or the National Park Service? And would the hydro electric power provide for a city-owned system or would it be sold to a private company? For the first time, the full story of this epic battle is told in an evenhanded way. It is a story without end, however, and the final chapter discusses the idea of removing the dam and restoring the valley, an idea which is gaining currency throughout the US.

At the start of his administration, John F. Kennedy launched a personal policy initiative to court African nationalist leaders. This policy was designed to improve US-African relations and constituted a dramatic change in the direction of US foreign relations. The Kennedy administration believed that the Cold War could be won or lost depending upon whether Washington or Moscow won the hearts and minds of the Third World. Africa was particularly important because a wave of independence saw nineteen newly independent African states admitted into the United Nations during 1960–61. By 1962, 31 of the UN’s 110 member states were from the African continent, and both Washington and Moscow sought to add these countries to their respective voting bloc. For Kennedy, the Cold War only amplified the need for a strong US policy toward Africa—but did not create it. The Kennedy administration feared that American neglect of the newly decolonized countries of the world would result in the rise of anti-Americanism and for this reason needed to be addressed irrespective of the Cold War. For this reason, Kennedy devoted more time and effort toward relations with Africa than any other American president has. By making an in-depth examination of Kennedy’s attempt to court African nationalist leaders, this study adds an important chapter to the historiography of John F. Kennedy’s Cold War strategy. It also demonstrates that, through understanding and personal diplomacy, Kennedy realigned US policy toward Africa and largely won over the sympathies of its people.

Before World War II, Japanese immigrants, or Issei, forged a unique transnational identity between their native land and the United States. Whether merchants, community leaders, or rural farmers, Japanese immigrants shared a collective racial identity as aliens ineligible for American citizenship, even as they worked to form communities in the American West. At the same time, Imperial Japan considered Issei and their descendents part of its racial expansion abroad and enlisted them to further their nationalist goals. This book shows how Japanese immigrants negotiated their racial and class positions alongside white Americans, Chinese, and Filipinos at a time when Japan was fighting their countries of origin. Utilizing rare Japanese and English language sources, the book stresses the tight grips, as well as the clashing influences, the Japanese and American states exercised over Japanese immigrants and how they created identities that diverged from either national narrative.

Race first emerged as an important ingredient of New York City's melting pot when it was known as New Amsterdam and was a fledgling colonial outpost on the North American frontier. This book details the arrival of the first immigrants, including African slaves, and traces encounters between the town's inhabitants of African, European, and Native American descent, showing how racial domination became key to the building of the settler colony at the tip of Manhattan Island. During the colonial era, the art of governing the city's diverse and factious population, the book reveals, involved the subordination of confessional, linguistic, and social antagonisms to binary racial difference. Everyday formations of race are investigated — in slave owning households, on the colonial city's streets, at its docks, taverns, and marketplaces, and in the adjacent farming districts. Even though the northern colonial port town afforded a space for black resistance, that setting did not, this book argues, effectively undermine the city's institution of black slavery. This history of New York City demonstrates that the process of racial formation and the mechanisms of racial domination were central to the northern colonial experience and to the founding of the United States.

National parks have played a unique role in the development of wildfire management on American public lands. With a different mission and powerful meaning to the public, the national parks have been a battleground between proponents of fire suppression and proponents of its use as a management tool. This book explains how the national parks have shaped federal fire management. Areas discussed include the military in the national parks (1872-1916), development of fire management structure, the New Deal and fire policy, post-war policies, Yellowstone and Cerro Grande.

At the dawn of the nuclear age, the US government was faced with an impossible task: to convince the American public that it could survive a nuclear attack. And so civil defense was born. Numerous federal and state civil defense programs sprang up, intended to pacify the population and legitimize deterrence policy, as well as to justify the billions spent on secret underground bomb shelters reserved for the government elite. A generation of Americans was indoctrinated to the catchy tune of “duck and cover”. Yet the civil defense program was a complete failure. In the 1950s and 1960s, early protests against federal nuclear air raid drills greatly strengthened public awareness of the deadly nature of nuclear war. The 1980s brought a second wave of protests, as millions of citizens throughout the United States rejected new forms of civil defense and a crisis relocation plan to evacuate urban populations into “safer” rural areas if nuclear war seemed imminent. Political leaders and members of Congress consistently starved civil defense initiatives, while most citizens ridiculed and rejected both its practice and its very premise. Widespread skepticism about civil defense came to threaten not just deterrence policy, but the entire Cold War system of nuclear crisis management. This book aims to pull back the curtain on the US government's civil defense plans from World War II through the end of the Cold War. Based on government documents, peace organizations, personal papers, scientific reports, oral histories, newspapers, and popular media, the book chronicles the operations of the various federal and state civil defense programs from 1945 to contemporary issues of homeland security, as well as the origins and development of the massive public protest against civil defense from 1955 through the 1980s.

This book is an international history of the relations between the United States, Britain, and the West Indies during the long decolonization of the latter. It draws on archives in seven countries to recover the story of that process, which resulted in the first new nations in the hemisphere—Jamaica and Trinidad and Tobago—since the turn of the century. The process had begun amid depression, riot, and World War II, and it concluded at the moment of highest tension in the Cold War Caribbean. Moreover, the islands were a historical fount of black radicalism, which coursed intermittently through the hemisphere as the civil rights movement made the issue of American race relations particularly acute. In addition, the structure built to bring the islands to independence—the West Indies Federation—unexpectedly collapsed at perhaps the worst possible moment. Yet despite these ominous circumstances, the West Indian transition to independence was ultimately among the smoothest seen anywhere in the “Third World.” It avoided the bloodshed that accompanied the end of empire in many areas, and avoided the U.S. military intervention so historically promiscuous around the Caribbean littoral. This book argues that a unique “protean partnership” between the U.S. and the West Indies, one which complemented the Anglo-American relationship, explains the smooth transition. That partnership encompassed the U.S. pursuit of national-security assets such as military bases and strategic materials, the give-and-take of formal Anglo-American diplomacy, and the informal “diaspora diplomacy” of transnational race-activism that nurtured West Indian nationalism and the African American freedom struggle alike. This study contributes to the literatures on inter-American relations, race and foreign affairs, the Cold War, and decolonization.

Today they stand as enemies, but in the 1950s, few countries were as closely intertwined as Cuba and the United States. Thousands of Americans (including Ernest Hemingway and Errol Flynn) lived on the island, and, in the United States, dancehalls swayed to the mambo beat. The strong-arm Batista regime depended on Washington's support, and it invited American gangsters like Meyer Lansky to build fancy casinos for U.S. tourists. Major league scouts searched for Cuban talent: The New York Giants even offered a contract to a young pitcher named Fidel Castro. In 1955, Castro did come to the United States, but not for baseball: He toured the country to raise money for a revolution. This book tells the story of the love-hate relationship that has grown between Cuba and the USA, from Castro's early fund-raising tours in the USA to support his revolution to Eisenhower's failed efforts to maintain support for Batista.