TCNJ

21 SPRING 2023 she says. Because the major was rigorous and interdisci- plinary, she's breezing through graduate school. Next, she'll turn to earning a PhD. Jess Abolafia '22, the prison and justice writing program assistant at PEN America in Manhattan, says her interest in working with writers behind bars and her commitment to abolition — rethinking and dismantling America's carceral state — grew from classes she took at TCNJ, including The History of Race, Crime, and Prisons, and Criminology and the Legacy of Slavery. Both Grisson and Abolafia, who weren't initially aware of all that African American studies could offer, made it clear that they would have immediately enrolled as African American studies majors if there was the opportunity to take the AP course in high school, and especially if there was an introductory course at TCNJ to better bring them into the field. African American studies' rocky road at TCNJ mirrors the turbulent path that's catapulted the AP course in the subject into America's hyperpolarized discourse. As states such as Florida vow to block the course through legislation, other states, including New Jersey, are vehemently encour- aging widespread adoption. TCNJ has already announced that it will accept college credit from the course. Whether students learn an accurate version of American history may come down to the state in which they live. "It is atrocious that in 2023, there are parts of the country that will be able to completely censor meaningful material and opportunity for students," Adair says. Adair is ready for the introductory course and the AP course to lend greater legitimacy to the field at TCNJ and across the country at large. "Students and parents have to see that the discipline is viable," she says. "If a school offers AP African American Studies, there's going to be more students who major in it. And an intro course provides a complete field of study. That's very important for Black studies at TCNJ and nationwide." ■ Fabiola Cineas is a reporter at Vox.com, where she covers race and policy. The first thing I saw inside the museum was the wall behind the checkout counter. On the wall was a twenty- foot-wide image that kept my feet in place. Below the words LOUISIANA STATE PENITENTIARY was a photograph of two dozen Black men being marched into the fields, each of them carrying a long black hoe. They were wearing an assortment of grey sweatshirts and white T-shirts that rendered their bodies almost indistinguishable. To their far right was a white woman on horseback, her long blonde ponytail extending from beneath her black cap and down her back. The sun, full and luminous even in the black-and-white image, hung just above the trees in the distance, suggesting that these men were beginning their day. The procession of black skin carrying black hoes into this field further erased the identities of each man. They existed in this photo not as individual people but as a homogenous, interchangeable mass of bodies. I turned away and then looked back multiple times to make sure I understood what I was seeing. The photo seemed to have been taken recently; it was not a vestige of the past. It was indeed a white person on horseback, herding a group of what seemed to be exclusively Black men into a field where they were forced to work. The unsettling nature and placement of the image was compounded by the fact that it welcomed its viewers into a gift shop stockpiled with an extensive inventory brandishing the Angola name. Says Mitchell, "In the current sociopolitical climate, where clear examples of anti-Black racism are recurring in media, government, education, and criminal justice, having a distinguished Black writer and scholar on campus to speak about the legacy of American slavery was perfect for this moment." — Kara Pothier Excerpted from HOW THE WORD IS PASSED by Clint Smith. Copyright © 2021 by Clint Smith. Used with permission of Little, Brown and Company. New York, NY. All rights reserved.

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