Author: TBPP

  • 1968: The Report That Warned America

    1968: The Report That Warned America

    1968: The Report That Warned America

    What the Kerner Commission Said—and Why It Still Matters

    In 1968, the United States government conducted one of the most important investigations in its history.

    It asked three questions:

    • What happened?
    • Why did it happen?
    • What can be done to prevent it from happening again?

    The answers were clear. The warning was direct.

    America, the report concluded, was moving toward two separate and unequal societies.

    More than fifty years later, that warning still echoes.


    1968: The Report That Warned America breaks down the findings of the Kerner Commission and places them in context—what led to the unrest, what the government discovered, and what was never fully addressed.

    This is not an academic text.

    It is a focused, accessible look at a turning point in American history—and the questions that remain unresolved today.


    For readers seeking clarity, context, and a deeper understanding of the forces that continue to shape the country, this book offers a direct path into the conversation.

    JUSTICE & EQUALITY

    Cover of 1968: The Report That Warned America

  • Fannie Lou Hamer – An American Hero

    Fannie Lou Hamer – An American Hero

    Fannie Lou Hamer

    Born: October 6, 1917 – Montgomery County, Mississippi

    Died: March 14, 1977 – Mound Bayou, Mississippi

    Fannie Lou Hamer was one of the most powerful grassroots leaders of the American Civil Rights Movement. She was not a lawyer, preacher, or politician. She was a sharecropper who decided she’d had enough.

    Early Life

    • Youngest of 20 children in a family of sharecroppers.
    • Began working in cotton fields at age 6.
    • Received limited formal education due to poverty.
    • In 1961, she underwent a forced hysterectomy without her consent — a common racist practice in Mississippi known as a “Mississippi appendectomy.”

    Turning Point – 1962

    At age 44, she attended a meeting organized by the Student Nonviolent Coordinating Committee (SNCC).

    She learned Black Americans had a constitutional right to vote — something she had effectively been denied her entire life.

    She attempted to register to vote.

    For that:

    • She was fired from the plantation where she lived and worked.
    • She received death threats.
    • She was harassed repeatedly.

    She did not back down.

    1963 – Arrest and Beating

    In Winona, Mississippi, she was arrested for trying to desegregate a bus station.

    While jailed, she was brutally beaten by other inmates under police orders. She suffered permanent kidney damage and a blood clot in her eye.

    Afterward, she famously said:

    “They could beat me as long as they want, but they couldn’t beat God out of me.”

    1964 – National Spotlight

    She helped found the Mississippi Freedom Democratic Party (MFDP).

    The MFDP challenged Mississippi’s all-white delegation at the 1964 Democratic National Convention.

    Her televised testimony before the credentials committee shook the country. She described beatings, terror, and voter suppression in Mississippi.

    She asked:

    “Is this America, the land of the free and the home of the brave?”

    President Lyndon B. Johnson tried to interrupt the broadcast because he feared how powerful her words were.

    Millions still saw it.

    Famous Quote

    “I’m sick and tired of being sick and tired.”

    That line became one of the most enduring slogans of the movement.

    Later Work

    • Organized Freedom Farms Cooperative to help Black families gain economic independence.
    • Worked to increase political representation in Mississippi.
    • Helped pave the way for the Voting Rights Act of 1965.
    • In 1972, she became a delegate to the Democratic National Convention — this time officially recognized.

    Legacy

    Fannie Lou Hamer represents:

    • Grassroots political power
    • Moral courage
    • Rural Southern Black women leading change
    • Faith-driven activism
    • Refusal to be intimidated by systemic violence

    She never held major elected office.

    She never became wealthy.

    But she permanently shifted American democracy.

  • Reverend Jesse Jackson: After the Silence

    Reverend Jesse Jackson: After the Silence

    On April fourth, nineteen sixty-eight, the balcony of the Lorraine Motel in Memphis became an altar of American fracture. Martin Luther King Jr. lay dying, and with him fell the clearest moral voice of the Civil Rights era.

    But movements do not end with gunshots.

    They splinter.
    They harden.
    They reorganize.

    Among those thrust forward into the vacuum was a young organizer from Greenville, South Carolina — Jesse Jackson.

    King had been the conscience.
    Jackson would become something different: strategist, negotiator, national political force.

    The question after Memphis was not whether racism would persist. It did.
    The question was how Black leadership would adapt.

    Jackson chose engagement with power.


    From Moral Appeal to Economic Leverage

    Before Memphis, Jackson had already emerged as a key figure within the Southern Christian Leadership Conference. Through Operation Breadbasket, he targeted corporations that profited from Black consumers while excluding Black workers.

    Breadbasket was not symbolic protest. It was organized economic pressure. Contracts were negotiated. Jobs were demanded. Investment was quantified.

    Jackson absorbed a lesson that would define his career:

    Desegregation without economic inclusion is incomplete.

    When King was assassinated, Jackson did not retreat into mourning alone. He moved toward institution-building.


    Operation PUSH and the Architecture of Influence

    In nineteen seventy-one, Jackson founded Operation PUSH (People United to Save Humanity).

    PUSH broadened the fight:

    • Corporate accountability
    • Educational access
    • Voter mobilization
    • Financial literacy and empowerment

    This was a strategic evolution. The movement shifted from street confrontation toward structural participation.

    Jackson believed that moral outrage had to translate into measurable outcomes — contracts signed, ballots cast, boardrooms opened.


    The Rainbow Coalition: Expanding the Frame

    Jackson’s presidential campaigns in nineteen eighty-four and nineteen eighty-eight were not symbolic gestures.

    They were infrastructure tests.

    Under the banner of the Rainbow Coalition, he attempted to unite:

    • Black Americans
    • Latino communities
    • Labor movements
    • Rural farmers
    • Poor and working-class whites
    • Progressive faith groups

    The coalition was not accidental. It was mathematical.

    Jackson recognized that demographic isolation limited political leverage. Coalition expanded it.

    Though he did not secure the Democratic nomination, he won primaries, secured delegates, and reshaped the party platform. Issues like anti-apartheid sanctions and expanded voting rights gained traction partly because of his campaigns.

    His runs demonstrated viability. The presidency was no longer theoretical terrain.


    Strategy vs Militancy

    Jackson’s institutional approach did not exist without tension.

    Organizations such as ours, the Black Panther Party advanced community control, self-defense, and structural confrontation outside electoral frameworks.

    The divide was philosophical:

    Reform institutions from within?
    Or build alternatives outside them?

    Jackson leaned toward engagement. Yet he retained movement language and grassroots credibility. He stood between eras — not fully militant, not fully establishment.

    That positioning defined him.


    Global Stage, Domestic Consequence

    Jackson’s activism crossed borders.

    He advocated sanctions against apartheid South Africa and aligned publicly with leaders like Nelson Mandela. He engaged in unofficial diplomacy during hostage crises abroad.

    Supporters saw courage.
    Critics saw ambition.

    Either way, he refused to limit Black leadership to domestic confines.


    Complexity and Criticism

    Jackson’s career was not untouched by controversy. Internal disputes, political rivalries, and public missteps marked different chapters of his life.

    But complexity is not contradiction. It is scale.

    Leaders who operate for decades accumulate friction.

    Legacy is not purity. It is influence.


    What His Death Means

    With Jackson’s passing, another bridge generation recedes.

    He was not King. He did not claim to be.
    He was not Panther. He did not attempt to be.

    He was something transitional — a figure who carried the moral urgency of the nineteen sixties into the electoral machinery of late twentieth-century America.

    He normalized the idea that Black political ambition at the highest level was not audacious — it was necessary.

    In an era where coalition politics feels fragile and polarization dominates, Jackson’s model raises a difficult question:

    Was coalition naïve?
    Or was it unfinished?

    His life leaves that debate open.

    But it closes nothing.

    Movements adapt.
    Power recalculates.
    History does not pause.

    And the vacuum left in Memphis in nineteen sixty-eight did not swallow him.

    It propelled him.

  • A Black Jew Speaks, Pt. 2: The Credits Never Lie

    A Black Jew Speaks, Pt. 2: The Credits Never Lie

    Here’s another truth we need to talk about.

    If you watch any show—doesn’t matter what network, what genre, or what time of day—take a look at the credits. Really look. The producers. The writers. The directors. The studio heads.

    You’ll see a pattern. Jewish names. Over and over. Sometimes Eastern European. Sometimes obvious. Sometimes coded. But if you know what to look for, you’ll see it—and once you see it, you can’t unsee it.

    Now before anyone starts clutching pearls—this isn’t about hate. I’m Jewish. I know the names. I know the history. And I know what access looks like. I also know what exclusion feels like.

    Because here’s the thing: you don’t see that same energy for other communities. Where are the Garcias? The Watanabes? The Choudhurys? The Johnsons?

    You don’t see a balanced spread of Latin, Asian, Indigenous, or even Black creatives behind the scenes—not at the same scale. Not with that kind of consistency. And when you do see those names, they’re usually down the list. An assistant. A guest role. A “diversity hire.”

    Meanwhile, Jewish presence in media is everywhere—not just in front of the camera, but behind it, owning the entire machine. And yet, no one talks about it.

    Because the moment you even raise a question, you’re labeled antisemitic—even if you are Jewish. Even if you’re just pointing out what’s real.

    That silence? That fear? That’s not equality. That’s protectionism. That’s unchecked power. And it’s not reflective of the actual society we live in.

    I’m not mad that Jews are represented in media. I’m mad that everyone else isn’t.

    Because real diversity isn’t just a hashtag. It’s not just casting a Black lead and calling it a day. It’s about who holds the pen, who funds the project, who gives the greenlight, and who owns the lens you’re seeing the world through.

    I’ve been in those rooms. And I’ve seen the difference between walking in as Craig Cohen versus Justice Jones. One name opened doors. The other got raised eyebrows.

    That’s not just bias. That’s built-in.

    So yeah—the credits never lie.
    And maybe it’s time we actually started reading them.

  • A Black Jew Speaks: Enough Already

    A Black Jew Speaks: Enough Already.

    Let me be clear, because I don’t want there to be any confusion: I am Jewish. I come from Kohans—one of the oldest priestly lines in the culture. I’m also Black. And I’m done being quiet.

    I’m tired of seeing the Jewish story dominate every narrative about pain and suffering—especially here in America. I turned on PBS today, and once again, it was another Holocaust special. And sure, the Holocaust was horrific. It was evil. But damn it, it happened eighty years ago.

    Meanwhile, Black history in this country gets erased, minimized, and dismissed. We still can’t get real airtime for the transatlantic slave trade, the genocide of Native Americans, or the ongoing trauma of being Black in America. Where’s that programming?

    And here’s the kicker: while we’re being told to “never forget,” the State of Israel—our so-called answer to Jewish persecution—is wiping Palestine off the map in real time. Right now. Today.

    And yet, no one is allowed to talk about that without being labeled antisemitic. Even when the critique is coming from inside the house.

    Let’s stop pretending Jewish power doesn’t exist. It does. In media, in law, in medicine, in politics. That’s not a conspiracy. That’s reality. And when you have that kind of power, you should be held accountable like anyone else.

    Not shielded by historic trauma forever. We can’t keep using our pain as armor to ignore the pain we’re causing.

    And don’t even get me started on how we police who’s “really” Jewish. As a Black Jew, I’ve been questioned more times than I can count.

    And yet, when I used the name Craig Cohen in the Hollywood scene back in the day, doors flew open. More callbacks. More access. More attention—until I showed up in person and the assumption collapsed.

    That tells you everything about how whiteness functions within Jewish spaces. Jewishness gets respect—until it’s attached to Blackness. Then suddenly, you’re “not really Jewish,” or worse, invisible.

    This isn’t hate. This is truth.
    And I’m done being polite about it.

  • Still Watching the Watchers

    Still Watching the Watchers

    On this week in 1966, Huey P. Newton and Bobby Seale founded the Black Panther Party in Oakland, California. They weren’t trying to start a war—they were trying to stop one. A war on Black dignity. A war on poor people. A war that’s still raging in quieter, slicker, more digitized ways today.

    And so we ask: who’s watching the watchers now?

    This isn’t nostalgia. This is legacy.

    Fifty-something years later, the systems have upgraded but the software of oppression still runs in the background—unchecked policing, generational poverty, misinformation warfare. Surveillance has gone algorithmic, but the targets? Still Black, still brown, still poor.

    Back then, it was about protecting our communities from the barrel of a cop’s shotgun.

    Today? It’s about protecting truth from being drowned in a sea of data and distractions.

    That’s where we come in.

    The Black Panther Party isn’t a museum piece. It’s a living idea. A demand for self-determination, community control, and unapologetic truth-telling. We don’t whisper. We document. We broadcast. We teach. We resist.

    This is not just for history buffs. This is for the people trying to raise Black children in a world where being seen is still a threat. For the ones who organize in forgotten neighborhoods. For the ones still being followed in stores. For the ones denied access—then blamed for not having it.

    We remember. And we act.

    So here’s what we’re doing this month:

    • Dropping new community footage
    • Hosting intergenerational convos on survival & tech
    • Publishing raw essays from people on the front lines

    You don’t have to wear leather or hold a megaphone. But you do have to stand for something.

    📌 Stay loud. Stay sharp. Stay watching.

    ✊🏽✊🏾✊🏿

  • No More White House

    No More White House

    They call it The People’s House. But when a sitting president—Donald Trump—takes a wrecking ball to a piece of it, just to build himself a ballroom, what he’s really tearing down is the illusion. The illusion that this house belongs to all of us. That our tax dollars, our history, our sacrifices—mean a damn thing when power decides it wants to redecorate.

    If this house truly belonged to the people, then there would’ve been a vote. There would’ve been accountability. But no. There was silence. Complicity. A shrug. A nod. The same way there’s silence every time Trump steps over a line and dares the country to stop him.

    And now? He’s not just stepping over lines—he’s rewriting the map. Floating the idea of a third term like he’s some emperor reincarnated. So here’s our position, loud and clear:

    If Donald Trump is allowed to violate constitutional norms and run again, then we, the Black Panther Party, fully endorse a return of President Barack Obama—with Gavin Newsom as Vice President.

    If the rules are being rewritten for tyrants, then they can be rewritten for justice too.



    The People’s House Was Never Truly Ours

    Built by enslaved hands, praised as a beacon of democracy while soaked in the sweat and blood of Black labor, the White House has always worn its irony like a crown. It was never neutral ground. From the architecture to the occupants, it’s stood as a monument to a very specific idea of power—white, male, wealthy, and untouchable.

    They called it The People’s House to sell a dream. But for centuries, that house had no room for the people who built it. Not in its design, not in its decisions, and sure as hell not in its heart.

    Fast forward to now: a president tears through it like it’s a casino he’s flipping in Jersey. A ballroom, of all things—during a time when people are sleeping on sidewalks, rationing insulin, burying hope. It’s not just disrespect. It’s a flex. A reminder that even the most symbolic house in America is still owned and rearranged by the powerful for the powerful.

    And here’s the deeper pain—it’s not even shocking anymore. The People’s House being treated like a private estate? That’s America showing us, again, who it was built for.



    It’s Time to Change the Name

    But naming is power. Always has been. The name White House was never just about paint—it was a declaration. A subliminal claim of ownership. A visual cue about who the house is for, and who’s forever just visiting. Even when Barack Obama stepped inside as Commander in Chief, some folks still clutched their pearls like he broke in through the back door.

    That house has never welcomed us fully. It tolerated us. It displayed us when politically convenient. But it never embraced the Black, the Brown, the Indigenous, the immigrant—the working class, the poor, the displaced. The People’s House? That was the myth. Not the reality.

    And when Trump takes a hammer to its bones to build a ballroom? It’s not just about luxury. It’s a signal that his vision of America has no space for restraint, balance, or the voice of the people. Just ego. Just dominance.

    And that’s why reclaiming it matters. Not just in name, but in practice. It has to become more than a symbol—it has to serve. It should reflect the actual nation, not the fantasy clung to by the powerful.



    Call to Action: Paint It What It Is

    So here’s our call to action:

    What color should we paint it?

    No, seriously. If it’s truly the People’s House, then it shouldn’t be stuck in one image, one name, one tradition rooted in exclusion. Let it shift. Let it reflect who’s leading, and who they serve. Paint it every administration. Let the walls carry the message of the moment—be it power, peace, protest, or pride.

    Pink? Cool. Let it stand. Rainbow? Even better. Black, gold, green, blood red—if it speaks for the people, paint it. It should be uncomfortable sometimes. It should challenge us. That’s the point.

    No more White House. We’re not asking. We’re saying it:

    It’s the People’s House now. And the people have colors, voices, stories. So let the walls speak too.



  • Americans Live on $6 a Day

    Americans Live on $6 a Day

    This is what hunger looks like.

    JJ:

    You ever seen a grown man cry over a grocery bill?

    Monique M:

    Twice this week. One of them was a vet. Other one had three kids and a busted radiator. She was asking how to stretch forty-three dollars across thirty days.

    JJ:

    Forty-three dollars.

    Monique M:

    That’s the average cut some folks saw this year. Pandemic-era boosts gone. Rent’s up. Eggs are still five bucks a dozen in half the cities I track.

    JJ:

    You tracking suffering like data?

    Monique M:

    I’m tracking survival. It’s my job to hand out lifeboats, but they keep shrinking the damn boats.

    JJ:

    Who’s shrinking them?

    Monique M:

    Congress. State-level administrators. Budget hawks who’ve never missed a meal. People who say “bootstraps” like it’s gospel. You know the drill.

    JJ:

    I know the drill. It was pointed at my uncle’s head when he got denied for assistance back in ’99. Said his disability check disqualified him. Said being poor wasn’t poor enough.

    Monique M:

    We lose staff every month. Burnout. Guilt. Some of us stay because walking away feels worse.

    JJ:

    So you’re inside the machine that’s grinding your own people.

    Monique M:

    I’m trying to jam it. I tell folks how to appeal, where the loopholes are, who to call when the office “loses” their paperwork for the third time. But it’s not enough. We need noise. We need backup.

    JJ:

    Forty-three dollars gone means forty-three meals gone. That’s a missed breakfast before school. That’s hunger making a child mean in class. That’s a mother eating instant noodles so her baby can have fruit.

    Monique M:

    And if she complains, the world says she’s lazy. Says she’s a leech. Says she should be grateful.

    JJ:

    Grateful for what?

    Monique M:

    A system that feeds her kids every other week and starves them in between.

    JJ:

    We’ve seen this game before. Starve the people. Blame the people. Punish the people for daring to survive.

    Monique M:

    So what do we do?

    JJ:

    We speak. We write. We show up. We use this page, this name, this legacy. No more waiting for things to get worse before we call it what it is: war by policy.

    Monique M:

    And you think that’ll change something?

    JJ:

    I know it will. It already is. You’re here. You came to speak. That’s how it starts.

    Monique M:

    Then let this be the start.

    JJ:

    Let it be the start, and not the end.


    Food is a human right. The cuts to SNAP are not “budgeting.” They are violence by pen. This page stands with Monique M, and every worker, parent, elder, and child caught in this cycle. Forty-three dollars is a number. But behind it are names.

    — Justice Jones

  • The Rap Sheet: Donald Trump’s Legacy of Lies, Losses, and Legal Hell

    The Rap Sheet: Donald Trump’s Legacy of Lies, Losses, and Legal Hell

    By KAI KOHAN and KENT EATON
    Posted by CRAIG PHILLIPS

    Donald J. Trump isn’t just a former president. He’s a living, breathing indictment of everything wrong with American politics, privilege, and power. While his cult-like fanbase shouts about “witch hunts” and “fake news,” the receipts keep piling up—and they ain’t pretty. This isn’t opinion. These are facts. Cold. Verified. Undeniable. So let’s break down exactly who this man is. Not the myth. Not the MAGA. Just the math.

    The Numbers Don’t Lie
    • 64 times he’s mentioned in the Jeffrey Epstein report.
    • 97 times he pleaded the Fifth (and no, that’s not what innocent people usually do).
    • 34 felony convictions—and counting.
    • 91 criminal charges across multiple jurisdictions.
    • 26 sexual assault allegations.
    • 6 bankruptcies—because nothing screams “business genius” like tanking your own empire.
    • 5 draft deferments. That’s how Captain Bone Spurs dodged Vietnam.
    • 4 criminal indictments.
    • 2 impeachments.
    • 2 convicted companies under his control.
    • 1 fake university shut down for fraud.
    • 1 fake charity shut down after stealing from veterans and children.

    The Price Tag of Corruption
    • $25 million settlement to victims of Trump University fraud.
    • $5 million sexual abuse verdict to E. Jean Carroll.
    • $2 million paid for misusing funds from his so-called charity.
    • $93 million total in sexual abuse judgments.
    • $400+ million civil fraud judgment for cooking the books.

    Historic Lows, Not Highs

    Let’s be clear—Trump wasn’t just a disaster legally. He was a historically awful president by the numbers:
    • First president in U.S. history to increase the deficit every single year in office.
    • First to maintain a debt-to-GDP ratio over 100% the entire term.
    • Oversaw the highest annual budget deficit in history.
    • Added more to the national debt in one term than any president ever.
    • Set a record for new unemployment claims during his reign.
    • Responsible for the largest single-day drop in the Dow Jones.
    • Lost the popular vote twice—a feat not seen in over 50 years.
    • Triggered the longest government shutdown in U.S. history, despite his own party controlling Congress.
    • Only president to maintain a net negative approval rating for his entire term.

    A Criminal Presidency
    • First president impeached twice—and it wasn’t a technicality.
    • First to face bipartisan votes for conviction—both times.
    • Holds the record for the most indictments, guilty pleas, and convictions from members of his administration.
    • Oh, and let’s not forget: the first president in U.S. history to pose for a mug shot.

    So, What Does This All Mean?

    It means the man some call “patriot” is actually the biggest con to ever sit in the Oval Office. A walking felony with a spray tan. A chaos merchant wrapped in a red tie and narcissism. His legacy isn’t greatness. It’s grift, abuse, and a trail of wreckage from Manhattan to Mar-a-Lago.

    You can’t drain the swamp if you are the goddamn swamp.

    The truth is out there. And it’s orange.
    Don’t let history get rewritten by Fox News and fanboys. Bookmark this. Share this. Shout it from the rooftops.

    America deserves better.
    The world demands it.

    Written by KAI KOHAN and KENT EATON
    Posted by CRAIG PHILLIPS for TheBlackPanthersParty.com

  • From Stereotypes to Realities: The Evolution of African-American Characters in Literature


    In the rich tapestry of literature, the portrayal of African-American characters has undergone a profound evolution throughout history. From the early stereotypes and caricatures that dominated much of the narrative landscape to the nuanced and complex representations that have emerged in contemporary works, the journey of these characters reflects a broader societal shift towards inclusion and diversity.

    In the past, African-American characters were often relegated to secondary roles or depicted through a narrow and often derogatory lens. They were often portrayed as one-dimensional, perpetuating harmful stereotypes and reinforcing systemic biases. However, as writers of color began to reclaim their narratives and voices, a new wave of literature emerged that challenged these conventions and offered more authentic and diverse representations.

    Today, African-American characters are depicted in a multitude of ways – as heroes, villains, lovers, activists, scholars, and everything in between. Their stories explore the complexities of identity, race, culture, and belonging in a way that resonates with readers from all walks of life. By offering a more nuanced and humanizing portrayal of African-American characters, literature has the power to challenge perceptions, foster empathy, and spark important conversations about race and social justice.


    The impact of these evolving representations extends far beyond the pages of a book. By providing a platform for marginalized voices and shedding light on the multifaceted experiences of African-Americans, literature has the power to shape societal attitudes, inspire change, and empower readers to confront their own biases. The diverse and rich tapestry of African-American characters in literature serves as a reflection of our collective humanity and a testament to the enduring power of storytelling to bridge divides and build connections.

    As we continue to celebrate and uplift diverse voices in literature, let us embrace the ever-evolving portrayal of African-American characters as a reminder of the beauty and resilience of the human spirit. Through the pages of a book, we can embark on a transformative journey towards understanding, empathy, and unity.