No one can pinpoint exactly when the ground shifted, when it became possible for a black American male to join the high ranks of the corporate universe. Like the moment when darkness yields to dawn, it crept up quietly, largely unperceived. We awakened and a new (or, at least, perceived new) day had come. But if we must mark our awareness of that day’s arrival, put down Jan. 1, 1999, the day Franklin Raines, former director of the federal Office of Management and Budget, took over as chairman and CEO of Fannie Mae, becoming the first African American to head a major American corporation.

Since then, few have fared as well. A. Barry Rand was named head of Avis in November 1999 but didn’t survive the transfer of ownership in 2001. Lloyd Ward, named the head at Maytag in 1999, lasted little more than a year before walking away amid reports of conflict with his board. But, last year the ground shifted again, and suddenly it became significantly less lonely at the top, as three black men prepared to take their place at the pinnacle of some of America’s most important companies.

As miracles go, this corporate trifecta does not exactly rank with the parting of the Red Sea. But that a group of talented executives who are black could take the reins of three huge companies says something important about the expansion of opportunity (at least for a few) in an arena that, until very recently, might as well have hung “BLACKS NOT ALLOWED” signs on the door. And it’s not just the corporate world that is embracing authority figures who happen to be black. Washington has grown accustomed to seeing the president take foreign policy lessons from two African Americans, and the faux-real world of daytime television is filled with the likes of Joe Brown, my hometown judge, and Greg Mathis—black judges, whose race seems almost incidental, telling folks of all colors how to live their lives. And let us not forget the arrival of Brown’s 18th, both a woman and African American; this nation’s academic enterprise will never be the same. The world is changing. Indeed, there is no major area of American life, from education to politics to religion, where society is not coming to terms with a new black leadership class—one whose credentials, in many cases, have very little to do with their color, and one whose very existence raises questions about the continuing viability of the “black leadership” model of old.

Under the old model, a handful of leaders (virtually all male and generally preachers—but often politicians, educators or some fusion of the three) supposedly represented the black community. As blacks have entered a host of previously forbidden realms, thanks in large measure to the Civil Rights Movement’s storied successes, the very idea that one person (or handful of “leaders”) could speak on all matters for entire racial groups has begun to seem increasingly silly. So even as the Rev. Al Sharpton maneuvers in the apparent hope of replacing the Rev. Jesse Jackson as black leader numero uno, it becomes less and less clear just what the title represents. Never before have blacks spoken with so many voices. And in that diversity lies both opportunity and confusion.

The confusion stems in part from uncertainty over just how to classify many of the members of this new leadership class. Are they “black leaders,” or are they something else? Corporate leaders whose color is irrelevant? Political leaders who happen to have mostly black constituencies? And for whom exactly do they speak, other than themselves? When my congressman, U.S. Rep. Harold Ford of Tennessee (D), insists on being seen as a leader rather than a “black” leader, does that represent progress? Or is he simply signaling his intention to abandon the “black community” in pursuit of personal ambitions?

Such questions miss an important point: in this age of falling racial barriers our leaders will have to be as diverse as we are. Some will be preoccupied with the continuing battle for equality; some will focus primarily on other things. And we, of course, will judge them in line with our own particular preoccupations. For people who insist on seeing blacks as a monolith, the notion that blacks are as complicated and varied as whites may take some getting used to—but to argue otherwise would be to assume that we are lesser (more simple) human beings.

When I survey the landscape for black leadership on our campus, my heart is encouraged. We each possess certain individual, powerful qualities which provide for a multi-faceted, heterogeneous black community. Indeed, at times, we will be called upon to stand together in defense of our own mere existence.

Back to top