The Face of Black Men

Beyond the media myths - a look at the everyday lives of black men. Somewhere between the inaccurate and distorted media images of the black male super predator and the black male superhero, live the majority of black men. They are fathers, brothers, doctors, bloggers, editors, school teachers, accountants and more. Please join us in creating a powerful visual that will remind the world of the countless African American boys and men who are working to make this world a better place. Submit pictures and a brief description of the boys, men and male-identified folks in your life.

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A project of the Maynard Institute.

Submit photos of & a description of the African American men you would like to celebrate

Recently on Twitter:
@FaceofBlackMen:

    Wendell Townsend was born in 1943.  After serving in the Air Force, he got his B.A. and then his M.B.A. He was told, during a job interview with a well-known corporation, “we’d have the same problem hiring you as we would a woman.”  Nonetheless he went to work at General Electric, where he stayed for 35 years.  After retiring, he became Kentucky’s Director of Community Development for Kentucky’s Department for Local Government.  He is a father of two and a grandfather of two, and is active in his church, Quinn’s Chapel A.M.E. of Louisville.

    Wendell Townsend was born in 1943.  After serving in the Air Force, he got his B.A. and then his M.B.A. He was told, during a job interview with a well-known corporation, “we’d have the same problem hiring you as we would a woman.”  Nonetheless he went to work at General Electric, where he stayed for 35 years.  After retiring, he became Kentucky’s Director of Community Development for Kentucky’s Department for Local Government.  He is a father of two and a grandfather of two, and is active in his church, Quinn’s Chapel A.M.E. of Louisville.

    — 1 year ago with 1 note
    My father, Victor Sanders, was an Army veteran. Before he died in 2010, in his late 60s, he had been a civil engineer at the same company in Southern New Jersey for more than 30 years. - Submitted by Joshunda Sanders

    My father, Victor Sanders, was an Army veteran. Before he died in 2010, in his late 60s, he had been a civil engineer at the same company in Southern New Jersey for more than 30 years. - Submitted by Joshunda Sanders

    — 1 year ago
    Cee Lo Green is not in my life, per se, but he is an example of an entertainer who embodies the best of black manhood. He is self-confident, self-loving and by example, he encourages others to consider that black men can exist outside of aggressive problematic stereotypes. - Submitted by Joshunda Sanders

    Cee Lo Green is not in my life, per se, but he is an example of an entertainer who embodies the best of black manhood. He is self-confident, self-loving and by example, he encourages others to consider that black men can exist outside of aggressive problematic stereotypes. - Submitted by Joshunda Sanders

    — 1 year ago with 1 note
    Roger Newkirk is an assistant systems editor for the IT Department at The Washington Post. On a typical day, he makes sure that the technical hardware of one of the largest media outlets in the world functions correctly. A native of Prince George’s County, he is a single father of a boy, Makai, and a girl, Tori.  A lifelong Washington Redskins fan, he’s known for his witty football trash talk (especially aimed at local Cowboys fans) even though the home team continues to struggle through years of mediocrity. - Submitted by Chris Jenkins

    Roger Newkirk is an assistant systems editor for the IT Department at The Washington Post. On a typical day, he makes sure that the technical hardware of one of the largest media outlets in the world functions correctly. A native of Prince George’s County, he is a single father of a boy, Makai, and a girl, Tori.  A lifelong Washington Redskins fan, he’s known for his witty football trash talk (especially aimed at local Cowboys fans) even though the home team continues to struggle through years of mediocrity. - Submitted by Chris Jenkins

    — 1 year ago
    By Arlene Notoro Morgan
 
Acel Moore – A Journalism Icon
 In his 50 years as a journalist in Philadelphia, Acel Moore made a difference almost from the moment he entered The Philadelphia Inquirer newsroom. 
Moore arrived at paper, then owned by Walter Annenberg, fresh out of military service in 1962. There were very few Blacks in the newsroom and few women.   He started as a copy boy but before long he was covering cops in a city that was seeing its share of racial tension during the Civil Rights era of the 1960s and early 70s. 
A 1958 graduate of Overbrook High School, Moore eventually became one of the first Blacks to win a Pulitzer Prize in 1977 for his investigative series on the brutal conditions at the Fairview State Hospital in Pennsylvania, a prison for criminals who suffered mental illness. 
 I will always cherish Acel Moore for taking me under his wing when I entered the newsroom in 1969.  I was one of the first women on the news side.  But what attracted Acel’s attention is that, like he, I grew up in South Philadelphia, known more the Italian Market and the Mafia than for growing reporters. 
 Acel taught me how to cover the streets and, above all, how to give voice to the voiceless, regardless of color.   
Acel covered everything from gang violence and cop stories to features that showed the routine lives of working class people.  He seemed to know everyone.  And through his generous nature, he made sure that reporters like me got to know the grass roots leaders who were authentic.  Acel could size up a phony in a minute. 
 To this day Acel can recall the names of the mothers who marched to end the gang violence that was plaguing the city in the early 70s.  Acel Moore was the only journalist they trusted to tell their stories. 
But Acel was never content to stroke his own ego.  He wanted to see more reporters who looked like him in the newsroom and to press the case helped start the Philadelphia Association for Black Journalists in 1973.  In 1975 he was one of the 44 founders of The National Association of Black Journalists.   If you were around then, you knew how tough it was to get white editors to commit their precious hires to people who didn’t look like them.   Unfortunately, it still is and Acel through his work with high school journalism programs is still at work to change that. 
I have spent a lifetime following in Acel’s footsteps to ensure that equality in the newsroom.   In 2007 when I published  “The Authentic Voice,” a textbook about the coverage of race, I dedicated it in part to Acel for showing me the way. 
No matter how many stars have resulted from the legacy days of The Inquirer – and there have been quite a few — no one can match Acel Moore’s contributions to the news media and to the journalists like me who he helped shape in the process. 

    By Arlene Notoro Morgan

     

    Acel Moore – A Journalism Icon


    In his 50 years as a journalist in Philadelphia, Acel Moore made a difference almost from the moment he entered The Philadelphia Inquirer newsroom.

    Moore arrived at paper, then owned by Walter Annenberg, fresh out of military service in 1962. There were very few Blacks in the newsroom and few women.   He started as a copy boy but before long he was covering cops in a city that was seeing its share of racial tension during the Civil Rights era of the 1960s and early 70s.

    A 1958 graduate of Overbrook High School, Moore eventually became one of the first Blacks to win a Pulitzer Prize in 1977 for his investigative series on the brutal conditions at the Fairview State Hospital in Pennsylvania, a prison for criminals who suffered mental illness.

     I will always cherish Acel Moore for taking me under his wing when I entered the newsroom in 1969.  I was one of the first women on the news side.  But what attracted Acel’s attention is that, like he, I grew up in South Philadelphia, known more the Italian Market and the Mafia than for growing reporters.

     Acel taught me how to cover the streets and, above all, how to give voice to the voiceless, regardless of color.  

    Acel covered everything from gang violence and cop stories to features that showed the routine lives of working class people.  He seemed to know everyone.  And through his generous nature, he made sure that reporters like me got to know the grass roots leaders who were authentic.  Acel could size up a phony in a minute.

     To this day Acel can recall the names of the mothers who marched to end the gang violence that was plaguing the city in the early 70s.  Acel Moore was the only journalist they trusted to tell their stories.

    But Acel was never content to stroke his own ego.  He wanted to see more reporters who looked like him in the newsroom and to press the case helped start the Philadelphia Association for Black Journalists in 1973.  In 1975 he was one of the 44 founders of The National Association of Black Journalists.   If you were around then, you knew how tough it was to get white editors to commit their precious hires to people who didn’t look like them.   Unfortunately, it still is and Acel through his work with high school journalism programs is still at work to change that.

    I have spent a lifetime following in Acel’s footsteps to ensure that equality in the newsroom.   In 2007 when I published  “The Authentic Voice,” a textbook about the coverage of race, I dedicated it in part to Acel for showing me the way.

    No matter how many stars have resulted from the legacy days of The Inquirer – and there have been quite a few — no one can match Acel Moore’s contributions to the news media and to the journalists like me who he helped shape in the process. 

    — 1 year ago with 1 note
    
Every top editor gets a level of deference from his staff just for being the boss. In the Denver Post newsroom, where Greg Moore is the editor, you see quickly that he commands respect far beyond deference. His authority comes from listening, understanding and delivering results, not from the title on his business cards. 

Sent in by Steve Buttry
    Every top editor gets a level of deference from his staff just for being the boss. In the Denver Post newsroom, where Greg Moore is the editor, you see quickly that he commands respect far beyond deference. His authority comes from listening, understanding and delivering results, not from the title on his business cards. 
    Sent in by Steve Buttry
    — 2 years ago
    
I want to be like Matt Thompson when I grow up (and I’m old enough to be his father). His EPIC 2014 video seems even more insightful now, less than two years from 2014, than it did in 2007, when it created a stir in the news business. I remember a conference where a panel started with three veteran journalists discussing current issues in the news business. I was stifling yawns. Matt and two other young journalists followed and the contrast was breathtaking. He had smarter, more original ideas than the veterans and expressed them with greater clarity. With him leading an important new journalism project, I feel more optimistic about the future of the news business.

Sent in by Steve Buttry
    I want to be like Matt Thompson when I grow up (and I’m old enough to be his father). His EPIC 2014 video seems even more insightful now, less than two years from 2014, than it did in 2007, when it created a stir in the news business. I remember a conference where a panel started with three veteran journalists discussing current issues in the news business. I was stifling yawns. Matt and two other young journalists followed and the contrast was breathtaking. He had smarter, more original ideas than the veterans and expressed them with greater clarity. With him leading an important new journalism project, I feel more optimistic about the future of the news business.
    Sent in by Steve Buttry
    — 2 years ago
    Shawn Harris is a young man, who, armed with only a dream launched his own business this week. He is a self-taught designer who just quit his job to do what he loves, and follow his dream. Shawn’s KnotJustAKnot.com showcases his line of bow-ties that promises to make the common man look uncommonly stylish. I am proud of him for being brave enough to do what I can’t; he’s taking a risk worth taking, to make his dream come true.
Sent in by Richard A. Scott

    Shawn Harris is a young man, who, armed with only a dream launched his own business this week. He is a self-taught designer who just quit his job to do what he loves, and follow his dream. Shawn’s KnotJustAKnot.com showcases his line of bow-ties that promises to make the common man look uncommonly stylish. I am proud of him for being brave enough to do what I can’t; he’s taking a risk worth taking, to make his dream come true.

    Sent in by Richard A. Scott

    — 2 years ago
    richard and ross daniels -my husband and my son. the most two important men of my life. Sent in by thefriendraiser

    richard and ross daniels -my husband and my son. the most two important men of my life. Sent in by thefriendraiser

    — 2 years ago with 1 note
    Humanitarian Paul Rusesabagina of the Hotel Rwanda Rusesabagina Foundation. I took this photo of Paul when he was speaking in St. Louis. Paul is full of compassion despite what he has seen and heard. He dealt with extreme cruelty and violence without resorting to violence. He has seen the worst of people, but looks now to find the best in them. 

    Humanitarian Paul Rusesabagina of the Hotel Rwanda Rusesabagina Foundation. I took this photo of Paul when he was speaking in St. Louis. Paul is full of compassion despite what he has seen and heard. He dealt with extreme cruelty and violence without resorting to violence. He has seen the worst of people, but looks now to find the best in them. 

    — 2 years ago with 1 note
    Charles Maynard, my baby cousin, a musician and educator. Following in his parent’s footsteps, Charles opted to teach the challenging students, the ones that get into fights with police officers. When I asked him how he did it, he said “Easy you don’t smile until Christmas - after that they love you because it’s easier to ease up then it is to clamp down.”
Only one of the many reasons I love my little cuz.
    Charles Maynard, my baby cousin, a musician and educator. Following in his parent’s footsteps, Charles opted to teach the challenging students, the ones that get into fights with police officers. When I asked him how he did it, he said “Easy you don’t smile until Christmas - after that they love you because it’s easier to ease up then it is to clamp down.”
    Only one of the many reasons I love my little cuz.
    — 2 years ago with 1 note
    A proud moment in my life. Using the biographies of Marcus Garvey and Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., my sons and I created an e-book. I wrote the story, Patrick’s illustrations brought the text to life, and  with Andrew’s computer graphic skills, we have shared the story of Marcus and the Amazons.

    A proud moment in my life. Using the biographies of Marcus Garvey and Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., my sons and I created an e-book. I wrote the story, Patrick’s illustrations brought the text to life, and  with Andrew’s computer graphic skills, we have shared the story of Marcus and the Amazons.

    — 2 years ago with 1 note
    Professor Jason Seals, Manhood Development Program, Fremont High School, African American Male Achievement, Oakland Unified School District

    Professor Jason Seals, Manhood Development Program, Fremont High School, African American Male Achievement, Oakland Unified School District

    — 2 years ago with 4 notes
    Three generations of tall, smart, friendly Clarke men. My father, James S. Clarke Jr., was a gentle, compassionate and practical man. He cared for step-children, children, grandchildren, nieces and nephews, his own father, his wife’s parents, his neighbors, his children’s friends, his cousin’s children. And he lived to be ninety-six. My son, Najeeb W. Harb, because of an accident lived only to be nearly fifteen.

    Three generations of tall, smart, friendly Clarke men. My father, James S. Clarke Jr., was a gentle, compassionate and practical man. He cared for step-children, children, grandchildren, nieces and nephews, his own father, his wife’s parents, his neighbors, his children’s friends, his cousin’s children. And he lived to be ninety-six. My son, Najeeb W. Harb, because of an accident lived only to be nearly fifteen.

    — 2 years ago with 3 notes
    My father, George Livingston Hampton, Sr., read the entire encyclopedia from cover to cover and instilled boundless curiosity in his three children. He was a diversity pioneer who put himself through college and then persevered for years through all that was heaped upon him as the first black machinist at the Norfolk Navy Shipyard, where he was hired in the mid-1930s. He kept a lot of things to himself, but every year we saw him slowly tear the Christmas card from his manager into small bits that fluttered into the trash.

    My father, George Livingston Hampton, Sr., read the entire encyclopedia from cover to cover and instilled boundless curiosity in his three children. He was a diversity pioneer who put himself through college and then persevered for years through all that was heaped upon him as the first black machinist at the Norfolk Navy Shipyard, where he was hired in the mid-1930s. He kept a lot of things to himself, but every year we saw him slowly tear the Christmas card from his manager into small bits that fluttered into the trash.

    — 2 years ago