My journey through academia has been a circuitous one indeed.
Although I’ve attained the bachelor’s, master’s, and doctoral degrees, the time and the experiences lived between the attainment of each of those degrees have been far from traditional. In terms of a time line, I graduated high school in 1989, earned a bachelor’s degree in 1997, a master’s degree in 2006, and my doctoral degree in 2019. Given the scenic route I’ve taken to my current position as an academic and burgeoning Black existentialist scholar, some additional detail is warranted. It is these details that ultimately led me to that fateful doctoral class in the spring of 2017 that I describe in Chapter 1.
In the spring of 2015, I sat in my office in Midtown Atlanta where I worked as an intelligence specialist. On that day, I made the decision to return to graduate school for the second, and final, time. My goal was twofold: to complete my PhD and to make a final attempt at fulfilling my lifelong goal of becoming a professor. Reaching out to various classmates from my long-gone days at Howard University who had gone on to successfully establish themselves in various academic and educational spaces, I queried them about ideas for programs I should pursue. With a bachelor’s and master’s degrees in psychology, continuing on to a PhD in psychology was the obvious route. Interestingly, one former classmate suggested a deviation from the obvious. Instead of the “finish up in psych” response that I repeatedly received (and was intending to follow through with), Dr. Ashley Gilchrist, then a senior researcher at The Education Trust, told me, “You should look into qualitative research. I think it’s a methodology that has firmly established itself and there’s plenty of people using it now.” She continued, “I don’t think there are many PhDs in that area so if you can find a QUAL doctoral program you might be able to carve out a niche for yourself.” The idea of having a doctorate in a research methodology with widespread appeal was itself appealing so, on the strength of my respect for Dr. Gilchrist’s extensive expertise in the highest circles of research, education, and public policy, I embarked upon a quest to find a qualitative research doctoral program.
Almost immediately my hopes were dashed. After an afternoon of searching for doctoral programs in qualitative research methods, it was disappointing to find out that they essentially didn’t exist. Adding to this letdown was the fact that, because of work and family obligations, I was somewhat tethered to the Atlanta metro area. This meant that whatever I found had to be relatively close to home. After an unsuccessful search for QUAL doctoral programs, I switched back to looking for psychology doctoral programs—personality and social
It was while looking for certificate programs in QUAL in nearby schools that I came upon the certificate program offered at the University of Georgia (UGA). My interest really became piqued by a qualitative certificate being offered at a top-tier school like UGA. After more digging, I found out the point of contact for the certificate program was Dr. Melissa Freeman (who would later play a significant role in my scholarly development). Having developed a list of questions about the program, I called the number listed for Dr. Freeman. Hearing a pleasant and inviting voice answer the call, I introduced myself and expressed my interest in the certificate program. Dr. Freeman answered all of my questions about the courses, content, time frame, and postcertificate options. Then, she began to ask questions about me. After sharing my background and my aspirations, she suddenly said, “You know, Edward, if you wouldn’t mind waiting another year, we’re finalizing plans for a doctoral program in qualitative research. Would this be something you’d be interested in?” My mouth dropped and the phone in my hand almost did as well! “I would ABSOLUTELY be interested in that program!” I excitedly replied. Dr. Freeman then advised me about things I should get in order over the next several months. Vowing to stay in touch with her, I got off the phone filled with enthusiasm and excitement. In the course of one phone conversation, I went from settling for a certificate program to finding the proverbial unicorn, a doctoral program in qualitative research. It was the field I was seeking to make my academic home, and it was in my geographical area. Reflecting on the great blessing that had been bestowed upon me and fueled by renewed hopes of finally completing my academic journey, I spent the rest of that day dwelling on the path ahead, a path that could finally lead to the goal I had set in high school, the goal of becoming a college professor.
1 Early Life Influences
My name and/or a cursory view of my current scholarly endeavors shows my deep connection to the Nation of Islam (NOI). In my youth, the NOI had a profound impact on my life. My first exposure to the Black religio-nationalist
I was raised off 74th and Paseo, an all-Black, working-class neighborhood in Kansas City until I was 13 years old. I attended Southeast Junior High School. At the time, it was one of the rougher schools in the city but I managed to stay out of trouble and do well in my classes. I even joined the Chess Club. In the middle of my 7th-grade year, December of 1983, my family moved to 109th Street, the suburbs of South Kansas City. On my first day of school, a January morning in 1984, my father and I were in my new counselor’s office constructing my class schedule. While looking over my transcripts, the counselor, an elderly White woman named Mrs. Bunge proclaimed, “I see you were on the honor roll. Although you did well in your previous school, I don’t expect you to have that same success here. Students transferring from the city don’t typically do well when they come here.” Although my father rebutted the counselor’s remarks, his words were silenced in my mind by the thought of not doing well in school for the first time in my life. I thought, it had to be true since this White woman in a position of authority said so. In one fell swoop this counselor just ensured, prescribed even, that my ambition, my will, and my ability had already been determined to be insufficient. To my 13-year-old mind, brainwashed by the images and depictions that proliferated American culture, White people were all-knowing and “White was right.” Since this White woman, a counselor no less, said I would not do well, it became inscribed on my subconscious. Her poison took hold immediately.
The tailspin initiated by my racist junior high school counselor finally began to stabilize by the 11th grade. Though many factors contributed to my refocusing, the greatest of them was hip-hop music and its culture. It was the Black consciousness infused music of hip-hop in general, and the rap group Public Enemy specifically, that proved to be the catalyst for my transformation. During the golden era of hip-hop,1 pro-Black lyrics, a championing of Black history and culture, and the incorporation of audio samples of strong Black activists, leaders, and scholars into rap songs began not only to grab my attention but also to awaken a desire and drive to gain knowledge of Black history, Black culture, and my own Black self. Of all of the voices, the facts, the nuggets of history, and the information that proliferated through the music and lyrics of rap groups like Public Enemy, Boogie Down Production, Brand Nubian, and Poor Righteous Teachers, lyrics espousing aspects of the teachings of the NOI resonated most with me. Picking up on the messages injected into the music and lyrics, an interest in the NOI, long embedded in my subconscious since my time in the Muslim daycare, began to germinate. Little did I know that these moments and this music would set the course for the rest of my life.
Though I began to correct my academic and social tailspin during my junior year of high school, I still hadn’t maximized my full potential. I graduated high school with Bs and Cs and managed to get a scholarship to play baseball. My newfound freedom and the raucous nature of the small college I attended once again threw me into an academic and social tailspin. Winding up back home after only one year in college, I enrolled at a local university, the University of Missouri, Kansas City (UMKC). Being back home and amongst my old friends, my interest in academics continued to fade and I would eventually flunk out of UMKC with a 1.6 GPA. Despite the academic decline in my early twenties, the love of Black people, Black history, and Black culture that had been imbued in me through hip-hop hadn’t waned. Still harboring intrigue and fascination
I was a dedicated member of the Fruit of Islam (FOI).2 To earn a living, I sold the Final Call newspaper (the NOI’s main organ of propagation and financing), I created a lawn care service, and I founded a company staffed by a team of FOI to provide security for parties thrown by Black fraternities and sororities in the city. That level of self-sufficiency, along with the moral, spiritual, and personal growth I was undergoing due to the discipline of the NOI, began to transform my life and my thinking.
My years in the NOI instilled in me a drive for self-mastery and a desire for academic pursuits I never had before. Fueled by this determined spirit, I decided to give college another try. In the fall of 1994, I enrolled at Southern University and A&M College, a historically Black college and university (HBCU) in Baton Rouge, Louisiana. Attending the NOI’s mosque in Baton Rouge while enrolled at Southern, I became a model student in the Psychology Department, making straight As and becoming a member of several academic honor societies. Through the help and guidance of one of my professors, Dr. Reginald Rackley, who would ultimately become my dear friend and mentor, I also became skilled in quantitative research theory, methods, and the application of both to uplift and educate Black people. It was Dr. Rackley who introduced me to the history and scholarship of the Black/African psychology movement that further ignited my academic passions. In it I saw a means of articulating the doctrine of the NOI through psychological theories and concepts. In fact, many of the early scholars in the field like Maulana Karenga, Na’im Akbar, and Cedric X Clark had either come out of the NOI or had been greatly influenced by it. I credit Dr. Rackley for showing me, for the first time, that I could combine the teachings of the NOI with research to propagate that work through empiricism and scholarship. With Dr. Rackley’s guidance and inspiration, I graduated, having made five research conference presentations as an undergraduate student. I even won first place in a research competition with a study entitled “Spirituality and Worldview Differences between Black and White College Students.”
After graduating from Southern University in 1997, I started a graduate program in personality psychology at Howard University. This was another racially and culturally affirming environment and one with a deep history of producing intellectual, cultural, and social giants within the Black community. My scholarly experience at Howard was different, however. While the psychological frameworks Dr. Rackley had equipped me with were heavily African-centered, I considered my professors at Howard more representative of another stream
My years at Howard were not wasted but, after four to five years of coursework, research, and a few conference presentations, I never attained a degree. I don’t blame the professors, all of whom were committed to improving Black physical, emotional, and psychological well-being and who ultimately embraced me and always treated me with fairness, honesty, and respect. In truth, it was the lack of passion over my studies, my activities as an FOI in the DC mosque of the NOI, and my increased activity with my fraternity that took me away from graduate school. Eventually, the birth of my son and the responsibilities of fatherhood and marriage would be the events that removed me completely from graduate studies at Howard.
At this point in my life, I switched gears and focused on my burgeoning career. While I subsequently managed to earn a degree in industrial/organizational (I/O) psychology from the University of Baltimore through an applied master’s program designed for working professionals, it was, honestly, just something to do. There was no research involved and I/O was a hot field then. My girlfriend at the time, whom I met while in undergrad at Southern, had earned her master’s degree from Howard and was working in the DC public school system. When we married in 2003, we agreed it would be best for our growing family for her to be a housewife and focus on raising our children. As a result, during this time in the early to mid-2000s, I became the sole provider for my family. Increased earnings became my sole motivation. I became fully immersed in the corporate world and experienced substantial growth in my income and quality of life by acquiring a Top Secret-level security clearance
2 Layout of the Book
This is a book about Black existential philosophy. At its core, this is also a book about how I came to Black existentialism; the path that brought me to it. In this way, this book is part autobiography, theory, philosophy, research, and pedagogy. Keeping with this multifocal tradition, methodologically, this work is an autoethnographic account of my experience with Black existentialism and how it has framed my thinking and weaved its way into my work. In Chapter 1, “My Doctoral Experience,” I revisit my first encounter with the concept of alterity in my doctoral classes. For me, alterity represents the foundational principle of Black existentialism. This reflection on my initial encounter with alterity and where it led me includes a discussion of the most formative period of my doctoral journey, the spring semester of 2017 and the connections and opportunities that would come out of it. Chapter 2, “Alterity: The Foundational Principle,” is reprinted from a previously published article (Muhammad, 2023) that began as a chapter in my dissertation. In this chapter, I fully develop the concept of alterity. Specifically, I detail the origin of the word, its definition, its usage across time and disciplines, and its role in White supremacy in general and the hegemonic European philosophical tradition specifically. As the foundational element in White supremacy, alterity, and specifically racialized alterity, represents the essential catalyst of the tormented Black embodied experience which ultimately gives way to Black existentialism. Chapter 3, “From Gadamer to Yancy: Major Theoretical Breadcrumbs,” gives an in-depth account of the major theories I encountered in my doctoral training that led me to Black existentialism. Ranging from hermeneutics to critical theory to more recent and radical traditions, each of the philosophies, theorists, theories, and tenets detailed in this chapter gave me integral pieces that would culminate in my discovery of and appreciation for Black existentialism. Chapter 4, “Black Existential Philosophy,” is my comprehensive discussion of Black existentialism as I’ve come to understand it. Dealing solely with Black existentialism itself, this chapter describes its meaning, luminaries in the field, characteristics and tenets of the philosophy, and what differentiates Black existentialism from the more widely known existentialism of the Continental philosophical tradition. The fifth chapter, “Pedagogical Practices and Activities,” provides useful tools for teaching Black existentialism. Grounded in the critical, phenomenological,
Notes
An era of hip-hop commonly considered to encompass rap songs made from the mid-1980s to the early 1990s.
The name given to the male members of the NOI.
References
Kambon, K. K. K. (2012). African/Black psychology in the American context: An African-centered approach. Nubian Nation Publications.
Muhammad, E. A. (2023). The concept of alterity: Its usage and its relevance for critical qualitative researchers in the Trump era. Cultural Studies of Science Education, 18, 309–325. https://doi.org/10.1007/s11422-023-10175-2