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like Joe Cocker, couldn’t be held accountable when black folk refused to support black entertainers like Ray Charles. And they couldn’t blame Jews for opening stores in the black community, especially since they lacked the skill to do so themselves.
    “Ain’t but seven of you in this place can run a store,” Cosby claimed, to tremendous laughter and applause. It seems
they were willing to concede their inabilities, at least for the night, or, at the very least, for the moment. Cosby stormed on, saying that young black folk must be looked after, underlining the need to get off of drugs.
    “It’s got to start with the young, too. Our young kids takin’ drugs today. They were takin’ ’em yesterday. Only reason why everybody knows about it now is ’cause white kids are involved heavily.”
    Cosby drew to a close and reminded his audience once again who they really were, despite their status and standing in the community.
    “So when you leave here, depends on just how long it’s goin’ to take you before you go back to bein’ a nigga.” More laughter, and applause, and recognition that Cosby was doing serious race-work in his comments. His vernacular, his liberal use of “nigga” and his pointed communication to folk he loved were all recorded and distributed to a wider audience on Motown’s Black Forum label.
    It is more than ironic that Cosby begrudges the same freedoms to the young folk of today. Times have definitely changed, circumstances have been hugely altered, but the persistent freedom of black folk, especially artists and leaders, to open their mouths and speak with all the spirit and spunk their people love them into, is what he could take for granted. Perhaps he should think about extending that same freedom to those he castigates for cursing and saying “nigga,” both of which he did that night.

Acknowledgments
    First, I want to thank the millions of poor, black, struggling folk whose lives are an inspiration to me, and who, I hope and pray, feel the love and respect I have for them reflected in my book.
    As usual, I want to thank the wonderful Liz Maguire, my brilliant editor and intellectual partner with whom I also share a marvelous friendship. I am grateful to Chris Greenberg who has truly gone beyond the call of duty in so many ways. I want to thank Christine Marra for her care of the book, Brian Mulligan for his super design, and Anna Kaltenbach for her expert editing skills.
    I want to thank God for God’s love which sustains me, and for such wonderful friends, colleagues and family. I am thankful to my friends for giving me encouragement and support: Carolyn Moore-Assem, without whose insight and help I couldn’t have begun, or finished, this book; J.Van, for being magnificent, smart as a whip, and for the shout-outs, love and
encouragement; to Robin Kelley, Deidra Harris-Kelley, and Elleza, for your support, and your brilliance and commitment to freedom; to Farah Jasmine Griffin, for your brilliance and your generosity of spirit; and to Susan Taylor and Khephra Burns, for your love and encouragement, your genius and your unwavering support.
    I want to thank my colleagues in the Africana Studies and Religious Studies Departments at the University of Pennsylvania—especially Tukufu Zuberi, a brilliant scholar and soulful public intellectual, and Ann Matter, a brilliant scholar and loving, nurturing mentor. I am grateful to the tremendous help, far, far beyond the call of duty, provided by: Gale Garrison, Carol Davis, Onyx Finney, Marie Hudson, Cheryl Graham-Seay, Valerie Walker, Darlynn Lee, Susan Cerrone, Cybil Csigi, Joyce Roselle and Pat Johnson. And for her magnificent, expert and incredible research assistance, I am grateful to LaTeisha Moore. It has been great being part of the Penn family.
    Finally, I want to thank my family, including my wonderful mother Addie, my stalwart brothers Anthony, Everett, Jr., Gregory and Brian, and my many nieces and nephews. I also want to thank