Black Patience: Performance, Civil Rights, and the Unfinished Project of Emancipation. Julius B. Fleming Jr. New York: New York University Press, 2022; Pp. 301. 

Black Patience: Performance, Civil Rights, and the Unfinished Project of Emancipation. Julius B. Fleming Jr. New York: New York University Press, 2022; Pp. 301. 

Julius B. Fleming Jr.’s Black Patience: Performance, Civil Rights, and the Unfinished Project of Emancipation is an invaluable contribution to, among other fields, civil rights historiography, theatre studies, Black performance studies, and African American history. With painstaking documentation supporting shrewd analyses, Fleming maintains that the Civil Rights Movement was more than a fight for social justice, but additionally a conflict over temporality—a battle whose victors often violently decide(d) who must wait, for how long, and under what threat. Fleming provides an important rethinking of civil rights studies by locating Black theatre and performance as central to “the cultural and political fronts” of the movement (2). Including but also moving beyond understandings of performance as an abstracted concept encompassing marches, speeches, sit-ins, or media, Black Patience reveals how Black theatre functioned as an effective instrument with which artists and activists redefined a racialized notion of time, a framework shaped by the anti-Black projects of white supremacy. Rather than a neutral backdrop to history, Fleming’s construct of racialized time denotes deferral, delay, and gradualism, a chronology that dictates a “waiting” that is “weaponized as a technology of anti[B]lack violence and civic exclusion” (1).¹  Fleming’s central claim is that the Civil Rights Movement’s focus on immediacy—a theoretical and acted-upon notion of “Freedom Now”—is more than just a demand for equality and justice; it is a direct confrontation with a white supremacist temporal order he terms “[B]lack patience.”  The ecology of [B]lack patience encompasses the long history of enforced waiting, deference, and all forms of endured suffering imposed on Black bodies from the Middle Passage to twenty-first-century Liberals’ calls for moderation. Black patience warrants attention, Fleming writes, because “the overriding ambition that drives the racial project of black patience is its singular desire for Black people to suffer, and to do so without complaint” (241). Black Patience confidently demonstrates how Black theatre achieved victories in the Civil Rights Movement’s (contingent and incomplete) battle by staging “now” not as a stagnant passage to an always-deferred future, but an immediate place to act, without waiting, and without patience.  

Working deeply across broad archives, Fleming considers Black theatre and cultural production across diverse geographies and theatrical spaces illuminating how Black theatre enabled civil rights audiences to feel political time differently and—at its best—cultivated collective action. Among the valuable sources included in his archive are the Free Southern Theater; works from Lorraine Hansberry, James Baldwin, Alice Childress, Douglas Turner Ward, Amiri Baraka, Langston Hughes, and Duke Ellington; and ephemera such as programs, oral histories, and reviews.  

Fleming’s Introduction establishes the book’s terminology and its multi-disciplinary stakes while unpacking a compelling methodology. He begins with an examination of Fannie Lou Hamer’s inspiring response to a 1964 performance of Waiting for Godot, during which “Hamer and . . . the actors used the body in performance to unsettle modernity’s racialized logics of waiting” (3). Fleming invokes a crucial theatrical moment that crystallizes the book’s arguments: anti-Blackness functions through forcible delay, and the theatre acts as a critical tool for rejecting white supremacist sanctions of Black patience.  

Chapter One effectively reframes the Emancipation Proclamation’s one-hundred-year anniversary as a temporal and political battleground. Investigating Emancipation’s centennial, Fleming argues that the 1963 commemorations revealed the white supremacist preference for deferral. Relying on a rich body of evidence that includes presidential speeches, pageants, and theatrical works, this chapter demonstrates how the centennial simultaneously 1) proclaimed freedom and 2) demanded Black restraint. In exposing this contradiction, Fleming argues that civil rights activism must be understood as a struggle over time itself.  

Building on his historicization of Emancipation as incomplete and temporally deferred, Fleming's second chapter performs a compelling case study in its examination of the Free Southern Theatre (FST) and productions across the south. Founded in 1963, the FST performed in churches, fields, and community centers under dangerous conditions of state and civilian surveillance/threat. Fleming reveals how the FST effectively redrew the spatial and temporal map of the Civil Rights Movement by bringing theatre directly into organizing spaces. He further outlines the ways that the FST productively reduced the space between art and activism in ways that presaged the political work of the Black Arts Movement that would follow and, as a result, enabled audiences to inhabit a revolutionary present. This chapter also provides a meaningful meditation on Fleming’s understanding of Afro-presentism. Alongside the call for “freedom now,” Afro-presentism concretizes a “refusal to accede to the temporal demands of [B]lack patience” (26). Fleming points out that “far from a cure-all for the violences of [B]lack patience,” Afro-presentism instead conjures “seizing and enjoying the good life in the here and now, knowing that in the context of anti-[B]lackness the future is always a zone of precarity” (128).  

Fleming impressively complicates his established analyses of racialized time with his third chapter, asking us to consider whose time counts more than others. Providing a needed intervention into queer temporalities within civil rights scholarship, Chapter Three rightly maintains that the temporal politics of the Civil Rights Movement cannot be separated from gender, sexuality, and embodied desire. With its consideration of Baraka and Paul Carter Harrison, among others, Fleming demonstrates how queer temporalities disrupted the respectability scripts that more typically accompanied anti-Black/white supremacist appeals for patience. Considering how desire, vulnerability, and intimacy potentially complicate, if not intensify, the (hoped for) immediacy of liberation, this chapter expands the archive of civil rights performance beyond heteronormative narratives. Turning to the “territory of erotic desire,” Fleming recognizes “that [B]lack patience not only engenders anti-Blackness but also (re)produces the cultural and political logic of heteropatriarchy” (133). Insightfully contrasting theater with photography and television, Chapter Four argues that the present tense of theatre can productively disrupt the (false/misleading) narratives of gradual progress that visual documentation can unintentionally reinforce. In addition to its stunning contribution to theorizations of racialized feeling, theatre, and visual culture, this chapter also identifies a parallel phenomenon to Black patience taking place as Black people are urged to be patient: white impatience—a tetchy temporal intolerance that can be seen in white critical reception, photography, and spectatorship. Fleming successfully maps the ways that white publics express irritation, fatigue, or hostility toward Black demands for immediacy. Or, as Fleming savvily explains, by reframing “the problem of race” as “a problem of whiteness,” Black theatre artists “recalibrated the visual economy of the Civil Right movement . . . and shift[ed] their audiences’ gazes from injured [B]lack bodies to white people” (37). Alongside its consideration of Hansberry, Baldwin, Childress, and Ward, this chapter reveals how Civil Rights theatre made racialized affect visually legible while it simultaneously critiqued the policing function of white impatience.  

With a performance analysis previously applied to live theater in earlier chapters, Black Patience's final chapter examines the performance of waiting in live political events such as sit-ins. This (productively) strategic waiting seizes back temporal control and weaponizes the (deferred) time meant to discipline, exclude, and control Black bodies. With this pivot, Fleming maintains, Black protest effectively transformed patience into a consciously-employed, tactical practice during sitins, freedom songs, and jailins. This determinedly-invoked patience converts the notion of waiting into a mode of pressure and endurance that exposes the anti-Black violence of statemandated, white supremacist delay. In pointing out how activists also weaponized stillness/duration to force public confrontation with anti-Black racism, Fleming’s final chapter re-presents Black patience as performance that can both dismantle and repurpose temporal categories off the stage as well as on. 

Black Patience skillfully reframes the Civil Rights Movement as a performance-driven struggle over time, a struggle shaped by questions of how long equality and justice will take and how demands for patience (if not enforced waiting) work as tools in a white supremacist control of time. Challenging historiography that heavily credits civil rights momentum to photography and television, Fleming instead foregrounds the liveness, risk, and collective spectatorship of live performance as powerful engines driving political feeling and action. The book’s successful theoretical synthesis of dramaturgy, theatre history, geography, affect, and temporal theory offers a model for studying performance within social movements that will benefit educators, their syllabi, and scholars far beyond theatre or civil rights studies.  

Footnotes:

1. Throughout this review I capitalize the word “Black” when it refers to the culture, history, and people of a shared racial identity, as opposed to a color; any changes to Fleming’s original are noted with brackets.