In my office, above the desk is a small, framed piece of paper. It is a rough rubbing of the tombstone for Richard Wright, a humanist writer who left the United States and lived in Paris, brought back for me by one of my former students at Macalester College. I imagine that I mentioned Wright so often during classes and casual conversations that this student couldn't resist making the pilgrimage to his burial site during his study abroad in Paris. I remain grateful for this act of kindness because I have always found the writings of Richard Wright compelling. My frequent appeal to him in my writings on humanism should demonstrate his powerful prose and sharp and vivid imagery. However, it was only with time that my appreciation of his many books moved from simple agreement with the absurdity of the world couched in his vocabulary and grammar of life to interest in his soft, but at times very vibrant, commitment to a humanist agenda. And with this recognition grew my interest in understanding and assessing humanism in light of the framing of life offered by Wright and thinkers like him.

In recent years I have been asked on numerous occasions to write down my thoughts on the nature and meaning of humanism for African Americans. In part this stems from a growing awareness of an embarrassing need for greater awareness of and attention to diversity within the humanist movement. When asked, I typically find myself providing differing snapshots of particular figures, ideas, themes, and institutions prominent in the landscape of African American non-theistic thought and ethics.