The lens from which we observe Crisis Magazine (founded by W.E.B Du Bois in 1910) should heavily consider audience. Because The Crisis is meant for both white and Black audiences, we should be thinking about what vision DuBois is laying out for white and Black people to see. When I scroll through, I see a lot of women, children, athletes, and soldiers; I can’t help but think that Crisis aids the rise of “The New Negro” in humanizing the lives of Black Americans.  The newfound freedoms bestowed upon Black Americans in the early twentieth century allowed them to reject the narratives that were forced upon them. Not much earlier before this magazine, the narrative that defined Blackness wasn’t written by Black people. Popular art forms of the time, like minstrelsy, enforced what was echoed by pseudo-scientific studies and armchair anthropology––that Black people were not people.

Du Bois expecting a white audience makes sense of his covers. He wanted white audience to witness Black people as people, citizens, Americans even. These covers often lack symbols and abstractions; it primarily features flesh, faces, and sometimes what seem to be families. The emerging concepts of global Black identity and ethnic Black-American identity begins with the most essential fact of all––that we are people. We have personal lives, hobbies, talents, gifts, and beliefs. That is the largest, and still standing, hurdle for the white supremacist attitudes of the United States to overcome.

Usually when I witness efforts to prove ourselves to white audiences, I’m inclined to point out how exhausting and unnecessary it is to participate in respectability politics. If this were a more contemporary magazine, I’d think that catering to a white audience would signify that this media outlet is more invested in the white gaze. I’d probably ask the question: “Why should we value the white opinion of a magazine that centers Black life?” However, I have to extend grace to Du Bois regarding the historical context of the world he existed in. The emerging concept of Blackness and humanizing the image of the Black person was radical for his time. Du Bois, being a Black person in charge of the narrative at The Crisis decided to capture what was largely unseen by both white and Black audiences. Instead of concerning himself with what Black bodies could do or how our labor could further benefit white people, he captured Black life. The Crisis simply taking up space and conveying personhood is enough.

I’ve plucked a cover that stands out to me. It’s from 1912 and has a Black woman holding a tennis racket over her head. Initially, it speaks to me because it feels like a beautiful prophetic image that reminds me of Serena and Venus Williams. I also like it because it’s a humanizing image. To me, it just feels like a person with a hobby on a magazine cover. I don’t feel like I’m supposed to know who this person is; I feel like I’m just meant to see her and witness her being alive in this moment. Whether we are famous and excellent or not, we should be visible.