Phillip Atiba Goff '99 has a calling.

As he sees it, contemporary black America is analogous to a rape victim, with all the connotations that that status brings. They struggle with powerlessness, voicelessness and self-loathing. White America is analogous to the rapist, associated with an inverse, if equally resonant, set of images. They struggle with guilt, cultural ignorance and the desire to protect their own privilege.

Goff is himself biracial, and although he identifies himself as black, he believes his mixed lineage gives him no choice but to be responsible to both the rapist and the rape victim--to help the black community restore its damaged voice, while simultaneously convincing the white community of the need for change.

This is a big mandate, even for a guy who was doing trigonometry in first grade. But Goff, who is described by friends and colleagues as a visionary, has a combination of artistic, academic and personal talents that uniquely equip him to take up the struggle for racial equality.

He is probably best-known on campus for his artistic talent. He has been president of Kuumba and the director and musical arranger of Brothers of Kuumba (an all-male subset of the singing group), served as musician's coordinator for the award-winning original musical "Songs We Can't Sing," and founded the Boston Black Art's Festival, now its second year, which brings together a wide range of local and national artists and academics to celebrate the black artistic tradition.

Academically, Goff originally intended to study math and physics, but he decided that mathematical questions were not the ones he wanted to be answering. ("I didn't want to be the black math/science guy," he quips.) Instead, he enrolled in a graduate seminar with Fletcher University Professor Cornel R. West '74 as a first-year, and after dabbling in gender studies, found his place as an Afro-American studies concentrator. He will head to Stanford next year to begin a Ph.D. in social psychology.

But more than his individual academic or musical talents, it is the multiplicity of ways he has to achieve his vision of racial equality, bolstered by religious faith and sheer personal presence, that sets him apart.

"Academics can ask the right questions. Policy makers can intervene to make the macro-structural changes needed to facilitate equality," Goff says, adding that he plans a career in both areas. "But you can't change people's mind through force of logic. You have to connect with them, and the only way to do that on a large-scale is through art."

Achieving Respectability

Goff grew up in the suburbs just outside West Philadelphia, a product of Southern-born parents who were the first in their families to transition from poverty to a solid middle-class existence.

Goff credits his achievements to his "incredibly strong" parents, but notes that it is perhaps ironic that they produced a child so fascinated by issues of race, considering that they absolutely refused to discuss the racism they faced in the still-bigoted South because of their intermarriage.

"My parents knew that our history, community and traditions were all tainted by American racism. That meant few stories, fewer house-guests, and no direct discussions about race. I would not have anyone else's preconceptions to muddy my self-image," Goff says.

Goff knew, of course, that race had affected his family--it was the reason that his parent's wedding made the front page of the local newspaper.

He also knew it was the reason that his mother, in particular, was deter- mined to maintain middle-class respectability.Goff still vividly remembers the day when hisfather suggested moving the vegetable garden fromthe back to the front of the house in order toprotect it from attack by deer and groundhogs,only to be firmly admonished by his mother that"plant gardens did not go in front of the house insuburban Philadelphia."

Phil and his older brother learned quickly that"success was the only option." The message stuck,as Phil went onto Harvard and his brother toWilliams College.

But Phil, like his parents, did not succeedwithout having to deal with issues of race, evenat Friends Central School which he attended fromfirst through 12th grade. In a school that wasmore than 80 percent Jewish, and had only asmattering of black faces, Goff founded the BlackStudent Forum, and challenged what he saw as ateacher's racist interpretation of Cry theBeloved Country.

Goff also began his spiritual journey duringhigh school. While as late as ninth grade he canremember "asking if he could help someone" whobelieved in God, in 11th grade, he began dating a"deeply spiritual" girl who he says slowly taughthim to value the "good over the right." In hisefforts to understand her (aka do the rightthing), Goff says, he tended to order herreactions into binary categories, which he nowsees as a very 'male' strategy, which, over thetwo years they dated, slowly denied her her ownvoice (not realizing the good). After theirbreak-up and during their subsequentreconciliation, Goff says he realized thatreligion could bring unconditional love, which henow sees as an important step towards self andinter-racial healing.

Black Boston?

Music, and black music in particular, have beenimportant to Goff since he was very young. Beforejoining Kuumba, Goff was a member of the Din andTonics, a mostly white world-touring a cappellaensemble. During his time in the Dins, and throughfriends' experiences with Harvard-RadcliffeDramatic Club, Goff says he realized that thepredominantly white groups had a higher level ofinstitutional knowledge about tapping into Harvardresources.

Goff founded the Black Arts Counsel last May,an effort to set up a variety of black groups withfunding and programming offered by the University,particularly the Office for the Arts (OFA).

Myra Mayman, director of the OFA, says newconnections have been forged in the past year,particularly following a December meeting in whichabout a dozen OFA staff members met with a groupof black student leaders and outlined theresources available from the office.

But Goff more likely will be remembered not forhis logistical savvy but rather for bringingtogether black voices for all to hear.

Goff's legacy to Harvard and Boston is theBoston Black Arts Festival, the only suchcelebration in the area.

The Boston Black Arts Festival, celebrated thisyear for the second time, was founded by Goff, andis the only such celebration in the area.

"Boston culturally can be unapologeticallywhite--if you go to [see the] Alvin Ailey [DanceCompany] you've done your thing for a year," saysDuBois Institute administrator April Garrett, whoworked with Goff on the festival. "The projectisn't to say that we are doing this for blackpeople only, but it is to say that there is ablack tradition of music that needs to be examinedon a yearly basis, and you need to beknowledgeable about it," she says.

For Goff it is the power of the music itselfthat keeps him hooked. Although he was alsotrained in classical music, he says he loves jazzbecause of the freedom to interact with theaudience.

Goff recalls a Brothers concert from last yearwhere the singing of "Strange Fruit," a BillieHolliday song about lynching, brought a poignantreaction from the crowd.

"As we were performing, I saw the people in thefirst two rows quietly exit. I didn't know whathappened, until I went out into the lobby and justsaw people sobbing and holding each other. I feltlike we had created personal relationships withthose people."

A Small Liberal Arts College

After spurning the hard sciences, Goff's firstcollege academic interest was internationalrelations, stemming from his high school work inModel United Nations.

But as Goff became increasingly knowledgeableabout the field, he became increasinglypessimistic about the ability to effect changewithin it.

"I knew that killing people was bad," he quips,adding more seriously, "the more I studied it, themore intractable the problems seemed to be--thesame [stuff] keeps happening over and over."

He then turned to gender studies, buteventually decided that race was the more powerful"other," because, unlike gender, it was notnecessarily mitigated by love between groups.

Over the past three years, Goff says he hasfound a home within the Afro-American studiesdepartment, where he has served as a researchfellow for the affiliated DuBois Institute, andcoordinated a mentor program which pairs older andyounger students within the concentration.

In particular, Goff cites his relationshipswith West, Geyser University Professor WilliamJulius Wilson and Professor of Afro-AmericanStudies Evelyn Brooks Higginbotham, as crucial toboth his personal and academic development.

"It's like having a wonderful small liberalarts college within a larger University. Cornel islike a father, Bill a kind uncle, and Evelyn likemy mother, always kicking me to get in gear," Goffsays. "They are the reason I'm still here. If I doanything of worth it is a credit to my mentors.They take very seriously both their responsibilitytoward students and toward the outside community."

It is this responsibility of academics, toconsider the effect of their words on the outsideworld, that was the subject of Goff's thesis,which he plans to submit as a journal article nextyear, and eventually develop into a dissertationand book.

In no uncertain terms, the thesis castigatesthe vast majority of social scientists forfocusing only narrowly on the questions at hand(e.g. affirmative action), and failing to broadenthe debate or performing the crucial advocacyfunction they had in earlier periods.

In words that mirror Goff's desires for hislife, he writes that "social science must be tiedto actual social change." While he acknowledgesthat tying together policy with research soclosely could further retard the struggle forD-5GOFFCrimsonMatthew P. MillerPHILLIP A. GOFF '99