A Wake-Up Call

Recently, I have been confronted with some troubling developments that have compelled me to reflect deeply on my father’s legacy and how his work has been interpreted—and at times, misinterpreted. My father, William Henry Mackey, Jr., was a scholar and teacher of Black history—though to him, it was simply history. He believed in understanding the past through a lens that centered African and African American experiences, a perspective often marginalized in mainstream narratives.

Over the course of his career, my father sometimes lectured on topics like Zionism and the role of Jews in the transatlantic slave trade. These lectures, grounded in historical analysis, were intended to foster critical thinking and nuanced understanding. However, two troubling issues have since come to my attention. First, a while ago, a friend notified me that some individuals with antisemitic views posted videos of excerpts of two of my father’s lectures on YouTube without the context I believe he would have wanted, and used those lectures to their hateful ideologies. Second, and more recently, the BK William Henry Mackey Jr. History Club—founded in his honor and continuing a tradition of free community history lessons he started—has posted a video promoting virulently antisemitic literature, a development I find deeply troubling.

While I do not believe my father was antisemitic, I cannot ignore how his work has been misused. These distortions stand in stark contrast to his intent and values, and I feel a responsibility to address them. This essay is my effort to set the record straight and ensure his legacy is not tarnished by ideologies he would have rejected.

My father often quoted a line from Shakespeare’s Othello:
“I pray you, in your letters, / When you shall these unlucky deeds relate, / Speak of me as I am; nothing extenuate, / Nor set down aught in malice.”My Father knew he was not a perfect man, but I do not believe in either thought or intent, he would ever have supported the hateful ideologies now being expressed in his name.

My Father’s Academic Approach and Values
At the core of my father’s teaching was a commitment to critical thinking. He urged students to question historical narratives, analyze primary sources, and explore the complexities of history rather than reducing it to simplistic binaries of good and evil. His work focused on understanding systems of power, oppression, and resistance, not on blanket condemnation.

Beyond academia, my father was a dedicated educator in his community. For nearly 40 years, he lived in Crown Heights, Brooklyn, where he organized weekly history classes in his apartment building’s basement meeting room. After his passing in 2004, these classes continued, and in his honor, they were named the BK William Henry Mackey Jr. History Club. Initially, I was deeply honored that his legacy of teaching lived on in this way. However, recent developments have profoundly changed my feelings about this association.

Personal and Professional Ties to Jewish Communities
Despite the misinterpretation of his work, my father had deep personal and professional connections to Jewish communities. Some of his closest friends were Jewish, a Jewish rabbi officiated his marriage to my mother, and two of his dearest friends, Stanley and Selma Katz, were my godparents.

His ties to Jewish culture extended beyond personal relationships. He had a strong working knowledge of Yiddish, learned through conversations with friends and colleagues. Professionally, he benefited from the support of Jewish allies. After serving in World War II, he earned a structural engineering degree through the G.I. Bill but struggled to find work as a young Black engineer in the 1950s. A Jewish-owned engineering firm in Lower Manhattan gave him his first opportunity, and many of the friendships he formed there lasted a lifetime.

These relationships underscore my father’s values. He rejected broad-stroke condemnations of any group and approached historical critique with nuance and analysis, not bigotry.

The Unintended Consequences of His Lectures
Despite his intentions, some of my father’s lectures—particularly those on Zionism and the Jewish role in the transatlantic slave trade—were taken out of context and exploited by some people to support and further their antisemitic beliefs.

My father approached these topics with historical nuance, acknowledging complex truths without resorting to blanket condemnation. However, in an era where recorded lectures can be stripped of context, some of his words were misused to justify antisemitic ideologies. Years ago, an old friend alerted me to these recordings circulating online. Upon reviewing them, I understood how, without my father’s full context and critical framing, certain statements could be misinterpreted. Worse, they were being cited by individuals promoting antisemitic conspiracy theories. I acted swiftly to have these videos removed from YouTube.

The Allure of Conspiracy Theories and Mistrust of Power Structures

One of the complexities of my father’s work—and its reception—lies in the broader context of systemic oppression and the mistrust it breeds. For many Black Americans, including my father, a healthy skepticism of power structures is not just intellectual but deeply personal, rooted in centuries of marginalization, exploitation, and betrayal. This mistrust, while often justified, can sometimes create fertile ground for conspiracy theories to take hold, particularly when they seem to offer explanations for the inequities and injustices that persist in society.

My father’s lectures on topics like Zionism and the transatlantic slave trade were grounded in historical analysis, but they also touched on themes of power and exploitation that resonate deeply with communities who have been systematically oppressed. For some, these discussions may have felt like validation of broader, more sweeping suspicions about power structures—suspicions that, while understandable, can veer into dangerous territory when they generalize entire groups as monolithic villains.

This tendency to mistrust all power structures is not unique to any one community, but it is particularly pronounced among those who have been historically marginalized. When the system has repeatedly failed you, it becomes easier to believe that all systems are inherently corrupt or that hidden forces are at work behind the scenes. This mindset, while rooted in real experiences of oppression, can sometimes lead to the embrace of conspiracy theories that oversimplify complex historical realities or scapegoat specific groups.

My father understood this tension. His work sought to illuminate the nuances of history, to challenge oppressive systems without resorting to blanket condemnations. Yet, I recognize that he was not ALWAYS careful in his approach, and even when he ways, his approach could be misinterpreted by those looking for confirmation of their own mistrust. In an era where misinformation spreads rapidly and context is often stripped away, the risk of his words being co-opted by those promoting harmful ideologies is all too real.

This is not to excuse the misuse of his work or his lack of realization that by framing some of his language the way he did, he left it open to interpretation, but to acknowledge the broader societal forces at play. The challenge lies in addressing the legitimate grievances of marginalized communities while resisting the pull of conspiracy theories that distort history and perpetuate division. My father’s legacy, at its best, offers a path forward: one that critiques power structures with rigor and nuance, but never loses sight of our shared humanity.

In grappling with this issue, again, I am reminded of the importance of critical thinking—a value my father held dear. It is not enough to question the system; we must also question the narratives we construct about it. Only by doing so can we honor the complexity of history and ensure that the fight for justice does not devolve into the perpetuation of hate.

The Present-Day Issue with the History Club
This morning I became aware of a deeply troubling development involving the BK William Henry Mackey Jr. History Club. A video posted on the club’s YouTube channel featured the group’s organizer promoting two books filled with virulently antisemitic ideas. The author of these books is on record promoting egregiously antisemitic views, including calls for the “cleansing of the earth” of Jewish people. This is abhorrent and fundamentally opposed to my father’s beliefs.

While I was initially honored that the community history classes continued and were named in his honor, I can no longer feel that way. The group’s promotion of hateful ideologies strays significantly from my father’s intent and values.

Request to Remove My Father’s Name
This morning, I formally requested that the BK William Henry Mackey Jr. History Club remove my father’s name from their club, YouTube channel, and all associated materials. This decision was not made lightly, but I cannot allow his name to be associated with ideas he would have rejected outright. His legacy was one of rigorous historical inquiry, not hatred.

The Complexity of Intention vs. Impact
This situation highlights a central tension in historical discourse: intention vs. impact. My father never intended to incite antisemitism, but I cannot ignore that some have used his work to do so. While he valued academic freedom, he would not have tolerated the blatant antisemitism now promoted under his name.

Facing this truth is difficult, but it is part of the intellectual and moral responsibility to recognize how ideas can be misused, even in bad faith.

Conclusion
My father’s legacy was one of critical thinking, rigorous inquiry, and historical truth-telling. He challenged power structures but never reduced entire groups to caricatures.

In honoring his legacy, I must state clearly: Any ideology that promotes hatred based on race, religion, or gender is wrong. I remain deeply proud of my father’s work, but preserving his legacy means ensuring his name is not used to justify hatred. This responsibility is why I made the difficult decision to remove his name from the history club. His life’s work deserves to be remembered for its commitment to truth, not its unintended misuse.

-Patrice

Notes on My Father

My father, William Henry Mackey, Jr., lived a life of extraordinary breadth and depth. Born in 1920 in Jacksonville, Florida, and raised in rural Georgia, he was a man of many talents and professions. After serving as a firefighter and interpreter in France during World War II, he returned to New York, where he earned a degree in structural engineering through the G.I. Bill and contributed to the design of numerous school and office buildings.

In the 1960s, he co-founded Les Deux Megots, a renowned East Village coffeehouse that became a hub for poets, writers, and thinkers, including Allen Ginsberg and William F. Buckley. Later, he transitioned to photojournalism, capturing inner-city life in images published by Time and Life. His passion for documenting history led him to create a photo essay and manuscript on rural Black life in Georgia, which gained national recognition.

In the 1970s, he began his career as a history professor, teaching at City College of New York and later at Empire State College’s Harry Van Arsdale Jr. Center for Labor Studies. For over 30 years, he inspired students with his emphasis on critical thinking and the importance of understanding history through marginalized perspectives. Even outside the classroom, he organized free community history classes in his Brooklyn apartment building, leaving a lasting impact on countless lives.

My father was a voracious reader, a lover of music, and a lifelong learner. He passed away in 2004 at the age of 83, leaving behind a legacy of intellectual curiosity, social justice, and a commitment to education. His life was a testament to the power of resilience, reinvention, and the pursuit of knowledge.

I still miss him.