est gives powerful, sermon-like lectures in a cadence that reflects his Baptist upbringing. His thick Afro is reminiscent of the black awareness movement of the sixties and seventies while his blue, three-piece suit pays tribute to black Baptist preachers and academics like W. E. B. DuBois. "A fully functional, multiracial democracy cannot be achieved without a sense of history and open, honest social dialogue," West said to a packed house of 800 at the University of Oregon last January. He folded his arms in front of his chest as he talked about the need to overcome "historical amnesia." With exaggerated facial expressions he insisted that Americans admit to the privileges that come with white skin. He emphasized the difficulty of self reflection by backing away from the podium and placing his hands on his cheeks. Just when he signaled the crowd that he was about to yell, raising his arms like exclamation points, he whispered instead. In conversation West addresses people as "brother" or "sister." He makes a point of treating everyone with respect and compassion. At a book signing at the University of Oregon, one audience member waited almost three hours to meet West. When the crowd finally thinned, West leaned across the table and hugged the stranger. The man told West that he enjoyed the speech, but that he couldn't afford West's new book, Restoring Hope. West immediately pulled out his wallet and bought the man a copy. He signed it: "Stay strong brother John! Cornel West."

aised in the church, West learned to stand his ground in the schoolyard. Born in Tulsa, Oklahoma, on June 2, 1953, West's family relocated to Sacramento five years later. West's mother, a schoolteacher, and father, an Air Force civil servant, brought their two sons and two daughters to church every Sunday. West learned love and caring, but he mouthed off at school. Wiry and quick, he was never afraid to back up his words with kicks and punches. His older brother Clifton told The New Yorker that West thought he could whip everybody. When West's elementary school teacher slapped him for refusing to say the Pledge of Allegiance--West felt the flag did not live up to the equality it was supposed to symbolize--he punched

her in the face. West was expelled. As a teenager, West spent hours on the wide Sacramento streets discussing Marxist thought with members of the Black Panthers. He admired their combination of military-like discipline and charitable works. However, he could not embrace their rejection of Christianity or their condemnation of black religious movements. Oscillating between the opposing worlds of church and Marxist activism, West learned that both sides had something to contribute to the fight against oppression. Before he graduated from high school, West was already learning to pick and choose the rhetorical weapons he would use later in life.