Yesterday, August 2nd, as I walked near the world-famous Apollo Theatre, its electronic marquee reminded me that it was James Baldwin's birthday. The fiery novelist/essayist, a son of Harlem, would have been 95 years old this year.
If Baldwin were still alive, no doubt his voice and pen would be highly critical of the Trump administration as well as the white supremacist alt-right movement, who are among Trump's avid supporters. And no doubt Trump would be on Twitter criticizing, perhaps ridiculing, Baldwin's comments. But Trump would be no match for Baldwin's eloquence and penetrating intellect.
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