John Howard Griffin

John Howard Griffin (June 16, 1920 – September 9, 1980) was an American journalist and author who emerged from the quiet landscapes of Texas to become a profound, albeit reluctant, voice in the tumultuous discourse on racial equality. His name is inextricably linked to a singular, audacious project undertaken in 1959: a deliberate, temporary immersion into the life of a black man. This journey through the Deep South was designed to dismantle the psychological and physical barriers of the color line by experiencing the harsh realities of segregation firsthand. It was an act of profound empathy, born of an era when understanding often required radical self-transformation.

Initially, Griffin documented his harrowing experiences in a series of articles for Sepia magazine, which shrewdly underwrote the entire endeavor, securing exclusive publication rights. These dispatches, raw and unflinching, laid the groundwork for what would become his seminal work. Later, he expanded these accounts into a full-length book, published in 1961 under the provocative and unforgettable title, Black Like Me. The book quickly transcended its journalistic origins, becoming a national bestseller and a crucial text in the burgeoning Civil Rights Movement. Its impact was such that it was adapted into a 1964 film of the same name, further cementing its place in the cultural consciousness. Decades later, its enduring relevance was underscored by the publication of a 50th-anniversary edition in 2011 by Wings Press, a testament to truths that, apparently, still require repeating.

Early life

Born on June 16, 1920, in the sprawling city of Dallas, Texas, John Howard Griffin's early life was a tapestry woven with intellectual curiosity and unexpected turns. His parents, John Walter Griffin and Lena May Young, provided a foundation, with his mother, a classical pianist, instilling in him an early and profound love for music. This passion was not merely a hobby; it was a driving force that earned him a musical scholarship, propelling him across the Atlantic to France. There, he immersed himself in a demanding academic regimen, studying French language and literature at the esteemed University of Poitiers, while simultaneously pursuing medicine at the École de Médecine. It seemed a rather conventional path for a gifted young man, until the shadow of war began to lengthen across Europe.

At the tender age of 19, with the world teetering on the brink, Griffin chose a far less conventional route, joining the clandestine ranks of the French Resistance. Operating as a medic in the vital Atlantic seaport of Saint-Nazaire, he was not merely tending wounds; he was actively engaged in the perilous, life-saving work of smuggling Austrian Jews to safety and freedom in England. This was not a theoretical exercise in morality; it was a brutal, immediate confrontation with injustice, demanding courage and quick thinking, shaping his nascent understanding of human dignity and oppression long before his most famous project.

Upon his return to the United States, Griffin immediately enlisted, serving a demanding 39 months in the United States Army Air Forces. His service took him to the distant and dangerous theaters of the South Pacific, where he was decorated for bravery—a detail that, like so many others in his life, hints at an individual unafraid to confront extremity. A particularly formative period saw him spending 1943–44 as the sole European-American on Nuni, one of the remote Solomon Islands. His assignment there was to meticulously study the local culture, a task that further honed his ethnographic sensibilities and provided him with an intimate, immersive understanding of diverse human societies. This intense period was punctuated by a severe bout of spinal malaria, which left him temporarily paraplegic, a physical ordeal that undoubtedly added another layer to his already complex worldview. During this isolated year, Griffin also entered into marriage with an island woman, a detail often overshadowed by his later life, yet significant in its own right, marking a profound cultural immersion.

The aftermath of his military service brought further trials. In 1946, a severe concussion sustained from a Japanese bomb during the war led to a gradual and debilitating loss of sight, leaving him completely blind. This profound sensory deprivation lasted for 11 years, a period of darkness that he navigated with a resilience that would later characterize his approach to other challenges. Then, in 1957, in a turn of events that defied medical explanation and still raises eyebrows, he inexplicably regained his sight. One might call it a miracle, or perhaps, given the recent scholarly scrutiny, a rather convenient narrative development. Indeed, a more recent study, published in 2024 and drawing on both published and previously unexamined sources, has provocatively presented evidence suggesting that Griffin may have, in fact, feigned his blindness. It’s a twist worthy of a novel, adding a layer of deliberate ambiguity to an already enigmatic life.

After his return to Texas, a journey he undertook without his island wife, Griffin underwent another significant personal transformation. In 1952, he converted to Catholicism, becoming a Lay Carmelite. This spiritual commitment, however, did not preclude a return to worldly affections. He taught piano, and it was through this occupation that he met Elizabeth Ann Holland, one of his students. Demonstrating a remarkable ability to navigate institutional complexities, Griffin successfully obtained a papal dispensation from the Vatican to remarry, a clear indication of his deep commitment to his new faith and his chosen partner. Together, John and Elizabeth would go on to have four children, creating a family life amidst his burgeoning literary career.

The year 1952 also marked the publication of his first novel, The Devil Rides Outside. This work offered a glimpse into his spiritual journey, telling the story of a young American composer who travels to a French monastery to study Gregorian chant. It was an exploration of faith, discipline, and artistic pursuit, themes that would continue to resonate, albeit in different forms, throughout his writings. The 1940s and 1950s saw Griffin prolific in his essay writing, penning numerous pieces that chronicled his experience with blindness and his eventual, sudden recovery of sight in 1957. This period of intense introspection and narrative crafting also coincided with his development as a photographer, adding a visual dimension to his storytelling capabilities.

In 1956, he released Nuni, a semi-autobiographical novel that drew heavily from his year spent "marooned" in the Solomon Islands. This work further showcased his developing interest in ethnography and the nuanced understanding of human cultures, laying intellectual groundwork for the immersive social experiment that would define his legacy. It was this deep-seated curiosity about human experience, combined with a profound sense of moral urgency, that culminated in his groundbreaking 1959 project and the subsequent publication of Black Like Me in 1961.

Black Like Me

Main article: Black Like Me

In the autumn of 1959, with the Civil Rights Movement gaining momentum but facing fierce, entrenched resistance, John Howard Griffin made a decision that would forever alter his life and leave an indelible mark on American social commentary. He resolved to investigate, not from a detached journalistic perch, but from within, the deeply oppressive reality faced by African Americans in the American South. This was a region where racial segregation was not merely a social custom but a legally enforced system, where black citizens had been systematically disenfranchised since the turn of the century, effectively barred from political participation, and where white supremacy was fiercely guarded against the rising tide of demands for equality. Griffin understood that to truly grasp the plight, one had to be the plight.

To achieve his radical transformation, Griffin sought the expertise of a New Orleans dermatologist. The process was meticulously planned and physically demanding: a regimen of potent drugs, specifically the oral medication methoxsalen (marketed as Oxsoralen), combined with intensive sunlamp treatments and topical skin creams. This cocktail of chemical and light therapy was designed to drastically darken his naturally pale skin. To further complete the illusion and conceal his straight, European hair texture, Griffin shaved his head. It was a complete metamorphosis, a shedding of his white identity to embrace, however temporarily, the identity of a black man.

For six grueling weeks, Griffin navigated the segregated world of the Deep South as a black man. His journey primarily unfolded in New Orleans and various parts of Mississippi, with significant detours into South Carolina and Georgia. He moved largely by public bus and through the uncertain grace of hitchhiking, relying on the same modes of transport that defined the mobility (or lack thereof) for black individuals in that era. A photographer, whose presence was a testament to the journalistic integrity of the project, later accompanied him, meticulously documenting the stark realities Griffin encountered. The entire ambitious undertaking was underwritten by Sepia magazine, a black-owned publication, in exchange for the exclusive first publication rights to the articles he meticulously penned. These initial accounts were published under the poignant and telling title, "Journey into Shame."

The psychological and physical toll of this masquerade was immense. When Griffin finally decided to conclude his journey, in Montgomery, Alabama, he spent three days secluded in a hotel room, deliberately avoiding sunlight and ceasing his skin-darkening medication to allow his natural complexion to return. It was a symbolic re-emergence, but one that could never fully erase the profound impact of his time on the other side of the color line.

In 1961, Griffin expanded his "Journey into Shame" articles into the book Black Like Me, which swiftly ascended to bestseller status. The book was a raw, unfiltered account, detailing with excruciating precision the myriad problems and dehumanizing obstacles an African American faced daily in the segregated Deep South. He chronicled the simple yet profound difficulties in securing basic human needs: finding a place to eat, obtaining shelter for the night, or even locating a public toilet or other sanitary facilities without encountering explicit racial barriers or thinly veiled contempt. More chillingly, Griffin vividly described the palpable hatred he frequently encountered from white Southerners in his daily interactions—from dismissive shop clerks and condescending ticket sellers to openly hostile bus drivers and hotel managers. He was particularly taken aback by the disturbing and invasive curiosity white men displayed concerning his sexual life, a pervasive racialized fetishization that underscored the deep-seated prejudices of the time. Yet, with a commitment to presenting a nuanced, albeit grim, picture, Griffin also included anecdotes about the rare instances of white Southerners who displayed genuine friendliness and offered unsolicited help, demonstrating that even within a system of pervasive injustice, individual acts of decency could, and did, occasionally surface.

The widespread publicity generated by Black Like Me catapulted Griffin into national celebrity, albeit a controversial one. The book saw multiple editions, each reinforcing its message. However, the celebrity came at a steep personal cost. In a 1975 essay, later included in subsequent editions of the book, Griffin painfully recounted the intense hostility and chilling threats directed at him and his family in his hometown of Mansfield, Texas. The animosity escalated to the point where someone hanged his figure in effigy, a grotesque symbol of the violent hatred his truth-telling had provoked. The threats became so severe that Griffin was compelled to move his entire family to Mexico for approximately nine months, seeking refuge from the relentless intimidation before they eventually returned to Fort Worth.

The profound impact of his work was further amplified when the book was adapted into a 1964 film of the same name. The film starred the acclaimed actor James Whitmore as Griffin, alongside notable talents such as Roscoe Lee Browne, Clifton James, and Will Geer, bringing his story to an even wider audience. Decades later, the book's enduring relevance as a cornerstone of civil rights literature was celebrated with a 50th-anniversary edition published by Wings Press in 2011, ensuring that Griffin's unflinching testimony continues to challenge perceptions and educate new generations.

Later life

Following the explosive success and profound personal consequences of Black Like Me, Griffin did not retreat from the fray. Instead, he continued to actively lecture and write on critical issues of race relations and social justice throughout the nascent and turbulent years of the Civil Rights Movement. His voice, now amplified by his unique experience, became a moral compass, guiding conversations and challenging ingrained prejudices.

In recognition of his significant contributions to fostering racial understanding, Griffin was honored in 1964 with the prestigious Pacem in Terris Award from the Davenport (Iowa) Catholic Interracial Council. The award, whose name translates to "Peace on Earth," underscored the profound spiritual and humanitarian dimension of his work, placing him among a distinguished list of laureates that would later include figures like Martin Luther King Jr. This recognition, however, did little to deter the forces of hatred he had exposed. In the very same year, 1964, Griffin suffered a brutal beating at the hands of the Ku Klux Klan, a chilling reprisal for his courage. Tragically, this was not an isolated incident; in 1975, he was once again severely beaten by the Ku Klux Klan, a testament to the persistent and violent opposition to racial progress, and to Griffin’s unwavering commitment to speak truth to power, despite the physical cost.

In his later years, perhaps seeking a different form of truth or a quieter contemplation after years of public struggle, Griffin shifted his focus. He dedicated himself to researching and chronicling the life of his friend, Thomas Merton, the renowned American Trappist monk and influential spiritual writer whom he had first met in 1962. Griffin’s deep personal connection to Merton and his profound understanding of spiritual journeys made him the chosen biographer by Merton's estate, entrusted with crafting the authorized account of the monk’s life. However, this ambitious project would remain incomplete. Griffin's own health, significantly compromised by a diagnosis of type 2 diabetes, increasingly prevented him from dedicating the necessary energy to such an extensive endeavor. Consequently, he concentrated his efforts on Merton's later years, a period that perhaps resonated more deeply with his own reflections on mortality and purpose.

Death

John Howard Griffin's remarkable and often tumultuous life concluded in Fort Worth, Texas, on September 9, 1980. He was 60 years old, and his death was attributed to complications arising from his long-standing battle with diabetes, a condition that had progressively worn down his health in his final years. He was survived by his devoted wife, Elizabeth Ann Griffin, and their four children, who carried on his legacy. His final resting place was in the cemetery of his birthplace, Mansfield, Texas, a poignant return to the soil from which his extraordinary journey began. After her own passing, Elizabeth was also laid to rest beside him, even though she had remarried, underscoring the enduring connection they shared.

For years, persistent rumors circulated that Griffin's death was caused by skin cancer, purportedly a direct consequence of his extensive use of large doses of methoxsalen (Oxsoralen) in 1959 to darken his skin for his race project. It’s the kind of dramatic, poetic justice that the human mind often invents to tie up loose ends, but it simply wasn't true. While Griffin did experience temporary and, by all accounts, minor symptoms from taking the drug—chiefly fatigue and nausea—there is no medical evidence to suggest that he ever developed skin cancer. His demise was, prosaically but tragically, a result of the relentless progression of diabetes, a fact that, while less sensational, is no less final.

Legacy

The impact of John Howard Griffin's life and work resonated far beyond his passing, ensuring that his legacy continues to be studied, debated, and appreciated.

Posthumous works

Despite his inability to complete the full authorized biography of Thomas Merton, Griffin's dedicated efforts were not in vain. The nearly finished portion of his work, which meticulously covered Merton's later years, particularly the period from 1965 to 1968, was posthumously published in paperback in 1983 by Latitude Press. Titled Follow the Ecstasy: Thomas Merton, the Hermitage Years, 1965–1968, this volume offered invaluable insights into Merton's contemplative life and thought during a crucial phase, providing an essential resource for Merton scholars and spiritual seekers alike.

Further illuminating his complex inner world, Griffin's poignant essays reflecting on his decade of blindness and his inexplicable recovery of sight were collected and published posthumously in 2004 as Scattered Shadows: A Memoir of Blindness and Vision. This collection offered a profound exploration of perception, resilience, and the human spirit's capacity to adapt to radical shifts in experience, adding another dimension to understanding the man who dared to see the world from a different perspective.

The enduring power and relevance of Black Like Me were powerfully reaffirmed in recognition of the 50th anniversary of its initial publication. Wings Press, committed to preserving and promoting Griffin's literary contributions, released a new edition of the seminal work. This initiative also extended to updated editions of several of Griffin's other significant works, including his debut novel, The Devil Rides Outside, ensuring that his entire literary output remains accessible to contemporary readers.

Secondary studies

The profound and multifaceted life of John Howard Griffin has naturally attracted significant scholarly attention, leading to several important secondary studies that seek to unravel the complexities of his motivations and impact.

Robert Bonazzi, a dedicated scholar and publisher, penned a comprehensive biographical memoir of Griffin, titled Man in the Mirror: John Howard Griffin and the Story of Black Like Me (1997). Bonazzi, who had previously published other works by Griffin through his own Latitudes Press, offered a deeply researched and insightful account of the author's journey. His commitment to Griffin's legacy continued with the publication in 2018 by TCU Press of Reluctant Activist: The Spiritual Life and Art of John Howard Griffin, which further explored the intricate interplay between Griffin's spiritual convictions, his artistic endeavors, and his courageous activism.
The enduring visual legacy of Griffin's story was captured in Uncommon Vision: The Life and Times of John Howard Griffin, a compelling film documentary released in 2011. This production, directed and produced by Morgan Atkinson, served as a powerful commemoration of the 50th anniversary of his influential book, bringing his narrative to life for a new generation. The documentary was widely aired on PBS stations and was subsequently included as an invaluable extra feature on the 2013 DVD release of the original Black Like Me film, providing crucial context to the cinematic adaptation.

Works

Herein lies the chronicle of a man who dared to look beyond the surface, and then compelled others to do the same.

The Devil Rides Outside (1952)
Nuni (1956)
Land of the High Sky (1959)
Black Like Me (1961)
The Church and the Black Man (1969)
A Hidden Wholeness: The Visual World of Thomas Merton (1970)
Twelve Photographic Portraits (1973)
Jacques Maritain: Homage in Words and Pictures (1974)
A Time to be Human (1977)
The Hermitage Journals: A Diary Kept While Working on the Biography of Thomas Merton (1981)
Scattered Shadows: A Memoir of Blindness and Vision (2004), a posthumously collected volume of essays from the 1940s and 1950s
Available Light: Exile in Mexico (2008), autobiographical texts covering the period during which he penned the essay that would become Black Like Me

Parallel exercises

Griffin's audacious project, while groundbreaking, was not entirely without precedent, nor did it cease to inspire similar endeavors. The human inclination to "walk a mile in another's shoes" to understand prejudice has manifested in various forms, often with equally profound and unsettling results. These parallel exercises underscore the enduring nature of social divides and the persistent need for direct, experiential journalism to expose uncomfortable truths.

Ray Sprigle: A Pulitzer Prize-winning white journalist for the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette, Sprigle undertook his own immersive experiment in 1948, over a decade before Griffin. He successfully disguised himself as a black man and traveled through the Deep South for a month. Sprigle's journey was facilitated by the prominent black Atlanta political leader John Wesley Dobbs, who served as his guide and host, a crucial connection provided by the NAACP. Sprigle's experiences were serialized in a nationally syndicated 21-part series titled "I Was a Negro in the South for 30 Days," which subsequently formed the basis of his 1949 book, In the Land of Jim Crow. Journalist Bill Steigerwald's 2017 book, 30 Days a Black Man (Lyons Press), meticulously details Sprigle's undercover mission and the considerable media stir it generated in 1948, demonstrating that the shock of such revelations was potent even before Griffin's work.
Grace Halsell: Another white female journalist, also from Texas, Halsell was directly inspired by Griffin's groundbreaking work. Shortly after the tragic assassination of Martin Luther King Jr. in April 1968, she resigned from her position on President Lyndon B. Johnson's White House staff to embark on her own transformative journey. She described this experience as "embracing the Other," a deliberate act of empathy and investigation. The following year, she published her account, Soul Sister: The Story of a White Woman Who Turned Herself Black and Went to Live and Work in Harlem and Mississippi. Halsell's career was marked by a series of similar immersive disguises, where she adopted various identities to expose social inequalities, including living as an elderly woman and a Native American, demonstrating a sustained commitment to experiential journalism.
Günter Wallraff: This white German undercover journalist built an entire career on immersing himself in marginalized identities to reveal systemic mistreatment. Wallraff's extensive body of work includes living as an alcoholic, working in a chemicals factory under dangerous conditions, and experiencing homelessness, all to expose the harsh realities faced by these often-invisible populations. In 2009, he released the documentary Black on White, which chronicled his experiences undercover as a black man in Germany. His work highlighted that the issues of racial prejudice and discrimination are not confined to specific geographies or historical periods but are, unfortunately, a universal human failing, echoing the core message of Griffin's original endeavor.