TCU
Dr. Frederick Gooding, Jr., known to his students as Dr. G, has the kind of classroom presence that sticks with you long after the semester ends. His lectures feel less like lectures and more like jam sessions — equal parts history, pop culture, and raw honesty. A trained historian with a Ph.D. from Georgetown University, Gooding is best known for his book “You Mean, There’s RACE in My Movie?” a sharp, insightful guide to decoding racial patterns in Hollywood. He brings that same lens to the classroom at TCU, where he teaches in the Honors College and holds the Dr. Ronald E. Moore Professorship in Humanities.
Whether he’s breaking down Kendrick lyrics or federal hiring policy, Gooding meets students where they are — and then challenges them to go deeper. We caught up with him to talk about hip hop, history, and the power of finding your voice.
Fort Worth Magazine: When you say hip hop still gets a bad rap. Can you unpack what you mean by that?
Dr. Frederick Gooding: What I mean by that is that [the] media has been quite critical of hip hop — misogyny, materialism, mayhem. And those are valid critiques. But here's the thing: much of what people are criticizing is actually the commercialized and commodified version — rap music. That’s what gets pushed to the front. What I contest is that there’s still a very poignant, powerful, and poetic vibration alive and well in hip hop — it’s just largely underground.
See, this deeper layer of hip hop wrestles with real human themes: dignity, mental health, financial struggle. But because it’s substantive, it’s not viewed as commercially viable. People don’t hear it. I’m not saying we shouldn’t criticize materialism or misogyny, but let’s be consistent. Turn on your TV at 8 p.m. — Hollywood didn’t invent those either. Hip hop didn’t invent misogyny. It’s just become a convenient scapegoat for America’s ills. But in reality? It’s holding up a mirror.
FWM: What initially drew you to African American studies?
Dr. Gooding: I never imagined I’d be a PhD. In high school, despite excelling in math, my guidance counselor pegged me for a future in wood shop. And this isn’t unique to me — hip hop legends have spoken about this. Biggie Smalls starts “Juicy” with, ‘This is dedicated to all the teachers that told me I’d never amount to nothing.’ That hits, because it’s real.
People in positions of power, trained to see potential in others, often miss it — especially when race is involved. But Biggie used his voice and his words to prove his value. And now? He’s a legend. I’m not a famous emcee, but I did something similar. I used my words. I write books. I speak. I teach. And I make a living doing what I was once told I had no value for. That’s powerful.
FWM: Can you share a moment when your research shifted your understanding of yourself or your community?
Dr. Gooding: Absolutely. When I was working on my first book, “American Dream Deferred: Black Federal Workers in Washington, D.C., from 1941 to 1981,” I had this lightbulb moment. At first, I was researching this as history. But halfway through, I realized—this was my family.
Federal employment after WWII gave rise to a stable Black middle class. It wasn’t flashy like Silicon Valley, but it was merit-based. For the first time, Black families had reliable income, job security, a foothold in the American Dream. My aunt didn’t have a college degree, but she went from high school straight into the federal government. She raised her child, bought her own home, vacationed at Disney World. I have another aunt who worked for the Environmental Protection Agency. Another at the Federal Reserve.
Connecting those dots was personal. It grounded me in something real. And when I bring that into the classroom, it hits. For so many of my students, it’s the first time they’re hearing this. Not because they didn’t go to good schools, but because this history just isn’t taught.
FWM: How do you help students navigate tough conversations about race?
Dr. Gooding: The first thing I do is take the pressure off. Everyone is scared to say the ‘wrong thing.’ No one wants to be labeled a racist — that’s social death. But here's the thing: a lot of us are good people who simply lack education, exposure, or experience. That’s it. It’s not a moral indictment. It’s about what you haven’t seen yet.
So, I approach these conversations not with blame, but with curiosity. Let's assume we’re all good people. If you don’t know the history, it’s hard to see the patterns. If you’ve never been exposed to different communities, it’s hard to understand the nuance. This isn’t about who you are — it’s about what you’ve encountered.
Take affirmative action. You can argue whether it’s effective today, but don’t skip the why. These policies were created to respond to actual, documented harm — Jim Crow laws, discriminatory hiring. We can't repair what we refuse to recognize. That’s the starting point.
FWM: Your courses cover heavy material. How do you keep students engaged?
Dr. Gooding: You noticed the course titles, right? None of them say ‘African American History Since 1865.’ That kind of phrasing? Eyes glaze over. I meet students where they are — movies, sports, music. Everyone loves music. And I promise you, everyone has Black music on their phone. They may not all vote the same, but they vibe the same.
These classes are cleverly disguised history lessons. You can’t understand the blues without knowing what the Black body endured post-emancipation. You can’t feel the full depth of jazz or the rage in hip hop without knowing the context. Someone once said, ‘If you don’t know the history of the author, you don’t know what you’re reading.’ I’d say the same for music. If you don’t know what the artist lived through, you’re only hearing half the song.
FWM: What’s the response been like from TCU students?
Dr. Gooding: I teach in the Honors College, so my classes are smaller. But the response? It’s been great. I’ve been nominated for Honors Professor of the Year two years running. And for me, it’s not just about recognition. It’s the emails I get after the semester ends — the students saying, ‘This class changed how I see the world.’ That’s when I know the conversation isn’t over. It’s part of their consciousness now.
They don’t have to agree with everything I say. But if they leave thinking more critically, questioning more deeply, and searching for better answers — then that’s a win.
FWM: What lessons from the past do you think are most urgent for young people today?
Dr. Gooding: People say history doesn’t repeat, but it rhymes. I agree. Human behavior is cyclical. While many see history as the story of change over time, I’m interested in what hasn’t changed. What keeps repeating? What keeps echoing?
The most urgent lesson? Recognize the echoes. Don’t be lulled by the idea that ‘we’ve already been through this.’ History isn’t a checklist. It’s a mirror. And it’s always asking: Are we paying attention this time?
