When Elaine Brown took the lead of the Black Panther Party in 1974, she didn't just step into a role. She stepped into a storm. It’s wild to think about how much the landscape of American activism shifted the moment Huey P. Newton fled to Cuba and handed the reins to a woman in an organization that was, frankly, dripping with hyper-masculinity. Her memoir, A Taste of Power: A Black Woman’s Story, isn't just a book on a shelf. It is a visceral, sometimes painful, and deeply honest look at what happens when you actually get what you’ve been fighting for—and realize the cost is higher than you ever imagined.
Power is heavy. People think they want it until they have to decide who eats and who goes to jail.
Brown’s narrative isn't some sanitized version of history. It’s gritty. She talks about the internal rot, the external pressure from the FBI’s COINTELPRO, and the weird, shifting dynamics of being a woman in a "brotherhood." Honestly, if you haven’t read it, you’re missing the blueprint for how grassroots movements actually function behind the scenes. It’s not all speeches and berets. It’s logistics, fear, and a lot of ego.
The Reality of A Taste of Power in the 1970s
The 1970s were a mess for the Panthers. By the time Brown took over, the party was fractured. You had the East Coast-West Coast split, Eldridge Cleaver’s influence vs. Newton’s, and a massive amount of police surveillance. Brown was essentially tasked with keeping a sinking ship afloat. She did it by pivoting. She leaned into community programs—the Free Breakfast for Children program is the one everyone knows, but she also pushed for the Oakland Community School, which was legitimately revolutionary for its time.
She was effective. That’s the thing that rattled people.
She wasn't just a figurehead. Brown negotiated with city power brokers. She got involved in local politics, helping Lionel Wilson become the first Black mayor of Oakland in 1977. This was the "taste of power" that the title refers to—the realization that you could actually move the needle if you were willing to play the game. But playing the game meant making enemies. Inside the party, some of the men couldn't handle taking orders from a woman. They saw her authority as an affront.
The book spends a lot of time on this tension. It’s a bit of a tragedy, really. You have this group trying to liberate an entire race, yet they were struggling to liberate themselves from their own prejudices. Brown describes the physical violence used to maintain order within the party. It’s uncomfortable to read. She doesn't shy away from the fact that she used those same tactics to keep control. It makes her an "unreliable narrator" in the best way possible—she’s not trying to be a saint. She’s trying to be a leader.
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Why the Memoir Still Hits Different Today
We live in an era of "girlboss" feminism and performative activism. Brown’s experience makes all of that look like child’s play. When she talks about power, she’s talking about life and death. She’s talking about the physical safety of her daughter.
One of the most striking things about A Taste of Power is the prose. Brown was a songwriter and a singer before she was a revolutionary. You can feel that rhythm in her writing. She describes the atmosphere of 1960s Los Angeles and the jazz clubs with the same intensity she uses for the shootouts and the political rallies. It’s a sensory experience.
Most people come to the book looking for a history of the Black Panthers. They stay for the psychological profile of a woman who found herself at the center of a whirlwind. It’s a study in survival. Brown had to be tougher, smarter, and colder than the men around her just to stay in the room. That kind of pressure changes a person. It’s not always a "boss move." Sometimes it’s just a "stay alive move."
The Complexity of Gender and the Black Panther Party
Let’s be real: the Panthers had a complicated relationship with women. While the media focused on the men with guns, women were the backbone of the organization. They ran the clinics. They edited the newspapers. They did the grunt work. Brown’s rise to the top was a recognition of that labor, but it was also a target on her back.
- She faced constant insubordination from the "old guard."
- The transition from a paramilitary group to a political machine was messy.
- Her relationship with Huey P. Newton was... complicated, to say the least.
Newton is portrayed as a brilliant but deeply flawed and eventually paranoid figure. His shadow looms over the entire book. Brown’s loyalty to him is one of the most frustrating and fascinating parts of her story. It shows how power isn't just about who is in charge; it’s about the emotional bonds that keep people tied to sinking ships.
The Lessons for Modern Activists
If you’re trying to organize a movement today, you need to read this book. Not as a hagiography, but as a warning. It shows how easily movements can be co-opted or destroyed from within. Brown is very clear about the fact that external enemies (the police, the government) are dangerous, but internal ego is often the thing that delivers the final blow.
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She also highlights the importance of local power. National headlines are great, but the Panthers’ real strength was in Oakland. It was in the neighborhoods where people knew their names. Brown understood that a "taste of power" at the municipal level was often more meaningful than a thousand protests that don't result in policy change.
There’s a specific section where she talks about the school she helped run. It’s one of the few places in the book where the tone softens. You see the vision of what the party could have been if it hadn't been under constant siege. It was about autonomy. It was about teaching kids that they didn't have to be victims of their circumstances.
Moving Beyond the Book: Elaine Brown’s Ongoing Work
A lot of people think Brown’s story ended when she left the party in 1977. It didn't. She’s still out there. She’s worked on prison reform, particularly the case of Michael "Little B" Lewis. She’s been involved in green energy projects in Oakland. She’s lived several lives since her time as Chairperson.
This is important because it shows that a "taste of power" doesn't have to be a one-time thing. It can be a lifelong commitment. Brown didn't just walk away and become a footnote. She took the lessons—the hard, bloody, exhausting lessons—and kept going.
She hasn't mellowed out much, either. If you see her in interviews today, she’s still sharp. She’s still critical of the systems she’s been fighting for fifty years. She’s a reminder that revolution isn't a season; it’s a career.
Actionable Insights for Your Own Path
You don't have to be leading a revolutionary party to take something away from Brown’s journey. The dynamics of power are universal. Whether you're in a corporate boardroom or a community nonprofit, the same rules apply.
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1. Acknowledge the invisible labor.
In any organization, there are people doing the work and people taking the credit. If you’re a leader, find the "women of the party" in your group. The ones making sure the "breakfast program" runs while others are making the "speeches." Value them before they leave.
2. Understand the cost of entry.
Power requires trade-offs. Brown lost friends, safety, and a sense of peace. Before you chase a position of authority, ask yourself what you’re willing to sacrifice. Is it your privacy? Your reputation? Your health?
3. Build locally, think globally.
The Panthers’ most enduring legacy isn't their rhetoric; it’s the social programs they started. If you want to make a change, start on your block. Start with a school board. Those small wins are the foundation for everything else.
4. Watch your ego.
Ego is the "movement killer." When the mission becomes about the leader rather than the people, it’s over. Brown’s memoir is a masterclass in seeing how charisma can turn into a cage. Keep your eyes on the goal, not the mirror.
5. Prepare for the backlash.
When you challenge the status quo, the status quo hits back. Brown’s experience with the FBI shows that the more effective you are, the more people will try to tear you down. Have a support system. Know who you can trust when things get ugly.
The legacy of A Taste of Power is ultimately one of resilience. It’s about a woman who stepped into a role she wasn't "supposed" to have and held it through sheer force of will. It’s a messy, complicated, and essential piece of American history. It reminds us that power is never given; it is taken, and once you have it, the real work begins.
Read it for the history, sure. But read it mostly for the human story of what happens when a person decides they’ve had enough of being powerless. That’s where the real magic is. It’s not in the slogans. It’s in the decision to stand up and say, "I’m in charge now." Even if the world is burning down around you. Even if you know you might lose. Especially then.
To truly understand the impact of Brown's leadership, look into the specific history of the Oakland Community School. It remains one of the most successful models of independent Black education in the 20th century, proving that when the "taste of power" is directed toward the youth, the results can last for generations. Study the way she leveraged the "Black Vote" in Oakland to gain actual legislative concessions. This is the practical side of the revolution that rarely makes the movies but always makes the difference.