By John Ardoin

The story of the black struggle for a place in the American sun began not with the significant inroads made by African-Americans in jazz, sports, or politics in the 20th century. Its real start came with a singer who was born a slave in the South nearly 40 years before the outbreak of civil war in this land. Her name was Elizabeth Taylor Greenfield, and she crowned her career with a command performance before Queen Victoria at Buckingham Palace.

Several decades later, another notable American black singer, Sissieretta Jones, became one of the most acclaimed artists of her time, sang for four presidents, and proved that exceptional talent can surmount social or racial barriers. The careers of these two pioneers were limited, however, to the concert stage, for black artists were not accepted on the operatic stage. But they paved the way for the emergence of the first great singer to conquer audiences in both opera and concerts -- not as a black, but as a first-class artist.

This was the beloved American contralto Marian Anderson. Her story and that of those great black singers who followed Anderson is told in the GREAT PERFORMANCES documentary "AÏDA'S BROTHERS AND SISTERS: Black Voices in Opera." Where Greenfield and Jones had been symbolic, Marian Anderson became mythic. Suddenly, we as a nation were made conscious of a wealth of extraordinary black vocal talent in our midst, and the doors of our opera houses flung open to a parade of great black divas -- Leontyne Price, Martina Arroyo, Reri Grist, Grace Bumbry, Shirley Verrett, and Jessye Norman.

One thing all of them had in common was the important role the church played in their lives. For many blacks, the church was more than a place in which to worship. It was the hub of their existence when they were young -- an escape, a community center, and a social club. It was also where most black singers got their first opportunities to perform, gain approval, and often find the financial support necessary for serious study.

The backbone of the church experience was the spiritual and, later, gospel singing. This supercharged outpouring of feeling is not unlike the fervent singing heard in a Jewish synagogue service, and perhaps more than anything else, it is the quality at the root of the individual, impassioned singing of black artists, particularly the women, on the operatic stage.

Author Rosalyn Story, whose book AND SO I SANG has recounted the rise of the black singer and who is interviewed in this documentary, has written, "The black world of the 19th century, with its racial volatility and master-slave societal structure, somehow managed to produce great women of song who fought the odds -- poverty, prejudice, sexism -- and won. They sprang from the most humble circumstances; they were the daughters of slaves, of servants, of washerwomen, and itinerant preachers. Privilege, power, and social position were as remote from their lives as is humanly conceivable. Yet, from their mouths and souls poured some of the most remarkable sounds of the century.... The transformation of the black artist in the past century is staggering. The persistent voices of the pioneers -- Greenfield, Jones, and Anderson -- unquestionably opened the doors for the modern black diva. And the indomitable spirit of their forerunners has created a population of black women whose love for that legacy shines in their unyielding desire to create beautiful music."