The Sentinel: Race Politics

Commentary |
Black History is every day, with or without the White House

Photo: Library of Congress/Unsplash

From local school boards to the White House, the right is doubling down on its efforts to erase Black history. They’ll fail.

by Tracey L. Rogers

OtherWords

It’s a trend that’s been building for a few years now.

Books by predominantly Black authors are being banned around the country. School curricula have been amended to skip the history lesson on slavery and racism. Critical Race Theory (CRT) — and anything that vaguely looks like it — is under attack. And the concept of “wokeness” has been misconstrued and weaponized.

During a speech at Howard University in 1965, President Johnson said that Black Americans were “still buried under a blanket of history and circumstance.”

Fast-forward to February 2025 and there’s been a doubling down on these attempts to erase Black history. President Trump’s anti-DEI, anti-“woke” rhetoric has led major companies and even many federal agencies to avoid observing Black History Month.

As I consider the president’s campaign promise to “make America great again,” I wonder if he means to make America “white” again.

From failing to condemn white supremacists for their violent march in Charlottesville, Virginia during his first term to blaming “diversity hires” for January’s plane crash in Washington, D.C. this year, Trump and his allies seem to have a difficult time acknowledging the diversity that actually makes this country great.

This has been especially true for Black people feeling the brunt of his Executive Orders. These haven’t just eliminated recent diversity and inclusion initiatives — one even rescinded an Executive Order signed by President Lyndon B. Johnson to end discriminatory practices mostly aimed at Black Americans.

During a speech at Howard University in 1965, President Johnson said that Black Americans were “still buried under a blanket of history and circumstance.” Following widespread protests, it was Johnson who signed the landmark Civil Rights Act and Voting Rights Act into law. Now both historic milestones are under threat by the attempts of Trump and many others to erode the social and economic gains made by Black Americans.

It’s as if we are reliving a time akin to the nadir of race relations in America — the period after Reconstruction, when white supremacists regained power and tried to reverse the progress Black Americans made after the emancipation of enslaved people.

There is nothing comfortable about the history of Black Americans — it’s a history that shatters the myth of American exceptionalism.

Today, from the U.S. Air Force removing coursework on the Tuskegee Airmen to orders by many federal agencies, including the military, canceling Black History Month celebrations, these extreme rollbacks will set a new precedent impacting all minority groups.

I can’t help but to return to sentiments shared by The 1619 Project founder Nikole Hannah-Jones: “The same instinct that led powerful people to prohibit Black people from being able to read,” she wrote, is also “leading powerful people to try to stop our children from learning histories that would lead them to question the unequal society that we have as well.”

There is nothing comfortable about the history of Black Americans — it’s a history that shatters the myth of American exceptionalism. Nevertheless, Black history is American history. Instead of banning it, we must teach it.

It would be impossible to erase the legacy of Black people in this country. Ours is a legacy that endures — one that will continue to endure no matter who’s in the White House.

One thing Black people are going to do is to be Black — and proud. We don’t need a month to know that we stand on the shoulders of giants.

Having overcome enslavement, Jim Crow, and more, our striving to thrive in a country with so-called leaders who would prefer to keep us living on the margins only exemplifies the America we aspire to. And it’s a fight that’s made this country better for struggling people of all races.

Like it or not, Black history is every day.

Tracey L. Rogers is an entrepreneur and Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion consultant in Philadelphia. This op-ed was distributed by OtherWords.org.

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Commentary |
Teaching about race is good, actually; states need to quit banning it

by Ian Wright
OtherWords.org

In this back to school season, millions of American students are returning to classrooms where the wrong course, lesson, or textbook can lead to deep trouble. Why? Because for the last several years, conservative activists and lawmakers have been waging a crusade against “critical race theory,” or CRT.

Critical race theory is an academic concept acknowledging that racism isn’t simply the result of individual prejudice but is also embedded in our institutions through laws, regulations, and rules.

As school districts have emphasized, it’s a higher education concept rarely taught in K-12 schools. But cynical activists have used CRT as a catch-all term to target a broad range of diversity, equity, and inclusion initiatives — and seemingly any discussion about race and racism in the classroom.

Since January 2021, 44 states have “introduced bills or taken other steps that would restrict teaching critical race theory or limit how teachers can discuss racism and sexism,” according to Education Weekly. And as of this writing, UCLA has identified 807 anti-CRT “bills, resolutions, executive orders, opinion letters, statements, and other measures” since September 2020.

Critics claim — falsely — that CRT teaches that all white people are oppressors, while Black people are simply oppressed victims. Many opponents claim it teaches white students to “hate their own race,” or to feel guilty about events that happened before they were born.

In reality, CRT gives students of every race the tools to understand how our institutions treat people of different races unequally — and how we can make those systems fairer. That’s learning students of every race would be better off with.

But instead, this barrage of draconian legislation is having a chilling effect on speech in the classroom.

In 2022, Florida passed the “Stop W.O.K.E. Act,” which prohibits teaching that could lead to a student feeling “discomfort” because of their race, sex, or nationality. But the law’s vague language makes it difficult for educators to determine what they can or cannot teach, ultimately restricting classroom instruction. In my home state of Texas, SB3 similarly restricts these classroom discussions.

Running afoul of these laws can get teachers and school administrators in trouble. As a result of this hostile environment, the RAND Corporation found that two-thirds of K-12 school teachers have decided “to limit instruction about political and social issues in the classroom.”

Notably, this self-censorship extends beyond states with such policies: 55 percent of teachers without state or local restrictions on CRT have still decided to limit classroom discussions of race and history.

As a student, I find this distressing.

My high school history classes gave me a much richer understanding of race in our history, especially the discussions we had at the height of the Black Lives Matter protests. And in college, I’ve gotten to learn about racial inequalities in everything from housing and real estate to health care, politics, education, and immigration policy.

As a person of color, I can’t imagine where I’d be without this understanding. Neither white students nor students of color will benefit from laws designed to censor their understanding of history, critical thinking, and open dialogue in the classroom.

The fight against CRT is a fight against the principles of education that encourage us to question, learn, and grow. Rather than shielding students from uncomfortable truths, which they can certainly handle, we should seek to equip them with the knowledge to navigate the world, think critically about our history and institutions, and push for a more inclusive country.

Ian Wright is a Henry A. Wallace Fellow at the Institute for Policy Studies and a student at Rice University from Dallas, Texas. This op-ed was distributed by OtherWords.org.