The Voice of Ida B Wells

There is a dangerous wind sweeping through this nation—an old wind wearing new clothes. We now see men and women in power working to erase the truth from our children’s minds, stripping slavery and its horrors from the lessons of our schools. But slavery is not a footnote—it is the foundation upon which this country was built. To remove it from history is to lie to every generation that follows.

If we are to be honest about truth, then let us look also at Columbus Day. How can a civilized nation honor a man who brought savagery to the lands he invaded? Columbus did not discover—he conquered. He did not civilize—he brutalized. He came to a people who welcomed him, and he repaid them with blood, chains, and theft. Such a legacy deserves not celebration, but repentance. And as for Thanksgiving, let us stop dressing falsehood in feathers and calling it gratitude. The story told in classrooms is not the story lived by those whose lands were taken and whose people were destroyed.

Now, I watch as they chip away again at the sacred right to vote, and I recognize the pattern—history clawing its way back from the grave. Those who once used the lash now use the law. The same playbook, the same deceit, only the ink has changed. And just as before, when election season comes, politicians find their way to the Black church. They stand in pulpits built by faith and pain, they speak the language of Scripture, and they make promises they have no intention of keeping. Once, they used the preacher to keep us obedient; now, they use the preacher to keep us voting blind.

Wake up, Black America. Do not let them shame you for standing in your truth. They accuse us of voting by color—well, it is color that has marked our suffering in this land. Why should we not vote with the wisdom that suffering has given us?

We have been lied to, preached to, and legislated against. Yet the same power that is used to deceive us could be turned to deliver us—if only we would use it for ourselves, for our children, and for the justice still unpaid.

I, Ida B. Wells, have carried pen and paper through some of the darkest hours of this nation. I have written through lynchings, lies, and laws that sought to silence truth. Never did I think I would see so much of it return again. But here I am—Mama Wells—thinking out loud, and praying that this time, we rise before the story repeats itself once more.