It has often been said that history repeats itself, but for Black America, it isn’t just a saying—it’s a lived reality that has stretched across centuries. From the chains of slavery to the cages of mass incarceration, from the brutality of Jim Crow to the quiet violence of voter suppression, the forms may change, but the function remains the same. The oppression of Black people in this country has never truly stopped—it simply evolves. The danger we face today is not just in the systems stacked against us, but in the collective forgetting of how these systems came to be. If we fail to learn from the past, we will continue to stumble into its traps. The system depends on that amnesia. It counts on us forgetting what our ancestors endured, and more importantly, what they did to resist.
The only way to stop history from repeating itself is to consciously decide to break the cycle. The patterns are glaring. Slavery, though legally abolished, was allowed to continue in another form through the 13th Amendment, which prohibited slavery “except as punishment for a crime.” That loophole birthed the prison-industrial complex, an industry that has thrived on the incarceration of Black men. After emancipation, newly freed Black men were targeted through laws designed to criminalize their very existence—vagrancy, loitering, or petty theft led to arrests and forced labor through convict leasing. Today, mass incarceration is its modern descendant. Black communities remain dis- proportionately policed, Black men are sentenced more harshly, and prison labor benefits private companies much like the cotton fields once did. The plantation never disappeared—it relocated behind concrete walls and barbed wire.
The same can be said of segregation. Jim Crow laws once kept Black people out of schools, restaurants, and polling places. Now, we face underfunded schools in Black neighborhoods, economic redlining, and gentrification that pushes Black families out of the communities they’ve called home for generations. Voter suppression has become more sophisticated—now it’s hidden in voter ID laws, closed poll- ing stations, purged voter rolls, and racially drawn district lines. The era of “Colored Only” signs may be gone, but the system of exclusion remains. It has simply traded its hood for a briefcase and its threats for policies.
Perhaps the most painful and persistent pattern is the destruction of Black wealth. Every time Black Americans build something for themselves, it is met with destruction—whether by mobs or by legislation. Tulsa’s Black Wall Street was reduced to ashes in 1921 by white violence. Rosewood, Florida, a thriving Black town, was erased in 1923. Decades later, under the name of “urban renewal,” highways were built directly through Black neighborhoods, displacing families and businesses. Today, the process continues under gentrification.
Property taxes rise, rents skyrocket, and longtime residents are forced to leave. The goal has always been to prevent generational Black wealth from taking root. But this does not have to be our future. We have the power to break this cycle—if we are willing to act. It begins with knowledge. We must teach our history—not just the suffer- ing, but the strength, the organizing, the resistance. We must educate our children and our communities about how these systems work, how they’ve evolved, and how we can fight them. We must also prioritize building and protecting Black wealth—supporting Black-owned banks and businesses, teaching financial literacy, and keep- ing our dollars circulating within our communities. Political engagement is critical. We must vote in every election, advocate for policies that benefit our communities, and hold elected officials accountable. The system fights our vote because it fears our power. That’s why we can never afford to sit out. And we must take back our story. Black-led media and independent plat- forms are essential in countering the misrepresentations that have plagued our people for centuries. When we control our narrative, we control our future.
Finally, we must strengthen our communities. Unity has always been our greatest weapon. When we support one another, when we refuse to let out- side forces divide us, when we build networks rooted in love, accountability, and shared purpose—we become unstoppable. History only repeats itself when we let it. Our ancestors gave too much, sacrificed too much, fought too hard for us to be stuck in the same cycles. We owe it to them—and to ourselves—to write a different future. We are not powerless. We are powerful beyond measure. The question is: what will we do with that power? Will we allow the past to dictate our future— or will we rise, resist, and rewrite the story? It’s time to stop history from repeating. It’s time to change the ending.
