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On May 31 and June 1, 1921, white mobs invaded Greenwood, one of the most successful Black districts in the country. Police disarmed Black residents defending their homes while deputizing attackers. Airplanes dropped incendiaries. Entire city blocks burned. More than 1,200 homes and businesses were destroyed. As many as 300 Black people were killed. Thousands were left homeless. No one was held accountable.

In 1781, a British slave ship named the Zong threw more than one hundred and thirty enslaved Africans into the Atlantic Ocean. This was not an accident or a tragedy of the sea. It was a calculated decision made by the crew to preserve their water supply, but more importantly, to protect their financial interests.

Kindred remains one of the most frequently challenged works by Octavia Butler. Official reasons cite violence, sexual assault, and harsh depictions of slavery. The deeper fear runs far deeper. Butler refused to let the past stay distant. She forced readers to see how history shapes identity and power in the present.

Homegoing stands out as one of the most powerful examinations of history’s long reach. Yaa Gyasi did something that made censors deeply uncomfortable. She refused to let the past remain isolated. She traced how trauma, displacement, and resilience move through families across centuries.

The story of enslaved people is usually framed as labor in the most generic sense. Bodies in fields. Anonymous workers. A blurred mass. That framing is both inaccurate and convenient. The truth is far more powerful. Enslaved Africans brought with them deep reservoirs of knowledge that reshaped the landscape of the Americas. They were highly skilled artisans and agricultural experts long before they arrived here. Their expertise became the backbone of colonial economies.

COINTELPRO targeted militants and Black youth, often kids under 18, whose leadership, discipline, and community organizing scared the political establishment far more than any weapon.

The Color Purple has been banned for more than forty years, which is remarkable considering what the book actually does. Alice Walker wrote a story that refuses to let Black women be silent. It refuses to let trauma be hidden. And it refuses to let love, especially queer love, be defined by the people who benefit from erasing it.

When people say "Africans sold Africans," they often try to erase the massive imbalance of power and scale. This phrase ignores the structure that shaped individual choices and the broader system engineered by European powers.

The book Stamped is not radical because it invents new ideas. It is radical because it tells the honest story of how racism is embedded in American policies and systems, not just in individual actions. This honesty challenges the comforting myth of American innocence and that is what makes the book dangerous to some.

Rewatching Judas and the Black Messiah reveals how history is rarely simple. It is layered, full of contradictions, and deeply human. The story of Fred Hampton and Bill O’Neal shows this clearly. Their lives reflect the complexity of the Civil Rights and Black Power movements, and the ways in which systems of power exploited divisions within Black communities.

In 2010, Michelle Alexander published the influential book The New Jim Crow: Mass Incarceration in the Age of Colorblindness. This work has since sparked crucial conversations about race and the criminal justice system in America. Its main argument is striking: “We have not ended racial caste in America; we have merely redesigned it.” This bold statement questions our understanding of race and justice today.

In 2019, Nikole Hannah-Jones launched The 1619 Project, a pivotal initiative that reexamines American history through the lens of slavery. By putting the arrival of the first enslaved Africans in Virginia in 1619 at the forefront, the project challenges the oversimplified and often romanticized narrative of American origins. It exposes how slavery has been a vital force in shaping the United States. This bold assertion has led to significant controversy resulting in the book

And that’s why they’re banned. This series reads the books they don’t want you to. We’ll explore why each work was censored, what truth it threatened, and how those same forces still shape today’s political, racial, and cultural battles. You’ll see patterns. You’ll recognize language. And you’ll realize that the fight against banned books is the fight for memory itself.

Timbuktu is often mentioned in conversations about isolated places, but this perception overlooks its vibrant history as a center of intellectual and cultural exchange during the 14th and 15th centuries. This city was once a focal point of an African renaissance, where scholars, poets, and students gathered to share ideas and foster learning.

When discussing ancient Africa, many narrations start and often stop with Egypt, leaving the rest of the continent in the shadows. However, long before the Renaissance, civilizations like Nubia, Kush, and Axum were shaping the world politically, economically, and spiritually. This blog post shines a light on these incredible cultures that have been overlooked in the broader history.

The fight for democracy is ongoing, and the stakes have never been higher. As we reflect on the legacies of Thurgood Marshall and Clarence Thomas, it is crucial to recognize the broader implications of their actions. Marshall envisioned inclusivity and empowerment, while Thomas’s decisions often reflect a retreat from those ideals.

Henry Ossawa Tanner’s life is a story of quiet rebellion expressed through art. Born in Pittsburgh in 1859 to Reverend Benjamin Tanner and Sarah Tanner, an escaped slave who found freedom through the Underground Railroad, Henry's childhood was infused with values of faith, resilience, and perseverance. Although his father sought to steer him towards the ministry, Tanner was drawn to a different calling: the world of art.

After Floyd's death, various sectors, including businesses, schools, and politicians, quickly issued statements of solidarity. Buzzwords like “anti-racism” and “equity” became commonplace in boardrooms and classrooms. Many believed that America was finally ready to address its racial injustices.

Bayard Rustin deserves recognition alongside the prominent figures of the Civil Rights Movement. As a master strategist, pacifist, and mentor to Martin Luther King Jr., Rustin was instrumental in organizing the 1963 March on Washington, which remains one of the most significant demonstrations in American history.

Carter G. Woodson is widely celebrated as the Father of Black History, a title he earns through his foundational work in establishing Negro History Week, which eventually grew into Black History Month. This initiative transformed how America reflects on its past.