As a New Orleans schoolboy in the 1960s and 1970s, I was taught the insidious “Lost Cause” myth of the Civil War.
In the poisonous fiction of the Lost Cause that was fed to millions of other southerners, the brutal institution of slavery, which the Confederacy seceded to preserve, had nothing to do with the Civil War. Instead, the war was fought to defend a noble, chivalrous way of life against barbarous northern aggression. Slavery, to the extent that it was acknowledged at all, was a benign, paternalistic, mutually beneficial relationship between masters and servants.
Until recently, I believed the Lost Cause myth — and the hideous Jim Crow policies it was used to justify — had been mostly consigned to the garbage heap of history.
To the contrary, not only has it been simmering beneath the surface all along, it has come roaring back with a vengeance.
And when I say vengeance, I mean it literally. It is the vengeance of some aggrieved, misguided people who resent having to compete on a level playing field with qualified women and people of color.
Historical revisionism — whether the Lost Cause mythology of my youth, the of the last five years or the current — isn’t simply an effort to paint a rosier picture of the past. It’s a justification for regressive, unjust policies that reinforce White, male advantage.
According to Lost Cause revisionism, Black Americans were content to be enslaved by their benevolent and indulgent masters. The responsibilities of freedom were overwhelming to them, and oppressive Jim Crow laws did them a favor by restoring the natural order.
This mythology persisted throughout the Civil Rights era, when activists and protesters were derided as “outside agitators” seeking to disrupt a cherished and peaceful social order.
The current movement to distort American history doesn’t contend that Black Americans are content with and even cherish the system of oppression.
It contends that the system of oppression doesn’t exist.
It’s much harder to make the case against diversity, equity and inclusion policies when you understand that Jackie Robinson was — in the sneering terminology of the anti-equality movement — “a DEI hire.” So, Jackie Robinson must be .
If you want to make the case that Pat Boone recorded the greatest rendition of "Tutti Frutti" in history, you’ve got to make damn sure no one ever hears Little Richard.
There’s nothing wrong with preferring Pat Boone, of course, but are you really making an informed decision if you haven’t heard them both?
That’s the fear at the heart of the “anti-woke” campaign to erase history. President Donald Trump claims to seek “a society that is colorblind and merit-based.” What he and his uninformed accomplices actually seek is to maintain the fiction that the advantages they enjoy are the result solely of “merit” and not in part due to systemic and historical inequities.
They can’t do that without wiping those systemic and historical inequities from the record. That’s why they want to hide the history of slavery, segregation, discriminatory hiring practices, redlining, appraisal bias, inequitable school funding, voter suppression and gerrymandering
Exhibits like NOMA's “New African Masquerades,” made possible by the federal funding that has been snatched away, aren't just accidental casualties of fiscal-minded budget trimming. They are the deliberate targets of a cultural purge aimed at stifling expression by historically marginalized communities. But even before Trump's return to the Oval Office, Louisiana began its crackdown on policies, programs, lessons and activities that celebrate diversity or acknowledge inequality. Now, the Trump administration says those policies, programs, lessons and activities must be banned or schools will lose their federal funding.
As mayor, I learned the power of multi-racial coalition building to drive change, such as historic crime reduction and major advances in building affordable housing. Now that I am on the national stage, I see the need for the same type of coalition building to repair the cracks in our institutions and build a stronger, more resilient nation together.
In New Orleans, we know that the beauty of a good gumbo comes from the unique blend of a variety of flavors. To leave out even one flavorful ingredient is to diminish its richness. We know better than to sabotage our own taste buds like that.
Cutting essential ingredients out of our history is far worse than a bland and tasteless gumbo. It deprives us not just of flavor, but of nourishment. The nation will grow weak and falter. Diversity and inclusion aren't about choosing one ingredient over another, but the reality that we are greater together than we are divided from one another.