History, But Make It Comfortable

There’s a false narrative gaining traction right now—that teaching the truth about slavery, Jim Crow, and racial violence exists to make white people feel guilty. Politicians repeat this as if it’s a fact, as if history itself has intent, as if honesty is somehow an accusation.

But history doesn’t assign guilt. It tells the truth. What people do with that truth—who they choose to identify with—has always been their choice.

When we teach about slavery, we are not telling white people, this is your fault. We are saying, this happened. And once you know that, the only real question becomes: who do you see yourself as in this story?

Because the past was never populated by one kind of white person.

There were white people who enslaved Black people, defended the practice, wrote laws to protect it, and built wealth by stripping others of their humanity. And there were white people who fought against slavery, organized abolitionist movements, helped enslaved people escape, challenged unjust laws, and risked their lives to stand on the side of equality.

Both groups existed at the same time. Both are part of our history.

So when politicians claim that teaching this history makes white people feel guilty, what they’re really reacting to isn’t guilt—it’s choice. Because once people see the full picture, they’re forced to reckon with the fact that neutrality was never neutral, and silence was never harmless.

Guilt isn’t the lesson. Agency is.

Teaching about slavery and Jim Crow doesn’t force shame onto anyone. It reveals how injustice actually works—through systems upheld by ordinary people making ordinary decisions. It shows that oppression wasn’t inevitable or abstract; it was constructed, defended, enforced, and normalized.

If that truth feels uncomfortable, it’s not because of someone’s race. It’s because discomfort often accompanies clarity. Once you understand that injustice was the result of choices, it becomes harder to pretend we don’t have choices now.

That’s the part many politicians are desperate to avoid.

When they claim they’re protecting children, what they’re really protecting is fragility—an unwillingness to let young people ask the obvious questions. Why were some people allowed to own others? Who made those laws? Who challenged them? Who benefited? Who stayed silent?

Those questions don’t indoctrinate children. They help children develop a moral framework. They teach them that the world they inherit was shaped by human decisions—and that they, too, will be asked to make decisions when they encounter injustice.

No one is asking white students to identify with enslavers. But the resistance to teaching this history suggests an assumption that the only white people in the past worth mentioning were villains. That simply isn’t true.

White students are free to identify with abolitionists, freedom riders, civil rights allies, labor organizers, journalists who exposed brutality, lawyers who challenged segregation, and everyday people who refused to comply with unjust systems. Those stories are just as real. They just don’t serve the same political comfort.

So when someone hears about slavery and immediately thinks, this is about me and my guilt, that reaction deserves examination. Because history doesn’t force anyone into a role. It presents options.

You don’t inherit guilt from the past—but you do inherit responsibility in the present. Responsibility to recognize injustice when it appears. Responsibility to decide whether you’ll benefit quietly from an unfair system or challenge it openly.

Teaching history honestly doesn’t shame anyone. It removes the lie that injustice was accidental or unavoidable. It makes room for accountability instead of denial.

It reminds us that systems don’t run themselves. People run them.

And if people built unjust systems, people can dismantle them.

History has never asked, What did your ancestors do?

It asks, Now that you know, what will you do?

You can identify with those who hoarded power—or those who challenged it. With those who enforced cruelty—or those who refused to participate.

That choice belongs to every generation.

And that is exactly why the truth must be taught.

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