logo
#

Latest news with #ChicagoRaceRiots

5 Race Riots In America That You Were Never Taught In School
5 Race Riots In America That You Were Never Taught In School

Black America Web

time24-04-2025

  • Politics
  • Black America Web

5 Race Riots In America That You Were Never Taught In School

Black America Web Featured Video CLOSE Source: Universal History Archive / Getty When we think of race riots in American history, the 1919 Chicago Race Riots or the 1992 Los Angeles Uprising often come to mind. But there are many other riots that have occurred—devastating, overlooked events—that have been left out of most history books. These weren't just isolated outbursts of violence; they were explosions of racial tension fueled by systemic injustice, fear, and hatred. Here are five race riots you likely never learned about in school, but should have. This wasn't just a riot. It was a violent overthrow of a legally elected government. In 1898, a multiracial government established political power in Wilmington, North Carolina post Emancipation. According to PBS, Black North Carolinians saw a strategic opportunity in the late 19th century to unite with the largely white Populist Party around shared economic and political interests. This unlikely alliance became known as the Fusion movement, and it led to the creation of a Fusion government. Together, Black voters and white Populists pushed for reforms like fair elections, public education funding, and better labor protections. For a brief moment, multiracial democracy was not only imaginable—it was working. Sadly, white supremacists, unwilling to accept this shift, launched a violent coup. Armed mobs burned down Black-owned businesses, murdered dozens of Black residents (though the true death toll is unknown), and forced elected officials to resign at gunpoint. It remains the only successful coup d'état on American soil. Amid growing racial tensions fueled by labor disputes and white resentment toward Black workers who had moved north during the Great Migration, violence exploded in East St. Louis. Between 1916 and 1917, drawn by the promise of jobs in wartime industries, an estimated 10,000 to 12,000 African Americans left the South and migrated to East St. Louis, Illinois, as part of the Great Migration, per the American Experience. Their arrival transformed the city's demographics and stirred resentment among many white residents, who viewed the growing Black workforce as a threat to their economic and social dominance. Tensions simmered for a year until July 1, 1917, when a rumor spread that a Black man had killed a white man. The following day, July 2, that tension exploded into one of the deadliest race riots in American history. For nearly a week, East St. Louis was gripped by chaos: white mobs carried out drive-by shootings, brutal beatings, and widespread arson, all directed at the Black community. The devastation was staggering. Official reports listed nine white deaths and claimed around 40 Black lives were lost, but many historians believe the true number of African American fatalities was in the hundreds. More than 6,000 Black residents fled the city, and damages to property approached $400,000, the equivalent of millions today. The summer of 1919 saw a wave of race riots erupt across more than three dozen cities in the U.S., including Chicago, Washington, D.C., and Elaine, Arkansas. Tensions were high as Black soldiers returned from World War I demanding civil rights and work opportunities, prompting many white Americans to react with violence. According to the National World War Museum and Memorial , the carnage and violence started first in Washington, D.C. On July 19, 1919, fueled by a false rumor that a Black man had assaulted a white woman, white mobs took to the streets. Led by off-duty sailors and recently discharged soldiers, they targeted Black neighborhoods, attacking residents at random and igniting days of racial terror in the nation's capital. Just days later, violence erupted again — this time in Chicago. On July 27, tensions reached a breaking point when a Black teenager, Eugene Williams, drowned in Lake Michigan after being struck with rocks for accidentally crossing into a whites-only swimming area. The police refused to arrest the white perpetrator, sparking outrage and unleashing days of violence. What followed was one of the most devastating urban race riots in U.S. history. Fighting engulfed Chicago's South and West Sides and spilled into downtown. As fires spread and assaults mounted, the state militia was called in to restore order. By the time the violence subsided, 38 people were dead — 23 Black and 15 white — with over 500 injured. More than 1,000 Black families were left homeless as white rioters torched homes and businesses across the city. Arkansas, saw one of the deadliest episodes, where up to 200 Black people were killed following a dispute over an alleged 'insurrection' among Black sharecroppers. The deadly riot erupted in response to a white law officer being gunned down outside a Black sharecropper gathering. Though it's gained more attention in recent years, the destruction of 'Black Wall Street' in Tulsa was long left out of mainstream history books. In 1921, white mobs destroyed the prosperous Greenwood District — one of the wealthiest Black communities in America. More than 1,000 homes and businesses were leveled, and an estimated 100 to 300 people were killed. According to Tulsa History , the incident stemmed from a vicious rumor that spread about a young Black man named Dick Rowland who had rode the elevator in the Drexel Building at Third and Main with a white woman named Sarah Page. ​​ Known as the 'Black Wall Street,' Greenwood was a bustling Black community that took up nearly 35 square blocks in downtown Tulsa. It was home to hundreds of flourishing Black businesses. According to History , the self-sustaining community was filled with Black-owned barber shops, restaurants, movie theaters, clothing stores, doctor offices and more. However, on the dreadful day of May 31, 1921, white assailants looted, torched and burned down hundreds of Black-owned homes and businesses in the area, leaving a trail of billowing smoke. Around 300 people died during the egregious attack. 'We lost so much. I believe if all this hadn't happened when I was a child, they would've been better in life,' Hughes Van Ellis, a survivor of the horrific massacre, told 2 News Oklahom a in a 2021 interview, two years before his death in 2023. 'My sister Viola told me. She said it was thought guns were going off,' he continued. 'Dad looked outside to see people getting gunshot, houses getting burned. So, there's only six little kids. I was a baby. So, my father just managed to barely get out, just with the clothes on our backs. We didn't have time to get nothing else together.' Before his passing, Ellis — a World War II veteran — joined his sister, 109-year-old Viola Fletcher, in the fight for reparations for the Tulsa Race Massacre. Alongside them was 108-year-old Lessie Benningfield, another survivor of the horrific attack. In the small town of Rosewood, a false accusation by a white woman led to a week-long siege on a thriving Black community. White mobs burned homes, lynched residents, and terrorized survivors, forcing them to flee. The town was wiped off the map and its memory buried for decades. On New Year's Day, 1923, in the small town of Sumner, Florida, a white woman named Fannie Taylor claimed she had been assaulted by a Black man named Jesse Hunter, an escaped convict. Despite a complete lack of evidence, her accusation sparked a violent chain of events that would devastate the nearby Black community of Rosewood. Rosewood was a quiet, self-sufficient town of about 200 Black residents. In the days following Taylor's claim, white mobs from Sumner and surrounding areas stormed into Rosewood, allegedly searching for Hunter, according to the Equal Justice Initiative. On Jan. 2, 1923, Sam Carter, a local Black carpenter, was captured, tortured, and lynched simply for being suspected of helping Hunter flee. As the violence escalated, Rosewood's Black residents began arming themselves in defense. On the night of Jan. 4, a white posse opened fire on the home of Sylvester Carrier, suspecting him of hiding Hunter. An elderly woman inside was killed, and a shootout ensued, resulting in several deaths on both sides. Enraged by the resistance they met, the white mob regrouped and returned in even greater numbers. On Jan. 5, between 200 and 300 white men descended on Rosewood, killing as many as 30 to 40 Black residents and setting fire to homes, churches, and businesses. Survivors fled into nearby woods or escaped by train to Gainesville — few ever returned. Years later, it was revealed that Fannie Taylor had fabricated her story, likely to cover up an affair with a white man. Her lie destroyed an entire community. SEE ALSO: Breaking Down The Stereotype: Black People And Smoke Detectors Breaking Down The Stereotype: Are Black People More Athletic? SEE ALSO 5 Race Riots In America That You Were Never Taught In School was originally published on

Commentary: Stonewall and other monuments must not be used as a weapon
Commentary: Stonewall and other monuments must not be used as a weapon

Yahoo

time14-03-2025

  • Politics
  • Yahoo

Commentary: Stonewall and other monuments must not be used as a weapon

When the National Park Service recently removed all references to transgender and queer people from the Stonewall National Monument website, one of our country's most important ways to honor and preserve the past was effectively turned into a weapon, one designed to further the Trump administration's attack on so-called 'gender ideology' as well as on public history. Monuments have been challenged and even removed in recent years, some with acts of civil disobedience, including violence. As a nation, we've debated the way they can shape, distort or deny our collective understanding of the past or help us find common ground over time and across our differences. We've begun to reckon with the reality that one person's hero is another's worst enemy, or that a moment of national pride can also be one of deep shame. That conversation has been particularly rich in Chicago. In 2020, the city convened a committee to both review and make recommendations about the city's existing monuments and markers. As two people deeply involved in the city's efforts to realize new monuments and markers, we believe several lessons from that process offer a path forward now, one we urgently need to follow. First, we need more, not fewer, monuments. In Chicago that work is underway. Memorials to Mahalia Jackson, Mother Jones, and Latina histories in Pilsen, commemorations of the Chicago Race Riots of 1919 and honoring the survivors of police torture, and a series that foregrounds Native American stories, are all in the works. By turns they offer opportunities to celebrate the past, acknowledge its erasures and confront the hard truths of racial history. Rather than removing troubling monuments, the city plans to engage with some of them, including adding to an existing statue of George Washington in Washington Park. Second, we also need to talk with one another more, not less, about monuments. Revisiting the city's memorials encouraged a wide-ranging civic dialogue about how best to recognize our histories. Community organizations, youth groups, historical societies and artists all made suggestions for new markers or shared ideas about how to tell these stories. All of it was an engagement with public history as not just an opportunity to celebrate but also to confront and even heal our shared past. We need platforms, spaces and opportunities for us to share and understand why monuments and memorials matter to us and to be able to challenge and confront one another in civil ways. The national conversation around monuments has also led President Donald Trump to call for more memorials, through an idea he proposed during his first term in office and has recently revived. The 'National Garden of American Heroes' would have over 250 statues recognizing significant Americans, from Whitney Houston to Harriet Tubman and Antonin Scalia. While there is nothing wrong with adding more monuments, what is missing in his plan is any kind of invitation to the public to discuss the merits, contributions and impact of these historical figures. On the contrary, his policy around monuments and memorials seeks to stifle debate, threatening to punish people 'to the fullest extent permitted under Federal law' for any actions that result in the damage or desecration of monuments. How ironic, then, that by erasing the role of trans and queer people in the historic events the Stonewall memorial honors and removing the T and Q from LGBTQ, the administration is in effect violating its own policy, desecrating the history this monument seeks to remember. With this move, Trump offers up history as a zero-sum game, where one person or community's win is seen as a threat or loss to another group's identity. Monuments and memorials can and should do more than simply be a definitive representation of one person's truth over another. But contests around the limits of public history, historical truth and national identity emerge through collective democratic processes, not via an executive order or individual fiat. Monuments matter not only because they speak to our past but because they allow us to discuss the most pressing issues facing us today. There are many examples of what this looks like in Chicago. The recently announced plan to create the COVID-19 Memorial Monument of Honor, Remembrance & Resilience, a 25-foot stainless-steel sculpture on a site in the Illinois Medical District, offers a place where we could come together to remember what we went through and to discuss public health policy, how to prepare for the next pandemic and care for the most vulnerable people in our society. This vision of monuments as active and evolving community spaces is at the heart of a city-led project, announced in 2023, to create markers across Chicago neighborhoods, ones that would honor the way all communities have contributed to the city's history, from the work of everyday individuals to historic sites and collective events like festivals. Monuments can help us to reactivate a vibrant public sphere that nurtures discussion and debate, one free from loyalty oaths, the threat of censorship, and retribution. Chicago offers a case study in how to make that happen, but it will take all of us to participate in expanding our shared history. Monuments are not just static timeless statues but a critical tool of resistance, especially as the current administration seeks to erase not just history but the lived realities and experiences of Americans. _____ Alison Cuddy is a writer and consultant for the city of Chicago Community Markers program. Lisa Yun Lee is the executive director of the National Public Housing Museum and a member of the Chicago Monuments Project and the Chicago Torture Justice Memorials. _____

DOWNLOAD THE APP

Get Started Now: Download the App

Ready to dive into the world of global news and events? Download our app today from your preferred app store and start exploring.
app-storeplay-store