When we look at the world around us, it’s easy to assume things just ended up this way naturally. But the truth is far from that. What we see today—housing disparity, economic inequality, issues in education, healthcare, and policing—are results of deliberate policies and historical choices. Understanding history isn’t just about knowing what happened; it’s about seeing how it still impacts us today.
The Hidden Truth Behind Public Housing
What if I told you that public housing wasn’t originally built for poor Black individuals but for poor white Americans? Early public housing projects barred people of color entirely, segregating communities by race. For many years, it was reserved exclusively for white residents.
Then everything changed. U.S. government programs like the FHA, VA loans, and the GI Bill allowed white families to leave public housing and move into suburban neighborhoods. These programs underwrote loans, helping build a white middle class, while explicitly excluding Black families.
This wasn’t just about moving homes. When white families left urban areas, property values plummeted, businesses closed, and neighborhoods deteriorated. At the same time, the federal government waged “urban renewal” campaigns, bulldozing vibrant Black and Latino communities to build highways and “economic development” projects, which largely excluded those who lived there.
Public housing became a last resort for many Black and Brown Americans, not because they didn’t work hard, but because the system locked them out of the same opportunities white families had.
Rugged Individualism: A Cultural Myth
In America, we like to believe that success is all about individual effort. If you’re doing well, it’s because you worked hard. If you’re struggling, it’s because you didn’t. This notion—rugged individualism—is baked into our culture. But it’s a myth.
Human beings don’t live in isolation. No one succeeds without help, whether it’s family, community, or larger economic systems. For example, the white middle class didn’t emerge through sheer determination alone. It grew through government subsidies and programs that provided the stepping stones many families needed.
Let’s be clear: systems, not work ethic, explain where we end up. If we pretend that systemic barriers don’t exist, we end up blaming individuals for problems rooted in policy.
Policing and Its Racist Origins
The strained relationship between law enforcement and communities of color isn’t random; it’s rooted in history. Policing in America traces back to slave patrols. Early law enforcement worked to control enslaved Black people, serving the interests of wealthy white property owners.
This legacy lingers. Modern policing often prioritizes protecting property over people—and disproportionately targets Black and Brown individuals. The data tells a sobering story: Black Americans are more likely to be stopped, searched, and arrested, even though white Americans are just as likely (or more likely) to use or carry drugs.
For decades, police didn’t just enforce the law—they enforced racial segregation. They violently suppressed civil rights protests, looked the other way during racial violence, and contributed directly to Black communities’ marginalization. Today’s calls for reform, like those in the Black Lives Matter movement, stem directly from this painful history.
Why “All Lives Matter” Misses the Point
When people respond to “Black Lives Matter” with “All Lives Matter,” they’re missing something critical. Of course all lives should matter—but historically, Black lives haven’t been treated that way. To say “Black Lives Matter” isn’t to exclude others; it’s to highlight what’s been neglected.
Think of it this way: during the HIV/AIDS crisis in the 1980s, activists protested to demand that the lives of those suffering with AIDS be acknowledged and protected. No one interrupted by saying, “Well, what about cancer?” It wasn’t about ranking lives but addressing the urgency of a problem that had been ignored.
The same reasoning applies here. Saying “Black Lives Matter” is about affirming the value of Black life in a society that has long acted otherwise.
Immigration History: The Lies We Tell Ourselves
The immigration debate in America often centers on criticisms of undocumented migrants from Mexico. But here’s the irony: the southern border is a man-made construct that didn’t exist before the U.S. took half of Mexico’s land after the Mexican-American War. Many of those “immigrants” are descendants of people whose families lived here long before that border was drawn.
Some argue, “My ancestors immigrated legally, unlike today’s immigrants!” But there’s a key difference—they didn’t break any laws because no such laws existed. Historical migration didn’t face today’s complex restrictions. Our ancestors weren’t coming here for liberty and democracy—they were coming for land, jobs, and survival. And that’s okay, but we can’t deny others the same opportunities we took.
Why Guilt Doesn’t Fix Anything
Talking about systemic racism and inequality isn’t about guilt. Guilt doesn’t change systems. What we’re talking about is responsibility. When you live in a house that’s messy, it doesn’t matter who made the mess—you clean it because you’re tired of living in it.
The past has left us a mess: housing disparities, economic inequality, unjust policing, and racial stereotypes woven into the fabric of our institutions. We didn’t create these problems, but if we don’t take responsibility for fixing them, no one else will.
Moving Toward Change
Understanding history is the first step toward building a just society. Policies like redlining, segregation, underfunded schools, and biased policing have deeply entrenched inequality. But change is possible.
To move forward, we need:
- Policy Reform: Revisiting housing, education, healthcare, and criminal justice policies to create equity.
- Community Action: Grassroots efforts can drive meaningful change at the local level.
- Accountability: Government leaders must face pressure to implement reforms.
By acknowledging history, we start to dismantle damaging myths and pave the way for a future built on fairness and opportunity.
Conclusion
Systemic inequality wasn’t created overnight, and it won’t be solved overnight. But with awareness, action, and persistence, we can create a society where opportunity doesn’t depend on the color of your skin or where you were born. Understanding history isn’t about blame; it’s about responsibility. We didn’t build the systems, but we can absolutely tear them down.
So, what can you do? Start by learning and sharing what you know. Get involved locally, advocate for policy changes, and challenge the narratives that keep inequality alive. Change starts with all of us.
