California Slavery Reparations Bills unraveled

The Balance Due: America’s Unfinished Business with Justice

A reflection on California’s reparations setback and what it reveals about America’s relationship with its past

Let me tell you a story that’s been unfolding for centuries—a story about promises made and broken, about justice delayed and denied, and about a balance sheet that America has never quite figured out how to reconcile.

We’re talking about reparations, that word that makes some folks uncomfortable and others hopeful. It’s not a new conversation, mind you. This discussion has roots that run as deep as America itself.

The Historical Precedent: When Justice Actually Worked

Picture this: it’s 1783, and a woman named Belinda Royall—formerly enslaved—does something extraordinary. She walks into the Massachusetts legislature and successfully petitions for a pension from her former enslaver’s estate. Just like that, she becomes one of the first recorded recipients of what we’d call reparations today.

Or consider Henrietta Wood in 1876, who took her kidnapper and enslaver to federal court and won a significant monetary award. These weren’t abstract political gestures—these were real people seeking real justice for real harm, and amazingly, the system responded.

Then there’s the famous “Forty Acres and a Mule” promise from General William T. Sherman’s Special Field Order No. 15 in 1865. For a brief, shining moment, it looked like America might actually follow through on making things right. But President Andrew Johnson had other plans, reversing the order and returning the land to its previous owners. Even then, America was already perfecting the art of pulling back from justice just when it seemed within reach.

The Modern Struggle: Legal Roadblocks and Broken Promises

Fast-forward to the 2000s, and we see descendants of enslaved people filing class-action lawsuits against corporations that profited from slavery. These cases hit legal walls harder than a bird flying into glass—lack of standing, expired statutes of limitations, sovereign immunity. The courts, it seemed, had built an impenetrable fortress around the past.

But every now and then, justice finds a crack in that fortress. Take Bruce’s Beach in Manhattan Beach, California. In 2022, the land that was unjustly taken from Charles and Willa Bruce’s family in the 1920s was finally returned to their descendants. It wasn’t about chattel slavery directly, but it proved something important: when there’s will, there’s a way.

The California Experiment: Hope Meets Reality

Which brings us to California, the supposed progressive beacon that was going to show America how reparations could work. The state created a reparations task force, issued landmark reports, developed comprehensive proposals. For a moment, it looked like California might actually lead by example.

Then came the California reparations bills of 2024, and with them, a masterclass in political disappointment.

State Senator Steven Bradford, a champion of the reparations effort, watched as Governor Newsom’s administration systematically dismantled what could have been a groundbreaking reparations agency. Instead of action, they got authorization for more study. Instead of justice, they got bureaucracy.

The Newsom Administration’s Department of Finance objected to the bills’ unknown costs, warning they could range “from hundreds of thousands of dollars to low millions of dollars annually.” Let that sink in for a moment—California, with a budget in the hundreds of billions, balked at spending what amounts to pocket change on addressing centuries of systemic harm.

The Ultimate Betrayal: When Your Own Block Your Path

But here’s where the story takes its most painful turn. Chris Lodgson, an organizer with the Coalition for a Just and Equitable California, put it more bluntly than any political consultant ever would: “This ain’t white folks blocking reparations bills. This ain’t Latinos blocking reparations bills. This ain’t the AAPI family blocking reparations bills. This is Black people blocking their own damn reparations bills because they’re scared of the governor.”

Senator Bradford echoed this frustration, standing at what he called “the finish line” and watching his colleagues in the Black Caucus choose political expedience over justice. “We owe it to the descendants of chattel slavery, to Black Californians and Black Americans, to move this legislation forward,” he pleaded.

But fear won. Fear of the governor’s disapproval. Fear of political consequences. Fear of actually having to stand for something when the cameras are rolling and the votes are being counted.

The Pattern: Democracy’s Convenient Amnesia

This California debacle reveals a disturbing pattern in American politics. The Democratic establishment, which relies heavily on Black votes, consistently finds reasons why now isn’t the right time for reparations. There’s always another election to win, another coalition to hold together, another excuse for why justice must wait.

It’s the political equivalent of promising to pay back money you borrowed but never quite finding the right moment to cut the check. “Next payday,” you say. “After the holidays.” “When things settle down.” But somehow, things never settle down enough for justice.

This is why some are calling for African Americans to reconsider their political allegiances entirely. When a party takes your vote for granted while consistently failing to deliver on fundamental issues of justice, what exactly are you getting in return for your loyalty?

The True Cost of Delay

Make no mistake about what’s happening here. Every delay, every “further study,” every bureaucratic shuffle is a choice. It’s a choice to prioritize political comfort over moral obligation. It’s a choice to value the status quo over justice.

When Governor Newsom’s team quietly pressured the Black Caucus to water down the reparations bills rather than face them head-on, they revealed something telling about political courage in America. As Lodgson put it: “If the governor wants to veto the bills, don’t call your Black legislators and tell them to stop the bills from coming to your desk first. You be a man. Veto the bills with your chest and stand on that as a man.”

But that kind of honesty—that kind of political courage—seems to be in short supply these days.

The Ledger of History

Here’s what we know for certain: For over 250 years, enslaved Africans and their descendants built much of America’s wealth through uncompensated labor. They cleared land, built cities, harvested crops, and created fortunes that were passed down through generations—just not their own generations.

After emancipation, systematic discrimination through Jim Crow laws, redlining, exclusion from GI Bill benefits, and countless other policies prevented African Americans from building wealth while simultaneously enriching others at their expense.

The numbers are staggering when you really think about them. The unpaid labor. The stolen land. The denied opportunities. The wealth transfers that flowed away from Black communities and toward white ones for generations.

The Question That Demands an Answer

So here we stand in 2024, watching California—progressive, diverse, forward-thinking California—stumble at the finish line of its own reparations initiative. We’ve seen the historical precedents that prove reparations can work. We’ve witnessed the legal obstacles that protect the status quo. We’ve watched political leaders choose expedience over justice time and again.

We know the history. We know the harm. We know the ongoing effects of centuries of wealth extraction and opportunity denial. We know that other groups have received reparations for injustices far smaller in scope and shorter in duration.

The only question that remains—the question that California failed to answer, that Congress continues to avoid, that America keeps pushing down the road—is this:

Based on all the contributions and wealth created as a result of free slave labor and centuries of systematic exclusion from wealth-building opportunities, is there a balance due to African Americans?

The ledger is open. The evidence is clear. The only thing missing is the will to balance the books.

– The Minister of Balance