A Debt Unpaid: Why America Owes Its Soul to Enslaved People

It’s easy for some to dismiss the idea that modern white Americans owe anything to the descendants of enslaved people. It’s a comfortable position, rooted in denial and bolstered by the myth of meritocracy—the idea that hard work alone explains the disparities in wealth and power that still define this country. But comfort and truth rarely coexist, and in this case, they’re worlds apart.

The truth is that America was built on the backs of enslaved people. This isn’t some controversial take; it’s a fact, plain and simple. Every brick laid in the early colonies, every crop harvested, every dollar that circulated in the burgeoning economy of a young nation—these were the direct results of stolen labor, labor that wasn’t just uncompensated but violently coerced. Enslaved people didn’t merely contribute to the American story; they wrote it with their blood, sweat, and tears. They built the wealth that white Americans have inherited, often directly, through property, land, and systemic advantages that have persisted for generations.

Yet, despite the clear historical record, I recently encountered a TikTok commenter who scoffed at the idea of a debt owed, challenging me, in particular, to pay any personal dues to the descendants of enslaved people. This comment wasn’t just a slight against my work; it was an affront to the very concept of justice. And let me be clear: if you think that this debt can be dismissed, that it’s some abstract idea with no bearing on the present, you are sorely mistaken.

The idea that white Americans owe nothing to the descendants of enslaved people is not just historically ignorant— it’s morally bankrupt. The wealth and power structures that continue to privilege white Americans today were built on the systemic exploitation and dehumanization of Black people. It’s not ancient history; it’s a legacy that persists in the racial wealth gap, in discriminatory practices, and in the very fabric of our society.

Now, let’s address the personal challenge posed by that commenter. I’ve devoted my career to ensuring that history is told honestly, without the whitewashed narratives that comfort the privileged while erasing the realities of the oppressed. My work is about accountability — not just for the past but for the ongoing systems of inequality that have roots in slavery. This isn’t about guilt; it’s about responsibility. Responsibility to tell the truth, to confront the past, and to work toward a future that recognizes and addresses the deep-seated injustices that continue to shape our world.

But this isn’t just about me — it’s about a society that must reckon with its past if it ever hopes to move forward with integrity. A debt unpaid is a wound left to fester, and no amount of denial can change that. Ignoring this debt doesn’t erase it; it just makes the task of repayment all the more urgent.

So, if you’re comfortable ignoring that debt, ask yourself what kind of history you’re willing to live with and what kind of future you’re willing to create. Because I, for one, will continue to fight for a history that doesn’t shy away from the truth, no matter how uncomfortable it makes those who benefit from the status quo. The question isn’t whether a debt is owed — it’s how long we’ll continue to ignore the bill.

In the end, the reckoning isn’t optional. It’s coming, whether we’re ready for it or not. The real question is, will we face it with courage and justice, or will we continue to hide behind the comforting lies that have shielded too many for too long?

Stay curious, stay interested, and, above all, stay engaged.