Telling African Americans—descendants of those who endured the unspeakable horrors of the Atlantic slave trade—to "get over it" is more than just ignorant. It’s an act of erasure, a modern-day denial of history that mirrors the cruelty of Holocaust denial. It dismisses the pain of the past, dishonors our ancestors, and abandons the millions still fighting against the lingering consequences of a system that was never dismantled—only rebranded.
America’s relationship with slavery isn’t a closed chapter—it’s an unpaid bill. While it’s true that some Black Americans have succeeded as doctors, lawyers, artists, and academics, their personal victories do not cancel out the systemic forces built to crush the rest. A rigged system doesn’t become fair just because a few manage to break through. When successful individuals say, “I made it—get over it,” they unintentionally serve the very system that was designed to marginalize their own people. They ignore the centuries-long trauma still etched into the bones of our institutions.
The effort to revise or erase this truth—most recently under the Trump administration—is not accidental. It’s strategic. It’s designed to preserve a comfortable lie: that the Confederacy was noble, that racism is over, and that slavery’s impact was temporary. But slavery is not a footnote—it’s the foundation. It shaped the economy, built the wealth of the nation, and codified a racial hierarchy that still dictates who thrives and who merely survives.
We cannot dodge this responsibility by claiming, “That was our ancestors, not us.” The truth is, we inherited everything they built—including the damage. Just like inheriting a house with debt, we inherit this nation with all its injustices, and it’s on us to pay what’s owed.
To suggest otherwise is to ignore how slavery has morphed—through Black Codes, Jim Crow, redlining, mass incarceration, and voter suppression—into a continuous chain of oppression. The effects are not symbolic; they are measurable. Black families hold a fraction of the wealth of white families. Schools in Black neighborhoods are underfunded. Healthcare outcomes, housing opportunities, and even air quality in Black communities are significantly worse. These are not coincidences—they are consequences.
Psychologists refer to the enduring emotional and psychological toll of this history as Post-Traumatic Slave Syndrome (PTSS)—a condition passed down through generations of oppression, neglect, and violence. It shapes the way many Black Americans move through the world, impacting identity, behavior, and mental health in ways still not fully addressed by society.
Justice begins with truth. Until America tells the truth about its past, it cannot write a just future. The rhetoric of “get over it” is a tool of oppression. It silences the wounds we’re still bleeding from and gaslights generations fighting for equality. The real work isn’t forgetting—it’s remembering, teaching, and transforming.
Slavery is not behind us. It is beneath us—woven into the very foundation of our laws, wealth, and national psyche. Healing demands more than symbolism; it demands structural change. The truth may be uncomfortable, but justice cannot grow in lies.
So no, we will not "get over" slavery. We will name it, study it, challenge the legacy it left behind—and we will demand a country that does not run from the past, but confronts it with courage, compassion, and commitment.
Because justice depends on it.
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