What We Can’t Unsee

By: Pastor John E. Girton, Jr.

Today we stand not just in the shadow of history but in its unrelenting presence. America’s story is not merely one of progress—it is a story of promises broken, of justice deferred, and of lives systematically robbed of their potential. We are being told to forget. We are being told not to see. But how can we ignore what is etched into the very bones of our nation?

We have seen the scars left by slavery, the $50 trillion in stolen labor, and the families torn apart as human beings were reduced to property. We know the weight of the Homestead Act, where 270 million acres of land were parceled out—not to us, but to others—cementing a foundation of wealth from which Black families were deliberately excluded. We know the sting of Jim Crow and sharecropping, where dreams were crushed under the heel of a system designed to keep us subservient. These are not abstractions; they are realities, and their echoes are felt in every paycheck missed, every home denied, every school underfunded.

They want us not to see what we’ve seen. Not to stand where we’ve stood. But we remember the swimming pools filled with concrete because the thought of Black and White children swimming together was too much for some to bear. We see the redlining maps, where neighborhoods were deemed “hazardous” simply because Black families dared to dream of homeownership. We know about Roger Williams University burning mysteriously—twice—as its land was devoured by those who could not bear to see Black education thrive. These are not coincidences; they are coordinated efforts to ensure inequity.

And today, they tell us to forget. To ignore the trillions stolen from our communities through subprime lending, employment discrimination, and foreclosures. To pretend that the persistent wealth gap, the missing intergenerational inheritance, and the disparities in education, health, and housing are somehow a matter of individual failure rather than systemic design. They tell us to believe in a meritocracy that denies our history and rolls back protections under the guise of fairness.

But we will not forget. We cannot. We are not blind to the sacrifices and the theft. The loss of over $70 trillion dollars in economic progress—and counting—is not a statistic; it is a wound that we carry, one that bleeds into every generation. They say we live in a "colorblind society," but how can we be blind to what we’ve seen, to what we know, to what we’ve endured?

We have watched Black men and women terrorized, their very presence questioned in their homes, their workplaces, their cars, their neighborhoods. We have seen the toll of systemic racism on our health, our wealth, and our environment. And now we see the rollback of protections, the redefinition of history, the erasure of the truth—all to serve those who have already benefited from centuries of privilege.

But let us remember this: America’s foundational documents—the Declaration of Independence, the Constitution—were a promissory note, one that guaranteed "life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness" to all. Yet, for Black Americans, that promise has been voided time and again. The system is corrupted, running on the virus of injustice and greed. But we know the fix.

Micah 6:8 reminds us: "What does the Lord require of you? To act justly, to love mercy, and to walk humbly with your God." Justice is the software this nation needs, mercy is the foundation we must rebuild, and humility is the path to restoration. We must reboot this system—not with half-measures, not with denial, but with righteousness and truth.

We will not ignore. We will not forget. We will act. Because what they want us to unsee, we have already lived. And what they want us to unknow, we will make known to the world. For justice. For equity. For the future.