Tag Page UntoldHistory

THE VICKSBURG MASSACRE… DECEMBER 7, 1874

On December 7, 1874, Vicksburg showed the country exactly how far some people were willing to go to stop Black political power. Peter Barrow Crosby had been legally elected sheriff of Warren County. He wasn’t appointed. He wasn’t forced in. He won the vote. But the moment he tried to do the job he was elected to do, white officials decided he had to go. Black residents did what any community would do. They marched to the courthouse to support their elected official. No weapons. No violence. Just a community standing behind the person they chose. But white paramilitary groups were waiting. They opened fire on unarmed marchers and turned that day into what we now call the Vicksburg Massacre. Federal reports say at least 29 Black people were killed that day. Later research shows the number was likely far higher… maybe 75, maybe over 200. People were shot in fields, on roads, and miles outside town. White newspapers bragged about “restoring order,” and local leaders tried to pretend the violence was justified. It took U.S. troops to step in and put Crosby back in office, but the damage was already done. The massacre became part of the larger effort to tear down Reconstruction and silence Black voters across the South. This is why some dates matter. This is why context matters. December 7 isn’t just history. It’s a reminder of how easily progress can be attacked the moment it threatens the people who benefited from the old system. When we talk about events like this, it’s not to create division. It’s to tell the truth the way it actually happened and to honor the people who risked everything for their right to participate in their own government #VicksburgMassacre #ReconstructionTruth #December71874 #BlackHistoryMatters #UntoldHistory #AmericanHistory #PeterCrosby #VoterSuppressionHistory #NeverForget

In July 1917, violence erupted in East St. Louis after months of rising racial tension fueled by labor competition, housing pressure, and inflammatory propaganda. During a labor strike, Black workers were hired by local industries, a move white labor leaders and newspapers framed not as employment, but as invasion. That framing mattered. It lit the match. On July 2, white mobs flooded Black neighborhoods. Homes were set on fire. Families were chased into the streets. People attempting to flee were shot, beaten, or forced back into burning buildings. Some tried to escape across bridges or hide in rail yards. Many did not make it. While estimates vary, historians agree that dozens were killed, hundreds were injured, and thousands were left homeless in a single day. Accountability never followed. Few arrests were made. Even fewer convictions occurred. Property losses went largely uncompensated. Officials minimized the violence, and survivors were expected to rebuild without justice. The message was clear, even if it was never written down. The massacre did not occur in isolation. It unfolded during the Great Migration, when Black families moved north seeking work and safety, only to face organized resistance once they arrived. East St. Louis became a warning. Opportunity was conditional. Safety was not guaranteed. That same month, thousands marched silently through New York City in the Silent Protest Parade, dressed in white and refusing to shout. Their quiet said what the country would not. This was not a riot. It was an attack. And it followed a pattern. Remembering East St. Louis is not about reopening wounds. It is about naming what happened so it does not disappear behind softer language. History becomes slippery when discomfort decides what is remembered. #EastStLouis #1917 #AmericanHistory #LaborHistory #GreatMigration #HistoricalMemory #UntoldHistory #USHistory

The Battle of Fredericksburg on December 13, 1862 unfolded during one of the most consequential pauses in American history. The Emancipation Proclamation had been announced but would not take effect for another three weeks, placing this battle squarely in the gap between declared freedom and enforced freedom. That timing matters. Although the soldiers fighting at Fredericksburg were overwhelmingly white, the consequences of the Union’s defeat fell heavily on enslaved people. Every failed campaign delayed the collapse of the Confederacy, extending the lifespan of slavery in the South. Union losses did not just cost lives on the battlefield, they prolonged bondage beyond it. Enslaved Black people in Virginia were also directly entangled in this campaign. They were forced to build fortifications, transport supplies, cook, clean, and provide labor for Confederate forces. They were not passive observers of the war. They were coerced infrastructure sustaining it. Fredericksburg’s staggering casualties intensified Northern pressure on Union leadership. Repeated bloodshed made emancipation less of a political abstraction and more of a moral and strategic necessity. That shift helped open the door to Black enlistment in 1863, altering the direction of the war and the meaning of freedom itself. Fredericksburg was not a Black-led battle, but it was part of the chain reaction that led to Black soldiers fighting for their own liberation and the formal destruction of slavery. History is not only about who is visible in the moment, but about who bears the cost while the nation decides who it will become. #December13 #OnThisDay #CivilWarHistory #BattleOfFredericksburg #AmericanHistory #HistoryMatters #UntoldHistory #HiddenHistory #HistoricalContext

On December 19, 1891, in Baltimore, history moved quietly but decisively. Charles Randolph Uncles became the first African American man ordained a Catholic priest on U.S. soil, breaking through a Church that, like the country around it, was deeply entangled in racial exclusion. Born in 1859 to parents who had been enslaved, Uncles converted to Catholicism as a teenager and soon felt called to the priesthood. That calling was met with resistance. American seminaries shut their doors to him because of his race, forcing him to complete his studies in Europe before returning home for ordination. Ordination did not end the struggle. Father Uncles spent his ministry navigating segregation in parishes, schools, and religious institutions. Still, he showed up. Still, he served. Still, he believed the Church could be better than its habits. He became a founding force behind the Society of St. Joseph of the Sacred Heart, known as the Josephites, a religious order dedicated to serving Black Catholic communities in the United States. This was not symbolic work. It was real, grounded pastoral labor. Father Uncles was more than a parish priest. He was an educator, an advocate, and living proof that authority, faith, and leadership were never meant to be limited by race. His presence at the altar challenged assumptions about who belonged there. December 19, 1891 stands as more than a religious milestone. It reminds us that progress often begins with someone willing to endure exclusion so others do not have to. History does not always shout. Sometimes it kneels, stands up anyway, and refuses to leave. #OnThisDay #ThisDayInHistory #AmericanHistory #FaithHistory #ReligiousHistory #HiddenHistory #UntoldHistory #HistoryMatters

James Reeb was a white Unitarian Universalist minister from Boston who answered Dr. King’s call after Bloody Sunday in Selma in March 1965. He didn’t have to go. Nobody forced him. He chose to show up anyway, knowing exactly how violent Alabama was toward civil rights workers at that moment. On March 9, 1965, after leaving a restaurant with two other ministers, Reeb was attacked by white segregationists armed with clubs. He was struck in the head, collapsed, and died two days later on March 11. He was 38 years old. Here’s the part people like to gloss over. His murder wasn’t accidental. It wasn’t random. It was targeted racial terror meant to send a message. And the response to his death tells you everything. Hospitals initially refused to treat him properly. The men charged with his murder were acquitted by an all-white jury. No justice. Just like that. Reeb’s death shocked the nation precisely because he was white. That’s uncomfortable, but it’s true. His killing helped push public pressure that led directly to the passage of the Voting Rights Act of 1965. Not because his life mattered more, but because America suddenly paid attention when the violence crossed a line it had been ignoring for centuries. So when people try to argue that white allies didn’t sacrifice anything, James Reeb stands right there in the historical record saying otherwise. Sacrifice doesn’t require shared oppression to be real. It requires choice, risk, and consequence. He chose to stand where hatred was loud, and it cost him his life. #JamesReeb #Selma1965 #VotingRightsHistory #CivilRightsMovement #FreedomStruggle #HistoryMatters #UntoldHistory #RememberSelma