Tulsa Confronts Its History: Reparations, 100 Years After the Massacre

Just over a decade ago, the idea of compensating the descendants of slavery and victims of racial hatred gained mainstream attention thanks to a powerful essay published in The Atlantic in July 2014. In it, writer Ta-Nehisi Coates makes a compelling case for reparations to African Americans – not only as restitution for slavery, but also for the generations harmed by segregation and discriminatory policies that followed.

For Coates, the injustices of slavery, segregation, and systemic racism are not merely historical scars—they are open wounds that continue to shape the lives of millions today. He weaves personal stories into his argument, including that of Clyde Ross, a man who faced housing discrimination firsthand. Because of redlining – a practice where financial services were denied to residents of certain areas based on race—Ross was unable to obtain a fair mortgage. As a result, he was trapped in economically oppressive conditions that severely limited his ability to build wealth.

Though rooted in the past, these events have had ripple effects that continue across generations. According to Coates, reparations aren’t simply about handing out money – they represent an honest reckoning with history and a meaningful acknowledgment of the injustices committed, aimed at achieving true equity.

However, the economic aspect of his argument is what sparked the most controversy. Starting in 2015, the idea of financial compensation for the victims of systemic racism became a boogeyman in far-right forums and chat rooms, used to stoke fear and racial resentment. A narrowly targeted reparations plan was twisted into the narrative of a looming “white tax” that would have supposedly been imposed by a future Hillary Clinton administration. It was one of many false claims spread by media influencers tied to what was then known as the “Alt-Right” – a movement that would soon evolve into the early core of Donald Trump’s MAGA base.

In short, the idea was widely dismissed as just another ideological boomerang thrown by a left-wing intellectual. And yet, despite the backlash, it quietly gained traction—managing to avoid being devoured by the machinery of the culture wars.

But what does this actually mean in practical terms? Until then, the movement to secure some form of compensation for the historical injustices suffered by African Americans was largely limited to civil rights advocacy groups. For example, in 1999, attorney Randall Robinson, a legal advisor for the organization TransAfrica, estimated that the African American community had lost around $1.4 trillion as a result of historical discrimination.

Even earlier, starting in 1989, Congressman John Conyers had introduced a bill every year to establish a commission that would explore the feasibility of compensating the descendants of those affected by systemic racism—including its economic consequences. But his efforts never gained traction.

Where real movement has begun, however, is at the local level – both state and city – culminating in the launch of the “Project Greenwood” by the city of Tulsa. Tulsa was the site of the 1921 massacre, the largest racially motivated mass killing in U.S. history. The attack led to the destruction of Greenwood, one of the very few affluent, majority-Black neighborhoods in the entire country at the time. Out of its 11,000 residents, some had accumulated wealth equivalent to a million dollars; six families even owned private planes. Greenwood was known as “Black Wall Street.” Today, under the leadership of Tulsa’s Democratic mayor Monroe Nichols – elected in 2024 – there are plans to rebuild the neighborhood and restore its legacy.

The “Project Greenwood” initiative goes well beyond rebuilding and financial compensation. It’s structured around four key pillars. The first is genealogical research, aimed at identifying all living descendants of the victims. Second, an oral history project to collect surviving testimonies and shed light on an event that, until just a few years ago, was largely erased from public memory. Third, a legal effort to restore historical truth. In this case, however, the justice system has fallen short: in 2022, the lawsuit filed by the last three known survivors of the massacre was dismissed. Finally, the most ambitious goal – raising $200 million to compensate the descendants of victims with the estimated amount of wealth destroyed, adjusted for today’s inflation. Even if the full target isn’t met, the initiative has the power to challenge one of the most entrenched stereotypes about African Americans: the myth of lacking business acumen. By resurfacing the history of Greenwood – once a thriving hub of Black entrepreneurship – Project Greenwood aims to set the record straight.

Before Tulsa, other cities had already attempted to implement reparations programs. In 2015, Chicago’s city council established a compensation fund – not for the descendants of enslaved people, but for victims of police violence between the 1970s and 1990s. The fund allocated $5.5 million to 57 individuals, nearly all African American, along with additional funds for a public memorial. San Francisco went a step further. City supervisors passed a resolution to create a fund of around $5 million to provide annual income to residents who had been left behind by racial injustice. However, the initiative was never implemented—and now, with newly elected centrist mayor Daniel Lurie in office, it’s unlikely to move forward. Measures like this, critics argue, only deepen social resentment and division.

That’s the heart of the opposition to reparations: the fear that they fuel polarization. A 2020 poll commissioned by The Washington Post reflected this divide clearly, revealing two Americas that, despite everything, still feel worlds apart. While 82 percent of Black Americans supported reparations, 75 percent of white Americans opposed them—amounting to an overall 63 percent disapproval rate.

The opposing view was summed up by Republican Senator Mitch McConnell of Kentucky – a descendant of slaveholders – who stated, “None of us currently living are responsible.” It’s for this reason that the first, cautious steps toward reparations are taking place at the local level, where the cultural and political climate tends to be less polarized than on the national stage. Local governments are generally more insulated from the media-fueled divisions of national politics, making it somewhat easier to build broad consensus.

A compelling counterfactual was imagined in the 2019 superhero drama series Watchmen, set in an alternate present where, thanks to a group of masked heroes, the United States wins the Vietnam War. In this fictional world, progressive Democrat Robert Redford becomes president and enacts a sweeping reparations program for the descendants of victims of racial violence. The initiative triggers simmering resentment among white Americans, eventually fueling the rise of white supremacist militias.

While fictional, the scenario highlights the very real and immense challenges that would come with implementing such an ambitious program of social justice.

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