Voting while Black has always been a battle. Poll taxes. Literacy tests. Grandfather clauses. All white primaries. Violence. Intimidation.
One hundred and sixty years ago, these were the devices deployed by a system designed to deliberately disenfranchise Black voters in the South. Today, those devices have been modernized, but the intent to systematically suppress Black political power has not changed.
In 1965, eight days after Bloody Sunday in Selma, Alabama, when peaceful marchers crossing the Edmund Pettus Bridge were beaten back by state troopers, President Lyndon B. Johnson stood before a joint session of Congress and declared, “Every American citizen must have an equal right to vote.” Nearly five months later, Johnson signed the Voting Rights Act into law. It was the belated fulfillment of a Reconstruction-era promise that has now been hollowed out.
Section 2 of the VRA guaranteed that members of every racial group have an equal opportunity to elect representatives of their choice. As Supreme Court Justice Elena Kagan wrote, in dissent of the Louisiana v. Callais ruling, that guarantee “arose from a far-too-prominent part of this Nation’s history”, one in which states deployed every mechanism available, including gerrymandered district lines, to ensure Black votes counted for next to nothing, if counted at all.
The Supreme Court’s ruling blatantly guts that protection and sets forth a new set of procedural requirements engineered to ensure that even the most obvious discriminatory maps survive legal challenge. VRA claims must now demonstrate discriminatory intent rather than effects, and plaintiffs in these cases must now avoid political partisanship when challenging district maps. States can now methodically dilute minority voting power without legal consequence, so long as they maintain the dual farces of nonpartisan preference and race-neutrality. It is political gaslighting.
This ruling is not an opening salvo; it is a sequel. Justice Kagan called the Callais ruling “part of a set.” In 2013, the court struck down Section 5’s preclearance requirements in Shelby County v. Holder, clearing the way for voter ID laws, early voting restrictions and aggressive voter roll purges across the South. The pattern is clear: What Selma birthed, the Court is putting to death.
And the consequences are real. The overwhelming majority of Section 2 voter dilution lawsuits originate in Southern states, where more than half of Black Americans live. District lines have already been redrawn in Florida, Alabama, Tennessee, Texas and North Carolina, with South Carolina and Mississippi vying to be next. And in Virginia, where maps were voter-approved, the state’s high court nullified the results of a fair and open election.
This manipulation is in conscious disservice of Southern Black voters. Lest the lived impact get lost in the legalese: Voter suppression and vote dilution are not hypothetical harms. They are the apparatuses that sustain the South’s wealth and opportunity inequities, a historical throughline that persists across generations. When Black communities are denied a fair chance to elect leaders who represent their interests, their access to quality healthcare, housing, education, public support, nutritional assistance and safe community spaces are diminished.
The path forward will require sustained, coordinated action and a sharper understanding of power beyond elections. It might also be time to redefine what Black power is and where it resides. Black communities hold $1.7 trillion in annual spending power. Black athletes account for much of NBA and NFL rosters. Black entertainers dominate the global music and media industries. Indisputably, Black culture shapes American life in ways that extend far beyond any courtroom. And that is leverageable influence that has been proven through recent collective actions that made corporations take notice. But that leverage is weakened when entrusted to a few instead of unified into a disciplined, shared strategy that can move boardrooms and statehouses alike.
So, what do we do next? We start with what we know for certain: If the vote had no power, they would not be attempting to suppress it. Congress must pass the John R. Lewis Voting Rights Advancement Act. States must be pressed to join the National Popular Vote Interstate Compact.
The 2026 midterms are the nearest available answer to this ruling. Every House of Representatives seat and many state legislatures are on the ballot. Turning out in numbers too large to dilute and too unified to ignore is both an act of resistance and a calculated response.
This moment also demands honest reckoning from those who consider themselves allies. The stripping of rights rarely stops with the first group targeted. The precedent being set here will have far-reaching impacts on other minoritized groups. Silence now is complicity.
There may be impediments blocking the courthouse doors, but the podium, ballot box and bank account remain open, and we must wield them conscientiously such that we all have access to lives of meaning and dignity.
This MFP Voices opinion essay reflects the personal opinion of its author(s). The column does not necessarily represent the views of the Mississippi Free Press, its staff or board members. To submit an opinion for the MFP Voices section, send up to 1,200 words and sources fact-checking the included information to voices@mississippifreepress.org. We welcome a wide variety of viewpoints.
