The Rio Stanton Report

Tag: America

  • American History Myths #6: The Myth of “Northern Innocence”

    American History Myths #6: The Myth of “Northern Innocence”

    One of the most persistent myths in American history is the idea that legalized segregation and anti-Black racism were primarily Southern problems.

    According to this narrative, the South was the land of slavery, Jim Crow, and overt racial hostility, while the North, especially the so-called “liberal North,” was supposedly a place where racial equality flourished, and people lived together in relative harmony.

    For decades, this is essentially how American history was taught.

    But the reality is far more complicated.

    Anti-Black racism was not confined to the South. It existed throughout the United States, including in Northern cities that often presented themselves as progressive and tolerant. While Southern states openly enforced segregation through Jim Crow laws, Northern states frequently relied on other mechanisms to achieve many of the same results.

    One of the most powerful tools used to maintain racial segregation in Northern and Western cities was the racial covenant.

    Racial covenants were clauses written into property deeds by real estate developers, neighborhood associations, and homeowners. These clauses prohibited the sale or rental of property to certain groups, most commonly Black Americans, but also often including Asian Americans, Jews, and other minorities.

    Example of a racial covenant. Note the words “Restricted to the Caucasian Race”

    These restrictions were widespread across the country. Entire neighborhoods were built with the explicit condition that homes could not be sold to non-white residents.

    The consequences were enormous.

    By restricting where Black families could live, racial covenants effectively barred them from access to wealthier neighborhoods, better public schools, and the property values that allowed many white families to accumulate generational wealth through home ownership.

    Racial covenants were only one piece of a larger system of discrimination often referred to as racial steering or social steering. Through practices by real estate agents, banks, and government institutions, different racial groups were deliberately directed or confined to specific areas of cities and metropolitan regions.

    Although the Supreme Court ruled racially restrictive covenants unenforceable in Shelley v. Kraemer (1948) and the Fair Housing Act of 1968 outlawed many forms of housing discrimination, the patterns created by decades of segregation did not disappear overnight.

    Ethel Shelley reads a May 4, 1948, St. Louis Post-Dispatch story about the Supreme Court decision outlawing racial covenants. (Courtesy St. Louis Post-Dispatch)

    In many cases, they persisted.

    Even today, many American cities remain deeply segregated along racial lines. Schools often reflect the same residential patterns, meaning that educational opportunities can still be shaped by where families are able… or allowed… to live.

    Click on the link attached to the word “schools” in the paragraph above for more information on this map.

    Understanding this history challenges the comfortable narrative that racism was solely a Southern problem. The structures that created racial inequality in the United States were national in scope, and their effects continue to shape American society today.

    The myth of Northern innocence obscures that reality.

  • Political Demonization and the Collapse of Civil Discourse

    Political Demonization and the Collapse of Civil Discourse

    Over the past several decades, a pattern has emerged in American political rhetoric, particularly in certain corners of conservative media and political leadership.

    People on the political left are not merely described as political opponents. We are often portrayed as existential threats to the nation.

    For years, many prominent conservative commentators and politicians have repeatedly described Democrats and left-leaning Americans as:

    • Anti-American or people who “hate America”
    • Socialists or communists
    • Participants in child-trafficking conspiracies
    • Doctors who secretly perform gender surgeries on children without parental knowledge
    • Supporters of violent crime
    • Architects of mass immigration designed to manipulate elections
    • Violent extremists who are responsible for “burning down cities”
    • Lazy individuals who simply want government handouts
    • Rampant sexual deviants who want to groom children into non-heteronormative lifestyles

    Many of these accusations are not policy disagreements. They are moral accusations. They are claims that state that their political opponents are fundamentally dangerous, corrupt, or evil.

    When these claims are repeated constantly through media ecosystems, they can shape how entire audiences perceive political reality. Over time, exaggerated or false narratives can become accepted as unquestioned truths.

    This dynamic has serious consequences.

    When political opponents are portrayed not simply as people with different policy views but as criminals, traitors, or threats to society, it becomes easier for some individuals to justify hostility or even lethal violence against them.

    At the same time, many of the same political figures who use this kind of rhetoric often react strongly when criticism is directed toward them. Labels such as “bigot” (in any form), “authoritarian,” or “fascist” are often condemned as unfair or offensive, even when critics argue that those labels are based on observable political behavior.

    The result is a deeply polarized environment in which one side hurls childish insults, irrational accusations, and charges of civic disloyalty, which endangers those on the receiving end. Then they clutch their pearls when met with the same energy in response.

    In the end, our political conversation devolves into arguing against strawman caricatures of people, on either side, rather than having good-faith arguments based on facts and reality.

    Healthy democratic societies require disagreement. Political conflict is inevitable and often productive.

    But democracy becomes fragile when political actors stop treating their opponents as fellow citizens and begin treating them as soulless enemies who don’t love the land that we are in.

    Once that shift happens, civil discourse becomes nearly impossible, and political conflict begins to resemble cultural warfare rather than democratic debate.

  • A Personal Note on Atheism and Religious Freedom

    A Personal Note on Atheism and Religious Freedom

    My name is Mario Stanton. I am an atheist and the founder of the Black Atheists Facebook group. Over the years, the group received attention from several media outlets, including The Grio and The New York Times.

    I mention this not to boast, but to clarify something important: I am not affiliated with any religious organization.

    My atheism is the result of years of study, reflection, and personal experience. I do not believe in any gods, and I often find many religious doctrines philosophically and intellectually irrational.

    However, there is an important distinction between disagreement and hostility.

    While I do not share religious beliefs, I strongly support the right of people to believe and practice the religion of their choice. Freedom of conscience is one of the most important principles in a pluralistic society.

    Over the years, I have found myself defending religious communities, particularly Muslims, against unfair stereotypes and discrimination. That might surprise some people, considering that my atheism would make me unwelcome in certain religious contexts, particularly with many Muslims.

    But fairness requires consistency.

    Muslims, like every other group, are not a monolith. Some individuals are admirable, compassionate people. Others are not. The same is true of Christians, Jews, Hindus, pagans, atheists, and every other category of human being.

    No group has a monopoly on virtue or vice.

    Unfortunately, public discourse often treats entire religious communities as if they can be defined by the actions of their worst members. This is one of the key characteristics of bigotry.

    Muslims are sometimes generally reduced to extremists in the public imagination. However, Christians and Jews are immune from this, even though Christians are sometimes associated with white supremacy and other troubling beliefs, and Jews are associated with Kahanism and extreme Zionism.

    Religious extremism is religious extremism, no matter what religion it is tied to.

    The reality is much simpler: people are individuals. Some are kind, thoughtful, and ethical. Others are not.

    My position is straightforward. I will continue to disagree with religious beliefs that I find unconvincing, but I will also continue to defend the right of others to practice their faith freely. I will do this as long as those practices do not harm others or infringe on their rights.

    Disagreement is inevitable in a diverse society.

    But fairness should be non-negotiable.

  • What White Supremacy Actually Means

    What White Supremacy Actually Means

    In political debates today, the term “white supremacy” is often treated as if it only refers to extremist groups of people wearing robes, burning crosses, having shaved heads, sporting swastikas, or openly identifying with organizations like the Ku Klux Klan.

    A cross and a swastika burning at a modern Klan rally.

    But historically and academically, the concept is broader than that.

    White supremacy refers to the belief (explicit or implicit) that white people and white cultural norms represent the highest or most advanced model of civilization and humanity. It is the assumption that whiteness is the standard by which intelligence, morality, competence, and social order should be measured.

    This belief does not always appear in openly violent or in cartoonishly belligerent forms. It often appears in subtler assumptions about who is naturally suited for leadership, who is presumed competent, and who must constantly prove themselves.

    For example, racial explanations are frequently used to explain social outcomes. Certain groups are sometimes associated with crime, others with academic achievement, others with competent leadership, and others with athletic success.

    But when scientists examine many of these assumptions, the explanations often turn out to be social rather than biological.

    A useful example comes from long-distance running.

    For decades, athletes from Kenya and Ethiopia have dominated international distance running competitions, frequently winning Olympic and marathon events. Some Western researchers initially suspected that East Africans might possess unique genetic advantages that gave them superior endurance.

    After extensive study, scientists found no definitive genetic explanation.

    What they did find were social and environmental factors: training culture, altitude conditions, economic incentives, and the perception that success in distance running could provide a path to financial mobility.

    In other words, success was driven less by biology than by opportunity, culture, and motivation.

    The same dynamic appears in many other areas of life. When communities see certain fields as viable paths to advancement and upward socioeconomic mobility, they invest time, energy, and cultural value into those pursuits. This is true whether these pursuits are sports, academics, entertainment, or various professions (think of Irish immigrants of the 19th century and their attraction towards first responder professions).

    When people attribute success or failure primarily to race, they overlook these structural and social factors.

    That is where racial ideology begins to appear.

    If someone believes that race alone determines intelligence, morality, or ability, they are embracing a worldview that closely resembles classical racist thinking. The assumption that certain groups are naturally superior or inferior has historically been used to justify exclusion, discrimination, and unequal opportunity.

    Understanding these ideas requires moving beyond stereotypes and examining how beliefs about race shape expectations and institutions.

    White supremacy, in this broader sense, is not only about extremist organizations.

    It is about the belief that human potential can be ranked according to race, and that some groups are naturally meant to lead while others must struggle to be accepted.

    History and science consistently show that reality is far more complex than that.

  • Political Realignment and the Persistence of Racial Tension

    Political Realignment and the Persistence of Racial Tension

    One of the most uncomfortable facts in American political history is that the party alignments of the Jim Crow era no longer resemble the political landscape we see today.

    During the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, most white voters in the South identified with the Democratic Party. The Democratic Party of that era included the segregationist political leadership that dominated Southern politics during the Jim Crow period.

    That began to change in the mid-twentieth century.

    After the passage of the Civil Rights Act of 1964, the Voting Rights Act of 1965, and the Fair Housing Act of 1968 (landmark laws supported and signed by Democratic leadership), the political map of the United States gradually shifted. Over the following decades, many white Southern voters moved toward the Republican Party, while Black voters overwhelmingly aligned with the Democratic Party.

    This shift did not happen overnight, but the trend is well documented in voting patterns from the late 1960s onward.

    Today, white voters, particularly white voters without college degrees and many white voters in the South, tend to support Republican candidates by significant margins. Meanwhile, Black voters remain one of the most consistently Democratic voting blocs in American politics.

    These voting patterns are measurable realities, even if they make people uncomfortable.

    At the same time, discussions about race in the United States often provoke strong reactions. Many Americans reject the idea that racial attitudes still influence political behavior. Others argue that the issue is not simply politics, but broader patterns of social separation.

    Sociologists have long observed that Americans often feel more comfortable within communities that resemble themselves culturally or demographically. Neighborhood patterns, school demographics, and social networks frequently reflect those tendencies.

    The result is a society that remains more segregated in practice than many people are willing to acknowledge.

    When people point out these patterns, the conversation often becomes heated. Accusations of racism are exchanged, defensiveness rises, and productive discussion becomes difficult.

    But acknowledging uncomfortable realities does not make those realities disappear.

    If Americans want to have honest conversations about race, politics, and social trust, then those conversations must be grounded in evidence rather than denial. Voting patterns, historical developments, and lived experiences all contribute to understanding the country we live in today.

    Ignoring those realities may feel easier in the moment, but it does little to address the underlying tensions that continue to shape American political life.

  • The Pandemic Conspiracy That Makes No Economic Sense

    The Pandemic Conspiracy That Makes No Economic Sense

    One argument that has circulated repeatedly since the beginning of the COVID-19 pandemic is the idea that governments and major industries somehow wanted lockdowns, mask mandates, and vaccine mandates.

    But when you stop and look at the economic reality, that claim becomes very difficult to understand.

    Entire sectors of the economy were devastated by the pandemic. Restaurants, tourism, hospitality, airlines, amusement parks, theaters, sports leagues, universities, entertainment industries, public transportation systems, and countless small businesses lost enormous amounts of revenue beginning in March 2020.

    Many of these industries lost billions of dollars. Some may never fully recover.

    If the goal of modern capitalism is economic growth (more consumption, more travel, more entertainment spending, more tourism, more investment), then deliberately shutting down large portions of the economy would make very little sense as a strategy.

    Yet conspiracy narratives often assume that powerful actors wanted exactly that outcome.

    This assumption ignores how economic systems actually function. Modern capitalism depends on expanding markets and constant activity. The pandemic disrupted supply chains, slowed production, closed venues, and drastically reduced consumer spending in many sectors.

    In other words, the pandemic did not strengthen the economic system. It destabilized it.

    At the same time, many of the people promoting conspiracy theories about public health measures express deep distrust of pharmaceutical companies while simultaneously promoting alternative drug treatments produced by the same pharmaceutical industry.

    That contradiction often goes unnoticed.

    Another common pattern during the pandemic has been the rejection of scientific expertise in favor of viral claims circulating through social media, talk shows, or online influencers. Medical studies are cited without being understood, preliminary data is interpreted incorrectly, and isolated findings are often exaggerated into sweeping conclusions.

    Skepticism toward institutions can be healthy. Governments, corporations, and medical authorities should absolutely be questioned and held accountable.

    But skepticism is not the same thing as assuming that every crisis is part of a hidden plot.

    Public health policies during the pandemic have been controversial, imperfect, and sometimes poorly communicated. But the idea that entire economies would intentionally sabotage themselves in order to impose temporary public health measures requires a level of coordination and self-destruction that makes little practical sense.

    The pandemic created real economic disruption, real political conflict, and real human tragedy.

    Understanding those realities requires serious discussion—not conspiracy theories about why a society built on economic growth would willingly shut itself down.

  • What Critics Get Wrong About DEI

    What Critics Get Wrong About DEI

    If critics of diversity, equity, and inclusion programs truly want to understand what they are criticizing, they should start by understanding what those programs actually do.

    Much of the political rhetoric surrounding DEI rests on a simple assumption: that these initiatives exist primarily to hire underqualified minorities over more qualified white applicants.

    But that assumption misunderstands the purpose of many DEI programs.

    In many workplaces, DEI initiatives are not hiring programs at all. They are training programs focused on workplace conduct, like how employees interact with one another, how discrimination complaints are handled, and how organizations avoid hostile work environments.

    In other words, they are about behavior inside the workplace, not simply about who gets hired.

    This distinction is often lost in political debates.

    Critics frequently frame DEI as a system that lowers standards or promotes unqualified candidates. Yet those claims are rarely supported with concrete evidence. Instead, the arguments often rely on anecdotes, rumors, or viral stories that later turn out to be false or exaggerated.

    The “litter box in schools” rumor is a good example of how quickly misinformation can spread when it reinforces existing political narratives. The story circulated widely online despite having no factual basis.

    The same pattern often appears in debates about DEI.

    Whenever a person from a marginalized group enters a field traditionally dominated by white men, whether as a pilot, executive, professor, or public official, critics sometimes assume that the person must have been hired to satisfy a quota rather than because of their qualifications.

    That assumption says less about hiring practices than it does about the expectations behind it.

    It reflects a long-standing cultural narrative suggesting that success among minorities must be explained by special treatment rather than merit.

    Yet there are many examples throughout American history that challenge that assumption. The Tuskegee Airmen, for example, demonstrated extraordinary skill and discipline during World War II despite facing discrimination and skepticism about their abilities.

    The same dynamic continues today.

    A recent viral video showed a Black woman completing her first liftoff during pilot training. Professional pilots reviewing the footage described the maneuver as textbook and appropriate for the conditions. Yet some online commentators quickly turned the moment into an argument about DEI and supposed lowered standards.

    This response illustrates how quickly discussions about diversity can become framed through suspicion rather than evidence.

    At the same time, conversations about merit often ignore another powerful force in hiring: nepotism.

    Family connections, social networks, and institutional favoritism have long shaped access to jobs and opportunities across many industries. These advantages disproportionately benefit those already connected to existing power structures.

    Yet these dynamics rarely receive the same level of scrutiny as diversity initiatives.

    The result is a debate that focuses intensely on hypothetical examples of unqualified minority hires while overlooking longstanding systems that have quietly shaped opportunity for generations.

    If we are going to have an honest discussion about merit and fairness, then the conversation needs to address all of the ways opportunity is distributed, not just the ones that fit a particular political narrative.

    The goal is not to flood various industries with underqualified people who check off certain boxes in a checklist of representation from marginalized communities. That is not how DEI works.

    Rather, the goal should be to build institutions where ability, preparation, and performance actually matter more than assumptions about who belongs in a particular role, and everyone has an equal opportunity to get and to promote in various careers without doing so in a hostile work environment.

  • The Real Purpose of College in Modern America

    The Real Purpose of College in Modern America

    One uncomfortable truth about higher education in the United States is that very few people actually attend universities for a liberal arts education.

    In fact, the idea of pursuing knowledge for its own sake is often mocked in our society. Students who study philosophy, history, literature, or other liberal arts fields are frequently told they are wasting their time.

    For most people, the real reasons for attending college are much simpler: career advancement and social networking(which are not necessarily bad pursuits).

    The goal is not to become more learned. The goal is to get paid.

    At the same time, the economic reality of college has changed dramatically. College degrees do not guarantee the salaries they once did, and millions of students graduate carrying large amounts of debt. This debt can take decades to repay and often weighs heavily on their financial futures.

    Because of this, trade schools are beginning to look like a much more practical option for many people.

    Many skilled trades, such as electricians, mechanics, welders, plumbers, construction specialists, and others, often pay solid wages relatively quickly while also providing hands-on experience. In many cases, people in these professions begin earning money sooner and accumulate far less debt than those who pursue traditional four-year degrees.

    Yet these professions are often looked down upon in a culture that tends to equate white-collar work with success and blue-collar work with failure.

    That assumption is deeply misguided.

    Our society depends on skilled labor just as much as it depends on professionals with university degrees. We need the people who build and maintain our infrastructure. We need the technicians who repair our aircraft and maintain our electrical systems. We need the workers who build roads, maintain water systems, repair engines, and keep cities functioning.

    These jobs may not always carry the same social prestige as corporate or professional careers, but they are no less essential.

    None of this is an argument against universities themselves. Higher education still plays a vital role in a healthy and thoughtful society, particularly when universities function as places for intellectual exploration, critical thinking, and the exchange of ideas.

    The problem is not education. I love education.

    The problem is the way education has increasingly been treated as a business model and reduced to a credentialing system designed primarily to produce workers rather than thinkers.

    A society that values knowledge should support universities.

    But a society that understands how the world actually works should also respect the skilled trades.

    Electricians, mechanics, construction workers, and technicians are not somehow lesser contributors to society.

    They are essential to it.

  • When I Disagreed With the New Atheists

    When I Disagreed With the New Atheists

    Years ago, I wrote about a debate that took place on Real Time with Bill Maher between Yasiin Bey (formerly Mos Def) on one side and Bill Maher and Christopher Hitchens on the other. The topic, unsurprisingly, was the September 11 attacks and the broader question of Islam.

    At the time, I was widely known among my peers as an atheist thinker and leader. I would jokingly refer to myself as “the atheist.” Because of that, many people expected me to side with Maher and Hitchens. Both men were major figures in the New Atheist movement, and their criticism of religion (especially Islam) was widely embraced within those circles.

    But I found myself agreeing with Yasiin Bey.

    The reason was simple: I have never trusted the United States government’s justifications for many of the wars and military actions it has undertaken since World War II. History provides too many examples of misleading narratives, exaggerated threats, or outright falsehoods used to justify military intervention.

    I was also uncomfortable with the way Muslims were being singled out as uniquely dangerous.

    Most Muslims are not violent extremists. In my own life, I have known many Muslims, and they are as diverse in their beliefs, practices, and interpretations of their religion as Christians or Jews are.

    As a Black American, I also could not ignore another historical reality: my community has experienced far more terrorism from people identifying as Christians than from Muslims. Groups like the Ku Klux Klan cloaked themselves in Christian imagery and language while carrying out campaigns of terror against Black Americans.

    That history makes it difficult for me to accept arguments that treat Islam as uniquely violent while giving Christianity or Judaism a pass for the actions of their worst adherents.

    Maher and Hitchens often insisted that extremist Muslim groups represented something intrinsic to Islam itself. Yet when confronted with violent or extremist groups within Christianity, such as the KKK or Christian Identity movements, they were much quicker to argue that those groups were distortions of the religion rather than expressions of it.

    That double standard always bothered me.

    If organizations like ISIS or Al-Qaeda are considered perversions of Islam (and I believe they are), then the same intellectual honesty should be applied when discussing extremist groups that claim Christian identity.

    At the time, my position drew criticism from some of my fellow atheists. Many people in the New Atheist movement treated Maher and Hitchens almost as intellectual heroes, and disagreeing with them was not always well received.

    But I have always believed that intellectual honesty matters more than tribal loyalty.

    I still respect both Maher and Hitchens for their role in normalizing atheism and encouraging people to question religious authority. Their contributions to secular thought are significant.

    But admiration does not require agreement.

    Even then, I could see that their criticism of religion, particularly Islam, sometimes crossed the line from critique into something that felt more like cultural hostility at best and bigotry at worst.

    Looking back now, I feel even more confident in the position I took at the time.

    Sometimes the most honest place to stand is not with your allies or your critics, but simply where the evidence and your own conscience lead you.

  • Poverty Looks the Same Everywhere

    Poverty Looks the Same Everywhere

    One of the things that traveling around the United States has taught me is that poverty appears remarkably similar, regardless of where you encounter it.

    Despite the racial narratives that often dominate political conversations, the visible signs of poverty tend to repeat themselves in the same ways across the country.

    The same kinds of conditions that people associate with poor urban neighborhoods (many of which are predominantly Black or Latino) can also be found in economically depressed small towns that are overwhelmingly white.

    In both places, you see the same signs of economic struggle.

    You see old vehicles with long-expired temporary tags.
    You see houses in serious need of repair.
    You see groups of men standing around with little to do but pass the time drinking.
    You see drug use and the informal economies that grow around poverty, including prostitution.

    The physical environments may differ somewhat. Urban poverty often exists in densely populated neighborhoods surrounded by wealthier suburbs. Rural poverty tends to exist in isolated towns surrounded by farmland or land owned by more affluent property holders.

    But the underlying conditions are strikingly similar.

    Poverty produces the same kinds of social and economic realities regardless of the racial makeup of the people experiencing it.

    Traveling makes that clear in a way that political rhetoric often obscures.

    In political debates, poverty is frequently racialized. Certain communities are blamed for the conditions in which they live, while others are treated as victims of economic change or government neglect.

    But when you actually see these communities up close—when you drive through them, walk through them, and talk to the people who live there—the similarities become difficult to ignore.

    Poverty is not confined to one race or one region.

    It is a structural condition that appears wherever economic opportunity disappears, and communities are left behind.

    And the longer people ignore that reality, the easier it becomes for political narratives to divide communities that are, in many ways, experiencing the same struggles.