In discussions about race in America, a familiar pattern emerges. White critics often cherry-pick the most negative elements of Black society—crime statistics, isolated incidents of violence, or cultural stereotypes—to paint an entire community as inherently dangerous or criminal. This selective focus ignores systemic factors like poverty, discrimination, and historical oppression that contribute to these issues. But here’s the twist: Black people don’t need to dredge up the fringes of white society to make a counterpoint. We can look straight at the pillars—the presidents, generals, war heroes, business leaders, authors, religious figures, and explorers lionized in history books, monuments, and national holidays—and find a legacy steeped in slavery, racism, violence, and systemic hate. This isn’t about equating individuals; it’s about exposing the double standard in how society remembers and reveres. The so-called “best” of white society often embodies the absolute worst of humanity. Yet, white narratives fixate on the worst of Black people, as if centuries of Black progress could ever equal the scale of evil inflicted by white institutions and icons.
Slave-Owning Presidents: The Founding Fathers’ Dark Legacy
America’s highest office has long been a symbol of leadership and moral authority. Yet, of the first 18 U.S. presidents, 12 owned slaves at some point in their lives, with eight holding enslaved people while in office. These aren’t obscure figures; they’re the architects of the nation, celebrated in schools and on currency.
Take George Washington, the “Father of His Country.” He owned over 300 slaves during his lifetime, including during his presidency, and only freed them upon his death—via his will, not immediate action. Thomas Jefferson, author of the Declaration of Independence with its lofty ideals of liberty and equality, enslaved more than 600 people, including fathering children with Sally Hemings, an enslaved woman. Andrew Jackson, hailed as a populist hero, was not only a slave owner but also an interregional slave trader, profiting from the human trafficking that built his wealth.
These men aren’t vilified as criminals or thugs in mainstream narratives. Instead, they’re honored with monuments, Mount Rushmore carvings, and federal holidays. Imagine if Black leaders with similar records were treated with the same reverence— the outcry would be deafening. Yet, when white society elevates these figures, it’s framed as “complex history,” not an inherent moral failing.
Confederate Generals: Heroes of a Treasonous Cause
The Civil War ended over 150 years ago, but the reverence for Confederate leaders persists, particularly among some white communities. These generals fought to preserve slavery and secession, yet they’re often romanticized as noble warriors through the “Lost Cause” myth—a post-war narrative created by former Confederates to sanitize their defeat and downplay slavery’s role.
Robert E. Lee, perhaps the most iconic, led the Confederate Army and owned slaves himself. Despite his role in a war that killed hundreds of thousands to uphold human bondage, Lee is still admired for his military tactics and “gentlemanly” demeanor. Until recent years, statues of him dotted the South, and institutions bore his name. Stonewall Jackson and Braxton Bragg are similarly memorialized; the U.S. Army even named 10 bases after Confederate leaders like Bragg and John Bell Hood, men whose legacies are tied to defending slavery. These namings weren’t accidents—they were deliberate honors bestowed in the 20th century, often during periods of racial tension to assert white supremacy.
Why do these figures escape the “violent criminal” label? Their actions—leading armies in a rebellion that perpetuated enslavement—were far more destructive than any street-level crime. Yet, they’re seen as “products of their time,” a courtesy rarely extended to Black individuals caught in modern systemic traps.
War Heroes: Valor Built on Violence and Racism
White society’s pantheon of war heroes often includes figures whose bravery on the battlefield masks a history of racism and brutality toward people of color. These aren’t outliers; they’re central to America’s military lore. Andrew Jackson again stands out—not just as president, but as the hero of the Battle of New Orleans in the War of 1812. Celebrated for defending the nation, Jackson’s military career also involved violent campaigns against Native Americans, culminating in the Indian Removal Act and the Trail of Tears, which forcibly displaced and killed thousands. George Armstrong Custer, a renowned figure in the Civil War and Indian Wars, is remembered in films and books as a dashing cavalry leader. But his “heroism” included massacres of Native American villages, driven by expansionist racism that viewed Indigenous people as obstacles to white progress.
Even in more recent history, groups like the Texas Rangers—mythologized as rugged lawmen and war heroes in the fight against Mexico and Native tribes—have a documented record of violence toward Mexicans, Native Americans, and Black people, including lynchings and border atrocities. Nathan Bedford Forrest, a Confederate general and early Ku Klux Klan leader, is hailed by some as a brilliant cavalry commander, despite his role in the Fort Pillow Massacre, where his troops slaughtered surrendering Black Union soldiers.
These heroes are embedded in American culture—through movies, memorials, and even sports teams. Their violence isn’t dismissed as “thuggery”; it’s repackaged as patriotism.
Hate Groups with Anti-Black Agendas: Mainstream Ties and Enduring Influence
Beyond individual heroes, white society has often tolerated or even integrated hate groups explicitly dedicated to anti-Black racism, many of which have historical ties to respected institutions. The Ku Klux Klan, founded in 1865, stands as the oldest and most infamous, with a history of lynchings, bombings, and terror against Black communities. At its peak in the 1920s, it boasted millions of members, including politicians, law enforcement, and business leaders, infiltrating mainstream society while promoting white supremacy.
Modern iterations include white nationalist groups like “active clubs,” which blend racism with fitness culture and have grown across at least 30 states. These organizations, tracked by groups like the Southern Poverty Law Center, often present themselves as cultural preservationists but advocate hostility and violence against Black people. Their persistence highlights how anti-Black hate isn’t fringe—it’s woven into the fabric of white societal structures, often with subtle endorsements from those in power.
Business Leaders Funding Racist Think Tanks: Bankrolling Bigotry
The “best” of white society includes wealthy business owners and philanthropists who quietly fund racist ideologies through think tanks and foundations, legitimizing anti-Black narratives under the guise of “research.” The Pioneer Fund, established in 1937 by textile magnate Wickliffe Draper, has poured millions into studies promoting eugenics and racial hierarchies, often portraying Black people as intellectually inferior. Described as a key financier of “scientific racism,” it supported work that influenced immigration policies and segregationist agendas.
Other examples include donors to groups like the Federation for American Immigration Reform (FAIR) and the Center for Immigration Studies (CIS), labeled as hate groups for circulating white nationalist content. These business elites—often celebrated for their economic success—use their wealth to sustain systems that dehumanize Black people, proving that corporate power can be a vehicle for entrenched racism.
Authors of Pseudo-Scientific Racism: Intellectualizing Hate
Respected authors and intellectuals have penned works that perpetuate anti-Black stereotypes, often under the banner of academic inquiry. “The Bell Curve” by Charles Murray and Richard Herrnstein, published in 1994, argued that racial differences in IQ are partly genetic, implying Black inferiority and linking it to social issues. Funded in part by the Pioneer Fund, the book has been criticized as a modern justification for racism, yet it’s cited in policy debates and defended as “controversial” rather than bigoted.
Similar works include those by Jared Taylor of the New Century Foundation, who promotes “race realism” through pseudoscience, attributing disparities to biology. These authors, often platformed in mainstream outlets, represent the intellectual elite of white society, using “scholarship” to mask hatred that reinforces systemic inequality.
White Religious Leaders: Preaching Love, Embracing Hate
Many white religious figures have preached universal love while supporting or ignoring anti-Black racism, revealing a profound hypocrisy in faith communities. Billy Graham, the iconic evangelist, opposed racism in principle but refused to publicly attack segregation or march with Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., prioritizing unity over justice. Studies show racism is higher among white Christians than nonreligious whites, with many denying structural inequities.
Historical examples abound, like white church leaders in the 1950s who preached against civil rights integration. Even today, some megachurches grapple with internal racism while claiming anti-racist efforts. These spiritual guides, revered as moral authorities, often align with hate groups or ideologies that contradict their sermons, perpetuating division under the cloak of piety.
Canonized Explorers: Atrocities in the Name of Discovery
White history canonizes explorers like Christopher Columbus as bold discoverers, ignoring their roles in genocide and enslavement. Columbus, celebrated with a federal holiday, initiated the Atlantic slave trade and committed atrocities against Indigenous peoples, including murder, rape, and forced labor that decimated populations. Accused of brutality even by contemporaries, he oversaw the enslavement of thousands and set the stage for colonial violence.
Catholic priests and missionaries often accompanied such explorers, canonizing their missions while enabling the subjugation of non-white peoples. These figures are immortalized in textbooks and statues, their “discoveries” hailed as progress, while their victims’ suffering is minimized. This selective memory underscores how white society elevates conquerors as saints.
Breaking the Cycle: Toward Honest Reckoning
The point isn’t to demonize all white historical figures or ignore their contributions. It’s to highlight the hypocrisy: When Black society is judged by its worst, why isn’t white society scrutinized by its “best”? These presidents, generals, heroes, business leaders, authors, religious figures, and explorers represent the elite—the educated, powerful, and deliberate actors in systems of oppression. Their legacies of evil—slavery, genocide, funded hate, and intellectualized bigotry—dwarf any societal ills attributed to Black communities, and it would take centuries for the latter to approach that scale. If we’re to have real conversations about crime and violence, let’s apply the same lens across the board.
Recent movements have led to some progress, like renaming military bases, removing statues, and reevaluating holidays like Columbus Day. But true change requires acknowledging that reverence for these figures perpetuates the same biases used to malign Black communities today. By focusing on these exalted examples, we reveal that violence and exploitation aren’t racial traits—they’re human flaws amplified by power and ignored by privilege.