Strap on your way back goggles and set them for November 10th, 1898– Wilmington, North Carolina. Then, hold on tight while we visit the anniversary of one of those historical events that didn’t make it into the “fun facts” section of your social studies class: the Wilmington Massacre of 1898. Yes, folks, this is the day when an angry mob of white supremacists decided, “Hey, let’s torch the place, shoot up the town, and overthrow democracy.” And no, this wasn’t a Monty Python sketch—it actually happened.
So, Picture this: the Civil War ended 33 years ago. It’s the South though, so racism is still rife and people are still sweating through layers of petticoats, but there’s something cool happening. Wilmington is a racially integrated town where Black citizens hold office, run businesses, and contribute to the community. It’s not a utopia, but by 1890s standards, it’s like Disneyland with a slightly less murderous Mouse.
Enter a group of old, white, well-to-do men, clutching their pearls (or whatever was fashionable in 1898) over the fact that Black folks had power. And not just “I have the power to sing in the church choir” power, but actual, elected office power. Black men held city council seats. They had the audacity to, gasp, publish newspapers and run for mayor. Naturally, certain white men saw this and thought, “Well, this will NOT stand.” Because nothing makes a racist’s blood boil like democracy working for people other than them.
Now we add the Fusionists. The Fusionists were a radical coalition of Black Republicans and white Populists. No, not like the friend-of-a-friend you blocked on Facebook. These Populists were real champions for working-class rights, and in North Carolina, they formed a powerful alliance with Black citizens. Together, they dared to win elections and shape policy in a way that benefited, you know, everyone. Cue sinister mustache-twirling from the white Democrats of North Carolina.
The Democrats went into full-on evil mastermind mode, led by U.S. Senator Furnifold Simmons. (That’s an actual name, not a typo). They rallied other white leaders, stirred up fear, and whipped up hysteria, kind of like how people act when their favorite TV show gets canceled. But worse. They spread terrifying messages: Black men were going to harm white women! They were going to take your jobs! They were probably going to outlaw apple pie and freedom and all those things Americans love! And to really rile things up, they formed paramilitary groups called the Red Shirts. Think of them as the Proud Boys but with worse hygiene.
In the middle of this mess was Alexander Manly. Alexander, who ran The Daily Record, the only Black-owned newspaper in North Carolina, had the nerve—the absolute nerve—to write an editorial suggesting that white women and Black men sometimes had relationships…willingly. The horror! This scandalous idea caused so many monocles to pop out of so many angry white men’s faces that they practically started an optometry crisis. And just like that, Manly was Public Enemy #1.
So, on November 10, 1898, a mob of up to 2,000 white men stormed Wilmington. This wasn’t a random mob of people grabbing torches on their lunch break; this was a carefully organized, deeply racist coup. They torched The Daily Record office, shot Black citizens, and expelled Black officials from office. Dozens, maybe even hundreds, of Black residents were killed or chased out of town. In less than a day, Wilmington went from a multiracial community to a white supremacist stronghold. And the rest of North Carolina, instead of going, “Whoa, this is awful,” pretty much said, “Great work, guys! Let’s never speak of this again.”
And that’s pretty much what happened. North Carolina, and really the whole South, doubled down on Jim Crow laws. It wasn’t until almost a century later that anyone officially acknowledged what went down in Wilmington. And by “officially acknowledged,” I mean they dusted off a file, muttered, “Oops,” and went back to business as usual.
So why, you might ask, does any of this matter today? Well, it matters because history doesn’t just go away. Wilmington was a blueprint for using fear, lies, and a large dose of anger to manipulate people into turning on their neighbors. And that blueprint has aged about as well as old mayonnaise in a hot car, yet here we are—still finding new ways to repeat the same tricks in 2024.
We’re living in a time when terms like “demographic shift” send certain groups into a frenzy, when leaders use phrases like “protecting our heritage” (spoiler: heritage is code for “I’m really scared of people who don’t look like me”), and when entire networks churn out fear-mongering headlines like it’s an Olympic sport. And guess what? Trump’s reelection has only made these voices louder, more coordinated, and very, very interested in making America great again, circa, well, 1898.
If Wilmington teaches us anything, it’s that democracy is not a one-and-done deal. You don’t just declare a town free and fair, pat yourself on the back, and hope it sticks. Democracy is fragile. And if we don’t protect it, it ends up as something that looks more like a Saturday night bar brawl—messy, unpredictable, and, at some point, everyone’s throwing punches.
So what’s the moral of the story? If democracy was worth burning a newspaper and chasing people into the swamps back in 1898, maybe it’s worth showing up for in 2024. Because as we learned in Wilmington, the real danger isn’t some external threat; it’s letting ourselves be played by people who want us to believe democracy is only for some of us.
Today, we have the benefit of history—1898 may feel like ancient times, but the tactics are anything but. What we need to do is simple: stop falling for the same, old fear-mongering tricks. We’re better than that—or at least, we should be by now. And if we’re not, well, history has a way of repeating itself, and that is one very dark sequel none of us want to see.
