Reparations Advocates Press On as Trump Administration Moves to Block Local Programs

Robin Rue Simmons, who now goes by N'nanba, has spent years working on a question that has lingered since slavery ended: what would repairing the damage actually look like? In Evanston, Illinois, she helped create a $25,000 housing grant for Black residents whose families were harmed by discriminatory housing policies. She is now helping spread the country's first municipal reparations program to more than 100 communities.

That work is running into a major obstacle as the nation marks its 250th anniversary: President Donald Trump's administration. Its campaign against diversity, equity and inclusion programs, along with broader moves to limit federal backing for race-based initiatives and Black history, has led some institutions to reconsider or quietly scale back reparations efforts.

The shift comes as parts of the wider world revisit the issue. In March, the U.N. General Assembly passed a resolution calling the trafficking of millions of enslaved Africans "the gravest crime against humanity" and urging reparations. More than 120 countries backed it. Argentina, Israel and the United States voted against it, and 52 nations, including England and 27 European Union members, abstained.

"Under this administration, of course, there are many barriers to achieving that, but we still stand on federal redress as our collective north star," said Rue Simmons, who chairs Evanston's Reparations Committee and is a former city councilwoman.

The trans-Atlantic slave trade forced an estimated 12.5 million Africans onto ships bound for the Americas, and about 1.8 million did not survive the journey. Roughly 388,000 were taken to what is now the United States, where chattel slavery lasted until 1865. Jim Crow segregation and systemic racism then limited Black Americans' ability to build wealth, which remains largely concentrated among white families. William Darity, who co-wrote a book on reparations, said no president has supported comprehensive Black reparations. "Now, Trump will speak the word, but with hostility," he said. In a September speech, Trump told supporters, "They want to steal your money for reparations," adding that "it's going nowhere."

The administration has also joined the legal fight over Evanston's program. A lawsuit first brought by Judicial Watch argues that the city distributes funds by race without identifying specific harm. Michael Bekesha, who represents the plaintiffs, said the Constitution bars governments from "picking winners and losers based entirely on race." This month, a federal judge allowed the Justice Department to intervene, and it alleges the program violates the 14th Amendment's equal protection clause and the Fair Housing Act. Last year, the department sent a warning letter to leaders in Asheville and Buncombe County, North Carolina, which were considering their own programs. Justice Department spokeswoman Kiersten Pels said race-based government benefit programs are unconstitutional and often violate federal civil rights law.

Universities have felt the pressure as well. Georgetown University, which offers admission consideration to descendants of enslaved people tied to its past, has continued the effort. But Richard Cellini, who previously led a Harvard project identifying descendants, said new work across higher education has stalled. His team found nearly 500 living descendants of people enslaved by Harvard's past leaders, but Harvard fired the team days after Trump's January 2025 anti-DEI order. Research by an outside firm continues, though Harvard has not provided redress to descendants. Kirt von Daacke, a University of Virginia historian, said he sees no new scholarship programs since Trump returned to office.

Some programs continue to reach people. Juan Woolfolk, 36, a Georgetown descendant, is using a $10,000 scholarship to study museum studies at Southern University at New Orleans. Virginia Theological Seminary makes annual cash payments to descendants of people who labored on its campus, funded by an endowment that has grown from $1.7 million to $2.8 million since 2019. In Evanston, recipient Joe Martin, 46, a Delta flight attendant, said "40 acres and a mule didn't go down the way it was supposed to," and that when a legitimate program is created, "the government's like, naw."