Lonnie Bunch, a historian who made history as the Smithsonian Institution’s first African American secretary, became a recurring target as President Donald Trump intensified his attacks on how America tells the story of race, slavery and inequality.
Bunch’s resignation this week should concern anyone who cares about American history, the truth and intellectual freedom.
But what is happening now goes beyond an attempt to erase Black history. It is an effort to cancel Black thought. The phrase “cancel culture” has been weaponized for years by conservatives who argue that dissenting viewpoints are being silenced. Yet, what is happening when Black voices that challenge comforting myths about America are pushed aside? This is not simply a debate about museum exhibits. It is a battle over who gets to define America’s story.
Trump wants to shape how Americans understand their past. The Smithsonian became a battleground in that effort.
For years, Trump has expressed outrage over museums and exhibitions that honestly confront America’s racial past. He criticized The New York Times’ acclaimed 1619 Project as “toxic propaganda” and “ideological poison.” He responded by creating the 1776 Commission, which minimized the role slavery played in building the nation.
The Smithsonian, particularly the National Museum of African American History and Culture, became another favorite target for the Trump Administration.
Trump accused Smithsonian museums of being “out of control,” claiming they focused too heavily on slavery, racism and America’s failures instead of highlighting the country’s successes. His administration ordered reviews of federal historical exhibits and sought to revise displays that conflicted with its preferred narrative. The assault extended beyond Washington.
In Philadelphia, Trump’s administration successfully pushed for the removal of panels at the President’s House memorial that highlighted the stories of the nine enslaved Africans held by George Washington. The message was unmistakable: discussions of slavery should be minimized, softened or removed altogether if they make Americans uncomfortable.
Trump even used social media to emphasize that his ancestors came to the United States after slavery was abolished, telling African Americans that his family did not own slaves. Historians rightly pushed back, noting that the impact of slavery was never limited to the actions of individual slaveholders. The wealth gaps, educational disparities, discriminatory housing policies and unequal access to opportunity that followed emancipation created systems whose effects continue to shape society today.
History is not just about who personally held the whip. It is about understanding the structures that survived long after the whip disappeared. Bunch understood that. That is why his leadership mattered. It is also why his departure raises concerns.
The political pressure surrounding the Smithsonian is no secret. Though Trump has no direct authority over the Smithsonian secretary, his influence reaches the Smithsonian Board of Regents, which includes Vice President J.D. Vance, Chief Justice John G. Roberts Jr., and members of Congress. The president also influences the institution through appointments and executive actions.
The bigger concern is not merely that Bunch is leaving. It is who comes next. Will the Board of Regents select a successor committed to historical accuracy? Or will it choose someone more willing to sanitize difficult chapters of American history?
That question should alarm every American because Bunch’s departure fits a broader pattern as several Black leaders in the federal government and independent agencies have been removed, forced out or targeted for replacement during Trump’s administration.
Robert Primus was removed as chair of the Surface Transportation Board. Alvin Brown was dismissed as vice chair of the National Transportation Safety Board. Gen. Charles Q. Brown Jr., only the second Black chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, was relieved of his position.
And Black officials serving on independent boards and commissions, including Gwynne Wilcox, Charlotte Burrows and Travis LeBlanc, have also faced removal efforts.
Though Trump appointed Erica Schwartz to lead the U.S. Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, Scott Turner remains the lone Black member of Trump’s second-term Cabinet as head of U.S. Department of Housing and Urban Development. Taken individually, each case can be explained away. Together, they paint a troubling picture. Black progress itself appears to be under attack.
Recent polling, including surveys by Protect Democracy, suggests younger generations are increasingly grappling with questions about authoritarianism, fascism and the resilience of the nation’s democratic institutions.
Whether one agrees with their assessment or not, the concern deserves serious consideration. History teaches us that controlling narratives has always been a powerful political weapon.
One needs only look to Birmingham, Alabama, more than 60 years ago, where Eugene “Bull” Connor used government authority to uphold segregation and suppress demands for racial equality. The tactics change. The objective remains the same: control the story, and you control the public’s understanding of reality.
That is why preserving Black history matters. It is why preserving Black thought matters even more.
Generations of African Americans fought to ensure their stories would not be erased. Ebony magazine sat on coffee tables in Black households because people understood the importance of documenting our experiences. Ebony magazine no longer exists, but institutions like the New Pittsburgh Courier, The Philadelphia Tribune, Mother Bethel A.M.E., HBCUs, civic organizations, family units and even barber shops preserved stories that others often ignored.
No president should have the power to erase 400 years of history. No administration should decide which truths Americans are allowed to learn. And no single leader should be permitted to whitewash the struggles, sacrifices, and triumphs that helped build this nation.
The fight over Lonnie Bunch’s future was never really about one historian. It was about who gets to tell America’s story. If the answer becomes politicians, instead of men of Bunch’s character and scholarship, the nation will lose far more than a Smithsonian secretary.
(Reprinted from the Philadelphia Tribune)