The summer of 1919, often referred to as the “Red Summer,” stands as a stark and painful chapter in American history. Across more than three dozen cities and towns, a wave of racial violence erupted, leaving hundreds dead, thousands injured, and countless Black communities devastated. This wasn’t merely a series of isolated incidents; it was a systemic eruption of racial hatred and fear, fueled by a complex brew of post-World War I anxieties, the Great Migration, and deeply entrenched white supremacy.
Cornelius Corp is dedicated to helping churches navigate issues of race, reflect on such a tumultuous time, as the critical question emerges: How could something like this happen? And perhaps more unsettling, could it happen again? For a Christian audience, this question demands not just historical understanding, but also theological introspection and practical engagement.
In 1919, returning Black soldiers, having fought for democracy abroad, were met with renewed oppression and violence at home. In Washington D.C., a city with a significant Black population and numerous returning Black servicemen, the fuse of the Red Summer was lit in July. White mobs, often comprised of servicemen themselves and emboldened by law enforcement’s inaction or even complicity, unleashed terror upon Black neighborhoods. Yet, in D.C. and other places, Black communities, including veterans, courageously organized and fought back, often arming themselves to defend their homes and families. Economic competition, housing shortages, and the pervasive narrative of racial inferiority created fertile ground for unrest across the nation. The underlying currents were fear of the “other,” a perceived threat to established hierarchies, and a willingness to dehumanize those who were different.
Today, while the overt societal structures are different, unsettling parallels persist. We see profound polarization, often amplified by social media, where “us vs. them” narratives are present, evident in the dehumanizing rhetoric directed at immigrants and minority groups. Fear, once again, is a powerful motivator. We observe a concerning proliferation of firearms, and it’s natural to ask, “For what purpose?” Indeed, this abundance of guns itself underscores how deeply fear is coupled with a readiness for violence. When people are increasingly isolated in their own echo chambers, the ingredients for social unrest become frighteningly familiar. This highlights the urgency of addressing the underlying fears and divisions that compel individuals to arm themselves.
As followers of Christ, we are called to be peacemakers, reconcilers, and agents of justice. The Church, in 1919, was often complicit in or silent about the injustices unfolding. This is a sobering truth we must confront. Our faith compels us to actively dismantle systems of oppression and to love our neighbors as ourselves, regardless of their skin color or background.
If we are to prevent another “Red Summer,” the Church must be a prophetic voice against injustice. We must cultivate empathy and understanding, intentionally breaking down the walls of division that separate us. We must challenge narratives of fear and distrust with the radical love of Christ. This means engaging in difficult conversations about race, acknowledging our shared history, and actively working towards a more just and equitable society. The abundance of guns, while a complex issue, highlights the urgency of addressing the underlying fears and divisions that compel individuals to arm themselves. Our prayer and our work must be for a future where trust, not fear, and love, not hatred, define our communities.
Let us learn from the echoes of 1919 and commit ourselves to building a world where such horrors can never again take root. For in Christ, there is no Jew nor Gentile, no slave nor free, no male nor female, but all are one. This is our calling, and our hope.
Adrienne Reedy
Cornelius Corp Board Chair