In the quiet, marble-lined halls of Montgomery, a familiar ghost has been invited back to the table. It is the same spirit that presided over the 1901 Constitutional Convention, where the state’s elite gathered with the explicit, recorded goal of “establishing white supremacy in this State.” Recently, following a seismic shift at the U.S. Supreme Court, Alabama’s leadership signaled they are ready to resume that legacy.
The passage of new redistricting legislation—a rushed, cynical effort designed to toss out established maps and revert to boundaries previously rejected for being discriminatory—is more than a procedural hiccup. It is a declaration. It tells us that in Alabama, democracy is not a fixed right, but a temporary concession that can be revoked the moment federal “guardrails” are loosened.
To understand where we are, we have to look at the wreckage of the Voting Rights Act. For decades, Section 2 was the North Star of Southern politics, ensuring that Black voters—who make up over a quarter of our state—were not “packed” into a single district or “cracked” across several to dilute their influence. In 2023, the Supreme Court surprisingly upheld this principle in Allen v. Milligan, forcing Alabama to finally create a second district where Black voters had a fair shot at representation.
However, recent judicial shifts have effectively signaled “open season” on these protections. By narrowing the scope of federal oversight, the Court has invited states like Alabama to dismantle the very progress it once ordered. Our state leadership didn’t just walk through that door; they sprinted.
The speed of this redistricting push feels modern, but the tactic is a century old. Alabama has a long, documented history of “waiting out” the federal government. Even after the landmark civil rights victories of the 1960s, Alabama lawmakers engaged in a decades-long game of “catch me if you can,” drawing maps that preserved rural white dominance until federal judges finally took the pens away. We see the same pattern today. The moment a court order is weakened, the state moves to reclaim seats, treating Black political representation as something stolen from them rather than something earned by the citizens.
We often ask why Alabama remains so polarized, why the “Two Alabamas” still exist. The answer is found in these maps. When a legislature goes to such extreme lengths to ensure that 27% of its population is marginalized in the congressional delegation, it isn’t just about partisan politics. It’s about insulation. When politicians can choose their voters instead of the other way around, they don’t have to address the healthcare crisis in the Black Belt or the infrastructure needs of Birmingham’s urban core.
The division persists because the system is engineered to persist. By rushing to erase hard-won representation, the state is attempting to silence a voice that was just beginning to find its strength. The struggle for fair representation in Alabama is not a chapter in a history book; it is a live wire. As we face yet another round of litigation, we must ask ourselves: Are we a state that moves toward the future, or are we forever doomed to be the state that has to be dragged there? The ghost of 1901 is smiling today. It’s up to us to make sure it doesn’t get the last word.