News
100 years after the Tulsa Race Massacre, lessons from my grandfather
When Viola Fletcher, 107, appeared before Congress in May 2021, she called for the nation to officially acknowledge the Tulsa race riot of 1921.
I know that place and year well. As is the case with Fletcher – who is one of the last living survivors of the massacre, which took place when she was 7 – the terror of the Tulsa race riot is something that has been with me for almost as long as I can remember. My grandfather, Robert Fairchild, told the story nearly a quarter-century ago to several newspapers.
Here’s how The Washington Post recounted his story in 1996:
“At 92 years old, Robert Fairchild is losing his hearing, but he can still make out the distant shouts of angry white men firing guns late into the night 75 years ago. His eyes are not what they used to be, but he has no trouble seeing the dense, gray smoke swallowing his neighbors’ houses as he walked home from a graduation rehearsal, a frightened boy of 17.
His has since been a life of middle-class comfort, a good job working for the city, a warm family life. But he has never forgotten his mother’s anguish in 1921 as she fled toward the railroad tracks to escape the mobs and fires tearing through the vibrant Black neighborhood of Greenwood in north Tulsa.”
“There was just nothing left,” Fairchild told the newspaper.
The Washington Post article said the Tulsa race riots of 1921 were among the “worst race riots in the nation’s history.” It reported: “The death toll during the 12-hour rampage is still in dispute, but estimates have put it as high as 250. More than 1,000 businesses and homes were burned to the ground, scores of Black families were herded into cattle pens at the fairgrounds, and one of the largest and most prosperous Black communities in the United States was turned to ashes.”
Riots began after a white mob attempted to lynch a teenager falsely accused of assaulting a white woman. Black residents came to his defense, some armed. The groups traded shots, and mob violence followed. My family eventually returned to a decimated street. Miraculously their home on Latimer Avenue was spared.
Disturbing history
Hearing about these experiences at the family table was troubling enough. Reading a newspaper account of your ancestors’ fleeing for their lives is a surreal pain. There’s recognition of your family’s terror, and relief in knowing your family survived what “60 Minutes” once called “one of the worst race massacres in American history.”
In spite of my grandfather’s witness, this same event didn’t merit inclusion in any of my assigned history texts, either in high school or college. On the occasions I’ve mentioned this history to my colleagues, they’ve been astonished.
In 1996, at the 75th anniversary of the massacre, the city of Tulsa finally acknowledged what had happened. Community leaders from different backgrounds publicly recognized the devastation wrought by the riots. They gathered in a church that had been torched in the riot and since rebuilt. My grandfather told The New York Times then that he was “extremely pleased that Tulsa has taken this occasion seriously.”
“A mistake has been made,” he told the paper, “and this is a way to really look at it, then look toward the future and try to make sure it never happens again.”
That it took so long for the city to acknowledge what took place shows how selective society can be when it comes to which historical events it chooses to remember – and which ones to overlook. The history that society colludes to avoid publicly is necessarily remembered privately.
Economically vibrant
Even with massive destruction, the area of North Tulsa, known as Greenwood, became known for its economic vitality. On the blocks surrounding the corner of Archer Street and Greenwood Avenue in the 1930s, a thriving business district flourished with retail shops, entertainment venues and high-end services. One of these businesses was the Oklahoma Eagle, a Black-owned newspaper. As a teenager in the early 1940s, my father had his first job delivering the paper.
Without knowing the history, it would be a surprise to the casual observer that years earlier everything in this neighborhood had been razed to the ground. The Black Wall Street Memorial, a black marble monolith, sits outside the Greenwood Cultural Center. The memorial is dedicated to the entrepreneurs and pioneers who made Greenwood Avenue what it was both before and after it was destroyed in the 1921 riot.
Although I grew up on military bases across the world, I would visit Greenwood many times over the years. As I grew into my teenage years in the 1970s, I recognized that the former vibrant community was beginning to decline. Some of this was due to the destructive effects of urban renewal and displacement. As with many other Black communities across the country, parts of Greenwood were razed to make way for highways.
Some of the decline was due to the exit of financial institutions, including banks. This contributed to a decrease in opportunities to build wealth, including savings and investment products, loans for homes and businesses, and funding to help build health clinics and affordable housing.
And at least some was due to the diminished loyalty of residents to Black-owned businesses and institutions. During the civil rights movement, downtown Tulsa businesses began to allow Black people into their doors as customers. As a result, Black residents spent less money in their community.
Historical lessons
At the end of my father’s military career in the 1970s, he became a community development banker in Virginia. His work involved bringing together institutions – investors, financial institutions, philanthropists, local governments – to develop innovative development solutions for areas like Greenwood. For me, there are lessons in the experiences of three generations – my grandfather’s, father’s and mine – that influence my scholarly work today.
On the one hand, I study how years after the end of legal segregation Americans remain racially separate in our neighborhoods, schools and workplaces and at alarmingly high levels. My research has shown how segregation depresses economic and social outcomes. In short, segregation creates closed markets that stunt economic activity, especially in the Black community.
On the other hand, I focus on solutions. One avenue of work involves examining the business models of Community Development Financial Institutions, or CDFIs, and Minority Depository Institutions, or MDIs. These are financial institutions that are committed to economic development – banks, credit unions, loan funds, equity funds – that operate in low- and moderate-income neighborhoods. They offer what was sorely needed in North Tulsa, and many other neighborhoods across the nation – locally attuned financial institutions that understand the unique challenges families and businesses face in minority communities.
Righting historical wrongs
There are interventions we can take, locally and nationally, that recognize centuries of financial and social constraint. Initiatives like the 2020 decision by the Small Business Administration and U.S. Treasury to allocate US$10 billion to lenders that focus funds on disadvantaged areas are a start. These types of programs are needed even when there aren’t full-scale economic and social crises are taking place, like the COVID-19 epidemic or protesters in the street. Years of institutional barriers and racial wealth gaps cannot be redressed unless there’s a recognition that capital matters.
The 1921 Tulsa race riot began on May 31, only weeks before the annual celebration of Juneteenth, which is observed on June 19. As communities across the country begin recognizing Juneteenth and leading corporations move to celebrate it, it’s important to remember the story behind Juneteenth – slaves weren’t informed that they were emancipated.
After the celebrations, there’s hard work ahead. From my grandfather’s memory of the riot’s devastation to my own work addressing low-income communities’ economic challenges, I have come to see that change requires harnessing economic, governmental and nonprofit solutions that recognize and speak openly about the significant residential, educational and workplace racial segregation that still exists in the United States today.
Culled from The Conversation’s (This is an updated version of an article originally published on May 21, 2020.)
Author: (Associate Professor of Business Administration, University of Virginia)
In a bid to address rising public concerns and social media speculations about taxation in Enugu State, the Executive Chairman of the Enugu State Internal Revenue Service (ESIRS), Emmanuel Nnamani, has provided clarifications on the government’s tax policies. During a press briefing in Enugu, Nnamani dismissed what he described as “false and misleading claims” and reassured residents that the government’s fiscal operations are firmly rooted in law, transparency, and public good.
Clarifying Misinformation and Affirming Legality
Nnamani opened the session by stressing that no taxes or levies in Enugu State are imposed outside the provisions of the law. “Taxes and revenues in Enugu State remain within the limits of the law. We do not impose any levies outside what the law permits,” he stated, pointing to the Personal Income Tax Act (as amended) as the guiding legal framework.
He explained that the ESIRS collects personal income tax through two lawful means: Pay-As-You-Earn (PAYE) for those in formal employment, and Direct Assessment for informal sector workers. While compliance among salaried workers has been largely smooth, the agency sometimes employs legal enforcement mechanisms to ensure compliance among self-employed individuals.
Formalising the Informal Sector
A key challenge, he noted, has been bringing the informal sector—especially market traders and transport operators—into the formal tax net. Upon assuming office, his administration discovered that an overwhelming 99% of informal sector actors were not remitting taxes to the state, largely due to the disruptive influence of non-state actors engaged in illegal collections.
In response, the government introduced a consolidated ₦36,000 annual levy for market traders. This amount, payable between January and March, covers all relevant state-level charges, including those by the Enugu State Waste Management Agency (ESWAMA), Enugu State Structures for Signage and Advertisement Agency (ENSSAA), storage fees, and business premises levies. “Once this amount is paid between January and March, the trader owes nothing else for that year,” Nnamani clarified. Traders who fail to pay by March 31 are subject to enforcement.
For street vendors operating outside structured markets, an annual levy of ₦30,000 applies, with ESWAMA charges handled separately. Transport operators such as Okada riders, Keke drivers, minibuses, tankers, and trucks pay via a daily ticketing system.
A Human-Faced Approach to Enforcement
Although the law allows for a 10% penalty on unpaid tax and an interest charge tied to the Central Bank’s Monetary Policy Rate of 27.5%, Nnamani disclosed that the state has adopted a softer, pro-business approach. Instead of the full punitive charges, a flat ₦3,000 penalty is applied in most informal sector cases to promote ease of doing business and encourage voluntary compliance.
Taxation and the Cost of Rent
Addressing growing concerns over rising rent, Nnamani rejected claims linking the trend to state tax policies. He described the issue as a national challenge influenced by supply and demand, rather than fiscal policy.
Citing personal experiences dating back to 2015, he observed that a shift in private development preference – from rental apartments to gated residential estates – has contributed to the housing squeeze. “If we had more high-rise buildings, rent would drop,” he noted. The state government, he added, is taking proactive steps through the Ministry of Housing and Housing Development Corporation to build mass housing and student hostels near institutions like ESUT and IMT, freeing up central city housing and helping moderate rents.
Technology, Transparency, and Trust
In line with its commitment to transparency and digital innovation, the ESIRS has launched a tax calculator on its official portal – www.irs.en.gov.ng – allowing residents to compute their taxes with ease and clarity. “This is about transparency and giving our people confidence,” he said, inviting residents to compare Enugu’s tools with those in more advanced states like Lagos.
Understanding the Cost of Development
Responding to concerns that Enugu has become one of Nigeria’s most expensive states, Nnamani acknowledged the perception but clarified that the temporary inflation is largely demand-driven. With Enugu undertaking widespread infrastructural renewal – including smart schools, primary health centres, and hospitality infrastructure – the surge in construction activity has led to increased demand for building materials like granite and rods, which are sourced from other states.
“Once these projects are completed, demand will drop, and prices will stabilise,” he assured. He emphasised that the projects are visible testaments to what taxpayers’ money can achieve when properly managed.
A Call for Mutual Understanding and Civic Partnership
More than a tax clarification, Nnamani’s address served as a reminder of the symbiotic relationship between citizens and government. He appealed for public understanding, noting that when citizens fulfil their tax obligations, the government can, in turn, provide essential services and infrastructure that uplift everyone.
His message was clear: responsible taxation, managed transparently and invested wisely, is the bedrock of sustainable development. From roads to schools and healthcare to housing, Enugu State is demonstrating how taxpayers’ money, when efficiently deployed, can improve lives and build the future.
When it comes to international culinary gems and cultures across the United States, the city of Houston is counted among one of the best places to experience an authentic taste of every corner of the world.
On the evening of Friday, August 8th, Houstonians will have a chance to engage all of their senses into the world of real West African flavors at Grubido’s ‘Art of Fufu’ Food & Art Show, a free culinary and art experience taking place at Flatland Gallery (1709 Westheimer Rd.) in Montrose.
Curated by Grubido founder and Culinary Cultural Curator Kavachi Ukegbu, the annual celebration of west African cuisine and artistry will once again open its doors to patrons to witness the delights of creating and eating Fufu (a starchy, dough-like food that is a staple in many West and Central African countries), and its delicious and diverse pairings of soups and stews that originate from various parts of the continent, and uniquely compliment the beloved food staple as a complete meal. The event will also celebrate the observance of National Fufu Day in the United States on August 11th.
From the process of how different types of fufu are grown and manufactured, to the careful guidance on properly preparing the fufu to be eaten, the ‘Art of Fufu’ Food & Art showcase will give patrons a full circle perspective and appreciation for the food staple that has gained global popularity on social media and in many countries around the world.
Attendees will be treated to fufu and soup samples, live Afrobeats music, an impressive display of fufu inspired artwork and collectables from over the years, and the opportunity to purchase Grubido food products, t-shirts, and the official The Art of Fufu cookbook. Originally published and released by Chef Kavach in 2021, “The Art of Fufu is a fascinating and informative guide to fufu, one of the most delicious and beloved staple foods of West Africans.” All cookbook purchases at the event will be signed by Chef Kavachi.
Entry for this event is free to all guests, but RSVP is strictly required in advance. To RSVP for the upcoming Art of Fufu Food & Art show, please visit the official website online at www.TheArtofFufu.com, or contact Grubido at (832) 818-6847.
The Art of Fufu Cookbook is a culinary treasure that explores the flavors, techniques, and cultural significance of fufu. It is a testament to the artistry of West African cuisine and serves as a guide for those seeking to immerse themselves in this beloved dish.
For more information, please visit www.theartoffufu.com & www.artoffufu.com
Leadership across nations is shaped not only by policies but by the quality of the individuals at the helm. History has shown that the most transformative leaders often draw from deep wells of ethical, philosophical, and strategic thought. Yet, in many African countries—and Nigeria in particular—there appears to be a crisis in the kind of men elevated to govern. This deficit is not merely political; it is intellectual, philosophical, and deeply structural.
There is a compelling correlation between the absence of foundational wisdom and the type of leaders Nigeria consistently produces. Compared to their counterparts in other parts of the world, Nigerian leaders often appear fundamentally unprepared to govern societies in ways that foster justice, progress, or stability.
Consider the Middle East—nations like the UAE and Qatar—where governance is often rooted in Islamic principles. While these societies are not without flaws, their leaders have harnessed religious teachings as frameworks for nation-building, modern infrastructure, and citizen welfare. Ironically, many of Nigeria’s military and political leaders also profess Islam, yet the application of its ethical standards in public governance is nearly non-existent. This raises a troubling question: is the practice of religion in African politics largely symbolic, devoid of actionable moral guidance?
Take China as another case study. In the last four decades, China’s leadership has lifted over 800 million people out of poverty—an unprecedented feat in human history. While authoritarian in structure, China’s model demonstrates a deep philosophical commitment to collective progress, discipline, and strategic long-term planning. In Western democracies, especially post-World War II, leaders often emerged with strong academic backgrounds in philosophy, economics, or history—disciplines that sharpen the mind and cultivate vision.
In stark contrast, African leaders—particularly in Nigeria—are more often preoccupied with short-term political survival than long-term national transformation. Their legacy is frequently one of mismanagement, unsustainable debt, and structural decay. Nigeria, for example, has accumulated foreign loans that could take generations to repay, yet there is little visible infrastructure or social development to justify such liabilities. Inflation erodes wages, and basic public services remain in collapse. This cycle repeats because those in power often lack not just technical competence, but the moral and intellectual depth to lead a modern nation.
At the heart of the crisis is a lack of philosophical inquiry. Philosophy teaches reasoning, ethics, and the nature of justice—skills that are essential for public leadership. Nigerian leaders, by and large, are disconnected from such traditions. Many have never seriously engaged with political theory, ethical discourse, or economic philosophy. Without this grounding, leadership becomes a matter of brute power, not enlightened governance.
The crisis of leadership in Africa is not solely one of corruption or bad policy—it is one of intellectual emptiness. Until African nations, especially Nigeria, begin to value and cultivate leaders who are intellectually rigorous and philosophically grounded, the continent will remain caught in cycles of poverty and poor governance. True leadership requires more than charisma or military rank—it demands the wisdom to govern a society with justice, vision, and moral clarity. Without this, the future remains perilously fragile.
♦ Dominic Ikeogu is a social and political commentator based in Minneapolis, USA.