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In a devastating blow to what John Lewis called “the most powerful non-violent tool we have in a democracy,” a right-wing, illegitimate SCOTUS finally gutted the Voting Rights Act they’ve long been chipping away at, ensuring communities of color will increasingly be denied “a voice in their own destiny.” By striking down a new Louisiana voting map as a bogus “racial gerrymander,” the court’s extremist hacks betrayed generations who fought and bled, said Fannie Lou Hamer, “to live as decent human beings.”

The court’s 6-3 decision in Louisiana v. Callais kneecapped “our nation’s most important federal civil rights law," effectively voiding the last remaining provision of the landmark 1965 Voting Rights Act’s Section 2 that allowed voters of color to legally challenge racially discriminatory electoral maps. Specifically, they rejected Louisiana's redrawn 2024 Congressional map that created a second majority-Black district - in a one-third Black state - aimed at righting the GOP’s racist wrongs of the past, defying precedent, context and common sense to argue the move, already upheld by two courts, was ”an unconstitutional racial gerrymander.“

In another outlandish opinion, Samuel Alito, the hackiest of a cabal of hacks, didn’t directly strike down Section 2, which prohibits voting practices that discriminate on the basis of race; writing for the majority, he argued he was simply “properly” re-interpreting it to require proof of intentional discrimination - which Congress didn’t write into the law, which defies past rulings that redistricting must only result in discrimination, intended or no, and which is almost impossible to prove. Thus, wielding “sleight of hand and legal gibberish,” did Alito give license for corrupt politicians to further rig the system by silencing entire communities of color.

The potential death knoll for a vital law that's curtailed racial gerrymandering and discrimination for 60 years comes, of course, after years of whittling away by Roberts Court zealots, using tactics from voter ID laws to limiting registration. One advocate: "This ruling isn’t about the law, it’s about power, and giving Republicans more seats they (could) win at the ballot box." One "pernicious" result, writes Rick Hasen: To "bleach the halls" of Congress, state legislatures and city councils, the life's work of judges who see their constituency as aggrieved white men hostile to the rights of minorities - a stance that puts them "at odds with democracy itself."

In a fiery dissent, Justice Elena Kagan charged the majority “straight-facedly holds the Voting Rights Act must be brought low to make the world safe for partisan gerrymanders." The law they “eviscerate", she wrote, "is - or, now more accurately, was - one of the most consequential, efficacious, and amply justified exercises of federal legislative power in our Nation’s history. It was born of the literal blood of Union soldiers and civil rights marchers, and repeatedly, and overwhelmingly, reauthorized by the people’s representatives in Congress. Only they have the right to say it is no longer needed - not the Members of this Court.”

Above all, critics decry the hubris and perfidy of those heedless Court members blithely stripping from millions of Americans the elemental rights so many of their descendants struggled, suffered and died for. The Rev. William Barber eviscerated a court, ignorant of the painful history of "the rights that cost our people so much," that has "decided their job is to enable extremism and systemic racism by arguing that race has no place in the American Democratic process. Race has always had a place in the process. And claiming that partisan decisions are not racist is a form of racism." "Some of us," John Lewis humbly noted of his lifetime of good trouble, "gave a little blood for (that) right."

John Lewis called the fight for voting rights "the struggle of a lifetime, or maybe even many lifetimes."Photo from Getty Archives

So did Fannie Lou Hamer, who fought against a Jim Crow South she'd grown up in because, "I was sick and tired of being sick and tired." The granddaughter of slaves and youngest of 20 children of sharecroppers, she was 45 in 1962 when she went to a SNCC meeting at a church in Sunflower County, Mississippi and learned Black people could register to vote. The next day, she took a bus with 17 others to the county seat in Indianola. Police only let her and another person take the literacy test; she failed, but kept going back until she passed: "If I'd had any sense, I’d a been scared. But the only thing (whites) could do was kill me, and it seemed they’d been trying to do that a little bit at a time since I could remember."

On the way back, police stopped them and brought them back to Indianola, where the bus driver was fined for "driving a bus the wrong color." Back at the plantation, her children said the owner was angry she'd gone to vote; he told her to leave that night "because we are not ready for that in Mississippi." "I didn’t try to register for you," she said.. "I tried to register for myself." Then she left: "They set me free. It’s the best thing that could happen. Now I could work for my people." For the rest of her life, she did. She joined the voter registration campaign, helped organize Freedom Summer, became SNCC's oldest field secretary, ran for Congress.

Left with a limp after surviving childhood polio, she embraced her identity as a Black working-poor woman with a disability and little formal education, upending preconceptions of both Black colleagues and white foes. When Rep. Adam Clayton Powell Jr. once challenged her expertise, she retorted, "How many bales of cotton have you picked?” In 1963, she became more disabled after she was arrested with other activists in Winona MS, taken to jail and brutally beaten by cops and, on their order, other black prisoners, suffering permanent damage to her eyes, legs and kidneys. She was still in jail when Medger Evers was murdered.

In August 1964, she recounted that ordeal at the Democratic National Convention in Atlantic City, days after the funerals of murdered Freedom Riders Chaney, Schwerner and Goodman. Testifying to the Credentials Committee, she challenged the seating of Mississippi's all-white delegation - from still-all-white primaries - demanding the party seat Black members of an integrated Mississippi Freedom Democratic Party she'd helped found. In the end, MFDP delegates were not seated - party leaders offered a compromise of 2 seats, which she declined - but she had confronted them on a national stage about their own discrimination, famously asking, "Is this America?"

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During Hamer's testimony, then-president Lyndon Johnson had hastily called a news conference to divert attention for white Dem voters alarmed by her insistence on true equality. Cameras duly cut away from Hamer, but networks later showed her speech. "Hamer had pulled back the curtain," read one account. "The United States could not claim to be a democracy while withholding voting rights from millions of its citizens." Ultimately, Hamer's inclusive political vision, along with a groundswell of civil rights activism, led to Johnson's finally signing the 1964 Civil Rights Act and the 1965 Voting Rights Act, ensuring government could not “deny or abridge the right of any citizen to vote on account of race or color.”

Hamer remained active through the 1960s and 1970s. She spoke with Malcolm X in Harlem, at the '68 and '72 DNC, at 1969's Vietnam War Moratorium rally in Berkeley. In 1971, she helped found the National Women's Political Caucus, aimed at recruiting, training and supporting women to run for office. The titles of her speeches reflected her resolve, her anger, her fierce hope: "We're On Our Way," "Nobody’s Free Until Everybody’s Free,” "The Only Thing We Can Do Is Work Together," ""What Have We To Hail," "America Is A Sick Place," "To Make Democracy A Reality," and, in 1976, "We Haven't Arrived Yet."

Clearly, sorrowfully, we damn sure still haven't. Unlike so many others, Hamer lived to do her work and tell her story, for a while. She died in Mississippi on March 14, 1977, aged just 59, of breast cancer exacerbated by high blood pressure, diabetes, and complications from her jail beatings. She died, too, "from being poor, Black, and an activist in Mississippi at a time when all of that was lethal." Andrew Young gave her eulogy, telling mourners "the seeds of social change in America were sown here by the sweat and blood of you and Fannie Lou Hamer." Then they sang her favorite song: “This little light of mine." Her gravestone reads, "I am sick and tired of being sick and tired." May we honor her labors, and may she rest in well-earned peace and power.

“The wrongs and the sickness of this country have been swept under the rug. But I’ve come out from under the rug, and I’m going to tell it like it is.” - Fannie Lou Hamer