Brown Opened Doors, and Today’s Court Is Closing Them

On this day in 1954, the Supreme Court unanimously decided Brown v. Board of Education, declaring racial segregation in public schools unconstitutional. It remains one of the Court’s most consequential decisions — not because it ended racism, inequality, or resistance to integration, but because it affirmed a principle the country had too often denied: separate is not equal.

The ruling was important enough to inspire a song. “Black and White,” written in 1954 by David I. Arkin and Earl Robinson, later became a major hit for Three Dog Night in 1972. But the group’s version omitted lyrics that directly celebrated the Court’s role:

“Their robes were black, their heads were white,

The schoolhouse doors were closed so tight,

Nine judges all set down their names,

To end the years and years of shame.”

Those lines captured a moment when the Supreme Court exercised its authority to expand freedom and strengthen the promise of equal citizenship. The Court did not solve America’s deepest problems. It did not end segregation on its own. Indeed, the backlash to Brown was fierce, sustained, and often successful. But the decision gave constitutional force to the idea that public institutions could not lawfully degrade children on account of race.

That is what makes today’s contrast so painful.

Instead of building on that legacy, the current Supreme Court’s conservative majority has too often moved in the opposite direction. In Shelby County v. Holder, the Court invalidated a key provision of the Voting Rights Act, opening the door to new voting restrictions in several states. In Dobbs v. Jackson Women’s Health Organization, the Court overturned Roe v. Wade, ending the federal constitutional right to abortion and leaving access subject to state law. Citizens United v. FEC helped unleash more outside money into American politics. Taken together, these decisions reflect not only legal reasoning but also a broader retreat from the spirit of inclusion and equality that Brown embodied.

The Court has also made it harder to challenge partisan gerrymandering in federal court, limited LGBTQ protections in public accommodations, made it harder to defend gun-safety laws, constrained environmental regulation, and expanded presidential immunity, all of which threaten basic democratic accountability. For example, after Shelby County, Texas and other states quickly implemented strict voter ID laws and reduced polling places, these measures disproportionately affected communities of color.

These are not isolated decisions. Proponents argue that the Court is restoring constitutional limits, protecting individual liberties, and correcting earlier judicial overreach. Critics see something very different: a broader legal and political project that shifts power away from voters, workers, consumers, people seeking health care, marginalized communities, and regulatory agencies — and toward corporations, wealthy interests, religious-liberty claimants, gun-rights advocates, and executive authority.

Reasonable people can disagree about constitutional interpretation. But we should not pretend the Court is merely calling balls and strikes. The judiciary is shaping the nation’s future as surely as Congress and the president. When the Court narrows voting rights, democracy suffers. When regulatory power weakens, public health and the environment suffer. When it removes protections people have relied on for generations, trust in the law suffers.

Brown reminds us that courts can open doors, but it also reminds us that progress is not inevitable. It must be demanded, defended, and renewed.

The lesson of Brown is not nostalgia. It is a responsibility. I still remember learning about Brown in school not as a dusty legal milestone but as proof that American institutions, however flawed, could be pushed toward justice. Progress happens when people organize, vote, litigate, teach, write, march, and refuse to accept injustice as settled law.

Seventy-two years ago, nine justices helped open the schoolhouse doors. Today, democracy requires us to keep them open — not through nostalgia, but through vigilance, voting, and organizing, and by refusing to treat the erosion of rights as normal. The promise of Brown endures only if we defend it together.

What's in a Name?

A Story of Discrimination

The Senate hearings for Associate Justice-designate Sonia Sotomayor have been full of talk about discrimination -- her "wise Latina" comment and the case involving white New Haven firefighters, for example. It reminded me about a piece I wrote on gender discrimination several years back but never published. I'm sharing it with you now:

I can remember when, a few years ago, an acquaintance heard that my wife and I were expecting a baby girl. It was information I was delighted to have circulated but I learned quickly that he didn’t see the news in the same light. “You must be disappointed,” he said. I felt a viceral jolt with those four words. I couldn’t believe what just came out of his mouth and into my ears. So, I asked him to repeat it. He attempted to clarify by saying, “You know, with this one you’ll have four daughters. Are you OK with it?”

Yes, my wife and I have four kids -- one shy of an all female basketball team. (No, we don't plan to fill the Center position.) Each of my children have their own unique gifts but share savvy, humor and compassion. I get comments all the time about their beauty and good manners. Unfortunately, people also feel quite uninhibited in sharing and spreading their prejudice.

Whether on a city street or a suburban sidewalk, in an airplane, at a mall, in a museum or while eating at a restaurant, people have felt free to approach me and my children (yes, with the kids surrounding me) and ask, “Are you still trying for the boy?” or “Did you get someone upstairs angry at you? Ha, ha!” Someone at an elementary school event asked, “Do you feel less of a man, not having a son to pass things down to?” Even some not-to-be-named relatives wondered out loud "How can you handle all of those girls?”

Years ago, as a younger father not wanting to offend anyone, I laughed off the insults by chuckling an inoffensive reply about how lucky I was to have such a wonderful family. Over the years, though, my standard retort got less tolerant and more admonishing. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.” “What century are you living in?" "We’ve taught our daughters that they can learn, do and accomplish anything.” “I can tell you honestly that I never hoped for a boy… just a healthy human!”

I can't answer why strangers feel compelled to offer up their misguided attempts at conversation and social commentary, but there’s a larger issue here. People don’t think about how their words can hurt children – and not just the girls. There’s a clear message being sent to the boys, too. These are exactly the kind of ignorant, damaging messages that support an environment of ongoing discrimination and bias. On a different scale, societal or religious indifference to – or acceptance of – unequal gender valuation has translated into female infanticide and genital mutilation.

When I read that an Egyptian father stabbed his seven children, murdering four, because he had no sons, my heart sank and my blood boiled. Where do we start? How do we get people to gain some insight and change behavior? In the schools? When one of my daughters was asked to draw a scientist, she was the only one in the class who thought to draw a female. In the entertainment media? Not with reality shows and shock jocks objectifying women. At the doctor’s office? When another daughter -- about eight years old at the time -- was being examined by a pediatrician, he said to her that “your daddy told me he wanted four boys instead.” She responded confidently, "No he didn't." We never went back.

For any chance at breaking the cycle, the best first course, I believe, is to start at home. Home needs to be a safe harbor. It must be a place where our children can expect best behaviors from us. We need to be more active commentators about discrimination, and strategize with our kids on how to advocate for themselves and others.

Home for one person, though, was where he received a badge of discrimination to wear for the rest of his life. I met a man while on a business trip who would most certainly have another name if prevailing attitudes were different. He introduced himself as Bingo. I thought he was making a joke until he said it was truly his legal name. He told me that his father desperately wanted a son and after five daughters… Bingo! His wish had come true.

Perhaps one day I’ll meet a woman named Bingo.

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