CAMDEN, NJ – In today’s America, as a divided nation navigates the aftermath of Donald Trump’s presidency, Black support for Trump’s MAGA movement has drawn both curiosity and condemnation. Approximately 22 percent of Black men supported Trump in recent elections, a statistic that shocks and confounds many. The reasons are complex, but this phenomenon carries disturbing echoes of a past dilemma once personified by Isaiah Thornton Montgomery, a Black Mississippi leader who, over a century ago, publicly endorsed Black disenfranchisement. While 99.99 percent of Black Americans may have no awareness of Montgomery’s place in history, the eerie parallel to present-day Black MAGA supporters raises troubling questions about compromise, survival, and political self-identity amidst a resurgent wave of White backlash.

The roots of Black conservatism today are as varied as they were in Montgomery’s time. The question, though, is not simply why some Black men align with the MAGA agenda, but whether today’s political landscape is producing contemporary Isaiahs: figures within the Black community who, consciously or unconsciously, may view alignment with right-wing movements as a pragmatic strategy for survival and advancement in an era of unprecedented polarization. With inadequate education around Black history in America’s schools, many Black citizens lack the knowledge to contextualize our current political landscape within the longer arc of racial struggle. Few are aware that today’s MAGA movement fits into a history of White backlash against perceived gains by Black Americans and other marginalized groups.

The similarity with Isaiah T. Montgomery is stark, yet his motivations were distinctly rooted in the brutal world of post-Reconstruction America. Montgomery, founder of the Black community of Mound Bayou and son of an enslaved man-turned-businessman, held an unshakeable belief in Black self-sufficiency. But at the 1890 Mississippi Constitutional Convention, Montgomery shocked the Black community by endorsing provisions like literacy tests and poll taxes, which would bar Black voters from the polls. His reasoning was couched in pragmatism: he argued that appeasing White lawmakers and ceding political ground might allow Black Americans the breathing room to pursue social and economic self-sufficiency without inciting more violent backlash from the White South.

This strategy of appeasement, however, came at a profound cost. By endorsing Black disenfranchisement, Montgomery struck a bargain that some historians argue ultimately weakened the broader fight for Black rights. In his eyes, he may have been choosing a “lesser evil,” hoping to secure a modicum of safety and stability for Black communities. But his compromise helped cement a cycle of disenfranchisement that would haunt Black communities for decades.

Today, MAGA-supporting Black men may claim a similar kind of pragmatism, citing dissatisfaction with Democrats’ failures to deliver economic and social progress and pointing to Trump’s “America First” policies as offering greater personal and economic security. This approach may seem attractive for Black men seeking relief from the relentless churn of systemic racial inequity. Yet we must question whether endorsing a movement openly allied with far-right, White supremacist sentiments—and which has fueled harmful policies on everything from immigration to voting rights—is a sustainable or honorable path forward.

Unlike Montgomery, who likely felt he had no choice but to make a Faustian bargain in a violent, oppressive environment, Black MAGA supporters today choose to align with a movement that has often diminished the Black struggle for justice and equality. That choice, whether motivated by frustration with establishment politics, belief in economic “bootstraps” rhetoric, or disillusionment with the left, serves to reinforce a coalition that has actively suppressed minority voting rights and eroded protections against racial discrimination.

Montgomery’s legacy, for all its flaws, at least left behind a vision of Black self-sufficiency through the community of Mound Bayou. His compromise, though painful, was aimed at preserving a sanctuary for Black Americans to thrive away from hostile White dominance. Black MAGA supporters, on the other hand, stake their political future on a movement that has often used their voices to validate policies that threaten the very social progress on which Black Americans rely.

The alignment of any segment of Black America with the MAGA agenda suggests a critical need for education around this country’s cyclical racial history. The disconnection from history—the “woeful inadequacy” of Black history as it is taught in American schools—prevents a clear understanding of today’s political dynamics as part of a long, repeated arc of White backlash. Without awareness of figures like Montgomery or the political choices forced on Black Americans throughout history, many fail to see how Black support of MAGA could lead to similar long-term disenfranchisement.

To be clear, the issue is not the political party of one’s allegiance, but the agenda one chooses to endorse. Black support for MAGA is not simply a divergence in political opinion; it is a move that could ultimately lend support to a movement in direct opposition to Black political and social progress. In this moment, we need more awareness, more connection to history, and, most crucially, a unified sense of purpose. Rather than aligning with those who would turn back the clock on civil rights and equality, today’s Black Americans should look toward alliances that strengthen—not weaken—the collective foundation of our community.

Isaiah Montgomery’s choices were not ideal, but they are instructive. Let us hope that modern Black MAGA supporters will learn from his compromises and understand that the consequences of such alignment often echo far beyond individual gain, shaping the freedoms—or restrictions—of future generations.