Say Something Real
By Michelle Bryant
Michelle Bryant
History is not merely the tapestry of our past; it is the foundation upon which our identities and communities are built. So, when news broke that President Donald Trump authorized the demolition of the East Wing of the White House—including two of the grounds’ storied magnolia trees- one could not help but ask: Did this really just happen?
The East Wing of the White House was built in 1902. It may not be as old as the mansion’s original structure, spanning construction between 1792 and 1800, but its significance far surpasses its years. Initially added to provide additional office space and house the wartime bomb shelter, the East Wing grew to become the primary seat of power for the First Ladies of the United States.
This space has been a cradle for advocacy, influence, and the quiet, steady leadership of presidential spouses. Here, women who were often underestimated or overlooked wielded genuine power, shaping national conversations around education, civil rights, and public health. The East Wing became a symbol, a place where women’s voices, once relegated to the background, became central to America’s story.
For African Americans, the East Wing is deeply intertwined with stories of triumph and progress. Consider Eleanor Roosevelt, who famously arranged for the Tuskegee Airmen, the first Black military aviators in the U.S. Army Air Corps, to fly for her. Her advocacy in the East Wing was a direct challenge to segregation, opening doors for countless Black service members.
Dr. Mary McLeod Bethune, a prominent educator and civil rights activist, whose partnership with FLOTUS Roosevelt helped shape the “Black Cabinet,” ensuring that Black voices were heard at the highest levels of government. And during World War II, it was these two women who were instrumental in the 6888th Central Postal Directory Battalion, an all-Black, all-female battalion, to be given assignments previously reserved for white men and women. From the East Wing, plans were hatched to address racial and gender barriers and set new standards for excellence and service.
For Black America, these moments represent more than policy, but are proof that progress can be made, even in the heart of power. To see the physical seat of these victories demolished feels like an erasure of these hard-won gains. To destroy the East Wing is not simply to remove a building. Symbolically and physically, the decision minimizes the roles, disregards the contributions, and sends a clear message: that women’s and Black History is disposable.
Adding insult to injury, the demolition took with it the majestic magnolia trees planted by Andrew Jackson in memory of his wife. Despite the fact that Jackson was racist to the core, the trees are a part of the White House’s history. These trees have been a part of the backdrop for varying presidents, protests, and progress. Their destruction severs another link to our past, a living testament to resilience and remembrance.
Current U.S. law grants the president sweeping authority over the White House, including the power to make irreversible decisions about its structure and grounds. That one individual, regardless of party, can single-handedly erase so much history is a sobering reminder of how fragile our collective memory and democracy really can be. Trump has shown the weakness and loopholes in our government since he first rode down that escalator. We need legislative action to ensure that we never witness this type of individualized power and assault on our nation’s landmarks.