The United States Supreme Court saw a line on a map.
But for Black Louisianans, that line connects history.
In its recent series examining Louisiana’s (soon to be former) 6th Congressional District, The Lens traveled through communities that were joined together by the district. What its reporters found on the ground illustrates something that can easily be lost in courtrooms and legal arguments: these communities were connected by far more than race.
They were connected by history. By generations of segregation and disinvestment. By highways and infrastructure projects that divided Black neighborhoods. By environmental burdens disproportionately placed near Black communities. By inadequate infrastructure and government neglect. And by a long struggle to make government officials listen to communities whose voices have too often been ignored.
That distinction matters.
Moving the goalposts on whether race can be considered
I served in the Louisiana Legislature through each stage of this redistricting fight. After the 2020 Census, Louisiana — a state where nearly one in three residents is Black — enacted a congressional map with only one majority Black district out of six.
Black voters successfully challenged that map under the Voting Rights Act. In 2024, the Legislature created a second majority Black congressional district. Almost immediately, that map was challenged too, but this time because the state had considered race too much.
Before District 6 was redrawn as a majority-Black district, Louisiana had been told that failing to provide Black voters a fair opportunity to elect candidates of their choice likely violated federal law. Then, when the Legislature redrew the district as majority Black, creating the opportunity for Black voters to elect a candidate of their choice, the goalposts moved again. We were told that considering race could itself violate the Constitution.
During the most recent redistricting debate, I described it as going from building a structure on a broken foundation, to now building a structure on quicksand. That is still what it feels like.
But there is an even deeper question. When does Black history become history in the eyes of the law, rather than simply race?
Black communities did not suddenly become connected by District 6
Courts and lawmakers have long understood that communities can be connected by more than municipal boundaries. Geography. Economics. Culture. Shared history.
We understand, for example, that Louisiana’s Cajun communities possess a distinct history and culture worthy of consideration when political boundaries are drawn. We recognize that generations of shared experience can bind communities together even when they do not fit neatly within the same parish or city limits.
We should.
But Black communities have histories, too.
The Black communities stretching across Louisiana did not suddenly become connected when legislators drew a congressional district around them. These connections existed long before a map was drawn.
You can see them in neighborhoods divided by interstate highways, communities living alongside industrial facilities and environmental hazards, towns struggling for basic infrastructure and economic investment and generations of Black Louisianans who fought simply to have an equal voice in the government making decisions about their lives.
Race is part of that history. It is intellectually dishonest to pretend otherwise. Yet Black Americans are increasingly told that we focus too much on race, that we see race where it should no longer matter, or that seeking representation based on our shared experiences somehow keeps us divided.
But representation is not the end goal. Better conditions are. Black communities do not seek political representation simply for the sake of seeing Black faces in positions of power.
We seek representation because who sits at the table affects what happens in our neighborhoods. It affects whether roads get repaired, whether communities receive investment, whether environmental concerns are taken seriously, whether schools have the resources they need, and whether the concerns of people who have historically been overlooked are finally heard.
“These communities were connected
by far more than race.
They were connected by history. …
And by a long struggle to
make government officials listen
to communities whose voices
have too often been ignored.”
Understanding the realities of race is a necessary part of our work
Our political boundaries, neighborhoods, schools, highways, economic opportunities and voting laws did not develop in a vacuum. Race shaped them. Segregation shaped them. Government policy shaped them. Acknowledging that reality is not an obsession with race. It is necessary to understand the conditions we are still working to improve.
That is why this fight has never really been about one congressional district or one congressman. It is about political power and what communities can do with it. The right to vote must mean more than the ability to cast a ballot. Representation means having someone who shows up, listens, understands your community and fights for it when you are not in the room.
That is why the Voting Rights Act exists. If a state can be told that its map unlawfully dilutes Black voting strength, but then be prohibited from meaningfully considering race when it attempts to fix that dilution, we risk creating a legal standard with no workable remedy.
Sometimes legal doctrine can obscure what is plainly visible on the ground. Across the communities that made up District 6, there are common battles over infrastructure, investment, environmental concerns and the basic responsibility of government to pay attention.
When those communities were joined together, their individual struggles had the potential to become a collective political voice. When they are separated, each community is once again left to fight largely on its own.
Representation is not simply about who gets elected. Representation determines who gets heard. The current Congressional District 6 map may be going away. But the history that connected these communities is not. Neither are the challenges they face, nor their determination to overcome them.
The struggle for fair representation has never moved in a straight line. There have been victories, setbacks and moments when progress seemed to be slipping away. This is one of those moments.
But it cannot be the end of the story. The work ahead is to continue building political power, demanding representation and making sure that the voices of Black communities across Louisiana are heard, regardless of where the next lines are drawn.
Maps will change. Court decisions will come and go. But these communities will remain.
And so will the fight to ensure they have the power to shape their own future.
Sen. Royce Duplessis is an attorney from New Orleans who represents District 5 in the Louisiana State Senate.
