Tommy J. Curry: America’s Embracing of Fascism Began with Its Killing of Black Men
When the Death of Black Men Became Ordinary, Fascism Became Possible
America’s Embracing of Fascism Began with Its Indifference to the Killing of Black Men and Boys
By Prof. Tommy J. Curry
Throughout the Black radical tradition, fascism has been understood as more than an authoritarian regime — it is a political expression of capitalist crisis. In Blood in My Eye (1971), George Jackson describes fascism as “the reign of monopoly capital or corporatism that finds perfection in arranging death and prison for all who object.” Similarly, Walter Rodney, in How Europe Underdeveloped Africa (1973), reminds us that “fascism was a monster born of capitalist parents,” an end-product of centuries of capitalist exploitation and racial domination, much of it exercised outside Europe.
Yet few scholars have examined how these insights illuminate the emergent fascist logics of the United States in the twenty-first century. Under the Trump administration — and continuing through broader state practices of surveillance and policing — we have witnessed the reassertion of white racial dominance through racialized violence. The incarceration, dehumanization, and killing of “undesirable” populations not only reduce their numbers, but also generate public support for coercive state measures aimed at preserving the white racial order.
Fascism as Racialized Violence
In my research, I argue that fascism depends upon the murder of racialized male populations as a means of securing the state and its white majority. Said differently, fascism in the U.S. should be understood as a political and social order that legitimizes the use of state or paramilitary violence against perceived internal enemies — especially Black men — to preserve racial, national, and economic hierarchies.
Today, we are confronted with an increasingly adversarial, militarized strategy to manage Black and Latino populations in major U.S. cities. During his presidency, Donald Trump declared that he would send the National Guard into predominantly Black cities such as New Orleans (54% Black) and Baton Rouge (51% Black) following campaigns in Chicago, Washington D.C., and Baltimore.
Trump’s language during these interventions was revealing: “African American ladies, beautiful ladies, are saying, please, President Trump, come to Chicago, please,” he claimed, adding that he “did great with the Black vote.” While Democrats like Rep. Robin Kelly condemned his remarks, the underlying narrative remained intact — the notion that controlling, incarcerating, or killing Black men is both politically expedient and symbolically necessary to maintain social order.
This idea is not new. Since the 19th century, Black male death has been the primary symbol of white racial dominance. Lynchings once stood as spectacles of white triumph over the presumed savagery of the Black male; today, the incarceration and public execution of Black men and boys on American streets serve the same cultural function.
The Genre Logic of Racial Genocide
Ongoing political discussions have largely refused to interrogate the relationship between the masculine threat to white society and the demonization of entire racial groups. Historian Amy Randall has warned that “if gender-selective slaughter of a specific ethnic, racial, or national group of male civilians occurs, it could be a warning that the more generalized destruction and mass murder of that population might soon follow.”
Despite such warnings, the murder of Black men and boys in the U.S. is still too often dismissed as an issue of “identity politics” — used for grants, awards, and symbolic activism rather than urgent political mobilization. For more than a decade, Black America has watched the spectacle of Black male death in real time.
According to The Washington Post’s Fatal Force database, between 2015 and 2024, police shot 2,494 Black Americans, of whom 2,406 — or 96.5% — were Black men. Over that same period, Black men have remained 35–40% of the incarcerated population, despite being only 13% of the general U.S. population.
These numbers are not incidental. They illustrate a national order in which Black male life is made disposable — a condition that normalizes state-sanctioned death as public policy.
From Indifference to Fascism
The indifference of Black academics, politicians, and activists to this reality is itself a symptom of fascism’s encroachment. Many have transformed the crisis of Black male death into a performance of concern — a spectacle of commentary that gains visibility and funding, but not liberation. This refusal to treat the systematic killing of Black men as an existential threat to the entire Black population has paved the road to fascism.
In fascist logic, the state’s legitimacy rests on its ability to define internal enemies and eliminate them. The Black male — historically criminalized, hyper-surveilled, and dehumanized — fits this role perfectly. Once the killing of one segment of the population becomes normalized, the infrastructure for wider authoritarian control is already in place.
Conclusion: Asking Different Questions
Perhaps it is time we begin to ask different questions about the nature of racism and state violence in America. What if fascism is not a future threat, but our present reality — one that emerged not with a dictator’s rise, but through our collective indifference to the ongoing slaughter of Black men and boys?
The embrace of fascism in the United States did not begin in Washington or on the campaign trail. It began in the streets — with each killing that failed to outrage us, each incarceration that went unchallenged, and each moment we mistook spectacle for struggle.
Until we confront the reality that racial fascism feeds on our silence, we will continue to mistake the normalization of violence for democracy itself.
References
George Jackson, Blood in My Eye (1971)
Walter Rodney, How Europe Underdeveloped Africa (1973)
Amy Randall, Santa Clara University – Faculty Page
The Washington Post, Fatal Force Database
U.S. Census Bureau: New Orleans, Baton Rouge