(BALTIMORE – July 20, 2025) — When I wrote “Fear, Power, and the Price of Reparations” two months ago, I was writing from a place of deep frustration. Governor Wes Moore — America’s only Black governor — had just vetoed a bill that would have established a Maryland state reparations commission. It was a bill crafted with care, shaped by years of work from Black lawmakers. At the time, the veto felt like a retreat. A missed moment.
But thanks to new reporting from The Baltimore Banner, we now know there’s more to the story.
Governor Moore didn’t just reject the bill. Months earlier, he had drafted an executive order of his own — one that reportedly mirrored much of the same language. His version included a planned rollout, a list of media outlets, even a scripted cue for when the audience should applaud.
This wasn’t simply an alternate path forward. It was a parallel effort that ran in silence — and ultimately in conflict — with the legislators who had worked so hard to lead the way.
A Movement at Risk of Being Rewritten
Let’s take a step back. In 2024, the Legislative Black Caucus — one of the largest and most respected in the nation — made it a priority to pass a reparations study commission bill. Not a payment program. Not a sweeping overhaul. Just a serious, structured study — the kind of groundwork needed to build policy rooted in truth.
They did the homework. They trimmed the budget. They sought consensus. They even held the bill back to give the governor time to weigh in.
And yet — by many lawmakers’ accounts — no real feedback came.
Then, in a private meeting just before the bill passed the House, Governor Moore showed Del. Aletheia McCaskill a draft of his executive order: nearly identical in scope, but with one key difference — it bore his name.
To many, this moment was a turning point. It raised a difficult question: Was the issue the bill itself, or the fact that it didn’t originate from the governor’s office?
“Truth and Reconciliation” Is Not the Same
Let’s be clear: language matters. The governor’s draft order was reportedly titled “Truth and Reconciliation,” a term drawn from post-apartheid South Africa — important work, to be sure. But as Dayvon Love of Leaders of a Beautiful Struggle noted, this framing felt like a rebrand. Not a reframing of history — a reframing of politics.
“Reconciliation” suggests closure. “Truth” suggests recognition. But “reparations” demands action. You cannot reconcile what hasn’t been repaired, and you cannot repair what you refuse to fully name.
This is about more than semantics. It’s about integrity. It’s about acknowledging that while messaging matters, it cannot come at the cost of meaningful policy.
A Better Way Was Possible
Governor Moore had options. He could have worked with legislators — embraced the bill, strengthened it, issued a companion executive order. Instead, he chose not to engage publicly or privately until the eleventh hour.
That’s not a sign of bad intent. But it is a sign of missed opportunity.
Leadership means more than offering a vision — it means making room for others to lead, too. Especially when those others are the very people who have walked this road with you, carried the burden, and brought the moment to your doorstep.
This wasn’t about who gets the credit. It should have been about the progress.
Where We Go From Here
Thankfully, this story doesn’t end with a veto. The reparations commission bill passed both the House and Senate with veto-proof majorities. Leaders like Sen. Arthur Ellis and Del. Gabe Acevero have already signaled they’re ready to override the veto when the General Assembly reconvenes. And they should.
This isn’t about political punishment. It’s about principled follow-through.
Governor Moore’s leadership has inspired many — including me. But inspiration must be matched with courage, especially when history calls. And right now, in a state that gave us Harriet Tubman and Frederick Douglass, that call is loud and clear.
A Path Forward, Still Open
Governor Moore often speaks about “The Other Wes Moore” — the paths we take, the choices that shape us.
He now faces another path: not of opposition, but of reconciliation in the truest sense — not just with history, but with the people who believed in his promise to help make it.
There is still time to lead boldly, to work collaboratively, and to stand alongside those who have been doing the work. Not in front of them. Not instead of them. But with them.
Because in the end, it’s not about who authors the policy — it’s about who it serves. And if we stay focused on that truth, we just might get this moment right.
