Photo by Library of Congress on Unsplash
For a brief, disconcerting moment in recent history, Harriet Tubman—a towering figure in the fight for Black liberation—was all but erased from a U.S. government webpage. It wasn’t a technical glitch. It wasn’t an accident. It was a quiet revision. And it speaks volumes.
Earlier this year, the official National Park Service (NPS) website—one of the key platforms responsible for educating the public about America’s historical sites—underwent a subtle but deeply troubling change. The page dedicated to the Underground Railroad, one of the most daring and radical freedom movements in American history, was edited. Gone was the large, dignified portrait of Harriet Tubman. Gone was the bold quote in which she affirmed her role as a conductor on the Railroad. In her place? A curated selection of
postage stamps featuring imagery of “Black/white cooperation,” along with new, softened language that emphasized how the Underground Railroad “bridged divides” and represented lofty American ideals like liberty and freedom.
But let’s pause right there. Freedom for whom? The very question cuts to the heart of the issue. The Underground Railroad wasn’t a moment of warm-and-fuzzy cross-cultural harmony—it was a defiant act of rebellion. It was a dangerous, radical effort by enslaved Black people and their allies to dismantle a system of white supremacy that called itself “freedom.” Tubman wasn’t a mascot of unity. She was a revolutionary.
This whitewashed retelling of the Underground Railroad story immediately drew sharp criticism. Historians, civil rights advocates, and watchdog groups—including the National Parks Conservation Association—expressed outrage over the edits. As reported by The New York Times on April 8, the National Park Service scrambled to correct course. The original page, complete with Tubman’s photo and empowering quote, was swiftly restored.
A spokesperson for the NPS, Rachel Pawlitz, confirmed that these controversial changes had been made without the consent of NPS leadership or the Department of the Interior. “The webpage was immediately restored to its original content,” she told Axios.
But while the restoration is a step in the right direction, the incident is far from an isolated error. It’s part of a larger, more coordinated trend—a creeping revisionism that is actively reshaping public narratives around race, power, and American history.
The DEI Backlash and Trump’s “Restoring Truth” Agenda
This erasure of Harriet Tubman must be understood within the broader political climate, particularly in the context of Donald Trump’s executive order dismantling federal Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion (DEI) initiatives. That order marked the beginning of a systematic rollback of efforts to acknowledge and honor the experiences of marginalized groups in the United States. Across federal agencies, content that celebrated the achievements, sacrifices, and perspectives of Black Americans, Indigenous people, people of color, and LGBTQ+ individuals has been targeted for removal or revision.
The Department of Defense, for example, recently took down (and then restored) an article recognizing Jackie Robinson’s military service—a story emblematic of both racial struggle and patriotism. Meanwhile, the U.S. Naval Academy pulled nearly 400 books from its library, including titles such as I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings by Maya Angelou and a biography of Trayvon Martin. These purges aren’t random—they’re part of an ideological
campaign to sanitize history and present a more palatable, unchallenging vision of America.
Trump’s camp has labeled any effort to teach America’s full, complex, and painful racial history as “revisionist” and “anti-white.” His so-called “restoring truth” platform advocates for the return of Confederate monuments, the erasure of DEI initiatives, and the marginalization of stories that center people of color. It’s a deeply ironic stance, considering the actual revision happening is the removal of truth itself.
Why Tubman’s Erasure Hits So Hard
Harriet Tubman is not just another historical figure. She’s a symbol of unyielding courage, leadership, and defiance in the face of institutional evil. She was born into slavery, escaped, and returned multiple times to lead dozens of others to freedom through a secret network of safe houses and allies known as the Underground Railroad. She wasn’t just part of the movement—she was the movement.
To remove her photo, her words, and even references to slavery from the NPS webpage isn’t just historical revisionism. It’s an act of erasure, a political move to scrub away the discomfort of American history in favor of a more sanitized myth.
The rewritten version of the Underground Railroad page tried to depict it as a moment of national unity, of people coming together under the banner of freedom. But that’s not the truth. The reality is far grittier—and far more powerful. The Underground Railroad was not approved by the state, not protected by law, and not celebrated by the mainstream. It was a revolutionary act against an unjust nation. It was freedom forged through fire, sacrifice, and secrecy. Reframing that narrative into a “feel-good” moment is an insult to the people who risked everything to break their chains.
The Danger of Sanitized History
There is a reason that authoritarian regimes, throughout history, have always prioritized control over education and historical recordkeeping. Whoever controls the narrative controls the present—and shapes the future. By deciding which stories get told, which get softened, and which get erased, those in power effectively reshape a nation’s moral compass.
There is a reason that authoritarian regimes, throughout history, have always prioritized control over education and historical recordkeeping. Whoever controls the narrative controls the present—and shapes the future. By deciding which stories get told, which get softened, and which get erased, those in power effectively reshape a nation’s moral compass.
The Harriet Tubman incident is part of this dangerous trend. It sends a message: that acknowledging the horrors of slavery is too divisive, that celebrating Black resistance is too political, and that honoring the struggle for freedom is somehow un-American.
But true patriotism isn’t about burying the past. It’s about confronting it—honestly, fully, and unflinchingly. America doesn’t need a sanitized history. It needs a truthful one. One that reflects both the ideals it proclaims and the injustices it has perpetuated.
This Isn’t Just a Website — It’s a Battle for Collective Memory
This story is about more than just a few edits on a government webpage. It’s a reflection of a much bigger battle—a battle for collective memory. A battle over what kind of country America sees itself as. A battle over who gets to be remembered as a hero, and who gets written out of the story altogether.
Erasing Harriet Tubman, even momentarily, is part of a larger effort to recast America’s racial history in a way that is easier to swallow. But that only serves the privileged. It does not serve the descendants of those who suffered. It does not serve truth. It does not serve progress.
When you remove Tubman’s face and her words from a page about the Underground Railroad, you are not just editing a website—you are rewriting the meaning of history itself. You are implying that the resistance of Black people against slavery is secondary to some imagined mutual cooperation narrative. That’s not just misleading. It’s offensive.
What We Must Do Next
Incidents like this should serve as a wake-up call. They are not small, bureaucratic oversights. They are intentional shifts in public consciousness, and they require vigilant opposition.
Educators, historians, cultural institutions, and citizens must resist these quiet erasures. That means holding agencies accountable, demanding transparency, and refusing to let the legacies of figures like Harriet Tubman be diminished or distorted.
We must teach history as it happened, not as some wish it had. That includes its brutality, its contradictions, and its moments of heroism. Tubman’s story isn’t just inspirational—it’s instructive. It shows us what courage looks like in the face of impossible odds. And in today’s cultural climate, that’s a lesson more urgent than ever.
Final Thoughts: Truth Is Not Optional
Harriet Tubman didn’t risk her life so that her story could one day be reduced to a footnote. She fought for freedom—not the symbolic kind, but the real kind. She fought for people who had no legal rights, no protections, and no status in the country that claimed to be “the land of the free.” Her legacy deserves more than a few stamps and some generic language about liberty.
If we allow her story to be rewritten, what other stories will we lose? And more importantly, what kind of future are we allowing to be built on the bones of this erasure?
Truth is not optional. And when it comes to the legacy of Harriet Tubman, we must protect it—boldly, loudly, and without compromise.
