Editor’s Note: This week, “The Wall of Separation” blog is featuring the essays and videos submitted by the winners of Americans United’s 2025 AU Student Contest, which asked high school and college students to reflect on this two-part prompt: How and why do religious and/or nonreligious groups, on their own or together, advocate for the separation of church and state? How have they been successful, and what does their example mean for present and future advocacy for the separation of church and state? You can find all of the winning essays and videos here. Submissions do not necessarily reflect the views of Americans United.
Growing up in semi-rural Virginia, the church was the center of the community. Our pastor lived right across the street from us and held Sunday services at the local elementary school. Rooted in the spirituals of enslaved people and continued through the Black Baptist Church, faith was often the one space where African Americans experienced dignity and community when the rest of the world denied them both. Sadly, this same religious foundation has been manipulated politically, used at times to suppress, divide, or silence. This history is key in understanding why African Americans view the separation of church and state not as hostility toward faith, but as a safeguard for it.
During slavery, Christianity was weaponized by enslavers to justify bondage. They twisted scripture to claim that obedience to masters was divinely ordained, erasing the messages at the heart of the Gospel. Yet within those same plantations, enslaved Africans reinterpreted Christianity, finding hope in stories like Moses leading the enslaved to freedom. The covert church of the enslaved, including secret gatherings where people prayed, sang, and planned for freedom, became a site of spiritual rebellion.
Out of these underground meetings emerged the Black Baptist Church, which, by the late 19th century, was not only a religious institution but also a political one. The Reconstruction Era saw pastors like Henry McNeal Turner use the pulpit to demand civil rights. Later, during the Civil Rights Movement, the Southern Christian Leadership Conference mobilized communities across the South in the name of justice. The Black church became something like a moral conscience of the nation.
However, this same intertwining of religion and politics can be a double-edged sword. Yes, faith inspired liberation movements, but it was also used by those in power to control. Political figures used Christianity to justify laws that restrict rather than protect. For example, religion has been used to defend segregation in the 1960s. At present, and on my college campus, I have seen “religious freedom” used to deny reproductive rights or LGBTQ+ protections. History has shown that when government aligns itself with a particular faith, it can result in silencing others.
That’s why the separation of church and state matters so deeply, especially in African American communities. We’ve seen what happens when religion is used to dominate. The First Amendment’s protection isn’t about keeping faith out of public life – it’s about ensuring no one’s faith becomes law for everyone else. It’s about protecting both the preacher across the street and the neighbor who doesn’t go to church at all.
At the University of Southern California, where I’m now a sophomore, I see this principle in action every day. My classmates come from every background imaginable – Christian, Muslim, Buddhist, Jewish, atheist, agnostic. We debate ethics and justice in classes that lean into philosophy as much as theology. What unites us isn’t a shared religion but a shared respect for each person’s right to believe (or not believe) freely. That diversity has made me even more convinced that separation of church and state isn’t anti-religion. It’s what allows religion to stay authentic, personal, and alive.
My parents taught me from a faith-based perspective, but they also emphasized critical thinking and compassion. They encouraged me to question, to explore, and to respect other people’s beliefs. That freedom to believe deeply while still thinking independently is something I now see as a direct reflection of the separation of church and state. It allows both faith and reason to coexist without one silencing the other.
African American leaders today continue to uphold this principle. Groups like Faith for Black Lives and Americans United for Separation of Church and State work to ensure that religion remains a matter of choice, not coercion. Their efforts have helped protect students’ rights in public schools, challenged discriminatory laws, and reminded the country that real religious freedom includes freedom from state-imposed religion.
When I think back to the pastor across the street in Virginia, I remember his kindness more than his sermons. He’d wave when we came home from errands and drop by to ask if we needed anything. For him, faith was lived through service, not control. That’s the kind of religion the separation of church and state protects – the kind that uplifts communities rather than divides them.
For African Americans, the wall between church and state isn’t a barrier to faith; it’s the guardrail that keeps it authentic – honest, even. It guarantees the faith once used to justify slavery can’t be weaponized again to justify oppression. When religion is free from politics, and politics free from religion, both can do what they do best: guide us toward justice, compassion, and truth.
