This nation is not what it is without the free labor of Black people
In late May, Chicago Mayor Brandon Johnson traveled to the Vatican to meet with Pope Leo XIV, carrying with him not only gifts but a civic appeal rooted in centuries of unresolved harm. Johnson sought to align the moral weight of the Catholic Church with Chicago's Repair Chicago initiative, a reparations effort aimed at acknowledging and addressing the enduring wounds of slavery and systemic racism on Black residents. His timing was deliberate: the newly elected pope had just issued a historic apology for the Vatican's role in legitimizing slavery, opening a rare window where municipal policy and global religious conscience might find common ground. The conversation, like the history it seeks to reckon with, is still unfolding.
- Mayor Johnson traveled to Rome with a clear and unhedged purpose — to ask the world's most prominent religious leader to publicly endorse reparations for Black Chicagoans.
- The pope's recent encyclical, which called the Vatican's historical complicity in slavery 'a wound in Christian memory,' created an unexpected alignment between Catholic moral reckoning and Chicago's local repair agenda.
- Back home, a 40-member reparations task force funded with $500,000 is conducting town halls, bus tours, and hearings to gather testimony from Black residents about the living legacy of historical harm.
- Chicago is not moving in isolation — Illinois has its own reparations commission, Evanston has already issued direct payments to qualifying Black residents, and other municipalities are watching closely.
- Whether papal endorsement will translate into tangible momentum for Repair Chicago remains uncertain, but the mayor has framed the stakes plainly: the nation's wealth was built on Black labor, and its 250th year is a moment to account for that.
Brandon Johnson arrived at the Vatican in late May carrying Chicago Cubs gear and a weighty request. The mayor sat down with Pope Leo XIV alongside a delegation that included Antonio Romanucci, the attorney who represented the Floyd family, and made his intentions plain: he wanted the pope to use his global platform to support reparations for Black Chicagoans.
The visit was carefully timed. Weeks earlier, Pope Leo XIV had issued his first papal encyclical — a document that broke new ground by apologizing for the Vatican's historical role in legitimizing slavery, describing it as a wound in Christian memory. For Johnson, this was an opening. The highest-profile religious leader on the planet had acknowledged the same historical harms that Chicago's Repair Chicago initiative was built to address.
Repair Chicago, anchored by a 2024 executive order, established a 40-member task force led by chief equity officer Carla Kupe and funded with $500,000. Through town halls, hearings, and bus tours, the city is gathering testimony from Black residents about the ongoing effects of slavery and systemic racism — lived experiences that will shape a formal reparations program.
Johnson framed the Vatican visit not as a detour from this work but as an extension of it. With the nation approaching its 250th anniversary, he argued that America's prosperity cannot be separated from the forced labor of Black people — and that the moment demands moral as well as political reckoning.
Chicago is part of a broader movement: Illinois has released a statewide reparations report, and Evanston became the first U.S. city to issue direct reparations payments. What remains unwritten is whether papal moral authority will translate into the visible, sustained support Johnson is seeking — and what that might ultimately mean for the residents Repair Chicago is meant to serve.
Brandon Johnson stood at the threshold of a conversation he had been preparing for months. The Chicago mayor, having traveled to Rome with a delegation that included Antonio Romanucci—the lawyer who represented the Floyd family—sat down with Pope Leo XIV at the Vatican on a Thursday in late May. Johnson carried gifts: Chicago apparel, including a Cubs hat. But he carried something heavier too: a request.
Before boarding his flight to Rome, Johnson had been direct about his purpose. Asked whether he intended to ask the pope to use his platform to support reparations for Black Chicagoans, he did not hedge. "That's an important conversation," he said. "Absolutely. Yes. I want to be very clear about that."
The timing was deliberate. Weeks earlier, Pope Leo XIV had issued his first papal encyclical, and in it he had done something the Vatican had not done before: he apologized for the church's historical role in legitimizing slavery. He called it a wound in Christian memory. For Johnson, this was an opening—a moment when the highest-profile religious leader on the planet had acknowledged the same historical harms that Chicago's Repair Chicago initiative was designed to address.
Repair Chicago, launched by Johnson, aims to gather the lived experiences of harm from Black Chicagoans in order to inform a reparations program. Two years earlier, in 2024, Johnson had signed an executive order establishing a reparations task force of 40 members. The task force, led by Carla Kupe, Johnson's chief equity officer, had been funded with $500,000. Now, through bus tours, panel discussions, town halls, and hearings, the city would collect input from residents about the historical harms of slavery and systemic racism that still shaped their lives.
Johnson saw his Vatican visit as an extension of this work, not separate from it. "That encounter that I'm going to have with the highest-profile religious leader on the planet is also moving our agenda forward," he said. He planned to thank the pope for recognizing the social and economic wounds that slavery had inflicted—wounds that, he argued, were still open in Chicago and across America. As the nation approached its 250th birthday, Johnson framed the reparations question in stark terms: "This nation is not what it is without the free labor and the forced labor of Black people."
Chicago would not be alone in this effort. Illinois had already established a reparations commission that had released a report documenting the state's history of harms against Black residents. Closer to home, Evanston had become the first municipality in the country to pay reparations directly to Black residents, issuing $25,000 payments to those who had lived in the city between 1919 and 1969. Other states and localities were watching, considering their own paths forward.
What Johnson was attempting—enlisting the moral authority of the Catholic Church in a municipal reparations effort—was unprecedented in scope. The pope's recent acknowledgment of the Vatican's complicity in slavery provided a foundation. Whether that foundation would translate into the kind of sustained, visible support Johnson sought remained to be seen. The conversation had begun. What it would yield for Chicago's residents was still being written.
Notable Quotes
That encounter that I'm going to have with the highest-profile religious leader on the planet is also moving our agenda forward.— Mayor Brandon Johnson, on his Vatican visit
The pope's apology and recognition of the social and economic wounds that still linger from slavery is very much aligned with our ongoing effort to repair the harm that has been caused by slavery.— Mayor Brandon Johnson
The Hearth Conversation Another angle on the story
Why did Johnson feel he needed the pope's voice specifically? Couldn't he make this case on his own?
Because reparations is still politically fraught in America. When the pope—a figure with moral authority across denominations and nations—says slavery was a wound in Christian memory, it shifts the conversation from politics to ethics. Johnson is trying to elevate reparations from a local policy debate to a moral imperative.
But the pope apologized for the Vatican's role. Does that actually obligate him to campaign for Chicago's reparations program?
No, it doesn't obligate him. But Johnson is reading the moment. The pope has already broken silence on something the church had avoided for centuries. Johnson is asking: will you take the next step and use your pulpit to say this matters everywhere, including here?
What does Repair Chicago actually do? Is it just talk, or does it lead to money?
It's both. Right now it's gathering testimony—bus tours, town halls, hearings. The task force is documenting harm. That documentation becomes the basis for what reparations might look like: direct payments, like Evanston did, or something else. The $500,000 funds the process of figuring out what comes next.
Evanston paid $25,000 to each eligible resident. Is that the model Chicago is considering?
We don't know yet. That's what the task force is supposed to determine. But Evanston proved it's possible—that a city can actually write checks. Chicago is much larger, much more complex. The numbers would be different. The eligibility questions would be harder.
Why does Johnson keep saying this isn't separate from what's happening in Springfield or City Council?
Because reparations can't work if it's just a moral gesture. It needs political cover—state support, city council votes, funding mechanisms. Johnson is signaling that he's building a coalition, not just making a speech.