By: Nata Tombari, Nonfiction Reviewer
Richard Rothstein’s The Color of Law debunks the prevailing American myth that de facto (customary, prejudicial beliefs held by individuals and facilitated by private institutions) segregation shaped the stark housing policies, socioeconomic status, and education for White and Black Americans. Instead, Rothstein argues that de jure—that is, laws and statues passed by all levels of government—segregation played a significant role in codifying and reinforcing these supposedly private traditionally-held beliefs.
What I think is the most gripping and surprising about Rothstein’s argument is that he classifies the government’s actions in facilitating segregation as unconstitutional, attributing part of its unconstitutionality to the lesser-known and defeated Civil Rights of 1866, which “prohibit[ed] actions that it deemed perpetuating the characteristics of slavery.” Denying citizens housing because of their skin color, as Rothstein makes clear, is a characteristic that preserves the peculiar institution of slavery and violates fundamental rights vested in the Constitution.
I received this book for my birthday a few years ago, and since then it has collected dust on my TBR (To Be Read) list—not because of a sudden lack of interest, but due to the weight of the subject matter. However, once I started reading it, I realized that the book isn’t solely “doom and gloom” as the topic might entail. Indeed, this is evident in just the preface, where he declares that his book doesn’t portray White people as perpetrators and Black people as helpless victims—a common analysis that even the most well-meaning monographs devolve into. It’s easy, however, to misconstrue Rothstein’s optimism and belief that America has the potential to do right by her people as naivete. I could be jaded from the past several years, but there were moments when I felt that Rothstein’s forecasts for a better America came off a little juvenile.
He encourages that all Americans, regardless of their skin color, “bear a collective responsibility to enforce our Constitution and to rectify past violations whose effects endure.” Though this book was published in 2017, this quote is even more salient in 2025, when political leadership gleefully abridges the rights of citizens (and non-citizens alike) and reinvent definitions of essential civil rights. He also dedicates the entire last chapter, “Considering Fixes,” to potential remedies that activists, lawmakers, housing authorities, and countless others can do to resolve deeply entrenched racist policies that have, quite literally, reconfigured the American landscape.
This should come as no surprise, but The Color of Law is scrupulously researched, containing an extensive bibliography, notes section, photo credits, index, and appendix that addresses FAQs. Rothstein weaves stories of African Americans who lived and raised families in these segregated neighborhoods – such as Frank and Rosa Stevenson – and explains the context that often forced their hand in situations of job retention, unemployment, relocation, education, and change. Technical terms such as de jure and de facto are employed, as well as a laundry list of acronyms and legislation to keep up with, but they don’t detract from Rothstein’s message. Honestly, what some might categorize as “jargon” is unavoidable when the central argument of the book is that laws, ordinances, policies, and judicial rulings are what truly segregated America. Despite this, I find his writing lucid and, at times, conversational.
If there’s anything my time as a writing tutor has taught me, it’s that writing clearly is a feat with which even the best writers struggle; yet Rothstein’s work shows no struggle with concision, even when he’s rattling off pivotal legislation that encumbered African Americans’ livelihood and movement.
The Color of Law successfully attempts to undo and correct the decades of misinterpretation by scholars, politicians, and activists alike that declared de facto segregation as the culprit for America’s caste system that proliferated throughout the 20th century. Local, state, and federal institutions within the country are all complicit and have colluded with pervasive racism following the dismantling of slavery to continue the subjugation of African Americans. Rothstein’s work, despite its imperfections, is still a worthy and credible read for anyone interested to know the root of America’s enduring housing crises. Some Americans today may petulantly whine and protest, saying “Why does everything have to be about race?” The fact they don’t understand is this: it has always been about race.