Introduction: Beyond the Binary — Rethinking “Was Jacqueline Kennedy Racist?”

Labeling Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis — one of the most iconic figures of the 20th century — as either “racist” or “not racist” oversimplifies a far more intricate question. Understanding her relationship with race demands a deeper look at the systemic context of her era, the limitations imposed by her social class, and the evolution of her personal and professional life.

Born into East Coast privilege, Jackie Kennedy was a product of America’s “white ruling elite,” a structure that rewarded conformity and quiet restraint. Her public persona — elegant, cultured, and reserved — was carefully constructed to maintain her family’s image amid political turbulence. Yet behind the composure lay a complex individual navigating both the expectations of her class and the seismic shifts of the Civil Rights era.

This analysis explores how her private views, her family’s racialized history, and her later professional transformation as a book editor reveal a life marked by contradiction — a journey from silent complicity to cultural advocacy.

The Mid-Century Elite and the Racial Status Quo

Jacqueline Kennedy Bouvier’s upbringing in the affluent world of the Bouviers and Kennedys placed her far from the brutal realities of segregation but deeply immersed in the class and racial hierarchies of America’s elite.

During the Kennedy administration, racial issues were political minefields. President John F. Kennedy, cautious and pragmatic, initially treated civil rights as a legal matter rather than a moral one — prioritizing Southern political support over moral leadership. It wasn’t until the 1963 Birmingham protests and the nation’s outrage over televised brutality that JFK’s stance hardened into moral conviction, culminating in his landmark Report to the American People on Civil Rights and the legislative roots of the 1964 Civil Rights Act.

As First Lady, Jackie’s contributions were cultural, not political. She focused on the restoration of the White House and the promotion of the arts — elegant but safe pursuits that avoided challenging racial inequality directly. Unlike Eleanor Roosevelt, who had taken overt stances on civil rights, Jackie’s silence mirrored the caution of the administration she represented.

Part II: Private Words, Public Implications — The 1964 Schlesinger Tapes

The most revealing evidence of Jacqueline Kennedy’s private racial attitudes came from her 1964 interviews with historian Arthur M. Schlesinger Jr., recorded months after JFK’s assassination.

In these sessions, she called Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. “terrible,” “tricky,” and a “phony.” Her disdain was reportedly fueled by FBI-fed disinformation claiming King engaged in sexual misconduct and mocked Cardinal Cushing during JFK’s funeral — allegations now known to have been fabricated by J. Edgar Hoover’s FBI to discredit King and destabilize the Civil Rights Movement.

These comments, while undeniably prejudiced, reflect more than personal bias; they expose how institutional racism shaped elite perceptions. Jackie’s views were filtered through the government’s own campaign of racial suspicion, illustrating how systemic disinformation reinforced class-based prejudice even among so-called “liberal” elites.

Part III: The Hidden Genealogy — Race, Denial, and Identity

Jackie’s own lineage further complicates her racial narrative.

Her father, John “Black Jack” Bouvier, was nicknamed for his dark complexion, prompting gossip about the family’s racial purity in upper-crust circles. Later genealogical research confirmed that Jackie descended from Anthony and Abraham van Salee, 17th-century settlers of New Amsterdam described in historical records as “mulatto,” “half-Moroccan,” and “tawny.”

When genealogists approached her during the 1960s civil rights debates, hoping to highlight her African ancestry as a symbol of unity, Jackie denied the connection — instead claiming the Van Salees were “Jewish.” This strategic denial shielded her from potential political fallout and preserved the image of a pure, European lineage. It was a calculated act of survival within America’s racial hierarchy, where even a hint of Black ancestry could dismantle elite status under the “one-drop rule.”

Part IV: Reinvention Through Culture — Jackie as Editor and Advocate

After Aristotle Onassis’s death in 1975, Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis began a second act as a book editor at Viking Press and later Doubleday — a career that profoundly reshaped her legacy.

She edited and supported works by non-Western and African American authors, using her influence to elevate marginalized voices. Among her most notable projects:

• Barbara Chase-Riboud’s Sally Hemings (1979) – a groundbreaking novel confronting the taboo relationship between Thomas Jefferson and his enslaved mistress. Jackie’s backing ensured the book’s publication despite establishment resistance. Decades later, DNA evidence confirmed Chase-Riboud’s claims, vindicating both author and editor.
• Dorothy West’s The Wedding (1995) – a powerful portrayal of Black elite life on Martha’s Vineyard. Jackie personally encouraged and assisted West, demonstrating empathy and dedication to amplifying complex racial narratives.

These editorial choices were not mere cultural gestures; they reflected a tangible commitment to racial dialogue and historical truth — an evolution from the cautious First Lady of the 1960s to a quiet cultural reformer.

Part V: Legacy and Contradiction — A Measured Historical Judgment

The duality of Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis’s legacy lies in the tension between her private prejudice and public redemption through culture.

Ultimately, Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis embodied the contradictions of her class and century. Her early prejudices were shaped by institutional disinformation and elite insularity, yet her later editorial work helped dismantle the very myths that sustained racial inequality.

Final Assessment: A Life of Evolution and Ambiguity

To reduce Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis to a simple moral verdict is to miss the essence of her historical significance. She was a woman molded by privilege, constrained by politics, yet capable of profound transformation.

Her story reflects the broader American struggle with race — from denial and prejudice to reckoning and reform. In the end, Jackie’s life reveals not a saint or a villain, but a mirror of her times: a product of the system who, in her later years, quietly used her power to challenge it.