The Other Foot by Ray Bradbury

Space is the Place. - Sun Ra

If you can suspend your disbelief, forget everything we know about Mars as a completely uninhabitable rock and read The Other Foot purely as an allegory about racism in America, you might enjoy this Ray Bradbury story more than I did. Science-wise, it’s complete nonsense, but Bradbury isn’t interested in astrophysics here. He’s using sci-fi as a moral sandbox, and that’s where things get interesting and occasionally frustrating.

The premise is bold: Black people have left Earth and built a peaceful, thriving civilization on Mars. With white people gone, racism disappears. Life is idyllic, equality is the norm, and oppression is something that exists only in memory. Meanwhile, back on Earth, white people are still busy annihilating one another in nuclear war. With the planet on the brink of destruction, a lone white emissary is sent to Mars to beg for refuge. He pleads for a fresh start, promising that race relations will be different this time and that Mars can be a place of true equality.

Bradbury then flips the power dynamic. The Black residents of Mars, especially the main character Willie, respond with anger, fear, and deep skepticism. Who can blame them? Given Earth’s history, trust is in short supply. Willie rallies the community into a kind of mob mentality and what follows is a chilling role reversal: segregation is reinstated, discriminatory laws are drafted, interracial marriage is banned and white people are assigned the lowest-paying jobs. Mars has become like the Jim Crow south, just with the roles reversed.

This is where the racial politics get thorny. Bradbury seems less interested in exploring historical power structures and more focused on making a moral point about prejudice being universally corrosive. The story suggests that racism is a human flaw rather than a system rooted in history, economics, and power. By framing it as “any group can become racist if given the chance,” the story risks flattening the very real history between centuries of anti-Black oppression and a hypothetical scenario of reverse racism. The allegory is clear, but it’s also a little too neat.

The black population are faced with an important decision: should they let white humanity perish or extend mercy and risk repeating history? Bradbury opts for reconciliation, forgiveness, and racial harmony. It’s a hopeful ending but also a very safe one. The kumbaya moment feels contrived and overly optimistic, as if moral clarity can magically override centuries of slavery, systematic oppression, racial violence and intergenerational trauma. I can appreciate Bradbury’s intent and his use of science fiction as a vehicle for social critique, even if the ending kind of irked me.