When my parents still lived in my hometown of Thomasville, I'd drive there to visit. When I slept there in my old bedroom in the house where I grew up, I dozed off in Alabama's 7th Congressional District.

When I returned to Birmingham and my Southside apartment – almost three hours' drive back – I was still in the same congressional district.

What did those two places have in common?

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Demographically, the 7th District was drawn to be Alabama's majority-minority district. It's mostly black and Democratic, and it includes some of the poorest communities in the state. But that's about where the similarities ended.

At one end is swampland where you need a four-wheel drive and a serious set of tires to have any hope of reaching. You can travel for miles and not see a soul. At the other end is the densely urban Birmingham. Stretching from Moody to the swamps of south Clarke County, the district is wider than Alabama itself.

I know why the district was drawn that way – to give Alabama's African-Americans representation in Congress – but something about that district has always unsettled me.

You see, this isn't just a column about the 7th District. It's also about the 6th District, where on Tuesday Republicans will select their next congressman. Yes, there will be a general election in the fall, but both districts are so racially and politically homogenous, that the going assumption is that the general election is a waste of money.

As my pal, radio talk show host Matt Murphy, has said, the 6th District is what it is because the 7th is what it is, and vice versa.

Or to put it more bluntly, in the pursuit of racial equality our lawmakers and the U.S. Justice Department recreated political segregation. The lines have sent a message to the residents in each district: If you don't think and look like your neighbors, you might as well stay home on Election Day.

What's more, by drawing Birmingham into the 7th District, the scales are tilted into Birmingham's favor for electing a representative. Of the three black lawmakers elected from the 7th District since it was redrawn in 1992, all have been from Birmingham. On the map, Birmingham might look like the district's tiny appurtenance, but it's really Alabama's Black Belt that's the appendage.

Racial and political gerrymandering is not limited to those two districts. From the Legislature down to many county commissions, seats have been divided the same way.

When voters go to the polls in the 6th Congressional District this week, they'll get to pick which white conservative Republican they want to be their next congressman. The general election in November is a formality.

And from the Jefferson County Commission all the way to Congress, we've seen the same effect. If a district is homogeneous, then its representative can pander to a narrow constituency. When those representatives go on our behalf to make laws and policy, is it any wonder they don't know how to work together? Even if they did, there is no political benefit for finding a consensus. That only ensures them a quick trip home after the next election.

Earlier this year, the U.S. Supreme Court agreed to hear a redistricting challenge brought by Alabama Democrats. The plaintiffs have argued that Alabama Republicans have packed too many Democrats into majority-minority districts, making the neighboring districts less party-competitive. That case could go before the court as early as November.

It's important to point out that Democrats had no problems with majority-minority districts as long as they were in Montgomery's majority, but nonetheless, I hope they get what they ask for – maybe more than they ask for.

The court has grown steadily more impatient with quotas and the duct tape and baling wire approach to resolving racial inequality.

Chief Justice John Roberts has written, "The way to stop discrimination on the basis of race is to stop discriminating on the basis of race."