There is a haunting familiarity to this moment in America. It is the echo of a past we know too well—the powerful exploiting division to preserve their empires. Today, the stage is set in Silicon Valley, where tech billionaires and the MAGA movement find themselves locked in an ideological and economic war. This time, however, Black Americans stand poised not as pawns, but as strategic players in a game that could reshape our future.

Affirmative action has long been a tool for addressing systemic discrimination in education and employment, yet its implementation often fails to account for the specific challenges faced by Black men. Point #3 of the Black Male Political Agenda calls for targeted affirmative action policies that focus specifically on the needs of Black men, addressing their unique position at the intersection of racial and gender inequity. This targeted approach seeks to correct historical injustices and create equitable opportunities for Black men to succeed in education, employment, and beyond.

Education is often regarded as the great equalizer, a pathway to opportunity and success. Yet, for Black boys in the United States, this promise remains largely unfulfilled. Point #2 of the Black Male Political Agenda calls for targeted reforms in education to address systemic disparities that disproportionately affect Black male students. These reforms aim to ensure that Black boys not only have access to quality education but are also supported in ways that acknowledge and address the unique challenges they face.

The family court system, an institution designed to prioritize the well-being of children, has often been a source of systemic inequity—particularly for Black fathers. The first point in the Black Male Political Agenda, which calls for automatic 50/50 child custody arrangements and mandatory paternity testing at birth, reflects the need for reforms that address these disparities. These changes, while straightforward, have profound implications for family cohesion, child development, and societal equity.

The lecture hall was abuzz with applause as the young scholar closed their final slide. The room, filled with professors, students, and industry scouts, brimmed with the hum of approval. This was the culmination of years of relentless work—an innovative thesis that blended ancestral wisdom with cutting-edge technology to address healthcare inequities. It was, without a doubt, a masterpiece.

In September 2020, Dr. T. Hasan Johnson, a scholar and advocate for Black male empowerment, unveiled the Black Male Political Agenda—an 18-point framework designed to address the systemic challenges that Black men face across various aspects of society. This agenda is not merely the work of one man but the product of collective effort. Dr. Johnson engaged with a broad and diverse community of Black men to craft, refine, and prioritize this comprehensive roadmap. Together, they envisioned a future where Black men could thrive, supported by policies that address their unique realities.

There is a quiet movement rising—a network of Black professionals, visionaries, and builders who have decided that the future of our community will not be dictated by the whims of those outside of it. This is not a movement for public consumption, not a hashtag or a campaign. It is an underground railroad of modern times, a Wakanda of Black spaces networked together, hidden in plain sight but operating with singular purpose: to create a self-sustaining ecosystem for Black people to thrive.

The history of Black America is a history of paradox. Every attempt to suppress us has been met with innovation. Every policy designed to harm us has sown the seeds of our collective resistance and renewal. We are a people forged in the crucible of hardship, tempered by ingenuity, and propelled by an unyielding belief in our own humanity. Trump’s reelection will not be the death knell of Black progress—it will be yet another opportunity to turn pain into purpose, as we have done so many times before.

During the “good” times of Democratic administrations, Black America often found itself basking in a sense of symbolic progress. Representation in the highest offices of the land, increased access to mainstream spaces, and a rhetoric of inclusion made us feel like we had arrived. But beneath this veneer of success lies a stark reality: complacency. We’ve traded the advancement of the Black family and community for individual advancement.

In a society that thrives on division, what happens when Black women find power and opportunity—but at the expense of the Black family? Drawing parallels to The Godfather, this piece unpacks the deliberate strategies that have uplifted Black women while leaving Black men and boys behind, creating a divide that weakens us all. As alliances with external systems falter, it asks a critical question: how do we rebuild the unity and strength of the Black family? Turning inward may be the only way forward.

In 2024, history repeated itself.

Kamala Harris, the first Black woman to win a major party nomination for president, stood at the crossroads of a nation in turmoil. The stakes could not have been higher. A return to Donald Trump’s America promised further erosion of civil rights, increased violence against marginalized communities, and the dismantling of even the barest protections for the vulnerable. And yet, when the votes were counted, it wasn’t just white men who kept Harris from shattering the ultimate glass ceiling. Once again, white women—those who often claim the mantle of feminism—voted overwhelmingly for Trump, turning their backs on one of their own.

In a living room on election night, a group gathers, their faces tight with worry, fingers scrolling through phone screens and news feeds. The numbers are in. Trump has beaten Kamala Harris. The room falls into a somber silence, then erupts into scattered murmurs of disbelief. “I thought we’d come further than this.” “This isn’t the America I know.” Their shock is palpable.

But here’s the twist—those voices, now rattled by the reality of America, belong not to white liberals but to upper-class Black Americans. They are executives, lawyers, entrepreneurs, the ones who have “made it,” who believed in the promise that if you worked hard, achieved enough, and followed the rules, you’d be safe. In this America, they’ve been the dream realized. But tonight, the illusion shatters.

In 1923, Greenville, South Carolina, made an unmistakable move to halt this independence. The town enacted an ordinance criminalizing what they termed "idleness"—laws that forbade Black women from staying at home. As the Charleston Courier and other Southern papers documented, “loitering laws” took root, statutes that explicitly targeted Black women. They could be fined or even jailed, forced to choose between lives of free homemaking or the risk of imprisonment. The message was clear: Black women would serve white households, and white families would not face the prospect of managing their own.

Imagine it: institutions born of resistance, places where our ancestors’ hopes rose from oppression’s ashes, yet now, they’re becoming places where Black men are increasingly absent. Historically Black Colleges and Universities (HBCUs) were born to preserve and elevate Black minds, to ensure the light of learning in the midst of systems meant to deny it. But today, Black men make up only about 26% of HBCU attendees, a shocking decline from the 38% recorded in 1976. Meanwhile, non-Black enrollment at HBCUs has swelled from 15% in the late '70s to 24% today. What does it say about our institutions, our priorities, that they serve fewer and fewer Black men with each passing year?

Black women were often left to pick up the pieces in the absence of their men, who were caught in a web of exploitation, systemic racism, and deliberate disenfranchisement.

Welfare policies, such as the Aid to Families with Dependent Children (AFDC), inadvertently deepened this divide by encouraging single-parent households, placing aid and support systems primarily in the hands of Black women while marginalizing Black men from the equation.

Historically, Affirmative Action was initiated as a direct response to the systemic barriers that excluded Black Americans from the economic and educational arenas.

In the echoing halls of America’s predominantly white institutions (PWIs), Black institutions—spanning from Greek letter organizations to career-focused and political groups—stand as bulwarks of culture, heritage, and resilience.

In the intricate dance of American politics, where diverse voices seek acknowledgment and influence, the Republican Party often presents itself as a champion of economic independence, personal responsibility, and conservative family values.

The journey of Black students at predominantly white institutions (PWIs) is layered with challenges that extend beyond academic rigor and social integration.

The relationship between Black alumni and their predominantly white institutions (PWIs) is fraught with complexity. On one hand, these alumni often harbor a sense of loyalty to their alma maters, institutions that have played significant roles in their personal and professional development.