On the plantation, slaves were not given last names in most cases. It wasn’t until after they left that these names were obtained

When Kendrick Lamar took the stage at Super Bowl LIX and declared, “The revolution is about to be televised,” he said a lot in one sentence.

Waiting isn’t a weakness—it’s a weapon. What better way to disarm our oppressor than to control our own impulses?

If Black children learned the truth, if they truly understood their history, this system would crumble. They would know that their ancestors didn’t just endure slavery—they built the wealth of this nation. They would see the brilliance of their lineage: engineers, healers, inventors, kings, and queens. They would realize that their blood carries the resilience, creativity, and genius that shaped the world.

What if budgeting was seen not as a limitation, but as a tool for liberation?

Our history doesn't begin in slavery, nor is it confined to systemic oppression. We are not merely survivors of history; we're the authors.

Every dollar you spend is a vote for the world you want to see. Vote Pro-Black.

There’s something nostalgic about hearing our parents and grandparents reminisce about the “good old days.” They talk about tight-knit neighborhoods where everyone knew each other, family dinners that were non-negotiable, and shared moments that strengthened relationships. For many of us millennials, that feels like a distant dream—an ideal we missed in the glow of TV screens and smartphone notifications. Growing up, some of us caught the tail end of that era when neighborhoo

There’s a gap between the church’s ability to gather us in large numbers and its role as a transformative resource for our community.

As surely as Abel’s blood cried out to God from the Earth, so does the blood of slain Black ancestors in America and within the path of the sea from the motherland cry out to Almighty Yah. Some were fallen with a fist held high shouting and singing “Let freedom ring!” While others were slain while slanging poison to their own brothers, sisters, mothers, sons, and daughters. But their blood cries aloud for an Abba! A Father! A Father who hears. He hears the cries of the slain