From Cotton to Control: Reclaiming Our Economic Power

We picked the cotton. We built the railroads. We laid the foundation of America’s wealth. But when it came time to reap the benefits, we were locked out. 

For generations, Black labor was the engine behind America’s rise to global economic dominance. From forced enslavement on cotton plantations to exploited labor in railroads, sugar mills, and domestic work, our blood, sweat, and brilliance have been the backbone of this country. Yet, every time we moved closer to ownership and economic autonomy, the system found new ways to push us back.

Reclaiming our economic power isn’t just about looking at where we’ve been. It’s about understanding how we got here and what must change to ensure the future belongs to us.

From Enslavement to Enterprise: A Story They Don’t Tell

The economic value of slavery was staggering. By 1860, the total market value of enslaved Black people exceeded $3 billion. That’s somewhere between $100 billion to $110 billion today. It’s also more than all the money invested in U.S. railroads and factories combined. Cotton, largely harvested by enslaved people, made up over half of American exports. In other words, Black bodies didn’t just build America—they were America’s economy.

But freedom didn’t bring fairness. After emancipation, Black people were promised land, resources, and support. We got none of it. Instead, we faced Black Codes, sharecropping, convict leasing, and systemic exclusion from banking, education, and housing.

Back then, we didn’t wait for permission to rise.

We built. We bought land. We started businesses. Towns like Tulsa’s Greenwood District, Richmond’s Jackson Ward, and Durham’s Hayti became symbols of what Black economic independence could look like. At their peak, they had hundreds of Black-owned businesses, from banks and insurance companies to hospitals, grocery stores, and newspapers.

And that’s exactly why they were targeted.

Sabotaged Success: How Black Wealth Was Destroyed

Every time Black Americans created economic ecosystems, those systems were met with hostility, not competition. Envy, fear, and white supremacy combined to violently dismantle what we built.

In 1921, Tulsa’s Greenwood District, known as Black Wall Street, was burned to the ground by white mobs, destroying over 1,200 homes and 600 businesses. Insurance claims were denied. Families were left homeless and bankrupt. What took years to build was destroyed in a matter of hours, not by economic failure, but by racist violence.

This wasn’t an isolated incident.

In 1923, Rosewood, Florida—another flourishing Black town—was wiped off the map. Jackson Ward, Hayti, Black Bottom in Detroit, and Bronzeville in Chicago were either flattened by urban renewal, gutted by highways, or drained by disinvestment.

Each time Black people gained ground economically, it was taken. But what’s important to remember is this: our success was never the problem. It was the threat we posed to an economic system built on our exclusion.

Integration’s Hidden Cost

The Civil Rights Movement was necessary. Desegregation was crucial. But integration came with a cost no one warned us about: the dismantling of Black economic power.

Once Black consumers were allowed into white establishments, many Black businesses couldn’t compete. Not because they lacked quality, but because decades of systemic disadvantage left them under-resourced. Black money flooded into white businesses, while white dollars rarely entered Black-owned establishments. It resulted in the slow erosion of entire communities’ financial infrastructure.

Integration without ownership gave us access, but not equality.

And white businesses knew exactly what they were gaining: a brand new consumer base with billions in spending power and no protective institutions of their own.

From Ownership to Outsourcing

Before integration, Black communities were self-reliant by necessity. You lived near your Black doctor, shopped at your Black grocer, and banked with Black-owned institutions. Your teacher, barber, and lawyer all lived in the neighborhood. This wasn’t just cultural. It was economic strategy.

Today, the opposite is true. Black spending power exceeds $1.6 trillion, yet the average dollar circulates in the Black community for only 6 hours. Compare that to 30 days in Asian communities and 20 days in Jewish communities. That’s not a spending issue—it’s a system failure.

When we outsource our dollars, we outsource our power. Every time we choose convenience over community, we fund someone else’s legacy instead of our own.

The Role of PYOC: A New Economic Blueprint

This is where the mindset must shift.

We’ve tried waiting for reparations. We’ve tried hoping for inclusion. Now it’s time to reclaim what was always ours.

Pick Your Own Cotton (PYOC) isn’t just a brand. It’s a signal to the culture. A reminder that the wealth we built was never lost—it was stolen. And it’s ours to rebuild with new strategy and intention. PYOC promotes a Black-first mindset: Think Black. Live Black. Invest Black. Because liberation isn’t possible without ownership. And ownership begins with control of our dollar.

We don’t need to start from scratch. We just need to pick up where our ancestors left off—and this time, protect what we build.

What Reclaiming Economic Power Looks Like

Our generation has a tendency to wait for White politicians, media or celebrities to ring a bell before we act, but reclaiming economic power doesn’t mean waiting for permission. It means planting, building, and protecting what’s ours. Our ancestors did it with far less, and we are the same generation that has the nerve to loudly express “we are not our ancestors” as if we are better than they were. Now, with access to more resources, technology, and connectivity, it’s our responsibility to take it further than they did. Here’s what that looks like:

1. Land Ownership: From Property to Power

Land isn’t just real estate. It’s freedom. It’s the ability to build without displacement, to grow without disruption, and to create spaces that reflect our values. For centuries, Black families were denied the right to own property, and when they managed to buy land, it was often stolen, burned, or undervalued. Reclaiming our economic power starts with reclaiming the land—whether it’s for farming, housing, or community development.

Ownership of land means control over our environments, opportunities for generational wealth, and the foundation for everything else we build.

2. Entrepreneurship: From Hustle to Legacy

We’ve always had the entrepreneurial spirit. From street vendors to hair salons, from barbershops to catering services, Black people have built businesses in the face of every barrier. But it’s time to move from hustle to infrastructure. That means scaling, hiring, expanding and supporting one another consistently.

Entrepreneurship isn’t just about making money. It’s about creating jobs, keeping wealth in the community, and building institutions that outlast us. That corner store could become a franchise. That t-shirt business could fund scholarships. That app could become the next tech empire. But only if we treat our businesses as legacy work—not just side hustles.

3. Collective Investment: Pooling Power for Bigger Impact

One dollar is powerful. But 1,000 dollars, pooled and directed with intention is movement.

Collective economics means buying land together. Opening credit unions together. Investing in co-ops, housing developments, Black tech, and schools—together. The wealthiest families and cultural groups don’t get rich alone—they pool resources and build together. It’s time we return to that model.

We don’t have to wait to be rich to start investing. We just have to be unified.

4. Economic Education for the Next Generation

Financial literacy must become part of our cultural fabric. Our children should know how to budget, build credit, invest, and start a business by the time they graduate high school. We can’t afford to keep them in the dark about money while they grow up in a system that uses their ignorance as profit.

Empowering youth with economic education means we stop the cycle of paycheck-to-paycheck living and begin building generational wealth on purpose.

5. Rebuilding Our Own Institutions

Schools. Banks. Health clinics. Cultural centers. We built these before, and we can build them again. But they must be ours—funded by us, run by us, made for us. Our institutions must reflect our values, serve our needs, and preserve our history.

We can’t depend on systems that were never meant to include us to suddenly work in our favor. So we build new ones. Stronger, smarter, and unapologetically Black.

Vision Forward

Remembering Tulsa, Jackson Ward, Bronzeville, and Auburn Avenue isn’t about longing for the past. It’s more like studying the blueprint, because our ancestors didn’t just sit around and dream—they built. They created self-sustaining economies under the weight of racism, segregation, and violence. If they did it then, we can do it now, even better, with more tools, more knowledge, and global reach.

We have the creativity, the capital, and the community to rebuild what was taken. We have digital platforms to connect, Black-owned banks to invest in, and rising entrepreneurs launching brands that deserve our support. We have everything we need to build it again—stronger, more protected, and future-facing.

Reclaiming economic power means taking ownership of our narrative, our neighborhoods, and our next chapter. It’s not a dream, but a directive. We don’t have to wait for approval or permission. The movement begins every time we choose to support, invest in, and circulate our dollars among each other. 

This is how we move forward. Not just with hope, but with strategy.

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Pick Your Own Cotton is more than a metaphor—it’s a call to reclaim our economic power and choose ourselves. For too long, Black dollars have flowed out of our communities, supporting other economies instead of our own. Integration gave us the right to choose where we live and spend, but far too many of us are still choosing to support systems that don’t prioritize our liberation.

Every purchase, every business decision, is an opportunity to invest in Black communities and create generational wealth. It’s time to recognize that the economic injustices of slavery are still felt today, and without ownership, we're not far from that slave status. We must take responsibility for our community—supporting our own businesses, guiding our own youth, and uplifting our own people. 

It’s time to pick our own cotton, not as laborers for someone else, but as creators of our own economic future, ensuring that every dollar works to rebuild what was lost and create a thriving, self-sustaining Black economy.