Integration Wasn’t the Win We Thought It Was

For decades, we’ve celebrated integration as the climax of the Civil Rights Movement. Images of school children walking hand-in-hand and lunch counters filled with courageous protestors have become symbols of progress. And while desegregation was necessary, righting centuries of injustice, it came with a price we didn’t fully understand at the time.

That price was the dismantling of Black economic ecosystems.

When We Were Forced In, We Were Shut Out

Before integration, Black communities across America were self-sufficient out of necessity. From Tulsa to Hayti, Bronzeville to Jackson Ward, we built banks, grocery stores, insurance companies, schools, hospitals, and entire wall streets that catered to us, employed us, and sustained us. Back then, we weren’t in survival mode. We were actually living our best lives. 

The problem with forced integration is that it wasn’t mutually beneficial. White institutions didn’t open their doors because they wanted us there They were compelled by law and opportunity. Black consumers had an estimated $15 billion in spending power in the 1960s. That power became the new target for white-owned businesses. And as integration gave us access to their institutions, it drained our own.

Black schools were shut down. Black teachers were fired. Black-owned shops lost business to national chains who could provide goods much faster and at a much lower cost to consumers. And instead of preserving the communities we had built, urban renewal paved over them—quite literally—with highways and construction projects that erased generations of progress.

The Illusion of Inclusion

We were told that integration meant equality. But what we got was access without ownership. Presence without power. Visibility without value.

White businesses didn’t integrate to uplift ours. They integrated to capitalize our customers. They tapped into a market that was once closed to them, and in the process, we lost the very thing that had sustained us: group economics.

Integration made it easier for us to spend our money, but harder for us to keep it within our communities. Black Americans quickly scattered following the civil rights movement and without that close proximity to each other, they were no longer a community. 

Desegregation Should Have Meant Options, Not Obliteration

We need to say it plainly: desegregation was necessary. Forced integration was not.

Desegregation should have meant that we could choose—without penalty—where to shop, learn, and live. Instead, our choices were manipulated. Our communities were labeled inferior, and we were encouraged to abandon them for white spaces that never truly welcomed us.

Just look around and see what this resulted in: Wealth leakage, cultural loss, and economic vulnerability.

A New Vision Rooted in Ownership

But we don’t look back now for the sake of looking back. It’s about building forward. Something like a Sling Ball. 

We know now that true liberation is rooted in ownership, autonomy, and agency. A win i’s not sitting at their table. It’s building our own. We don’t just need access to the marketplace. We need to control it.

So what’s the next move?

• Circulate the Black dollar. Make “Buy Black” more than a hashtag.

• Rebuild our institutions. Schools. Banks. Businesses. Media.

• Think Black. Live Black. Invest Black.

Because the future of Black America won’t be handed to us in legislation—it will be built by us, together.

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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.