End of an Oppressive Era: The Fall of White Supremacy and The Rise of Black Empowerment (PYOC)

History tells the story of Black brilliance—strength, resilience, and boundless creativity. But it also reveals a darker narrative: exploitation, oppression, and systems deliberately designed to hold us back. For far too long, Black Americans have been trapped in a cycle that builds wealth and success for everyone but us. That cycle stops here. It’s time to rewrite the script, reclaim our power, and build a future rooted in Black liberation, prosperity, and pride. Welcome to Pick Your Own Cotton (PYOC)—not a movement, but a revolution. Through its principles, we’ll reclaim our wealth, redefine our narrative, and inspire true liberation.

To, as Dr. Umar so eloquently puts it, “inner-stand, over-stand, and understand” the urgency of the PYOC revolution, we must first confront the systems that have been working overtime to oppress us. We need to uncover the truth: how these systems were built to keep us in chains (literal and metaphorical), why our subjugation fuels the success of others, and what’s at stake for future generations if we fail to act.

In this article, we’re diving deep—no surface-level takes, so get ready to hold your breath. We’ll unpack the historical and modern-day machinery of systemic racism, a system so pervasive that some of its beneficiaries call it a myth. Let’s explore how systemic racism and white supremacy were built, how they continue to impact Black Americans today, and how PYOC is the blueprint to dismantle them and reclaim our rightful place at the table.

From Kings and Queens to the Bottom Pits: The Fight Against Systemic Exclusion

Considering the rich legacy of the darker race—the world’s first architects, astrologers, engineers, doctors, herbalists, inventors, philosophers, rulers, athletes, writers, mathematicians, scientists, anthropologists, navigators, sailors, farmers, animal tamers, warriors, caregivers, midwives, and so much more—it begs the question: how did a people of such brilliance end up at the bottom of nearly every hierarchy? The answer lies not in a lack of ability but in a deliberate system designed to suppress our greatness. 

Alongside our story of innovation and leadership runs a darker narrative: the story of white supremacy. This system was constructed to elevate another group toward economic and psychological prosperity—wealth and power passed down through generations—while leaving us only poverty and struggle since its inception.

For generations, Black labor, intellect, and creativity have been the backbone of industries and economies around the globe. Yet, the very prosperity we built has rarely, if ever, benefited us. From the horrors of the transatlantic slave trade to the exploitation of sharecropping, and from the calculated cruelty of redlining to the persistent wage gaps, the methods of extraction may have evolved, but the mission remains the same: take from us while giving little to nothing in return.

Even as we’ve fought—relentlessly and courageously—to escape these cycles of exploitation, the systems we face adapt, finding new ways to resist our progress. Whether it’s through legislation designed to limit our opportunities, cultural narratives crafted to erase our worth, or economic practices that shut us out, the obstacles are as strategic as they are relentless.

Still, there are those—some even within our own diaspora—who deny the systemic nature of racism, arguing that Black Americans exaggerate or fabricate their oppression by blaming a so-called “mythical” white supremacy. They claim that since slavery ended, we’ve been fairly included in economic opportunities like everyone else. But here’s the truth they refuse to acknowledge: systemic racism has mastered the art of exclusion. Even programs deliberately designed to create equity often found ways to leave us behind.

Take the GI Bill, for example—a program meant to uplift World War II veterans by providing access to education and home loans. On paper, it applied to all soldiers, but in practice, Black veterans were denied these benefits through discriminatory policies and practices. This calculated exclusion from generational wealth-building opportunities has only deepened the racial wealth gap we endure today.

This pattern of financial exclusion didn’t stop with the GI Bill. Redlining—another discriminatory practice—further entrenched economic disparities by denying Black families mortgages and insurance in certain neighborhoods. As a result, entire communities were blocked from building the intergenerational wealth that would have been passed down for generations, keeping Black Americans trapped at the bottom of the economic hierarchy.

Rigged from the Start: The Red Line That Drew the Wealth Divide in Black and White

Redlining didn’t just happen by accident; it was a conscious, racially biased strategy woven into the fabric of America’s housing policies. The roots of this discriminatory practice can be traced back to the New Deal era of the 1930s, when the federal government, through agencies like the Home Owners’ Loan Corporation (HOLC) and the Federal Housing Administration (FHA), sought to stabilize the housing market and promote homeownership. Sounds good on paper, right? Except, if you were a white supremacist bent on ensuring the prosperity of the White race and the systematic suppression of Black people, it was a perfect plan. 

The reality was these programs were built on a foundation of racial bias designed to keep Black families locked out of wealth-building opportunities. The goal of these institutions was to stabilize the housing market after the Great Depression and make homeownership accessible to a broader range of Americans, but these programs were racially discriminatory.

In 1935, the HOLC began creating overtly racist color-coded maps of cities to assess their financial stability and investment potential. The areas deemed most “risky” for investment were marked in red, hence the term “redlining.” Guess which neighborhoods were marked red the most…

The FHA and private banks followed these maps, denying loans and insurance to residents in these primarily Black neighborhoods.

The Damage: For White Supremacy, A Job Well Done

The redlining maps created by the HOLC became a tool for widespread racial segregation. Banks, real estate agents, and even the federal government all used them to deny Black families access to basic financial opportunities, like home loans and insurance, keeping them locked out of the wealth-building opportunities that were available to white families. Black families were kept out of predominantly white neighborhoods and denied the ability to own homes in areas that would allow them to build equity—which is one of the most essential tools for wealth creation in America—creating what we now know as "the ghetto."

It wasn’t just about denying access to loans. By refusing to invest in Black neighborhoods, these policies ensured that property values stagnated. Homeowners in redlined areas couldn’t renovate or improve their homes without credit, and so these neighborhoods fell into disrepair, creating a cycle of poverty that continues to haunt the Black community today.

The Myth of a Post-Racist World: Why Redlining Still Exists in the 2020s

Here’s where things get tricky. While redlining was outlawed in the 1960s with the passing of the Fair Housing Act, that doesn’t mean the practice simply vanished. In fact, redlining’s ghost is alive and well today in what’s now called “modern-day redlining.” Today, banks still discriminate against Black borrowers, although they’ve learned how to do it without saying the quiet part out loud.

Our denial letters include terms like “high risk” or “unfavorable conditions,” but let’s be real: these are just euphemisms for racial and economic biases that continue to keep Black people excluded from building wealth. Even though the rules have changed, the systems still operate the same way. It’s just harder now to prove that it’s racism. Research shows that Black borrowers, even those with the same credit scores and financial stability as white borrowers, are charged higher interest rates, smaller loan amounts, or flat-out denied loans—but it’s totally not due to racism, right?

This Isn’t About Risk—It’s About Control

Now, if “high-risk” were truly the issue, wouldn’t Black borrowers face the same treatment when applying for other types of loans, like car loans or student loans? Yet, those disparities are far less pronounced. This isn’t about risk—it’s about systemic exclusion, carefully designed to keep Black Americans from building generational wealth. By denying Black families access to home and business loans, the system ensures that opportunities to create and pass down wealth remain out of reach for the majority. 

Some Black families do manage to secure loans, but they’re a small fraction, and the terms they often receive—higher interest rates, smaller loan amounts, and stricter conditions—make it harder for them to get ahead. This selective inclusion doesn’t build community wealth; it reinforces a system where progress for a few doesn’t translate to empowerment for the many. Our collective strength lies in the well-being of our whole community. When barriers to economic opportunity persist, the effects ripple through generations, holding back the potential of Black America as a whole. 

And while we’re here, let’s talk about appraisals: Studies have shown that when Black homeowners try to sell their properties, their homes are often appraised at lower values than similar properties with white owners, even when all other factors are equal. This is all to keep Blacks from tapping into the wealth of homeownership, making it even harder to break free from the economic cycle of poverty.

The Economic System That Kept Us Out: How White Supremacy Created the Wealth Gap:

Homeownership has always been one of the biggest ways for American families to build generational wealth–we all know that. Over time, the value of homes rises, gaining equity for homeowners and they pass down that money through generations. But for Black families, this opportunity has been systematically denied. When White Americans were able to tap into the post-World War II economic boom, enjoying government-backed mortgages and the prosperity of homeownership, Black families were strategically and unfairly, shut out.

This wasn’t some accident of history—it was a design. White lawmakers knew exactly what they were doing. They had built a system where one race was meant to rise, while others were kept down. From slavery to segregation, to the economic structures that followed, White supremacy has always ensured there’s a racial hierarchy in place, with one group at the top, some in the middle, and Black people at the very bottom. That system is still working today. In fact, we’ve been so conditioned by this structure that some within the race have started to contribute to their own destruction—but we’ll get into that later.

Redlining and other racist policies created a massive wealth gap between Black and White Americans, a gap that’s still wide today. A 2020 report from the National Community Reinvestment Coalition (NCRC) revealed that the median wealth for Black families was just $24,000—while White families were sitting pretty with $188,000. This wealth disparity didn’t happen by chance—it was built, piece by piece, through policies like redlining that kept Black families from homeownership and the wealth that flowed from it. The legacy of that exclusion still has us in its grip.

Long-Term Economic Impact:

The legacy of redlining can still be seen in the economic disparities faced by Black communities. Areas that were once redlined continue to experience lower property values, fewer businesses, and higher rates of poverty and unemployment. The Federal Reserve Bank of Chicago found that neighborhoods that were redlined continue to lag behind in terms of economic development, with significant disparities in income, wealth, and employment opportunities. In other words, the system is doing exactly what it was designed to do.

White supremacy didn’t just devalue Black neighborhoods—it orchestrated their decline. Through redlining and a deliberate refusal to invest in our communities, the system ensured we were left without the essentials: quality schools, adequate healthcare, and reliable infrastructure. This wasn’t just neglect; it was strategy. The result? Generational poverty that’s been handed down like an inheritance, blocking Black families from breaking free and rising up. Upward mobility wasn’t just limited—it was sabotaged.

Redlining’s Lasting Legacy: A System Built to Oppress

Redlining didn’t just happen in the past—it planted seeds of inequality that continue to grow and choke our communities today. Let’s look at a few cities where the effects of this calculated disinvestment still cast their shadows.

Chicago:

Take Chicago’s South Side, once a vibrant and thriving Black community. Back in the 1930s, HOLC maps slapped it with a “high-risk” label simply because of its Black population. Fast forward to today, and these neighborhoods are marked not by opportunity but by poverty, unemployment, and alarmingly low homeownership rates. And here’s the kicker: they’re right next to Chicago’s bustling economic centers, yet the systemic denial of loans and investments keeps Black residents locked out of the prosperity they helped build.

Los Angeles:

Now let’s talk about South Los Angeles, a place where redlining policies turned thriving Black neighborhoods into targets for disinvestment. Marked in red on those infamous maps, South LA was deliberately starved of resources resulting in decades of economic disparity. Today, the wealth gap between South LA and affluent areas like Beverly Hills is glaring. Poverty remains entrenched, opportunities scarce, and the effects of systemic exclusion all too evident.

Baltimore:

Baltimore tells a similar story, one with echoes of both the Green Book and redlining maps. These tools served as grim reminders of segregation, marking areas where Black people could safely exist while also highlighting neighborhoods denied loans and insurance. The result is urban decay, low property values, and communities still fighting to rise from the economic pit redlining shoved them into.

Most valued reader, do you see it? It’s not just history; it’s a legacy. The deliberate denial of loans and investment wasn’t just about holding us back in the past—it’s about keeping us down now. The struggles Black communities face today didn’t materialize out of nowhere. They’re the calculated results of systems built to exploit and exclude us, leaving us to fight for survival in a game that was rigged from the start.

The connection is clear, and it’s devastating. But we’re not just here to see the truth; we’re here to dismantle it. Let’s keep going.

Through redlining, gentrification was built.This is also an ongoing issue and one of the biggest to face Black America today. As property values in once redlined neighborhoods now begin to rise, many Black families, and their ownership power, are displaced by rising rents and property taxes, which leads to further erosion of Black wealth.

The Gentrification Trap: Rising Costs, Displaced Lives, Stolen Wealth

Oh, you thought gentrification was just about “fixing up” neighborhoods? Nah. It’s the latest tactic in a long history of systems designed to drive Black families out of their homes and into areas where opportunity is as scarce as hope. Property taxes skyrocket, rents shoot up, and utility bills climb, pushing long-time residents out before they even get a chance to benefit from the so-called “improvements.” Again, this isn’t some random set of unfortunate events—this is deliberate, calculated displacement. It’s a tactic to ensure Black families stay locked out of generational wealth by forcing them to leave before they can reap any benefits. It’s like saying, “You can’t sit at the table—but we’ll gladly take your seat when you’re gone.”

Exploitative Real Estate Practices

If you’re one of those people who think those rising property values are a win, think again. Predatory developers swoop in, offering pennies on the dollar for homes Black families have built their lives in. They prey on financial pressure and desperation, knowing these families will sell their most valuable asset for a fraction of its worth. That property, which could have been the springboard for wealth, becomes another tool of exploitation, ensuring that the profits of growth benefit the newer, wealthier residents—usually ones who aren’t Black. 

Economic Disenfranchisement

As wealthier newcomers pour in, they bring businesses that serve their own interests—not the existing Black community. Black-owned businesses are pushed out by skyrocketing rents and replaced by trendy boutiques and overpriced cafes. You know a neighborhood is gentrified when a Starbucks pops up on every corner. What’s left for the long-time residents? Fewer jobs, fewer opportunities, fewer places to spend their money. Gentrification doesn’t just displace people physically—it strips away the economic power of Black residents, ensuring the new economy serves the wealthy few, not the many.

Erosion of Community Wealth

Let’s talk about the heart of Black communities—those informal support systems that helped us survive the darkest days of oppression. Gentrification comes in like a wrecking ball, smashing those networks to pieces. Local businesses, mutual aid groups, and family-owned institutions are forced out, leaving behind a void that makes it harder for displaced families to rebuild any of the wealth that’s been systematically stripped away. It’s not just about losing a building—it’s about losing the very systems that allowed Black communities to survive, to thrive, to resist.

Gentrification’s Legacy: Wealth Extraction, Not Neighborhood Improvement

Make no mistake—gentrification isn’t a noble cause of neighborhood revitalization. It’s the latest in a long line of wealth extraction methods, designed to keep Black families from accessing the wealth-building opportunities that have always been denied to us. It’s a weapon—one wielded by wealthy developers, investors, and corporations who profit off our displacement. The cycle of displacement, economic exclusion, and loss of community wealth isn’t some natural disaster—it’s a well-thought-out strategy. A strategy that keeps Black communities at the bottom, never allowing us the chance to rise.

But don’t get it twisted: The struggle to reclaim what’s ours is real. And we’re just getting started.

The Agenda: Displacement, not Revolution

In a just world, gentrification wouldn’t have driven us out. It would have empowered us. 

Imagine Black families staying in their homes, watching property values rise without fear of displacement. Picture Black-owned businesses thriving—not being pushed out by expensive chains, but supported by new investments and rising customer bases. Imagine affordable housing, strong schools, better healthcare, and the infrastructure that raises an entire community. Picture job opportunities plentiful, with local businesses tapping into the wealth of new residents to build a thriving, integrated economy. And what about survival networks? In this ideal world, they’d be nourished, not obliterated. As neighborhoods transformed, Black families wouldn’t just survive—they’d thrive.

Can you see it? So did the people who created gentrification—local and federal governments, investors, and developers. They saw the power they held to uplift the Black community and dismantle the ghettos they built, and they knew exactly how to use it. But instead, they chose to use that power to steal from us, to weaponize progress, and to ensure we never benefit from the very changes we’ve helped create. That’s the agenda—and if you didn’t know it before, now you know.

But the system of white supremacy doesn’t always operate through overt tactics like gentrification. Sometimes, it’s far more subtle—woven into the cultural narratives that shape how we see and treat ourselves and how others see and treat us. The destruction of the Black image is not only perpetrated through real estate deals and policies but also through the media and pop culture, where even our own successful moguls can sometimes buy into the very stereotypes that limit us. This cultural warfare works hand-in-hand with the more visible methods of oppression to ensure that Black people are kept in their place.

Cultural narratives of White Supremacy: “We Tell You Who You Are”

They’ve spent centuries telling us who we are, but none of it is true. From the moment Black people were stripped from their ancestral lands and forced into slavery, the architects of white supremacy set the narrative in stone: we were inferior, criminal, and incapable of anything beyond servitude. These lies have persisted, not just in textbooks, but through every corner of society, shaping how we see ourselves and how the world sees us. 

These falsehoods, perpetuated by media, politics, and education, have worked in tandem with policies like gentrification to displace and destroy Black wealth, communities, and spirits. But it’s time to wake up and see the strings being pulled behind the scenes. The war on Black people isn’t just about property and power—it’s about control over our image, our legacy, and our future.

Major Cultural Narratives: Tools of Destruction

Cultural narratives aren’t just stories—they’re weapons. White supremacy’s arsenal is filled with deeply ingrained, poisonous ideas that shape how Black people are viewed and treated by society—and how we, too, view ourselves. These narratives are designed to perpetuate a system of oppression by reinforcing the myth of Black inferiority, criminality, and dependency. They divide us, sowing discord not just between Black people and white people, but between Black people and people of other races, even among ourselves. These false narratives distort the reality of our contributions, our intellect, our power. Let’s break them down.

The “Inferiority” Narrative

This one’s an oldie, dating back to the days of slavery, when enslavers needed an excuse to justify their cruelty. They created pseudo-scientific theories—like phrenology, which claimed the shape of our skulls indicated our lack of intelligence—to paint Black people as subhuman. Fast-forward to today, and these ideas are still lurking beneath the surface. The stereotype of the “unintelligent” Black person still rears its ugly head in school systems, workplaces, and even in the media. Black people are often expected to perform at higher standards, but when we fall short (due to systemic barriers, not inherent flaws), we’re blamed for it. We’re expected to “pull ourselves up by our bootstraps,” even though those boots were stolen from us centuries ago.

The truth? The first doctors, mathematicians, and engineers in history were Black. We built the pyramids, laid the foundation for modern medicine, and created technologies long before the so-called “enlightenment” era. But somewhere along the way, white supremacy rebranded our genius into a narrative of “incompetence” to keep us from claiming our rightful place as the original creators of knowledge and innovation.

The “Criminality” Narrative

You’ve seen it in the movies, on the news, in the streets—the image of Black people, especially Black men, as criminals. This narrative wasn’t just invented out of thin air; it was carefully constructed to justify the lynchings, the police brutality, and the mass incarceration that followed. From the “Birth of a Nation” to the sensationalized portrayal of Black men as dangerous “rapists” in early 20th-century media, white supremacy used this narrative to stir fear, justify violence, and, ultimately, control Black bodies.

Today, we still see this narrative in action. When Black people, particularly Black men, are killed by police, the first thing the media does is search for a criminal record to “justify” their death. The focus shifts from the brutality of the killing to the supposed criminality of the victim. Meanwhile, the true criminals—the systems of policing, mass incarceration, and racial profiling—continue to run rampant, unchecked. Even Black-owned media perpetuates this stereotype, with figures like Tyler Perry reinforcing the image of Black people as subservient, violent, ignorant, or promiscuous for entertainment’s sake.

The “Welfare Queen” Narrative

You’ve probably heard this one too: Black women as lazy, dependent, and “unworthy” of government assistance. This stereotype, popularized by Ronald Reagan in the 1970s, was used to discredit Black people’s struggles and make them appear as though they were somehow “mooching” off the system. In reality, white women were the largest demographic receiving welfare, but no one ever called them “welfare queens.” This myth persists today, with terms like “ratchet,” “baby mama,” and “ghetto” being used to degrade Black women, especially in the media.

This narrative feeds into the idea that Black people—especially Black women, who are the nation's fastest growing college graduates and business owners—are undeserving of help, reinforcing the myth of Black laziness and entitlement. It also distorts the reality that the welfare state was built to support the poor—who, due to systemic inequalities, often happen to be Black. This disconnect creates tension, even division, between Black people and other marginalized communities, keeping us fighting among ourselves rather than uniting against the system.

The “Angry Black Person” Narrative

Let’s talk about anger. Black people have every right to be angry. We’ve been exploited, dehumanized, and oppressed for centuries—and yet, despite our non-violence and passivity in demanding what’s rightfully ours, we’re still labeled as ‘angry,’ ‘violent,’ or ‘irrational,’ especially when we stand up for our rights. This is a direct attack on our humanity and our right to protest and demand justice.The media has long used this narrative to silence us—and now, even within our own community, Black people are perpetuating it, using social media to label one another as ‘sassy’ or ‘combative’ simply for standing up for themselves.

But remember: anger is a response to injustice, not an inherent trait. The real anger should be directed at a system that’s built to break us. And yet, we’re told to suppress it, to “calm down,” to be “respectable.” As if there’s anything respectable about being denied justice, freedom, and opportunity for centuries.

The “Model Minority” Myth

Black people have no business falling into the traps designed to divide and conquer—especially when the system of white supremacy is already working overtime to pit us against every other marginalized community.

The “model minority” myth is often used to elevate other communities, especially Asian Americans, while placing Black Americans in opposition. This narrative suggests that the reason Black people haven’t “succeeded” is that we haven’t “worked hard enough.” It conveniently ignores centuries of discrimination, redlining, wage theft, and economic oppression. It divides Black people from other racial groups by presenting us as lazy, entitled, and incapable, while elevating others as examples of “success.”

This myth also serves to undermine the Black struggle for equality, turning our fight for justice into a question of “personal responsibility” rather than systemic inequality. It tells us that if we just “worked harder” like the “model minority,” we could succeed too. But it’s not about working harder—it’s about fighting against a system that’s rigged to keep Blacks alone at the bottom of every racial hierarchy.

The Mind Games of White Supremacy: Shaping Identity, Limiting Wealth

These cultural narratives are no mere stories—they are the foundation of a system designed to strip Black people of their dignity, identity, and their economic power. When you convince an entire population that they are inferior, violent, or undeserving of success, it’s no surprise when those same individuals are denied access to the resources and opportunities needed to build wealth. The consequences of this psychological warfare ripple out into every facet of life, fueling the racial wealth gap that continues to plague Black communities. 

It’s not just about the narrative; it’s about how that narrative has been weaponized to create barriers—barriers that keep Black families stuck at the bottom while wealth is hoarded at the top. This isn’t just about history; it’s about how the legacy of white supremacy has shaped an economic landscape where Black people are still fighting for the chance to build the generational wealth that’s always been out of reach.

The Calculated System Behind the Generational Racial Wealth Gap

The racial wealth gap isn’t just a product of historical discrimination—it is an ongoing, strategic effort to keep Black people at the bottom of the racial hierarchy, systematically locking us out of opportunities to build generational wealth. This isn’t happenstance. It’s by design. The same system that enslaved us, segregated us, and erased our history continues to control our access to economic resources. From the moment Black Americans were forcibly removed from the economic equation as independent landowners and skilled professionals, a war was waged to keep us there. Slavery was abolished, but the machinery of racial wealth theft evolved. Today, its most insidious forms still thrive in our modern economy. Here’s how:

Discriminatory Lending and Housing Practices: A Legacy of Economic Exclusion

One of the clearest ways this economic war plays out is through discriminatory lending and housing practices, like redlining which we have already discussed in detail. 

While the Civil Rights Movement fought for equal rights, the battle for economic freedom continued in the shadows. Banks and financial institutions actively steer Black Americans into subprime loans with higher interest rates or deny them mortgages entirely, even when they have the same qualifications as their White counterparts. It’s no accident that the wealth gap today mirrors the inability of Black families to build equity through homeownership.

Let’s be clear: homeownership is one of the primary ways most Americans build wealth. But Black families are largely excluded from this wealth-building tool. Black Americans have a significantly lower rate of homeownership compared to White families. And it’s not just about individual choice—systemic forces prevent us from even having the option to buy homes in wealthier areas. So while White families pass down generational wealth via home equity, many Black families are stuck in renting cycles or denied access to these opportunities. This exclusion from homeownership means Black families are continually shut out from accumulating the assets that allow wealth to grow.

You do the math: You cannot pass down what you do not own. 

Income Inequality: The Pay Gap That Won’t Close

Even when Black Americans achieve the same level of education, build successful careers, and accumulate experience equal to or greater than that of White Americans, we still face a significant income gap that hinders our ability to build wealth.

On average, Black workers earn 20% less than their White counterparts, even when accounting for education, experience, and occupation. This wage disparity isn’t just a result of individual effort or lack of opportunity; it’s baked into the very fabric of our economy. Black workers are often the last to be hired and the first to be fired, facing racial barriers that prevent them from accessing higher-paying jobs or professional networks that lead to advancement.

This systemic income inequality blocks Black families from accumulating savings or investing in the assets that build wealth—homes, businesses, and long-term investments. It’s been said that when the American economy catches a cold, Black America catches pneumonia. Unlike our White peers, we don’t have the economic cushion to weather the storms of unemployment or unexpected expenses. The absence of wealth-building over generations traps Black families in a cycle of economic disadvantage—unable to escape the hole that systemic racism continues to dig deeper.

Educational Inequality: The Denial of Knowledge and Opportunity

It’s no coincidence that education—one of the most essential tools for upward mobility—has been weaponized against us. From the legacy of segregation to underfunded schools in Black neighborhoods, the denial of equal educational opportunities has long been a strategy of economic control. Black children are disproportionately forced into underfunded, overcrowded schools with outdated materials, fewer resources, and crime, while wealthier schools in predominantly White areas are bolstered by property taxes.

This educational disparity isn’t just an inconvenience; it’s an engineered barrier to success. It’s part of the broader strategy of keeping Black people locked out of the financial system. In a society where education is supposed to be the key to upward mobility, this inequality reinforces the racial wealth gap, perpetuating the cycle of poverty and economic marginalization for Black families. 

Even when Black students manage to earn degrees, they still face racial discrimination in hiring, which keeps them from accessing the same high-paying jobs as their White peers.

Discriminatory Employment Practices: The Invisible Hand Keeping Us Down

Let’s lay it all out—racial discrimination in hiring is a direct force driving the racial wealth gap. Studies consistently show that Black candidates with the same qualifications as their White counterparts are far less likely to be called for an interview or offered a job. 

And it gets worse—Black individuals with “Black-sounding” names face even greater obstacles, as employers make biased assumptions based on nothing more than a name. But even when Black workers do manage to get hired, they’re often relegated to lower-paying roles, while promotions and raises remain out of reach.

This discrimination doesn’t just limit career advancement; it sabotages wealth-building opportunities. Educated Black employees are often stuck in positions that don’t offer upward mobility, leaving them underpaid and locked out of the wealth accumulation that comes with higher-paying jobs. This cycle traps Black Americans in low-income brackets, denying them the chance to build generational wealth and contributing to the perpetuation of the racial wealth gap.

To fully understand the economic challenges Black families face, we must look beyond just education and employment. Another powerful force at play is the criminal justice system, which has been systematically used to destroy Black economic power and reinforce racial inequality. Mass incarceration is not just about prison sentences; it is about the long-lasting economic destruction of Black families and communities.

Mass Incarceration: The Economic Breakdown of Black Families

If education is one key to economic mobility, mass incarceration is the key to economic destruction. The war on drugs and mass incarceration have disproportionately affected Black Americans, contributing to economic exclusion. Black Americans are incarcerated at significantly higher rates than White Americans, with the criminal justice system often handing down harsher sentences for the same offenses. 

Take the sentencing disparity between crack and powder cocaine—where Black users of crack faced far harsher sentences than their White counterparts using powder cocaine—as one glaring example of how the justice system has been weaponized to keep Black people in poverty.

The economic ramifications of mass incarceration are extreme and long-lasting. Black people with criminal records often face severe employment discrimination, are paid low-and-unlivable wages, and experience higher unemployment rates, increasing the rate of reoffenders. 

Additionally, the inability to access federal student loans or housing opportunities due to a criminal record keeps many Black Americans from participating fully in the economy. The economic and social costs of mass incarceration extend far beyond the individual, affecting the entire Black community.

The Gig Economy and Precarious Employment: The New Face of Economic Insecurity

Even when Black Americans check all the right boxes for economic prosperity, they struggle to prosper in comparison to other racial groups. In the modern economy, the rise of the gig economy and precarious employment has further limited Black Americans’ ability to build wealth. Short-term contracts, freelance work, and low-wage service jobs are now the norm for many Black workers. 

These positions offer little to no benefits and no long-term security. Many of these jobs come with inconsistent hours and pay, making it impossible for Black families to save, invest, or plan for the future. This type of economic instability, coupled with racial exclusion from stable, higher-paying jobs, ensures that Black Americans remain at the bottom of the economic ladder.

In the gig economy, the instability of work is compounded by the long-standing racial biases that exclude Black workers from the same opportunities as their White peers. This economic insecurity keeps Black families from accumulating wealth, widening the racial wealth gap even further.

Market Exclusion and Other Practices Keep Blacks at the Bottom of the Economic Hierarchy

Hopefully by now you see how white supremacy does not only operate through overt acts of violence or discrimination; it seeps into the very foundation of our economy. From the banking system to entire industries, Black Americans are systematically excluded from full participation in the market, a strategy that keeps us at the bottom of the economic ladder. This isn’t accidental; it’s a calculated effort to maintain racial hierarchies and ensure that Black wealth remains stunted, if not impossible to achieve. Market exclusion, both historic and contemporary, serves as one of the primary mechanisms of economic oppression, keeping Black communities trapped in poverty while others thrive off our labor, consumption, and economic potential.

Limited Access to Capital: The Heart of Economic Oppression

Market exclusion refers to practices that intentionally or unintentionally prevent certain groups from participating fully in an economic market.

Black Americans face barriers to capital access that are as old as the system of white supremacy itself. Whether it’s securing a loan for a home or finding investors for a business, financial institutions have consistently denied us the tools to build generational wealth. Banks are less likely to approve loans for Black borrowers, even when we share similar credit scores and financial backgrounds as White borrowers. 

The story is no different for Black entrepreneurs—venture capital funding for Black startups is not only disproportionately low but often nonexistent. Without the ability to access the financial resources necessary to start businesses or buy homes, Black families are cut off from the primary ways wealth is generated in this country: property ownership and business development.

This exclusion is deliberate and insidious. It is not just about denying us opportunities but about ensuring we stay at the mercy of an economy built on our exploitation. If Black people are continually denied the ability to accumulate capital, we are kept in a cycle where wealth remains concentrated in the hands of those at the top of the racial hierarchy, reinforcing the systemic inequality that perpetuates the racial wealth gap.

Underinvestment in Black Communities: Economic Isolation

The disinvestment in Black neighborhoods is not a passive occurrence but a strategic practice of economic exclusion. Historically, Black communities have been systematically underfunded, with limited access to quality healthcare, education, and infrastructure. This disinvestment creates a domino effect: poor schools, high crime rates, inadequate healthcare, and a lack of economic opportunities. These neighborhoods face higher interest rates and fewer financial resources, pushing people out of homeownership and entrepreneurship.

Instead of reinvesting profits back into the community, the system extracts resources from Black neighborhoods, making it nearly impossible for families to build generational wealth. This lack of investment and infrastructure keeps Black Americans isolated from the economic mainstream, making upward mobility a distant dream rather than an achievable reality.

Exclusion from the Financial System

The financial system has historically excluded Black Americans through overt policies like redlining, and modern-day exclusion still persists in subtle forms. Many Black families are either unbanked or underbanked, meaning they do not have access to the full range of financial services, such as savings accounts, credit, and loans. This exclusion from the financial system limits wealth accumulation and creates an economic dependency on higher-cost alternatives like payday loans or predatory lending. 

Market Gatekeeping and Exclusion in Key Industries

In industries that cater to Black consumers, Black entrepreneurs and business owners are often kept out of the picture. The Black hair care industry, for example, is a multibillion-dollar sector, fueled by Black consumers who spend nearly half a billion dollars annually on hair care products. Despite this massive economic contribution, Black ownership in the supply chain—from manufacturing to retail—is minimal.

Korean entrepreneurs, for instance, dominate the distribution of Black hair products to Black consumers, establishing monopolies that make it nearly impossible for Black business owners to thrive. Exclusive contracts, bulk pricing, and an entire industry built on ethnic networking and cooperative practices have effectively shut Black entrepreneurs out of the market.

This dynamic isn’t limited to beauty products. In gas stations, convenience stores, nail salons, and restaurants in Black neighborhoods, non-Black immigrant communities—particularly those from South Asia, the Middle East, and Vietnam—control the markets, extracting profits from Black communities without reinvesting them back. These business owners capitalize on their cultural knowledge and access to capital, while Black entrepreneurs are excluded from the same opportunities in their own neighborhoods.

This is not about competition; this is about structural exclusion. The refusal to allow Black people access to wealth-building opportunities in key industries while using their neighborhoods and consumer network is an exploitive and calculated move to keep us economically dependent on others, ensuring that we never reach the level of economic autonomy that could challenge the racial hierarchy.

The Black Hair Care Industry

The Black hair care industry is a multibillion-dollar sector driven by Black consumers, who collectively spend $473 million on hair care per year–about 6 times more than other demographics. Despite this economic contribution, Black ownership in the supply chain—from manufacturing to distribution to retail—is alarmingly low.

Asian Dominance in the Supply Chain:

Asian immigrants, particularly Korean entrepreneurs, began dominating the Black hair care industry in the 1960s and 1970s. Several factors contributed to this:

Control of Manufacturing and Imports: Many wigs, weaves, and synthetic hair products are manufactured in South Korea and China. As a result, Korean manufacturers, with a Korean-first mindset, began exporting directly to Korean distributors and retailers in the U.S., bypassing Black-owned businesses.

Ethnic Networking and Cooperative Practices: Korean entrepreneurs employed cooperative business models, leveraging community resources to pool capital and share information. This allowed them to secure competitive advantages, such as bulk pricing and supply exclusivity, making it difficult for Black entrepreneurs to compete.

Exclusivity Agreements: Korean distributors often form exclusive contracts with Korean-owned retailers, preventing Black-owned beauty supply stores from accessing popular products or securing competitive pricing.

Retail Saturation

Many Black neighborhoods have Korean-owned beauty supply stores that dominate the market, leaving little room for Black-owned competitors to thrive.

Gas Stations and Convenience Stores

Immigrant communities, particularly South Asian and Middle Eastern entrepreneurs, often dominate convenience stores in predominantly Black neighborhoods. Through family networks and access to cooperative lending systems, they acquire and sustain businesses in Black communities. However, these businesses rarely reinvest profits into the community, creating a system where economic benefits are extracted rather than shared.

Nail and Beauty Salons:

Asian communities, particularly Vietnamese immigrants, dominate the nail salon industry. This has been facilitated by training programs and informal networks within their communities that prioritize their own members. Black entrepreneurs attempting to enter the industry often face exclusion from these networks, making it harder to compete.

Restaurants and Food Markets:

In areas with large Black populations, ethnic food markets and restaurants owned by non-Black minorities often thrive. These businesses benefit from cultural cuisines that cater to Black consumers but do not often hire Black employees or invest back into the community.

Corporate diversity practices often fail to ensure tangible advancement, leaving many Black professionals stuck in low-level positions despite their qualifications. Even today, the

Black-owned business rate remains alarmingly low, hindered by everything from access to capital to market exclusion.

Rewriting the Narrative: From Oppression to Empowerment

The challenges outlined so far—wealth disparities, employment discrimination, and economic exclusion—are just a fraction of the systems designed to marginalize Black communities. While this article touches on critical aspects of white supremacy’s impact, it is by no means exhaustive. Beyond these, there exists a deeper legacy of systemic harm, including government involvement in advancing cycles of drugs, alcohol, crime, and even the disintegration of Black family units through promoting practices like abortion, feminism and misogyny. These are pieces of a much larger, insidious puzzle that has sought to dismantle Black progress across generations.

However, understanding these systemic barriers is only the first step. They do not define us, nor do they have the power to erase the resilience, creativity, and brilliance embedded in our legacy. These systems are temporary constructs—designed by man and destined to be dismantled by us. The focus must now shift from oppression to liberation, from dismantling what binds us to building what sets us free.

In the next section, we’ll explore how Pick Your Own Cotton (PYOC) offers a transformative solution for this fight for liberation, rooted in a framework of empowerment, economic autonomy, and the reclamation of our collective greatness.

Old Cotton Oppressed, New Cotton Liberates: The Framework of PYOC

The systems of white supremacy that have been imposed upon us over centuries cannot erase the knowledge, creativity, and strength embedded in our very souls. This truth forms the foundation of Pick Your Own Cotton (PYOC): Black greatness is not something to be granted—it is something we have always possessed. PYOC challenges us to reclaim this greatness by shifting our focus from oppression to liberation, from victimhood to agency, and from external validation to internal empowerment.

PYOC is not a fleeting movement tied to political agendas or reactionary trends. It is a lifestyle rooted in the rich legacy of achievement, wisdom, and resilience of our ancestors, whose labor and intellect built one of the most powerful economies in the world. To understand how PYOC can serve as a blueprint for Black liberation, we must begin by embracing the vastness of our legacy and its implications for our collective future.

I. Owning Our Legacy of Greatness

Black history does not begin with slavery, nor is it confined to systemic oppression. It is rooted in a lineage of inventors, architects, healers, engineers, and visionaries who built civilizations and established knowledge systems that shaped the world. We are not merely survivors of history; we are its authors.

Our people built civilizations, unlocked the mysteries of the cosmos, and established systems of knowledge that continue to shape the world. Their brilliance, resilience, and cultural mastery are embedded in our DNA–even our very souls.

Acknowledging this legacy is more than an intellectual exercise—it is a revolutionary act of self-affirmation. PYOC asserts that understanding our greatness is the first step in eliminating the inferiority complexes imposed by systemic racism. It restores confidence, builds communal loyalty, and re-centers Black identity as a source of pride and power.

Honoring Our Legacy: The Weight of Responsibility:

With greatness comes profound responsibility. Every decision we make reflects not only on ourselves but on the generations of trailblazers that came before us—Imhotep, Marcus Garvey, Ida B. Wells—and those yet to come. Our thoughts, actions, and behaviors either uplift or diminish the collective. PYOC challenges us to honor our legacy by living intentionally, respecting ourselves and our community, and making decisions that elevate the entire race. Embracing a Black-first mindset is not just a philosophy—it is a commitment to preserving the sacrifices of our ancestors and building a future worthy of their vision.

II. A Call to Reclaim Our Power

Pick Your Own Cotton represents more than a name; it embodies the power of choice, autonomy, and self-determination. By choosing ourselves—our businesses, our communities, and our people—we reject systems designed to exploit our labor while denying us our share of the rewards.

Economic Liberation Through Ownership:

Reclaiming power begins with ownership—of businesses, land, opportunities, and narratives. Black Americans currently own just one-half of one percent of America’s wealth, the same percentage as during slavery. This stark reality underscores the urgency of reclaiming what is rightfully ours. PYOC envisions a future where Black communities sustain themselves, reinvest in their own neighborhoods, and build wealth that circulates among us for generations to come.

Ownership also entails accountability. We must educate our youth, care for our elders, and ensure no Black person needs to leave the community to find support or resources. Ownership is liberation, and without it, we remain controlled.

III. Cotton: From Exploitation to Empowerment

For America, cotton symbolizes wealth and prosperity. For us, it has long been a symbol of exploitation. Enslaved Black labor built the foundation of America’s economic power while leaving us empty-handed. Yet, the story of cotton is also one of resilience and transformation.

In the 21st century, cotton becomes a metaphor for reclamation. PYOC challenges the community to take control of the fruits of its labor—literally and figuratively—and reinvest in Black communities. Our ancestors may not have had tangible wealth to pass down, but they left us strength, resilience, and an unshakable belief in possibility. These are the tools we need to reshape our narrative and build a lasting inheritance for future generations.

IV. Liberation Through Self-Determination and Accountability

The systems of oppression we face—racial wealth gaps, market exclusion, and cultural erasure—are real but not immutable. They are man-made constructs, designed to serve the powerful, and can be dismantled. PYOC emphasizes the importance of self-determination: We do not need to wait for permission to create our own systems of power and prosperity.

From Scarcity to Abundance:

PYOC reframes the narrative from one of dependence to one of abundance. Black innovation, creativity, and resilience are the cornerstones of our liberation. Whether through grassroots political movements, cooperative economics, or cultural revitalization, PYOC provides a roadmap for carving out spaces of self-sufficiency and excellence.

V. Moving Toward a New Future

Liberation is both resistance and construction. While resistance focuses on dismantling oppressive systems, the heart of PYOC lies in building new systems that reflect our values, honor our legacy, and secure our future.

Constructing the Future:

This means creating Black-owned businesses, revitalizing neighborhoods through reinvestment, and cultivating a culture of mutual support. These are not acts of charity but of empowerment. Modern examples of community wealth-building among other groups prove that this is possible—and PYOC envisions a similar model tailored to our unique strengths and challenges.

Remembering to Reclaim:

Slavery, while a painful chapter, does not define us. Instead, it serves as a reminder of our resilience and the importance of reclaiming our narrative. PYOC teaches us to honor the full truth of our history—not as a story of defeat but as a testament to our brilliance and capacity for transformation.

VI. The Forward Path: A Legacy of Liberation

Pick Your Own Cotton is not a movement—it is a generational mindset. Movements are temporary, but PYOC is a call to action that must endure. By embracing its principles—self-determination, community responsibility, economic autonomy, and collective action—we can build a future where Black Americans lead, create, and thrive without limitation.

The systems that oppress us do not define our destiny. We hold the power to determine our own path. By picking our own cotton, we choose to craft a future of liberation, prosperity, and pride for ourselves and for the generations to come.

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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.