While recognizing the foundational contributions of Black women in social movements, there is a pressing need to examine the evolving role of Black men in the pursuit of justice and equity. Historical narratives have often reduced Black men to either symbols of danger or heroic figures without nuance, but the reality demands deeper accountability and engagement. True liberation requires not only vocal advocacy but also active listening and collaborative action. n nReflecting on personal experience, the author recalls growing up in a society that imposed limiting expectations on young Black males. The journey toward self-definition became a conscious effort to resist stereotypes and forge a meaningful legacy. This internal struggle mirrors broader societal challenges faced by Black men across generations. n nFrom Frederick Douglass’s fight for suffrage to John Lewis’s sacrifice on the Edmund Pettus Bridge, and Barack Obama’s historic presidency, Black men have played pivotal roles in advancing civil rights. Beyond electoral politics, their influence extends into activism, policy development, and community leadership. Figures like Bayard Rustin, the openly gay strategist behind the 1963 March on Washington, exemplify how marginalized identities can drive transformative change despite systemic erasure. n nEngagement with democracy is shaped by intersecting factors including race, class, sexuality, and personal history. Despite significant contributions, structural barriers persist—voter suppression, mass incarceration, economic exclusion, systemic racism, and police violence continue to undermine full civic participation. The author shares how his father’s imprisonment profoundly impacted his family and shaped his understanding of justice, highlighting how incarceration silences voices through both physical confinement and disenfranchising laws. n nThis lived reality, common among many Black families, transforms the criminal legal system from an abstract institution into a daily presence marked by loss and restriction. Yet, such experiences can also fuel determination. The author chose to break generational cycles by dedicating himself to building a democracy that protects and values Black lives. n nEarly involvement with Reverend Al Sharpton and the National Action Network proved formative. He learned that effective activism bridges street-level mobilization with policy advocacy—marching, organizing, legislating, and holding power to account. Mentors like Rev and Ebonie Riley emphasized intergenerational solidarity and amplifying the voices of those most marginalized, even when their pleas are drowned out by political noise. n nThis grounding in community-centered organizing deepened his awareness of how injustice permeates institutions—from schools to courtrooms to corporate offices. Today, Black men face disproportionate unemployment, lower median wealth, and persistent income gaps compared to white men, reflecting a long-standing denial of economic equity. As Alphonso David, President and CEO of the Global Black Economic Forum, observed: “A democracy fails when it overlooks millions of its people. A nation that refuses to invest in Black men’s full potential cannot thrive.” n nWithout addressing these disparities, progress risks being symbolic rather than substantive. Real liberation requires dismantling economic systems that exploit Black labor while blocking pathways to prosperity. n nNonetheless, hope remains. A new generation of young Black men is emerging—not defined by fear or limitation, but driven by vision and purpose. They are not merely resisting oppression but actively transforming the systems that sustain it. n nSo, is there faith in Black men? The answer is yes—rooted in the belief that today’s youth carry forward the legacies of Douglass, Rustin, Lewis, and Obama not just in memory, but through action grounded in justice, equity, and collective freedom. n
— news from The Washington Informer
— News Original —
Democracy in the Balance: Black Men at the Crossroads of Justice and Power
As we uplift the indispensable leadership of Black women, who have long been the backbone of our movements, we must also take a hard look at the role of Black men. Too often, narratives of resistance either sideline Black men as threats or place them on pedestals without accountability. But the truth is, Black men have a responsibility to show up as active co-creators of a liberated future. Our liberation is not just tied to how loudly we speak but how deeply we listen. n nAs a young Black child, searching for a sense of self in a world that often tried to define me before I could define myself, I wondered: Would I become boxed in by what others expected of me, or would I rise to challenge those expectations and reshape them? I was on a journey to not just find who I was, but to decide what mark I would leave. n nThroughout history, we have witnessed Black men from Douglass demanding the right to vote to Lewis shedding blood on the Edmund Pettus Bridge to Obama being sworn as the first Black President, our role has been pivotal. Yet, our engagement in democracy extends beyond the ballot; it is woven into the fabric of activism, policy, and leadership. Visionaries like Rustin, an openly gay Black man and the architect of the 1963 March on Washington, whose brilliance and courage laid the groundwork for civil rights victories. n nOur participation is not monolithic. It is intersectional, shaped by race, class, sexuality, and lived experience. It’s woven with pain, beauty, and triumph. But despite these contributions, Black men continue to face significant barriers to full participation. Voter suppression, mass incarceration, economic disenfranchisement, systemic racism, and police violence attempt to marginalize our voices. I have seen this reality firsthand. My father was incarcerated and his absence shaped more than just our family; it shaped my understanding of justice and what “democracy” often fails to deliver. n nI grew up knowing that his voice, like so many others behind bars, was silenced not only by prison walls but by policies designed to erase our presence. His story is not unique, and that’s the tragedy. For many Black children like me, the criminal legal system is not some distant structure, it is home visits to correctional facilities, unanswered questions, and a childhood framed by control rather than freedom. n nYet it is also this experience that sparked my determination. I chose not to be defined by the cycle that ensnared him. Instead, I made it my mission to break and fight for a democracy that values and protects us. n nWorking under Reverend Al Sharpton and the National Action Network at a young age was nothing short of transformational. I was being shaped as a leader by one of the most prolific voices of our time. Rev and Ebonie Riley taught me that true movement work lives in the tension between the streets and the suites: we march, we organize, but we also legislate and demand accountability. n nThey instilled in me the importance of intergenerational struggle and how to elevate the voices of the most marginalized, the faintest cries that often go unheard in the noise of politics, and center them in our pursuit. n nThat lesson in grounded, people-centered movements sharpened my understanding of how injustice operates across systems, in classrooms, courtrooms, and boardrooms. n nToday, Black men face higher unemployment rates, lower median wealth, and persistent income disparities compared to white men. These are the manifestation of a broader system that has denied Black men full economic citizenship. Alphonso David, President and CEO of the Global Black Economic Forum, captured this reality plainly when he said: n n“A democracy falls short of its promise when it ignores or undervalues millions of its people. A nation that refuses to invest in the full potential of Black men is not one set to succeed.” n nWithout confronting these disparities, we risk preserving a system where progress is performative, not transformative. True liberation must include dismantling the economic structures that have long exploited Black labor while denying Black prosperity. n nYet, we are undeterred. I’ve seen it in my peers, a generation of young Black men not like the kid who was boxed in and afraid but unapologetic visionaries who are not just resisting oppression but actively dismantling the systems that sustain it. n nSo, the question is, am I hopeful in Black men? The answer is yes because I believe in a generation that refuses to accept complacency. A generation that carries the legacy of Douglass, Rustin, Lewis, and Obama not just in memory, but in motion centered in justice, equity, and liberation for ALL.