Redefining the Dream: A Call to Rebuild Black Prosperity and Power
As the CEO of Do What Matters, I have spent my career advocating for inclusion-first management principles. These principles remain at the core of who I am and what I believe. But lately, my anger and frustration with the relentless forces working against inclusion, equity, and diversity have forced me to question whether we need to rethink Martin Luther King Jr.'s dream and the impact of integration on the psyche and prosperity of Black Americans.
Martin Luther King Jr. had a dream, but maybe the dream needs to be redefined.
Integration was supposed to be the promised land — a place where Black Americans could thrive without limits, shoulder to shoulder with white Americans. However, the results of the 2024 election are the loudest wake-up call yet that the dream of integration has morphed into a nightmare. According to exit polls, Donald Trump secured over 58% of the white vote (71% of voters), while Kamala Harris received 83% of the Black vote (11% of voters). Trump also made significant gains among Latino voters (11% of voters), while Harris, an exceptionally qualified Black woman, was dismissed out of hand. This wasn’t just a rejection of her candidacy. With a significant percentage of white voters casting their ballots for a white man with multiple felonies, this election was a rejection of the very idea of Black leadership, especially Black female leadership.
This isn’t about one election. This is about a more profound reckoning with what integration has cost us and whether the price we’ve paid is worth the scraps we’ve been given in return. For all the doors we’ve pried open, we remain outsiders in spaces that were never built for us. Maybe it’s time to stop knocking on those doors and start building our own again.
The Cold Truth About Integration
Integration hasn’t failed because Black Americans lack the talent or tenacity to succeed in white spaces. It’s failed because white America has proven, time and again, that it is unwilling to see us as equals. The proof is in the ballot box and the alarming rise in hate crimes directed at Black Americans since 2019. Despite Kamala Harris’s credentials and track record, the majority of white voters — and, alarmingly, a growing number of Latino voters — chose Donald Trump, a man whose platform is drenched in racial antagonism, corruption, and authoritarianism. Hate crimes against Black Americans increased by 46% from 2019 to 2020 and by 14% from 2020 to 2021.
This data confirms what Black Americans have long suspected: Barack Obama was an anomaly, a brief flicker of progress in an otherwise unbroken lineage of white supremacy. The election wasn’t just a rejection of Harris — it was a retrenchment, a collective decision to turn back the clock and double down on a vision of America where Black people remain perpetual “guests” in their own country.
The backlash was swift and vicious. Racist slurs and warnings flooded social media. Black students at HBCUs reported threats and harassment, as though the act of voting itself was a provocation. The message was clear: You may live here but don’t forget your place.
Maybe Belonging is a Myth
For decades, we’ve fought for inclusion in predominantly white spaces. We’ve desegregated schools, moved into white neighborhoods, and climbed corporate ladders. But even at the highest levels of success, we face the same question: “Do you really belong here?”
The truth is, no matter how much we achieve, we are never truly safe in white spaces. There’s always the threat of backlash — the aggressions (there’s no such thing as microaggressions, just aggression), the coded language, the overt violence when our presence feels too much of a challenge to the status quo.
Integration promised equality, but it delivered exhaustion. It gave us access to spaces where we are tolerated but never embraced. We are celebrated for our individual achievements but resented for our collective progress. It’s a rigged game, and we’ve been playing by their rules for too long.
Reclaiming What We Lost
There was a time when Black Americans had no choice but to build their own spaces. We created thriving communities like Tulsa’s Greenwood District and Durham’s Hayti neighborhood, where Black businesses, schools, and institutions flourished despite systemic racism. These were places of safety, pride, and self-reliance.
Integration pulled us out of those spaces, draining our resources, scattering our talent, and diluting our collective power. While we were busy chasing acceptance, we lost the security that comes from ownership and control.
It’s time to come back home, not out of defeat, but out of a recognition that our strength has always been in our ability to create, build, and thrive on our own terms. We don’t need permission to lead. We don’t need validation from a system designed to exclude us.
Could We, Should We, Reclaim Our Spaces?
Imagine what it would look like if we reclaimed our spaces. The Black middle and upper classes reinvested in predominantly Black neighborhoods, funding Black-owned businesses and supporting HBCUs. Black entrepreneurs creating jobs in our communities, Black educators running schools that center our history and our brilliance, and Black leaders rebuilding the healthcare systems that serve us.
This isn’t about turning inward. It’s about reclaiming the power we’ve always had and using it to build something better. We can still engage with the broader world, but we must do it from a position of strength, not subservience.
A Message to White America
To the CEOs, politicians, and gatekeepers of white America: This is your moment of reckoning. You can learn to share power or watch as we take ours back. Make no mistake — Black Americans are done begging for inclusion.
The 2024 election was your last chance to prove that this country can be better. You blew it. Now, we’re moving forward without you. We’ve tried your way. It’s time to try ours.
Black Americans, it’s time to come home, to build, to thrive, and to lead—not for them but for us.
