Welcome to another powerful episode of Black Westchester presents The People Before Politics Radio Show, where we bring you important news from a Black perspective that mainstream media won’t cover and give you that Real Talk For The Community.
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In 2025, Black America is more visible than ever—and yet, no closer to power. We’re in the commercials, in the movies, on the ballots, and at the table. But behind the scenes, the realities remain unchanged: broken families, failing schools, rising economic instability, and performative politics masking a deeper decay. For all our visibility, we’ve lost clarity. For all our “representation,” we’ve lost direction.
Maybe it’s time we admit that the mainstream political playbook we’ve been running is broken. And maybe, just maybe, it’s time to revisit the work of a man who saw this coming decades ago—Thomas Sowell. Dismissed by many, misunderstood by more, and embraced only by those willing to challenge orthodoxy, Sowell is one of the sharpest and most dangerous minds Black America has ever produced. A Marine Corps veteran raised in Harlem, a scholar trained under Milton Friedman, a one-time Marxist turned ruthless critic of the welfare state—Sowell didn’t just study the game, he dismantled it.
His ideas were never about popularity. They were about reality. And the reality is this: much of what we face today—dependence on government, the erosion of the Black family, economic illiteracy, and the weaponization of identity—he predicted. But we were too loyal to political parties, too invested in symbolism, and too easily offended by uncomfortable truths to listen.
I didn’t find Thomas Sowell through a textbook or political debate—I came across a YouTube interview late one night. I was struck by his clarity, logic, and fearless pursuit of truth. But what truly stopped me was one moment: when the interviewer asked Sowell why he left Marxism, he replied with two words—“the facts.” That answer hit me hard. Because the same facts have led me to realize that we, too, must move away from the political norms that have defined Black America for the last fifty years. We need more than tradition. We need truth. We need results.
From that moment, I was hooked. I went out and purchased every book I could find. I wasn’t looking for validation. I was searching for understanding—and Sowell gave me a language for the questions I had already been asking.
Now, with a Black electorate exhausted by party politics and a new generation searching for direction, Sowell’s platform deserves a fresh look. Sowell warned that the politics of image would replace the politics of outcomes. And here we are—celebrating representation in high places while our communities crumble at street level. Having a Black face in a high office means nothing if the material conditions of Black people remain the same. We cheered when Juneteenth became a federal holiday, but Sowell would’ve asked: Where’s the land? Where’s the Black capital? Where’s the control of resources? He didn’t care how something sounded—he cared whether it delivered.
We’ve also fallen into the trap of identity politics—believing that shared skin color automatically means shared struggle or shared values. Sowell warned us about this decades ago. He argued that elevating people based on identity rather than ideology or outcomes leads to shallow victories and deeper betrayals. We’ve mistaken symbolism for substance, presence for power, and identity for loyalty. Identity politics has made it easy for the system to co-opt our pain while giving us nothing in return. We cheer for firsts—first Black this, first Black that—without asking: what do they actually do for Black people?
Sowell called this out for what it is: a distraction from real issues like education, economics, and family. He warned that when identity replaces logic, the loudest, most performative voices win—not the most competent or committed. Sovereignty-minded politics shares that concern. We are not against identity—we are against it being weaponized to keep us emotionally invested in systems that don’t serve us. If identity doesn’t translate into policy, protection, and power, it’s just costume.
In Black Rednecks and White Liberals, Sowell argued that destructive behaviors in the Black underclass didn’t come from Africa or slavery, but from a Southern “cracker culture” inherited from White rednecks. Whether you agree or not, the man forced us to stop romanticizing dysfunction. He dared to say what many won’t: culture shapes destiny. This wasn’t respectability politics—it was strategic truth. How can we demand liberation while ignoring the collapse of our own internal structure? How long can we point fingers without fixing our foundation?
The greatest damage of the welfare state, Sowell argued, wasn’t just economic—it was psychological. It replaced the Black father, rewarded broken homes, and trained generations to believe that survival came from the state, not self. In a time when government assistance is preached as justice, his words hit harder than ever: “The welfare state is not really about the welfare of the masses. It is about the egos of the elites.” Dependency was never the goal of the Civil Rights Movement. Autonomy was.
Revisiting Sowell is not about becoming conservative. It’s about becoming clear. It’s about crafting a new Black political agenda that centers self-determination over symbolic inclusion, economic literacy over emotional appeals, family and cultural integrity over shallow representation, and critique of Black elites who profit off our stagnation. What Sowell started as critique, we must now build into strategy. Sovereignty-minded politics is how we do that.
Many reject Sowell for what they see as victim-blaming or political betrayal. And some of that criticism is fair. He downplays systemic racism, overlooks historical trauma, and sometimes blames where he should build. But rejecting the man entirely is like tossing the medicine because it tastes bitter. We don’t have to agree with every word to recognize the value of his lens. We don’t have to adopt his ideology wholesale to extract tools for the future. His work demands critical engagement—not blind acceptance, not emotional rejection.
In a moment where Black America is being politically gaslit, culturally diluted, and economically sidelined, Sowell offers something radical: intellectual rebellion. Not rebellion for rebellion’s sake, but the kind rooted in facts, discipline, and clarity. He dared to challenge the sacred cows. He warned us that elites—Black and white—would sell us dreams and deliver decline. And he called on us to build power the hard way: through self-education, cultural repair, and economic control.
Sowell gave us the blueprint. We just refused to read it. Now, as we stare down another election cycle full of empty promises and emotional manipulation, the question isn’t whether we should revisit his work. The question is: can we afford not to?
We ignored Sowell when he was warning us. Let’s not ignore him now that we’re living it.
If you would like to read more Sowells books, CLICK HERE
There’s a recurring moment I’ve witnessed — in progressive spaces, policy discussions, even among those who call themselves allies. It’s this quiet, confused heartbreak in the eyes of well-meaning white folks when they confront the idea that whiteness itself — not individual acts of racism, not Trump, not the South — but *whiteness* is the root of the problem.
Frankly, their shock baffles me.
How, in 2025, is it still so hard to grasp that whiteness — the identity, the construct, the system — is not a side effect, not an accident, not a byproduct, but the *problem*?
This isn’t just ignorance. It’s a deliberate, almost reflexive denial. A fog that clouds reason, empathy, and basic logic. A mental block so deep and persistent that it operates like an addiction. Whiteness is a drug — one that has seeped into the American consciousness and rewired it.
Let’s be clear: whiteness isn’t about skin color or melanin. It’s about the systems whiteness built and continues to control. It’s about power — who gets safety during a traffic stop, whose name gets a callback on a resume, who gets the benefit of the doubt, and who gets the boot on their neck.
Whiteness is the lens through which institutions define “normal.” It rewrites history, erases harm, flattens cultures, and perpetuates the myth that we’re all starting from the same line in the race. It’s the cozy assumption that the world is fair and that inequities faced by people of color are just unfortunate outliers.
And when whiteness is called out, it defends itself viciously. The allergic reaction of “Not all white people.” The “I don’t see color” deflection. The guilt-laden tears that still, somehow, center whiteness.
This is why I say: whiteness is a powerful drug.
It numbs empathy. It distorts reality. It convinces people they are neutral while they’re swimming in unearned advantages. It reframes equity as a loss for white people instead of a long-overdue gain for everyone else. It teaches white Americans that whiteness isn’t a system — it’s just “how things are.”
If you’re white and reading this, I’m asking you to sit with this discomfort. Don’t explain it away. Don’t rush to say, “But I’m one of the good ones.” That’s the drug talking. That’s the indoctrination.
This isn’t about you being “evil.” It’s about you participating — knowingly or unknowingly — in a structure that is. A structure built for you. A structure that persists because even progressive white people can’t, or won’t, fully see it.
The work isn’t just about being kind or reading books or posting black squares. It’s about reckoning with whiteness. Naming it. Divesting from it.
Because until white people do that — until you understand that whiteness is the problem — nothing changes. Not really.
Black Westchester feels that celebrating Black History year-round is crucial because it’s not just about acknowledging a specific month, but about ensuring Black history and the contributions of Black people are integrated into the broader narrative and curriculum, fostering a more inclusive and equitable society. We feel our year-round celebration provides opportunities to learn about the rich and diverse history of Black people, their struggles, triumphs, and contributions, fostering understanding and empathy. By celebrating Black history, we can challenge harmful stereotypes and biases, promoting a more inclusive and just society. Recognizing the achievements and resilience of Black people can empower individuals and inspire future generations to strive for excellence and social justice. Black History Month is a good time to start, but it’s important to continue learning and celebrating Black history throughout the year, not just in February. So with that said here is Black Westchester’s This Week In Black History!
March 23
1875—The Tennessee legislature approved House Bill 527, which permitted hotels, inns, public transportation, and amusement parks to refuse admission and service to any person for any reason. Three weeks before, federal authorities had enacted the Civil Rights Act of 1875, which guaranteed African Americans equal treatment in public accommodations and jury service. By enacting a state law that allowed for all kinds of discrimination, including on the basis of race, Tennessee officials had defiantly authorized the very discrimination the federal law prohibited.
1916—Marcus Garvey arrives in the United States from Jamaica. He would go on to build the largest Black nationalist and self-help organization in world history—the Universal Negro Improvement Association. The UNIA owned everything from bakeries to a shipping line. It would develop chapters throughout major cities in the U.S., Europe, Africa, and the Caribbean. “Garveyism” emphasized racial pride, economic empowerment, Blacks doing for themselves, and the establishment of a powerful Black nation in Africa to give protection to Blacks throughout the world.
1938—Atlanta’s first Black mayor, Maynard Jackson was born in Dallas, Texas, and later became the first African-American mayor of Atlanta. His family moved to Atlanta in 1945 when his father accepted a job as pastor of the Friendship Baptist Church.
1942—Scholar and political activist Walter Rodney is born in Georgetown, Guyana. Rodney would become one of the leading intellectual forces behind the worldwide Black Nationalist and Pan-Africanist movements of the 1960s and ‘70s. He was a brilliant scholar who traveled widely and among his major writings was the book “How Europe Underdeveloped Africa.” He died in a car bombing in Guyana in 1980.
1953—Singer Chaka Khan, whose birth name is Yvette Marie Stevens, was born in Chicago, Illinois. She is a renowned singer and was involved in the civil rights movement and the Black Panther Party in the late 1960s.
March 24
1837—Blacks in Canada are granted the right to vote. Most of these Blacks had escaped from slavery in America.
1967—Debi Thomas, the first African American to win a medal at the Winter Olympics which she did as a figure skater in 1988.
2002—Halle Berry becomes the first Black woman to win an Oscar for Best Actress. She won for her role in the movie “Monster’s Ball.” She won a Golden Globe for Best Actress in a TV Movie/Mini-Series for “Introducing Dorothy Dandridge” in 1999. Berry was born on Aug. 14, 1966, in Cleveland, Ohio, to an African-American father and a Caucasian mother.
March 25
1807—The Slave Trade Act becomes law, abolishing the slave trade in the British Empire.
1931—Ida B. Wells Barnettdies. Barnett was one of the leading Black female activists in America for over 30 years. Born in Holly Springs, Miss., she became a crusading journalist against racism and injustice with her Memphis, Tennessee-based newspaper—“The Free Speech and Headlight.” When a prominent Memphis Black man (and friend of hers) was lynched in 1892, she launched a national campaign against lynching. In 1909, she became a member of the Committee of 40 which laid the foundation for the organization which would become the NAACP. But she later sided with scholar W.E.B. DuBois when he accused the NAACP of not being militant enough. Barnett would also later join with White suffragettes in demanding that women be given the right to vote.
1931—Nine Black Teens Arrested and Falsely Accused of Rape in Scottsboro, Alabama. Known as the “Scottsboro Boys” they were arrested and accused of raping two young White women—a crime which evidence suggests (then and now) never occurred. However, the saga of the nine Scottsboro Boys (young Black men aged 12 to 20) would stretch out over nearly 20 years in a series of trials, convictions, reversals, and retrials. The racism of the period was so thick that even when one of the young White women recanted and admitted that no rape had occurred, an all-White Alabama jury still found members of the group guilty and sentenced them to death. The convictions were overturned by the U.S. Supreme Court and more retrials and new convictions followed. Eventually, either by paroles or escapes, all the Scottsboro Boys would leave Alabama prisons. The last one died in 1989.
1942—Aretha Franklin, the “Queen of Soul” music, is born in Detroit, Mich.
March 26
1810—William Leidesdorff, the first African American citizen of San Francisco and the first African American millionaire (after gold was discovered on his property) was born in St. Croix, Virgin Islands.
1831—The founder of the African Methodist Episcopal Church Church, Richard Allen, dies at age 71 in Philadelphia, Pa. As its first bishop, Allen set the AME Church on the path to becoming the first Black religious denomination in America to be fully independent of White control. He, in effect, chartered a separate religious identity for African-Americans. He also founded schools throughout the nation to teach Blacks. This includes Allen University in Columbia, S.C.
1872—African American Inventor Thomas J. Martin patented the fire extinguisher
1937—William H. Hastie was confirmed as a judge of the Federal District Court in the Virgin Islands making him the first Black federal judge.
1944—Singer/Actress Diana Ross is born in Detroit, Mich. She headed the most popular female singing group of the 1960s—The Supremes.
Also on March 26, 1944, a group of white men brutally lynched the Rev. Isaac Simmons, a Black minister and farmer, so they could steal his land in Amite County, Mississippi. Members of his family, some of whom witnessed his murder, fled the state, fearing for their lives. The white men responsible for lynching him successfully stole Simmons’s land and were never convicted for their crimes.
1950—Singer Teddy Pendergrass is born in Philadelphia, Pa. For a period, Pendergrass was the leading sex symbol in R&B music. However, an automobile accident on March 18, 1982, left him paralyzed from the chest down. Pendergrass died Jan. 13, 2010.
1991—The Reverend Emmanuel Cleaver becomes the first African American mayor of Kansas City, Missouri.
March 27
1908— Alabama Representative James Thomas Heflin shot Louis Lundy, a Black man after he allegedly cursed in front of a white woman while riding on a Washington, D.C., streetcar. The congressman claimed that Mr. Lundy’s cursing was “raising a disturbance,” and he received an outpouring of support from the white public and his fellow representatives after shooting Mr. Lundy through his neck. He was never held accountable for shooting Mr. Lundy.
1924—The sensational three-time Grammy award-winner jazz vocalist Sarah Vaughn was born in Newark, New Jersey.
1970—Mariah Carey was born on this day in Long Island, N.Y. Her parents are of Irish/African-American/Venezuelan background. Carey came to prominence after releasing her self-titled debut studio album “Mariah Carey” in 1990; it went multiplatinum and spawned four consecutive number-one singles on the U.S. Billboard Hot 100 chart. Under the guidance of Columbia Records executive and later husband Tommy Mottola, she continued booking success with follow-up albums “Emotions” (1991), “Music Box” (1993), and “Merry Christmas” (1994), Carey was established as Columbia’s highest-selling act. In 1998, she was honored as the world’s best-selling recording artist of the 1990s at the World Music Awards. She married actor/comedian Nick Cannon in 2008. She lists Aretha Franklin and Stevie Wonder as her favorite singers.
1997—Pamela Gordon became Bermuda’s first female prime minister.
March 28
1842—William Harvey Carney, anAmerican Civil War soldier and the first African American to be awarded the Medal of Honor was born on this day in Norfolk, Virginia.
1900—The British demanded the Ashanti Golden Stool. Ironically, the Ashanti had been one of the tribes that had actually benefited from slavery by capturing and selling their fellow Africans. But when the slave trade ended, the British turned on the Ashanti in a bid to colonize the Gold Coast (now Ghana). In an apparent attempt to demoralize and humiliate the Ashanti, the British demanded that they turn over one of their greatest symbols—the Golden Stool. The demand led to war. The Ashanti were led by Queen Yaa Asantewa. Her fighters kept the British at bay for several months. But with superior firepower, the British eventually prevailed.
1925—Poet Countee Cullen wins Phi Beta Kappa honors at New York University
1958—A 22-year-old Black man named Jeremiah Reeves was executed by the State of Alabama after police tortured him until he gave a false confession as a 16-year-old child. In July 1951, Jeremiah, who was a 16-year-old high school student at the time, and Mabel Ann Crowder, a white woman, were discovered having sex in her home. Ms. Crowder claimed she had been raped by Jeremiah, and he was immediately arrested and taken to Kilby Prison for “questioning.” Police strapped the frightened boy into the electric chair and told him that he would be electrocuted unless he admitted to having committed all of the rapes white women had reported that summer. Under this terrifying pressure, he falsely confessed to the charges in fear. Though he soon recanted and insisted he was innocent, Jeremiah was convicted and sentenced to death after a two-day trial during which the all-white jury deliberated for less than 30 minutes.
1966—Bill Russell becomes the head coach of the Boston Celtics making him the first African American to coach an NBA team.
1968—A race riot in Memphis, Tennessee interrupts a protest march led by Martin Luther King Jr. in support of striking sanitation workers.
1972—The two surviving Soledad Brothers are found not guilty by an all-White jury in the alleged killing of a White guard at the California prison. The other Soledad Brother, revolutionary writer George Jackson, had been killed during an August 1971 Marin County Courthouse escape attempt, which also led to charges against college professor and communist Angela Davis. Davis was also eventually acquitted.
1984—Dr. Benjamin Mays dies. The president of Atlanta’s Morehouse College had been one of the leading Black educational figures in America during the 20th century.
March 29
1945— New York Knicks Basketball legend Walt Frazier was born in Atlanta, Georgia. As their floor general and top perimeter defender, he led the New York Knicks to the franchise’s only two championships (1970 & 1973) and was inducted into the Naismith Memorial Basketball Hall of Fame in 1987. Upon his retirement from basketball, Frazier went into broadcasting; he is currently a color commentator for telecasts of Knicks games on the MSG Network. In 1996, Frazier was honored as one of the league’s greatest players of all time by being named to the NBA 50th Anniversary Team. In October 2021, Frazier was again honored as one of the league’s greatest players of all time by being named to the NBA 75th Anniversary Team. Walt Frazier was also named the MVP of the first of two All-Star games played between ABA and NBA players in May 1971.
1964—An interracial group of nine men, including two Black men and seven white men, were arrested in Jackson, Mississippi for attending Easter services at the segregated Capitol Street Methodist Church, charged with trespassing and disturbing the peace
1981—Dr. Eric Eustace Williams the first Prime Minister of Trinidad and Tobago passes away
As we celebrate Women’s History Month, we reflect on women’s brilliance, strength, and impact throughout history. But this March, let’s go deeper—beyond celebration, toward restoration. Let’s center Black women’s mental health not just as an afterthought but as a necessary part of honoring their humanity.
Black women carry layered burdens. They live at the intersection of racial injustice, gender bias, and socioeconomic inequality—all while being expected to “stay strong.” This emotional labor doesn’t just wear down the spirit; it wears down the body, too.
According to the U.S. Department of Health and Human Services Office of Minority Health, Black adults are 20 percent more likely to experience severe psychological distress than white adults. Yet only one in three Black adults who need mental health care receive it. Black women are often underdiagnosed with depression or anxiety, and when they do seek help, they face systemic barriers like cost, stigma, or a lack of culturally competent providers.
The connection between mind and body can’t be ignored. Chronic stress and untreated trauma contribute to disproportionately high rates of hypertension, diabetes, and heart disease—conditions that continue to take Black women’s lives at alarming rates. Prioritizing regular check-ups and screenings isn’t just about prevention; it’s about reclaiming agency over health.
Here are some key health screenings Black women should prioritize:
Mental health assessments to address stress, anxiety, and depression
Blood pressure and cholesterol checks to monitor heart health
A1C testing for diabetes screening
Mammograms and breast exams for early detection of breast cancer
Pap smears and HPV tests for cervical cancer prevention
Thyroid function and vitamin D level checks, which can affect energy, mood, and bone health
While professional medical and mental health care is vital, healing also lives in community. For generations, Black women have turned to spiritual practices, trusted elders, sister circles, and cultural traditions to manage life’s challenges. These aren’t just coping mechanisms—they are forms of resilience, rooted in connection and history. When paired with clinical support, they can be incredibly powerful.
It’s also important to acknowledge the emotional inheritance many Black women carry: intergenerational trauma passed down from histories of enslavement, systemic racism, and medical neglect. This trauma doesn’t just disappear. It’s often held quietly in the body, in the mind, and in the expectation to keep going no matter the cost.
Despite the urgent need, Black women remain underrepresented in health and mental health fields. Only about 4 percent of psychologists in the U.S. are Black, and even fewer are Black women. This lack of representation contributes to feelings of invisibility. It can make it more difficult to find providers who truly understand the lived experience of being a Black woman in America.
So what can be done?
Make your health a priority by scheduling annual check-ups and mental health appointments.
Explore therapy, support groups, or wellness circles that feel safe and affirming.
Use culturally affirming directories such as Therapy for Black Girls or Inclusive Therapists to find providers.
Create space for rest, stillness, and reflection—even in small ways
Reach out to the women in your life and check in on how they’re doing.
This Women’s History Month, let’s move beyond admiration and into action. Let’s invest in Black women’s wellness, rest, and healing—mind, body, and soul. Because they deserve more than survival. They deserve peace, care, and wholeness.
If you or someone you know is struggling with mental health, you can call or text the Suicide & Crisis Lifeline at 988 for free, 24/7 support. For culturally responsive care, visit therapyforblackgirls.com or inclusivetherapists.com.
Disclaimer: This article is for informational and supportive purposes only and should not be taken as medical or mental health advice. Please consult with a licensed healthcare provider for professional diagnosis, treatment, or medical guidance.
The Blue State Illusion: How Liberal Hypocrisy Fuels American Inequality An analysis of The New York Times Opinion video editorial — with a look at Westchester County, NY
In its YouTube editorial, “Liberal Hypocrisy is Fueling American Inequality. Here’s How,”the New York Times Opinionteam delivers a pointed critique of Democratic leadership in America’s most progressive states. Despite holding full political power in 18 states, Democrats often fall short in turning their platform into policy—especially on the issues of housing, taxation, and education. The result is a troubling pattern of inequality entrenched not in red states but in blue ones.
This contradiction is not theoretical—it’s playing out in real-time in places like Westchester County, New York.
The editorial begins by asking a crucial question: What happens when Democrats are in full control and no Republicans are in their way? Using the 2020 Democratic Party platform as a benchmark, the video editorial examines whether states governed by Democrats are delivering on their promises. The answer, in many cases, is no.
Westchester County offers a vivid example. Long considered a liberal stronghold, Westchester presents a stark economic divide along racial lines. According to the U.S. Census Bureau, the median household income for Black or African American residents is approximately $77,471, compared to the county-wide median of $118,411. This income gap collides with an increasingly unaffordable housing market. As of February 2025, the average home value in the county stands at $798,586—a 5.1% increase from the previous year. More striking, the price of single-family homes has crossed the $1 million threshold for the first time, according to CBS News. For many Black families, homeownership is becoming a distant dream.
This mirrors patterns seen in the editorial’s deep dive into California, where liberal cities like Palo Alto outwardly promote equity but quietly block affordable housing. Efforts to build multi-unit housing—such as a 60-unit project for seniors—are frequently stopped by residents who advocate for inclusion in theory but resist it in practice. This “Not In My Backyard” mentality protects property values and zoning laws, even as it perpetuates exclusion.
Taxation is another area where liberal states often defy their own stated ideals. While Democratic leaders champion progressive taxation, states like Washington—home to some of the wealthiest individuals in the country—maintain deeply regressive tax systems. Low-income residents pay a larger percentage of their income in taxes than the rich. Even conservative states like Texas fare better in this regard. The editorial clarifies that these outcomes are not due to Republican obstruction; they are Democratic decisions.
The pattern extends to public education. In Illinois, particularly in Cook County, the school funding system is designed to concentrate resources in wealthy districts. The county is divided into more than 140 school zones, many drawn to protect affluent tax bases. In some cases, children on the same block are sent to dramatically different schools depending on which side of a district line they live. The same story plays out in Connecticut and Westchester, where some schools operate in state-of-the-art buildings while others struggle with mold, broken windows, and inadequate heating.
Despite these failures, many liberal communities continue to project a public image of inclusion. They display signs of solidarity, attend marches, and speak the language of progress. However, when it comes to policy decisions—zoning, school funding, and tax reform—their actions often reinforce the inequality they claim to oppose.
The editorial doesn’t dismiss the progress that has been made. California, for example, recently passed legislation to phase out single-family zoning. Blue states also offer more robust public services and better upward mobility than red states. Still, Democratic-governed states often fail on foundational issues of fairness and equity.
The conclusion is hard to ignore. Many of America’s most severe inequality issues—skyrocketing housing costs, underfunded public schools, regressive taxes—are concentrated in places run by Democrats. These aren’t failures of opposition. They are failures of will.
And for Black communities in places like Westchester County, these failures are not just statistics. They are lived realities. Until Democratic leaders—and the voters who elect them—are willing to back up their values with structural change, inequality will remain deeply embedded in the very states that promise to fight it.
This article is partly based on the New York Times Opinion video editorial, “Liberal Hypocrisy is Fueling American Inequality. Here’s How.” Published on YouTube by The New York Times on March 20, 2025.
In the African American experience, activism and faith have been intertwined for generations. The Black church and religious leaders have been essential in influencing activism and community resilience, from the enslaved people’s fight for freedom to the contemporary movements for racial and social justice. The nexus of activism and faith must continue to be a powerful catalyst for change, offering both spiritual sustenance and a framework for collective action.
Faith as a Source of Strength
Faith has long been a refuge for African Americans, offering hope and endurance in the face of systemic oppression. During slavery, Christianity became a means of spiritual resistance, with enslaved people identifying with biblical figures such as Moses, who led his people out of bondage. The Negro spirituals, which carried messages of hope and freedom, were both acts of worship and coded messages of escape and resistance.
Throughout history, the Black church has been more than a place of worship—it has served as a center for education, economic empowerment, and community organizing. It has provided the moral and ethical foundation for civil rights movements, reinforcing the idea that justice is a divine mandate.
The Black Church and the Civil Rights Movement
The Civil Rights Movement of the 1950s and 1960s was deeply rooted in faith. Churches became meeting places for strategizing protests, organizing boycotts, and inspiring hope. Leaders such as Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., Reverend Ralph Abernathy, and Fannie Lou Hamer used biblical principles to frame their calls for justice and equality. The Southern Christian Leadership Conference (SCLC), founded in 1957, embodied the union of faith and activism, relying on nonviolent resistance as a form of moral advocacy.
The power of the pulpit was evident in King’s famous “I Have a Dream” speech, which blended scripture with a call for racial harmony. His vision of a “beloved community,” rooted in Christian love and justice, continues to inspire activists today.
That being said, Black churches MUST continue to be at the forefront of social justice movements, advocating for issues like criminal justice reform, economic empowerment, and voting rights if we are going to have any expectation of success today.
Faith in Contemporary Activism
Faith often remained central to modern movements such as Black Lives Matter (BLM), which, while often seen as secular, has deep spiritual undercurrents. Many BLM organizers and activists draw on faith traditions to fuel their commitment to justice. Some clergy members continued to march, protest, and provide spiritual guidance to those on the front lines, but we need more involvement from the Black Church more than ever.
Additionally, interfaith coalitions have emerged, bringing together Christian, Muslim, Jewish, and other religious communities to advocate for racial and social justice. These collaborations reinforce the idea that faith is not just personal but a call to action. Let us not forget many Black Muslim leaders—past and present— have helped shape movements for justice, resilience, and self-determination, only in our unity will we prevail.
Challenges and Opportunities
I have often been critical of the lack of the Black Church involvement lately. Despite its historical role in activism, the Black church seems to have faced challenges in adapting to contemporary social movements. leading younger generations to often seek new approaches to justice that go beyond traditional religious institutions. However, while many churches are embracing new platforms, using social media, podcasts, and virtual spaces to engage in activism and spiritual mentorship, we need more to step up.
Faith-based organizations must continue to play a role in criminal justice reform, voter mobilization, and economic empowerment initiatives. We need more programs addressing mass incarceration, police violence, and systemic poverty which were often led by religious leaders and faith-driven activists.
Bridging Generational and Technological Gaps
One challenge the Black Church faces today is staying relevant to younger generations who engage in activism differently. Many churches are embracing social media, podcasts, and digital platforms to connect with millennials and Gen Z activists. By merging traditional faith-based activism with modern tools, the Black Church can remain a dynamic force in the movement for justice.
Conclusion
Faith and activism have always been intertwined in the African American experience, providing both spiritual resilience and a moral imperative to fight for justice. From the slave rebellions of the past to the marches of the Civil Rights Movement and today’s calls for equity, faith remains a powerful tool for transformation. As new generations of activists emerge, the legacy of faith-driven advocacy continues to inspire, reminding us that the fight for justice is not just political—it is also deeply spiritual.
The Black Church was not just a religious institution—it was a movement, a community, and a powerful force for justice. As racial and social inequalities persist, its role in activism, advocacy, and community-building is more critical than ever. By standing at the intersection of faith and freedom, the Black Church MUST continue to be a beacon of hope and a catalyst for change. From the pews to the streets, Black churches MUST continue to be a source of strength, resilience, and transformation. Through faith and activism, we must preserve traditions as we build legacies that continue to fight for freedom and social justice, and that’s REAL TALK!
To support the Black Westchester, which provides the News With The Black Point Of view and gives you the real talk for the community for free, make a donation via PayPal. In the words of Ray Charles, “One of these days, and it [might not be] long, You’re gonna look for [us], and [we’ll] be gone.” Support independent, Black-owned, Free Media! At Black Westchester, we always put People Before Politics!
Friday, March 21, 2025, at the YWCA of White Plains & Central Westchester, wasn’t just another calendar event for Women’s History Month—it was a full-on download from the divine feminine.
The theme? “Leading in a Challenging Time.”
The result? Proof that when women speak the truth, systems shake. When we gather, we don’t just share space—we set it on fire with purpose.
Now you know I’m not new to the game. I came in expecting a solid panel. But what I got? A soul shift. And by the time it ended, I had a new prayer: Let me always be surrounded by women like these.
Let me start with the powerhouse energy in the room.
Javon M. Trottman-Floyd, MPA, Chief Operating Officer of the YWCA, held it down as the anchor of the evening. Not just facilitating—centering. Her presence made it clear: leadership rooted in care is not soft. It’s steel wrapped in softness. It’s “I got you” energy paired with executive-level excellence.
And then came the panelists, each one pulling back the curtain on what it really means to lead right now—in a world that often refuses to see us, hear us, or value our labor.
Kate Permut, Chair of the Westchester Women’s Agenda, rolled in with the receipts. No fluff. Just facts, frameworks, and fierce advocacy. She painted a picture of equity that was rooted in action, not just aspiration. You know the type—quiet storm, but when she speaks, everything stills so you don’t miss a word.
Eileen O’Connor, cofounder of NYCD16 Indivisible, reminded us that political activism isn’t reserved for podiums and press releases. It lives in town halls, living rooms, and inboxes at 2 a.m. when justice can’t wait. Eileen brought the heat—strategic, smart, and unapologetically people-first.
Then Jirandy Martinez, Executive Director of the Community Resource Center, stood in her power and reminded us that proximity to pain creates a deeper kind of purpose. She leads with love and boundaries—serving immigrant communities with clarity, cultural fluency, and unshakable conviction.
And let me tell you about Maritza Fasack, educator and founder of Women United of Westchester Social Club. When she spoke? I swear time paused. Her message was about joy as resistance, about the importance of gathering not just to organize—but to remember we’re human. She reminded us that spaces of sisterhood aren’t luxuries. They’re lifelines.
And the queens who made it all possible?
Senate Majority Leader Andrea Stewart-Cousins and Senator Shelley B. Mayer. Whew.
Let’s start with Andrea. Her presence alone teaches. The first Black woman to lead a legislative conference in New York State—and still as real as your favorite auntie who taught you how to read a room and read a bill. She moves with legacy on her shoulders and liberation in her bones.
And Shelley? She walks the walk. A fierce advocate for public education, women’s rights, and the communities often pushed to the margins. She didn’t just host—she listened. She uplifted. She showed up in a way that felt genuine and grounded.
Now, let me be clear: there was no buffet, no catering, no passed appetizers. But baby—we were fed. On vision. On truth. On vulnerability and unapologetic strength. We were reminded that being a woman in leadership doesn’t mean fitting into broken systems—it means rebuilding them from the inside out.
So if you ask me what I took away?
It’s this: We lead from love. We organize from experience. We rise from fire.
And when we do it together? There’s nothing more powerful.
With all the love for the women who lead and the sisters who stand behind the scenes holding us down,
Washington, D.C. – March 2025 In his first official address as Secretary of Health and Human Services, Robert F. Kennedy Jr. outlined a sweeping vision to confront what he called a national epidemic of chronic disease, setting the tone for a dramatic shift in health policy under the Trump administration. Speaking to department staff in Washington, Kennedy declared his shared mission with President Trump: to “Make America Healthy Again.”
Kennedy opened by painting a grim picture of the nation’s health. He cited alarming statistics showing that six in ten American adults suffer from at least one chronic illness, while four in ten live with two or more. The United States, he noted, now leads the world in cancer rates, and the prevalence of conditions such as asthma, autoimmune disorders, and diabetes has exploded in recent decades. Autism, he said, now affects one in every thirty-six children—a rate that has quadrupled over past generations. In addition, obesity, hormonal imbalances, and other previously rare conditions are increasingly common among both children and adults.
“These conditions were virtually unheard of when my uncle was president,” Kennedy said, referencing President John F. Kennedy’s term in the early 1960s. He described a nation once proud of its health and scientific leadership, now burdened with escalating disease rates and what he called a “chronic disease crisis” that is bankrupting the country.
Kennedy called out what he described as an overreliance on pharmaceutical interventions that often fail to address root causes. “Our only solution seems to be more and more pharmaceutical interventions,” he said, adding that the health outcomes in the United States continue to decline despite massive spending. Chronic diseases, he noted, now account for nearly 90 percent of the nation’s healthcare costs.
Throughout his speech, Kennedy emphasized a return to transparency and integrity as the path forward. He traced the erosion of public trust in health institutions like the NIH, CDC, and FDA to a lack of openness, and pledged to reestablish these agencies as gold standards of science. “The path to public trust is always through transparency,” he said. “Transparency is the foundation of science, and it is the foundation of democracy.”
He promised to make agency data and decision-making accessible to the public without the need for Freedom of Information Act (FOIA) requests. He also committed to addressing conflicts of interest in research, ending the “revolving door” between regulatory agencies and industry, and restoring scientific credibility through openness, reproducibility, and ethical research.
Kennedy was quick to separate health from partisanship, arguing that it should be a matter of compassion and evidence, not political ideology. “There’s no such thing as Democratic children or Republican children,” he said. “These are all our children, and all of us want to keep them healthy.”
Announcing a major initiative, Kennedy revealed that President Trump had just signed an executive order establishing the Make America Healthy Again (MAHA) Commission. The commission will investigate the root causes of declining American health over the past two generations, and Kennedy made clear that no topic will be off-limits. The list of areas under scrutiny includes vaccine schedules, electromagnetic radiation, pesticides like glyphosate, ultra-processed foods, pharmaceutical use in children and adolescents, and emerging environmental toxins such as microplastics and PFAs.
“Whatever beliefs or suspicions I’ve expressed in the past,” Kennedy said, “I’m willing to subject them all to the scrutiny of unbiased science.” He emphasized that research under his leadership would be collaborative, transparent, and free of political or commercial influence.
Addressing the staff directly, Kennedy acknowledged the controversy surrounding his appointment and the polarized environment of his confirmation. He asked his new colleagues to approach their shared mission without preconceived notions. “Let’s start from square one,” he said. “Let’s establish mutual intention to work toward what we all care about—the health of the American people.”
He promised to lead with openness, a willingness to listen, and a readiness to be proven wrong, stating that honest inquiry and good faith debate are essential for a functioning democracy. “The health of our people is a lot more important than being right or being vindicated,” he said.
Beyond policy and science, Kennedy touched on what he sees as a deeper crisis—a spiritual malaise afflicting the American people. He drew a connection between the nation’s declining physical health and the rising levels of anxiety, alienation, and hopelessness among young people. “Spiritual and physical maladies feed on one another,” he said, urging HHS to help guide a national renewal of purpose, engagement, and self-knowledge.
He warned of powerful interests that profit from public fear, division, and dependency. “They want us hiding from ourselves, dulling our pain and loneliness through sedation and distraction,” he said. In contrast, he called for an agency culture built on compassion, service, and the belief in human potential.
Kennedy concluded his remarks with a message of hope and determination. “The goals that I have for HHS—transparency, informed choice, integrity, and efficiency—are possible only with your help,” he said. “The task before us is historic: to reverse a trend of worsening health that goes back 60 years.”
Recalling a time when the United States was the healthiest nation on Earth, Kennedy challenged the agency to help reclaim that legacy. “With your help and commitment, we can go back to that time. We can have that again,” he said. “Now, let’s get to work.”
Hip-Hop has always been more than just music. Since its inception in the 1970s, it has served as a powerful voice for marginalized communities, addressing social injustices, political issues, and systemic inequalities. From the streets of the Bronx to global stages, hip-hop has continuously evolved as a tool for activism, shaping and responding to the sociopolitical landscape of its time.
The Roots of Hip-Hop Activism
Hip-Hop emerged in the late 1970s in the Bronx, New York, as a form of expression for Black and Latino youth facing economic disparity, police brutality, and social neglect. Early pioneers like Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five highlighted these struggles, most notably with “The Message” (1982), a stark depiction of inner-city life. As hip-hop grew, so did its role as a vehicle for protest.
In the late 1980s and early 1990s, groups like Public Enemy and N.W.A took activism in hip-hop to another level. Public Enemy’s “Fight the Power” became an anthem for resistance, while N.W.A’s “F*** tha Police” provided a raw, unapologetic critique of police brutality. These songs were not just entertainment; they were rallying cries that resonated with disenfranchised communities.
Hip-Hop’s Role in Political Movements
As the genre matured, Hip-Hop artists became increasingly involved in political movements. Tupac Shakur used his music and influence to discuss issues like systemic racism, poverty, and mass incarceration. His mother, Afeni Shakur, was a Black Panther, and his music reflected those revolutionary ideals. Similarly, in the early 2000s, artists like Nas, Mos Def, and Talib Kweli continued this legacy, using their lyrics to educate and inspire change.
Hip-Hop played a crucial role in the early 2000s’ political landscape, particularly in rallying young voters. Sean “Diddy” Combs’ “Vote or Die” campaign in 2004 sought to mobilize young people to participate in elections, while artists like Kanye West and Common spoke out against government neglect, particularly in the wake of Hurricane Katrina.
Hip-Hop has played a significant role in political movements, serving as a powerful tool for activism, social commentary, and resistance. Since its emergence in the 1970s, Hip-Hop has been a voice for marginalized communities, addressing issues such as racial injustice, police brutality, economic inequality, and systemic oppression.
Hip-Hop as a Political Platform
Early Political Messages
Grandmaster Flash & The Furious Five’s The Message (1982) highlighted urban struggles and systemic neglect.
Public Enemy’s Fight the Power (1989) became an anthem against racial injustice and government oppression.
Addressing Social Injustices
Tupac Shakur’s music reflected themes of poverty, racial profiling, and resistance.
Artists like Kendrick Lamar (Alright) and J. Cole have contributed to movements like Black Lives Matter.
Hip-hop has inspired grassroots activism, voter registration efforts, and political engagement.
Hip-Hop and Political Figures
Rappers have endorsed politicians, influencing elections (e.g., Jay-Z and Beyoncé supporting Barack Obama).
Some Hip-Hop artists, like Killer Mike, engage directly in political discourse and activism.
Modern Impact
The rise of social media and streaming platforms has amplified hip-hop’s political reach.
Hip-Hop remains a crucial cultural force in protests, elections, and community advocacy.
Modern-Day Hip-Hop Activism
In the last decade, Hip-Hop’s activist roots have only deepened. The Black Lives Matter (BLM) movement has been strongly supported by Hip-Hop artists who have used their platforms to amplify issues of police violence and racial injustice. Kendrick Lamar’s “Alright” became a protest anthem during BLM demonstrations, while J. Cole, Killer Mike, and Run the Jewels have used both their music and public voices to advocate for social change.
Artists like Beyoncé and Jay-Z have also leveraged their influence to push for reform, supporting initiatives related to criminal justice and economic empowerment for Black communities. The rise of social media has given Hip-Hop activism a broader reach, allowing artists to directly engage with audiences and mobilize people in real-time.
Activism has always been a core element of Hip-Hop, and today’s artists continue to use their platforms to advocate for change. From police brutality and systemic racism to mental health and economic inequality, hip-hop remains a voice for the people.
Key Themes in Modern Hip-Hop Activism
1. Police Brutality & Racial Injustice
Like N.W.A’s “F*** tha Police” in 1988 and KRS ONE’s ‘Sound Of Da Police,” in 1993, artists like Kendrick Lamar, J. Cole, and Killer Mike continue to address issues of police violence and racial profiling in their music and public activism. Songs like Alright by Kendrick Lamar, who won a Pulitzer Award, became anthems during the Black Lives Matter protests.
2. Political Engagement & Voting Rights
Many rappers, including Cardi B, YG, and Common, have encouraged young people to vote and stay politically aware. Some, like Killer Mike, even engage in direct discussions with politicians about systemic reform.
3. Mental Health & Self-Care
Rappers like Kid Cudi, Logic, and G Herbo openly discuss mental health issues, breaking stigmas around anxiety, depression, and PTSD—especially in Black and Brown communities. Logic’s 1-800-273-8255 directly tackled suicide prevention.
4. Economic Empowerment & Financial Literacy
Nipsey Hussle was a major advocate for economic empowerment, investing in his community, and promoting financial literacy. Jay-Z and others have pushed for generational wealth-building through smart investments and ownership.
5. Climate & Environmental Justice
Artists like Lil Dicky (Earth) and Jaden Smith (through his JUST Water initiative) bring awareness to environmental issues, particularly clean water access and climate change.
More Than Music: Real-World Impact
Hip-Hop activism isn’t just in lyrics—it’s in real-world action. Artists are starting businesses, donating to communities, protesting, and using social media to amplify their messages.
The Future of Hip-Hop Activism
As Hip-Hop continues to evolve, its role in activism will likely expand in new and innovative ways. With the digital age providing artists with direct access to their audiences, the future of Hip-Hop activism will likely be more immediate, global, and collaborative. Platforms like Instagram, Twitter, and TikTok allow artists to organize movements, share critical messages, and support causes without reliance on traditional media.
Moreover, we are seeing a rise in Hip-Hop’s economic activism, with artists like Nipsey Hussle (before his tragic passing) emphasizing financial literacy, community ownership, and Black entrepreneurship. As economic empowerment becomes a focal point in social justice conversations, hip-hop will likely continue pushing these narratives.
Education and mentorship will also be critical components. Many artists are investing in community programs, scholarships, and educational initiatives to create systemic change at the grassroots level. This shift from just lyrical activism to tangible action marks a promising direction for Hip-Hop’s role in social justice.
Conclusion
Hip-Hop has always been an art form deeply rooted in activism, from its early days of exposing social struggles to its current role in mobilizing political movements. As society continues to grapple with issues of inequality, police brutality, and systemic oppression, Hip-Hop remains a crucial platform for change. Moving forward, its activism will likely take on new forms—leveraging technology, economic empowerment, and education to push for justice and equity in the world. The future of Hip-Hop activism is bright, and its impact is far from over.
But let me be clear, while Hip-Hop and activism have a fantastic shared history, in order to appreciate it, you must recognize that although music can highlight injustice, it cannot by itself mend the scars of oppression. We cannot wait for the ideal anthem over the perfect beat to come to their rescue. Music has been an integral part of the Black struggle for freedom and justice, serving as a powerful tool for expression, resistance, and community building, evolving from spirituals and work songs to jazz, blues, soul, and Hip-Hop.
During slavery, music, particularly spirituals and work songs, allowed enslaved people to express their emotions, maintain their cultural identity, and subtly communicate resistance. Music played a role in the Underground Railroad, with songs like “Follow the Drinking Gourd” serving as coded messages for enslaved people seeking freedom. After the Civil War, music continued to evolve, with the blues emerging as a way to express the hardships of the post-slavery era. During the Civil Rights Movement, music, often referred to as “freedom songs,” became a powerful tool for mobilization and protest.
As we explore the intersection of Hip-Hop and Social Justice, instead of waiting for Hip-Hop to save us going forward, we must use it as a powerful tool for mobilization and protest. While I must admit Hip-Hop doesn’t always feel revolutionary anymore, we must stand up, speak truth to power, and continue to utilize the music as our theme song as we continue “Fight The Power” as Chuck D told us to do in 1989!
To support the Black Westchester, which provides the News With The Black Point Of view and gives you the real talk for the community for free, make a donation via PayPal. In the words of Ray Charles, “One of these days, and it [might not be] long, You’re gonna look for [us], and [we’ll] be gone.” Support independent, Black-owned, Free Media! At Black Westchester, we always put People Before Politics!
