Introduction
In conversations about demographics, politics, and social progress, the term “minority” is frequently used in the U.S. to refer to Black people and other marginalized groups. This label, while seemingly innocuous, is more than just a statistical categorization; it carries a weighty implication. Framing Black people as a “minority” within the United States context not only diminishes the reality of our global presence but also perpetuates systemic inequalities designed to keep us disenfranchised. In this piece, I’ll unpack how the term “minority” is a tool of oppression, how systems have been deliberately structured to devalue Black people, and how this impacts us both at home and on a global scale.
Black People: The Global Majority
According to the United Nations, people of African descent and those from regions such as the Caribbean, Africa, and Latin America represent a significant portion of the world’s population. Estimates show that Black and Brown people make up well over a billion individuals globally—far from a “minority.” In Africa alone, over 1.4 billion people live on the continent, and countless others exist in vast diasporas throughout the Americas, Europe, and beyond.
Yet, the United States designates Black people as a “minority,” constructing a narrative that minimizes our global presence and influence. The word “minority” subtly conditions society to believe that Black people hold less power, importance, or potential, embedding a psychological barrier in public consciousness. It diverts attention from the economic, cultural, and intellectual wealth Black people contribute worldwide. This framework skews perspectives, framing Black people as perpetual outsiders or “lesser than” in a society where we are, in fact, the global majority.
A System Designed to Oppress
The reality is that the U.S. government and societal systems were historically and intentionally structured to keep Black people disenfranchised. From slavery to Jim Crow, redlining to mass incarceration, the oppressive mechanisms are deep-rooted and systematic. This is not an unfortunate accident; it’s an architecture designed to maintain control.
Consider the U.S. Constitution. Though amended, its original framework legitimized the subjugation of Black people, counting enslaved people as “three-fifths” of a person. The 13th Amendment, which supposedly abolished slavery, includes a loophole permitting slavery “as a punishment for crime,” directly laying the foundation for today’s prison-industrial complex. This system disproportionately targets Black people, with African Americans making up roughly 13% of the U.S. population but accounting for nearly 40% of the incarcerated population. This disparity is not coincidental but a consequence of laws and policies that criminalize Black existence while fueling profit for the prison system.
The Weaponization of the “Minority” Label
The label “minority” isn’t just semantics—it serves a purpose. Describing Black people as a minority diminishes our influence, weakens our collective bargaining power, and justifies underfunding our communities. By portraying Black people as small and isolated, the dominant power structure justifies allocating fewer resources, imposing harsher sentences, and enforcing more stringent regulations on Black communities. Education, healthcare, housing, and employment have all been systematically withheld, enforcing the notion of inferiority and dependence, creating and perpetuating cycles of poverty.
The concept of “minority” also enables a type of gatekeeping, wherein initiatives aimed at “diversity and inclusion” often sideline Black people in favor of performative measures. Companies may employ token representation, offer symbolic gestures, or host one-off events to celebrate Black History Month. However, these acts rarely translate into genuine empowerment or access to resources, keeping the image of the “minority” stagnant, unable to achieve meaningful influence.
Evidence of Systemic Disenfranchisement
The statistics make the story crystal clear:
- Wealth Disparity: According to a 2019 report by the Federal Reserve, the average wealth of white families was $188,200, while Black families’ average wealth stood at just $24,100. This stark difference is a result of redlining, predatory lending, and lack of access to capital.
- Housing and Redlining: The Fair Housing Act of 1968 was supposed to eliminate housing discrimination, but the practice of redlining—denying services to residents of certain areas based on race—had already stunted Black economic growth. The effects are still felt today, as property values in historically Black neighborhoods remain suppressed.
- Education Funding: Schools in predominantly Black neighborhoods are underfunded compared to those in predominantly white areas. A report by EdBuild found that nonwhite school districts received $23 billion less in funding than white districts, a figure that directly contributes to ongoing educational inequality and limited economic mobility.
- Healthcare: The COVID-19 pandemic laid bare the healthcare disparities faced by Black Americans, who suffered higher infection and mortality rates due to a lack of access to quality healthcare, higher incidences of comorbidities, and a lack of resources in Black communities. This is not accidental but part of a broader pattern of deprioritizing Black health and well-being.
Reclaiming Our Power
If we are to dismantle these oppressive structures, we must reject the labels imposed upon us and redefine ourselves on our terms. Acknowledging our status as a global majority is essential to this reclamation. By embracing our global connection, Black people worldwide can transcend borders, pooling resources, knowledge, and influence to uplift each other and challenge oppressive systems. International cooperation among Black nations and communities offers a pathway to empowerment beyond the limiting frameworks of minority/majority labels.
The Savage History of Oppression
The historical record is unambiguous: European colonizers and their descendants have engaged in systematic acts of savagery against Black and Brown peoples worldwide. From the transatlantic slave trade to the colonization of Africa, the Caribbean, and the Americas, the hallmarks of their dominion have been war, enslavement, theft, murder, rape, and genocide. The atrocities committed—whether through the forced displacement of millions of Africans during the Middle Passage, the slaughter of Indigenous peoples in the Americas, or the brutal apartheid systems in South Africa—are not isolated incidents but deliberate, calculated strategies to dominate and exploit.
This violence is not a relic of the past. It manifests today in the form of structural racism, economic exploitation, and state-sponsored violence. The oppressed have been more than patient, extending opportunities for reconciliation, reparations, and genuine systemic reform. Yet, those in power have largely refused to acknowledge, let alone rectify, their historical and ongoing crimes.
“Those who make peaceful revolution impossible will make violent revolution inevitable.” – John F. Kennedy
If those labeled as the “minority” were to abandon the path of peace and engage in the same savage tactics of war, murder, and resistance that have been inflicted upon them, it would be a legally and morally justifiable form of retribution under natural law and the principle of self-defense. Oppressors cannot expect endless tolerance while perpetuating systems of harm. Justice demands balance, and when avenues for peace and equity are ignored, retribution becomes the language of the oppressed.
Moving Forward
Addressing systemic inequities requires more than just superficial changes; it requires a reckoning with the policies and narratives that perpetuate them. Governments and institutions must be held accountable. Reparations, policy reform, and investment in Black communities are essential steps toward equity and justice. Black people are not a minority; we are part of a vast, interconnected majority with a deep history, a resilient present, and a powerful future.
In understanding our true place in the world, we empower ourselves to challenge the systems designed to oppress us. We redefine our identity, not based on numbers within artificial borders, but on the power and influence we carry globally. Embracing our identity as the global majority is not just a mindset shift; it’s an act of defiance against a world that has tried, time and again, to keep us in the shadows. It’s time to step into the light.
Until Next Time…
I Am,
Ewing Redmond Samuels III
