Ah, 2025. Still the unwelcomed house guests in a nation that built itself on our
blood, sweat, and tears. Still marginalized,
still the afterthought in the grand American
experiment. Maybe ol’ Abe’s “Exit Strategy”
for Blacks was on point, maybe he was onto
something after all, huh? Maybe Black America
made a teensy-weensy mistake when we decided
to stick around - to invest in a country that
hadn’t even figured out how to treat us like
humans, let alone citizens. Who could’ve
known? Who could’ve possibly predicted that pouring decades of labor, creativity,
and pain into a nation built on our backs
might not be the best long-term investment
strategy?
Remember President Lincoln’s “great solution” for Black
America after the Civil War? He didn’t think
we should become a part of the nation we
helped build. No, no, no - Lincoln’s vision
was more “generous” than that. His idea was
that, once freed, we should skip the whole
“freedom in America” thing and instead head to
Panama, or some distant land, where we could
live free from the constant racial chaos of
post-Civil War America. Land. Opportunity.
Freedom. What a wonderful concept, right? Of course, it wasn’t just an idea; it was
Lincoln’s solution for a problem he couldn’t -
or wouldn’t - solve within the borders of the
United States.
So here we are, 150 years later, still getting up every
damn morning, groggily rubbing our eyes, and
asking, “So, how does my country feel about me
today?” And judging by the icy reception we’re still getting in 2025, the answer is: “Oh,
we’re still figuring that out.” A little rude?
Sure. A little unwelcoming? Absolutely. But
hey, at least we’ve got consistency - it’s
kind of like that weirdly uncomfortable,
always-uninvited family member who never stops showing up to the reunion. Can’t get rid of
them, so why not just make peace with the
awkwardness, right?
But maybe, just maybe, our decision to stay and keep
fighting for a seat at this unfinished table - a table that still hasn’t cleared a chair for us - was not the smartest move. Who
could’ve guessed?
The truth is, it’s no secret.
America’s history with Black people has been
one of struggle, survival, and, let’s not
forget, perseverance - against a country that
refused to see our humanity, refused to
recognize our worth, and still, to this day,
struggles with doing so. But what if we had
been given the chance to leave? What if
Lincoln’s idea, however mangled and misguided,
had come to fruition? What if we had packed
our bags, left the festering sores of systemic
racism and violence behind, and started fresh
somewhere far from the toxic fumes of American
oppression?
Enter Frederick Douglass, ever
the optimist and tireless champion for the
rights of Black Americans. He wasn’t buying
Lincolns scheme.
Sure, Douglass saw the allure
of a new world - one where Black Americans
could escape the unrelenting cycle of
subjugation and live in peace. But his
reluctance to embrace relocation wasn’t about
rejecting freedom. It was about
self-determination. It was about ownership of
our future, of our fate. For some, the
prospect of starting fresh in a place where
Black people could truly be free was
appealing. The problem was, freedom wasn’t
supposed to mean starting over on someone
else’s terms - it was supposed to mean being
fully, finally free in the nation we helped
shape.
Now, let’s imagine a world
where Douglass, despite his doubts, embraced
the idea. Picture it: Black Americans no
longer chained to the oppressive forces of a
country that only ever treated us as subhuman.
Pouring into Panama, a country offering us
land, opportunity, and the chance to finally
breathe. What could’ve been? A society of our
own making. A place where we controlled the
narrative, where Black men and women were free
to thrive and build without the ever-watchful
eye of white supremacy breathing down their
necks.
We could have been more than
just survivors. We could have built a
nation-an entire society from the ground up,
free from the historical baggage that America
forced on us. Imagine it: Black farmers
building economies, Black entrepreneurs
creating trade networks, Black educators
shaping the future. We could have had a place
of prosperity, one where the shadows of
slavery and the stain of racial violence never
hovered over us. It would have been the
ultimate expression of freedom, the kind that
America just wasn’t ready to give. A world
where we didn’t have to ask for permission to
be who we are, where we could finally escape
the toxic system that claimed to “welcome” us
but never truly did.
But here’s the thing: That
dream, that possibility, was never realized.
The United States failed us, as
it has done time and time again. Yes, we’ve
had victories. Yes, we’ve fought hard for
every inch of progress. But those gains were
always tempered by violence,
disenfranchisement, and a seething resentment
from a nation that never fully saw us as
equals. The struggle for true freedom in this
country has never stopped. It has simply
evolved.
I believe we, as a people, were
wrong. It is clear we cannot convince the
majority of White folks we are both human and
civilized. I’m sick and tired of trying.
Fast forward to 2025. We’re
still here, still fighting the same fight. But
the fight today feels different. It’s not just
about equal rights anymore; it’s about basic
human dignity. Despite all we’ve contributed -
despite every drop of sweat, every sacrifice,
every ounce of our existence poured into this
nation - we are still told we don’t belong
here. Half of the country still supports a man
who openly courts white nationalists, the Ku
Klux Klan, and neo-Nazis. 75% of white
America, to be exact, voted him into power,
not once but twice.
This is the world we’re in. A
world where Black Americans continue to exist
on the margins, where our very presence is
still questioned. A world where statues of
confederate generals are revered, while books
about slavery and the Black experience are
banned from classrooms. A world where our
history - the one we helped shape - is erased
from the narrative, as if we never existed. A
world where we’re still told that we don’t
matter, that we’re unwanted, unwelcome, and
unseen.
We’ve helped build this
country. We’ve fought for its freedoms. We’ve
contributed to its culture, its economy, its
politics. And yet, even today, we’re still
being pushed aside, excluded, and told that
our very existence is too much for some to
bear. America still doesn’t want us - not
truly. We are still the uncomfortable,
inconvenient truth. The afterthought. The
footnote.
And yet, we remain.
Could we have been better off
in Panama? Free from the suffocating embrace
of white supremacy that still tightens its
grip on the United States? Maybe. Could we
have built something more powerful,
self-sustaining, and free from the weight of
centuries of oppression? Perhaps. But here’s
the reality: We’re here. In America. And we’re
not leaving. No matter how many times the
country tries to erase us, we won’t be erased.
The fight isn’t over. It’s not
even close.
We will continue to rise, to
build, to demand a place at this table - even
if they keep pretending it’s not set for us.
We are here, undeterred, and we’re not going
anywhere. The dream of true freedom may feel
distant, like a fading star on the horizon,
but it is still there. It’s still alive.
So, we will keep pushing, keep
fighting. We will not go quietly into the
night. The legacy of Black America will not be
erased. This dream - this fight - is far from
over.
America may not want us. But we
will continue to make this country face the
truth of its own history, whether it likes it
or not. We are here to stay.
