Are We Selling Out the Sacrifice of Our Ancestors? What Our Ancestors Built, White Supremacy Destroyed—and We Didn’t Rebuild

Peace family,

This is a conversation I want to have with the family—honest, loving, and necessary.

Here’s a serious question we must sit with: Can the ancestors who fought, bled, and died during slavery, Jim Crow, and the Civil Rights Movement charge today’s Black community with selling out? It’s uncomfortable, but it’s a question rooted in love for our people and respect for the sacrifices made on our behalf. When we look at history, we see something powerful.

After the abolishment of slavery, Black people built. We created our own schools, towns, banks, businesses, and institutions. We didn’t wait for permission. We organized, pooled resources, and thrived. The destruction of that progress didn’t come from internal failure—it came when white supremacy saw our independence as a threat. Tulsa, Rosewood, redlining, discriminatory laws, and economic terrorism were used to shut us down.

Today, those same forces exist—just dressed up differently. Redlining became gentrification. Segregation became “market forces.” Control became “policy.” And yet, we often act as if this is accidental or unavoidable.

We also have to examine integration honestly. While integration opened doors, it also came at a cost. Too often, we abandoned our own institutions—our schools, our businesses, even our sports leagues—to sit in systems that never fully respected us. Historically Black colleges struggled. Black-owned businesses collapsed. The Negro Baseball Leagues, once thriving with talent and ownership, disappeared when integration absorbed our labor but not our power.

Fast forward to today. Black athletes dominate major sports. The talent, style, and excitement come from us—yet we don’t control the leagues, the wealth, or the narratives. Without Black excellence, the games lose their soul. So we must ask: at what point does participation turn into exploitation?

We now live in a time where we have more Black millionaires—and even billionaires—than ever before. And yet, our communities remain underdeveloped, under-resourced, and underserved. That contradiction should trouble us. If wealth exists, why hasn’t it translated into collective progress? Why are we still asking systems rooted in white supremacy for permission to build what we are fully capable of building ourselves?

The Honorable Minister Louis Farrakhan addressed this clearly during the Million Man March. He emphasized Black business ownership, collective economics, and responsibility to rebuild our own communities. The blueprint was given. The question is: why haven’t we followed it?

Instead, too many with influence choose to glorify dysfunction. Ignorance is marketed. Street life is pimped for profit. Destructive images are broadcast to the world through music, movies, and media—not to teach lessons, but to keep the cycle alive. Before we point fingers at churches or preachers, we must also look at ex-pimps, former drug dealers, and entertainment figures who continue to profit from the same mindset that once destroyed our neighborhoods.

We must also hold Black politicians accountable. Some use our pain as a campaign platform, then disappear once elected. They behave no differently than the colonizers they claim to oppose. Accountability cannot stop at race—it must include responsibility.

At the same time, we must be honest with ourselves. A strong mirror is required. We cannot demand justice while cosigning division. When ICE raids target people of color, when Haitians are dehumanized, when Somalians are insulted, and when some of us go along just to “fit in,” we forget a basic truth: any hate toward people of color is hate toward us too. White supremacy does not make exceptions.

Even in healthcare, we see the pattern repeating. Our bodies are overmedicated, experimented on, and neglected—while solutions rooted in nutrition, discipline, and the laws of God are ignored. We know better, yet we continue harmful cycles.

Our ancestors—Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., Marcus Garvey, the Honorable Elijah Muhammad, and organizations like the Black Panther Party—showed us another way. The Panthers didn’t just talk; they built free breakfast and dinner programs. They addressed hunger, education, and dignity. They proved we could govern ourselves.

So yes, our ancestors might be upset—not because we are weak, but because we are powerful and not using it.

The solution is not complicated:

• Secure and protect what we build

• Uplift Black women

• Motivate Black men to productivity and purpose

• Repair and strengthen the family structure

• Reject anything that brings destruction—mentally, spiritually, or physically

As the Honorable Elijah Muhammad taught us, our unity is more powerful than an atomic bomb.

We must get out of our own way. We must stop allowing white supremacy to control our minds and our hearts. And we must remove sellouts—not through hatred, but by building something so strong that corruption has no place to stand.

This work can begin now. Not tomorrow. Not next year. Now.

Our ancestors gave us the blueprint. The question is whether we will finally honor it.