The Uniqueness of Black Capitalism: A Letter from the Margins

I have spent years thinking about the weight of words, how they shape the world, and how they shape the people forced to live within them. Language has never been neutral. It is power, it is legacy, it is violence wrapped in civility and presented as truth. To name something is to claim it. To define it is to control its meaning.

I found myself conversing with individuals who rejected how I used the term Black capitalism. They argued that capitalism cannot be anything other than what it is, a machine built for extraction, for hierarchy, for the exploitation of the many to enrich the few. They insisted that Black capitalism, if it is capitalism at all, must still follow these rules.

I understood their skepticism. History does not support the belief that capitalism can be just. The ships that carried human cargo across the Atlantic were not only vessels of horror but of economic ambition. The banks that redlined Black neighborhoods did so not from hatred alone but from a financial logic that valued profits over people. The corporations that built prisons and filled them with Black bodies followed the dictates of capitalism, the pursuit of gain at any cost.

Their argument had weight. It was grounded in history, scholarship, and the lived experience of people who have felt the crushing force of capitalism at work. Still, something about their conclusion felt incomplete. They saw capitalism as a monolith, as a force that moves in only one direction. They did not see the ways in which Black people had taken what was meant to harm them and turned it into something of their own.

What Makes Black Capitalism Different

The way Black people have engaged with capitalism has never been the same as the way white America has. It has never been about extraction, conquering markets, hoarding wealth at the expense of the many. It has been about survival. It has been about carving out a space in a world that was never meant to include us. For instance, the establishment of Black-owned businesses, community investment initiatives, and cooperative economic models are all manifestations of Black capitalism.

China offers an example of what it means to manipulate capitalism rather than surrender to it. Deng Xiaoping’s economic reforms did not embrace free markets the way the West demanded. Instead, they used, shaped, and controlled them for national strength. Capitalism, for China, was not an ideology to be worshipped but a tool to be wielded.

Black capitalism has had to be wielded in the same way. Unlike China, Black people have never had the power of a nation behind them. There was no state to protect Black economic enclaves when they flourished. When Black Wall Street in Tulsa thrived, the government burned it to the ground. When Black banks grew strong, federal policies weakened them. When Black homeownership surged, subprime lending schemes turned it into a trap.

Unlike China’s capitalism, which functions with state backing, Black capitalism has always existed under threat. It has never been a machine for exploitation. It has been a strategy for survival.

A Different Kind of Wealth

Indigenous economies teach that wealth is not measured in accumulation but in sustainability. A forest is wealth because it will feed your children’s children. A river is wealth because it will give life beyond your lifetime. To own something is not the same as to control it. The land does not belong to the people; the people belong to the land.

Black capitalism, at its best, has followed a similar path. It has sought to build institutions that will last, to keep money circulating in the community, and to invest in education, stability, and futures that cannot be easily stripped away. It has been less about ownership than permanence, less about profit than security. This emphasis on community wealth and security is key to Black capitalism’s social justice orientation.

There has never been a moment in American history where Black people could build economic power without it being dismantled. Sharecropping kept Black farmers trapped in debt. Urban renewal demolished Black business districts. Globalization stripped Black workers of manufacturing jobs. Each time Black communities found a foothold, the system changed the rules.

A Capitalism That Does Not Fit the Model

Those I debated believed that capitalism is a structure with no exceptions. They spoke of Karl Marx and his warnings about how the wealthy will always find ways to keep the poor in their place. They cited Antonio Gramsci, who showed how the ruling class maintains control not just through money but also through ideas, culture, and the very way people see the world. They invoked David Harvey’s analysis of how neoliberalism has drained the wealth of the many to concentrate power in the hands of the few.

Their arguments made sense, but they did not fully account for what Black capitalism has been. Black capitalism has never had the luxury of being exploitative. It has never been large enough to shape entire economies. It has always had to be nimble, adapt, and respond to the shifting barriers placed in its way, showcasing an impressive adaptability.

Pan-African economists have argued that true Black economic power requires independence from white-controlled institutions. Walter Rodney demonstrated how capitalism underdeveloped Africa, stripping it of resources while leaving it dependent on the West. Kwame Nkrumah warned that political independence meant nothing if economic systems remained in the hands of former colonial rulers.

The same logic applies to Black America. In the context of Black capitalism, true economic power cannot come from simply joining existing capitalist structures. It must come from building something separate, something that cannot be dismantled at the whim of those who never wanted us to have it in the first place. This ‘true economic power’ is about creating sustainable wealth, fostering community resilience, and challenging the exploitative nature of traditional capitalism.

Why This Definition Matters

To call something by its true name is to claim it. Black capitalism, as it has existed and has functioned, is not the capitalism that built empires on the backs of the enslaved. It is not the capitalism that gutted pensions, privatized schools, and made healthcare a luxury. It is not the capitalism that transformed prisons into profit centers or turned housing into a financial instrument.

Black capitalism is unique because it has had no choice but to be. It has been defined by its need to function in opposition, build wealth that does not exploit but sustains, and find ways to exist in a system that has sought to erase it.

This is not an argument for blind faith in capitalism. It is not a dismissal of the way capitalism has harmed Black people. It is a recognition that Black economic strategies have always been different. They have never been about conquest. They have been about survival.

If the word capitalism carries too much weight, if it conjures images of greed and destruction, then call it something else. Call it what it has always been: resistance. Call it what it has always meant: survival. Call it what it has always sought to build: a future that cannot be stolen.

The name matters less than the reality. Black capitalism is not the same capitalism that built the modern world. It is something else, something apart, something that does not fit into the definitions others have written. Black people have shaped it for themselves, something that has existed despite every attempt to crush it.

That alone is reason enough to claim it.

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