Opinion: The Enduring Importance of the Black Press
The role of the Black Press has never been more critical. Since its inception with Freedom’s Journal in 1827,
It’s unfortunate but not surprising—some people will prioritize personal gain over the well-being of their community, even if it means reinforcing oppressive systems. You see it in politics, business, and media, where certain individuals act as gatekeepers or push narratives that don’t serve the people they claim to represent.
The challenge is recognizing them for what they are without letting their actions derail the bigger movement. The real work is being done by those who stay true to the cause, who invest in the community, and who push for real change.
In a speech delivered November 10, 1963 at the King Solomon Baptist Church in Detroit, Michigan, Malcom X shared this parable:
“To understand this, you have to go back to what the young brother here referred to as the house Negro and the field Negro back during slavery. There were two kinds of slaves, the house Negro and the field Negro. The house Negroes: They lived in the house with master. They dressed pretty good. They ate good because they ate his food... what he left. They lived in the attic or the basement, but still
they lived near their master; and they loved their master more than their master loved himself. They would give their life to save their master's house--quicker than the master would. If the master said, "We got a good house here," the house Negro would say, "Yeah, we got a good house here." Whenever the master said "we," he said "we." That's how you can tell a house Negro.
If the master's house caught on fire, the house Negro would fight harder to put the
blaze out than the master would. If the master go sick, the house Negro would say, "What's the matter, boss, we sick?" We sick! He identified himself with his master, more than his master identified with himself. And if you came to the house Negro and said, "Let's run away; let's escape; let's separate." The house Negro would look at you and say, "Man, you crazy. What you mean, separate? Where is there a better house than this? Where can I wear better clothes than this? Where can I eat better food than this?" That was that house Negro. In those days he was called a "house n%$#*r." And that's what we call them today, because we've still got some "house n%$#*r's" running around here.
This modern house Negro loves his master. He wants to live near him. He'll pay three times as much as the house is worth just to live near his master, and then brag about "I'm the only Negro out here." "I'm the only one on my job." "I'm the only one in this school." You're nothing but a house Negro. And if someone comes to you right now and says, "Let's separate," you say the same thing that the house Negro said on the plantation. "What you mean, separate? From America, this good white man? Where you going to get a better job than you get here?" I mean, this is
what you say. "I ain't left nothing in Africa," that's what you say. Why, you left your mind in Africa.”