By Julienne Louis-Anderson and Adia R. Louden
On Sunday, like millions of others, we watched proudly as Michael B. Jordan took the stage and accepted his Oscar for Best Actor for his remarkable performance in the movie, “Sinners”.
If you’re anything like us, your heart swelled when he thanked his mother and the other Black women in his life for carrying him forward. It was a beautiful thing to witness. Jordan, amongst other Black men like Trevor Noah and Sterling K. Brown, has praised the love and dedication Black women poured into them. But, in the aftermath, after all the pomp and circumstance was over, after the lights dimmed on stage, we found ourselves wondering: what are Black women left with besides proverbial flowers?
When Recognition Doesn’t Translate Into Resources
It’s not lost on us that we’re in the middle of Women’s History Month, when as a nation we take a beat to celebrate milestones and accomplishments. But often — and to a greater extent than their white counterparts — Black women receive symbolic praise but are denied material power or protection. We’ve seen it for ourselves in our own lines of work.
One of us worked as a nonprofit leader tackling the impact of parental incarceration on Black girls. One in nine Black children has an incarcerated parent in the U.S. While support for Black boys with incarcerated parents was often treated as a given, funders often seemed unaware, even dumbstruck, that incarcerated parents have daughters, too. That is, when funders even showed up for a face-to-face. More often than not, grant applications went unanswered.
This experience is far from unique. Black women-led nonprofits receive less than 1% of U.S. philanthropic funding. Also, Black women nonprofit CEOs make up a significant share of leaders of organizations with budgets under $50,000, but represent only a small percentage of those with budgets exceeding $10 million.
By contrast, white CEOs lead 56% and 74%, respectively. Black women may be celebrated for their leadership in this sector, but the numbers show clearly that these flowers don’t always translate into resources.
The Capital Gap Facing Black Women Entrepreneurs
The gap between praise and power is apparent in entrepreneurship as well.
Access to capital and support remains one of the biggest barriers, especially for Black women business owners. One of us owns a small writing and coaching business and has struggled to receive the capital critical to starting a new business. On average, Black women receive less than 0.35% of all venture capital funding.
This is not even a full percentage point of what goes into startup companies. And so, pursuing a passion meant digging into personal savings, cold emails, and finding ingenuitive ways to earn more capital. The harsh truth is that these stumbling blocks are far less common for founders with generational wealth or established networks.
Excellence Without Equity in Higher Education
We’ve both experienced the double-edged sword that comes with pursuing excellence in academia. Black women make up roughly 6 to 7% of the U.S. population, and among Black students in higher education, they obtain 64.1% of bachelor’s degrees, 71.5% of master’s degrees, and 65.9% of doctoral, medical, and dental degrees.
Despite this excellence, Black women face obstacle after obstacle in higher education, shaped by both the racial wealth gap and the gender pay gap. Many juggle multiple responsibilities, forcing heavy reliance on financial aid and significant debt. As of 2022, Black women average a total of $38,800 in federal undergraduate loans and $58,252 for those who also attend graduate school. And so, even as we’re celebrated for our academic achievements, the reward is long-term economic instability and less access to opportunity.
To be sure, Black women deserve flowers. After all, Black women have become vice president of the United States, billionaire media moguls, and history-makers at the Academy Awards. But we deserve more. Flowers are meaningless if we are not in the room where decisions are made. This Women’s History Month, it’s time to go beyond the praise. Fund Black-women-owned businesses. Invest in Black women founders. Provide for Black women in higher education. And put Black women in positions where decisions and dollars are being made.
Julienne Louis-Anderson is a former educator and coach who writes about the intersection of culture and politics with education and human development. She is also a Public Voices Fellow of The OpEd Project in partnership with the National Black Child Development Institute. Adia R. Louden is a fifth-year Ph.D. student in Maternal and Child Health at The University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill and a Public Voices Fellow of The OpEd Project in Partnership with the National Black Child Development Institute.