Category Archives: Business

With So Much Oil In HBCU States – Where Are HBCU Alumni Owned Energy Firms?

“If you can provide the funding and you get the leadership, you’ll have a competitive team.” – T. Boone Pickens

The Southern United States is awash in energy. From Texas to Louisiana, Mississippi to Alabama, these states are responsible for the bulk of America’s oil and gas production. They are also home to the vast majority of Historically Black Colleges and Universities (HBCUs), institutions that have graduated generations of African American engineers, scientists, and business professionals. Yet, despite the geographic overlap and the energy sector’s enormous influence, there is an unmistakable void when it comes to HBCU alumni-founded firms in oil, gas, or even renewables. It is a paradox of proximity without participation—resources in abundance, yet ownership remains out of reach.

This disconnect is not simply a function of chance. It is the product of historical exclusion, structural barriers, and decades of capital disinvestment. The energy industry, especially oil and gas, has long been one of the most capital-intensive and closed sectors of the U.S. economy. The upstream business of exploration and drilling is not built for first-time entrepreneurs without deep-pocketed backers, multigenerational industry ties, or significant institutional support. Most HBCU alumni have none of the above.

For much of the 20th century, Black Americans were excluded from both land ownership in oil-rich regions and the educational infrastructure required to engage in the energy economy. HBCUs historically focused on liberal arts, education, and public service—disciplines that addressed urgent post-emancipation needs and segregation-era employment restrictions. Petroleum engineering, energy policy, and oil finance were simply not part of the curriculum. And while HBCUs today have engineering programs, few have the dedicated energy labs, industry partnerships, or commercialization infrastructure that their predominantly white counterparts enjoy. At places like the University of Texas or Texas A&M, oil research institutes, private equity-backed incubators, and billion-dollar endowments serve as launchpads for energy ventures. No HBCU currently operates at that scale.

Then there is the question of capital. Even if an HBCU graduate had the technical know-how and vision to build an energy company, the financing would almost certainly be out of reach. According to the Federal Reserve’s most recent small business credit survey, Black entrepreneurs are more likely to be denied loans, receive lower funding offers, and face higher interest rates. In oil and gas, where drilling a single exploratory well can cost millions, these hurdles become insurmountable. And in the renewable energy space, which requires less upfront capital but still demands serious investment and regulatory navigation, Black founders are still underrepresented. Less than 2% of clean energy businesses are Black-owned, a figure confirmed by data from the Department of Energy and Brookings Institution.

There are, however, rare examples that offer a blueprint for what could be. Volt Energy, a solar development firm founded by HBCU alumnus Gilbert Campbell, has successfully executed projects for corporate and government clients. Its success is owed not just to entrepreneurial grit, but to strategic positioning in the rapidly growing clean energy sector and the willingness of federal partners to prioritize minority-owned firms. Another example is PEER Consultants, founded by Dr. Lilia Abron, an environmental engineering firm that has spent decades advancing sustainability and energy access in underserved communities. These stories are powerful but isolated.

Public and private efforts to address the imbalance are underway, albeit slowly. The Biden Administration’s Justice40 initiative mandates that 40% of certain federal climate investments benefit disadvantaged communities, opening the door for more HBCU-linked projects. The Department of Energy’s HBCU Clean Energy Education Prize, launched in 2023, is another signal of intent. It provides multi-million-dollar funding to HBCUs for curriculum development, student research, and partnerships in clean energy. But such programs are only as impactful as the ecosystems that surround them. Without access to long-term venture funding, procurement opportunities, and business mentorship, their reach will be limited.

Much of the challenge lies within institutional economics. The endowment gap between HBCUs and wealthier PWIs (predominantly white institutions) is massive. The entire HBCU sector holds less than $6 billion in endowment funds. By contrast, the University of Texas system—heavily funded by state oil revenues—controls more than $30 billion through its UTIMCO investment vehicle. These endowments don’t just fund scholarships; they finance research labs, spinouts, and equity investments in faculty or alumni-founded ventures. HBCUs, without comparable financial arms, cannot deploy the same kind of catalytic capital.

In this environment, oil-rich states like Texas, Louisiana, and Mississippi may continue to generate immense wealth from energy while HBCU alumni remain employees at best and consumers at worst. Ownership, the core driver of generational wealth and political leverage, continues to elude them.

But the renewable transition could offer an inflection point. The barriers to entry are lower, the policies more inclusive, and the urgency to diversify the energy economy is real. Solar and battery storage firms don’t require billion-dollar capex or land acquisition. Distributed energy resources, community solar projects, energy efficiency startups, and green construction ventures are all areas where HBCU alumni could lead—if properly funded and supported.

That shift requires vision, not just from government, but also from philanthropists, Black-owned banks, and corporate ESG programs. Capital alone, however, will not solve the problem. HBCUs must also expand their academic footprint into energy entrepreneurship, clean tech commercialization, and regulatory policy. More importantly, HBCU alumni must begin to see energy not just as an employer, but as a domain in which to build power, both economic and political.

The stakes are higher than ever. Energy is not simply about electricity or gasoline—it is about who owns the infrastructure of the future. Whether it’s solar farms, transmission networks, EV charging corridors, or hydrogen production, the assets being built today will define tomorrow’s winners. If HBCU graduates are not in the room now, they risk being locked out of that ownership for another generation.

The irony of standing on land that produces billions of dollars in oil revenues while holding none of the titles is no longer tolerable. The future energy economy must be diverse not only in technology but in ownership. For HBCUs, the time to act is now—not for symbolic inclusion, but for structural participation.

From fossil fuels to photovoltaics, the opportunity exists to move from resource curse to resource empowerment. Whether that opportunity is seized will depend on whether HBCUs, their alumni, and their partners choose to build ownership into the core of their energy future, or remain content with being near power, but never in control of it.

Supporting Data & Charts

1. Oil Production by HBCU States (2023, million barrels):

StateProductionNumber of HBCUs
Texas20,0008
Louisiana4464
Mississippi1136
Alabama2714
Oklahoma1,8301

2. Black-Owned Firms in Energy (2022):

Sector% Black Ownership
Oil & Gas Extraction<1%
Solar Installation1.3%
Energy Consulting2.1%
Utility-Scale Renewables0.5%

3. Endowment Comparison (2024):

Institution/SystemEndowment ($B)
Harvard University53.2
Stanford University37.6
All HBCUs Combined5.2
UTIMCO (Texas System)65.3

Disclaimer: This article was assisted by ChatGPT.

The Debt That Could Bind Us: Why African American Banks Must Engage African Debt Markets to Strengthen Diaspora Sovereignty

“Control of credit is control of destiny. Until Our institutions decide where Our capital sleeps and wakes, Our freedom will remain on loan.” – William A. Foster, IV

The African diaspora’s greatest unrealized financial potential may lie not in Wall Street, but in the vast and growing debt markets of Africa. Across the continent, nations are negotiating, restructuring, and reimagining how they fund development. At the same time, African American banks and financial institutions, small but strategically positioned in the global Black economic architecture, stand largely on the sidelines. This disconnection is more than a missed investment opportunity; it is a failure of transnational financial imagination. If the descendants of Africa in America wish to secure true sovereignty, interconnectivity, and global influence, engaging African debt markets is not optional it is imperative.

Africa’s debt profile is as complex as it is misunderstood. Many Western narratives frame African debt in crisis terms, yet that view ignores the sophistication of African capital markets and the diversity of creditors. The continent’s public debt stood around $1.8 trillion by 2025, but much of this borrowing has gone toward infrastructure and industrial expansion. The key shift in recent years has been away from traditional multilateral lenders toward bilateral and market-based finance particularly through Chinese, Gulf, and private bond markets. Countries like Kenya, Ghana, Nigeria, and Ethiopia have issued Eurobonds in recent years, often at higher interest rates due to perceptions of risk rather than fundamental insolvency. Others, such as Zambia, have undergone restructuring efforts designed to rebalance repayment with growth. In each case, Africa’s economic story remains one of ambition constrained by external debt conditions, a pattern reminiscent of the post-Reconstruction era Black South, when capital starvation and dependency on non-Black lenders limited autonomy and intergenerational power. That parallel matters deeply for African Americans. The same global financial order that restricts African nations’ fiscal independence also limits the growth of African American financial institutions. The tools that could change both realities already exist within the diaspora: capital pools, credit analysis expertise, and shared strategic interest in sovereignty.

African American banks—roughly 18 federally insured institutions as of 2025—control an estimated $6.4 billion in combined assets. While that is a fraction of what one mid-sized regional white-owned bank manages, these institutions hold a symbolic and strategic power far greater than their balance sheets suggest. They remain the custodians of community trust, the anchors of small-business lending in historically neglected markets, and potential conduits for international financial collaboration. Historically, African American banks were created to fill a void left by exclusionary financial systems. But in the 21st century, their mission can evolve beyond domestic community lending toward global financial participation. The African debt market, currently dominated by Western institutions that extract value through high interest and credit rating manipulation, offers a natural arena for African American engagement. If Black banks can collectively participate through bond purchases, underwriting partnerships, or diaspora-focused sovereign funds they could help shift Africa’s dependence from Western and Asian creditors toward diaspora-based capital flows. This would not only stabilize African economies, but also create transnational linkages that reinforce both African and African American economic self-determination.

Consider the power of mutual indebtedness as a political tool. When nations or institutions lend to each other, they form durable relationships governed by trust, negotiation, and shared interest. For too long, the African diaspora’s relationship with Africa has been philanthropic or cultural rather than financial. That model, however well-intentioned, is structurally disempowering and it reinforces dependency rather than partnership. Debt, properly structured, reverses that dynamic. If African American financial institutions were to purchase or underwrite African sovereign and municipal debt, they would create financial obligations that tether African states to diaspora capital, not to exploit but to interdepend. This is the foundation of modern sovereignty: the ability to borrow and invest within your own cultural and political network rather than through intermediaries who extract value and dictate terms. Imagine, for instance, a syndicated loan or bond issuance where a consortium of African American banks, credit unions, and philanthropic financial arms partner with African development banks or ministries of finance. The terms could prioritize developmental outcomes like affordable housing, small business lending, renewable energy while generating steady returns. The instruments could even be marketed domestically as “Diaspora Sovereign Bonds,” accessible through digital platforms. The impact would be twofold: African American banks would diversify their portfolios and tap into emerging market yields, while African governments would gain access to capital free from neocolonial conditions.

Historically Black Colleges and Universities (HBCUs) stand at the crossroads of intellect, finance, and heritage. Their institutional capacity, academic talent, and alumni networks make them natural architects for a new financial relationship between the African diaspora and the African continent. Yet this potential comes with risk, particularly for public HBCUs, whose visibility and state dependency could make them targets of political and financial backlash. If a public HBCU were to openly participate in or advocate for engagement with African debt markets, it would likely face scrutiny from state legislatures, regulatory bodies, and entrenched financial interests. Such activity would be perceived by non–African American–owned banks and state-level policymakers as a challenge to existing capital hierarchies. The idea of Black public institutions developing transnational financial alliances outside traditional Western frameworks threatens not only market control but ideological narratives about where and how Black institutions should operate. To navigate this terrain, public HBCUs must be strategic, creative, and stealth in execution. Their participation in African financial engagement cannot be loud; it must be layered. They can do so through consortia, research collaborations, and investment partnerships that quietly build expertise and influence without triggering overt resistance. For example, an HBCU economics department could conduct African sovereign credit research under a global development initiative, while a business school could host “emerging market” investment programs that include African debt instruments without explicitly branding them as Pan-African.

Private HBCUs, freer from state oversight, can play a more overt role forming partnerships with African banks, hosting diaspora finance summits, and seeding funds dedicated to Africa-centered investments. But public institutions must operate with a subtler hand, leveraging think tanks, foundations, and alumni networks to pursue the same ends through indirect channels. Creativity will be their shield. Collaboration with African American–owned banks, credit unions, or diaspora investment funds can serve as intermediary structures allowing HBCUs to channel research, expertise, and even capital participation without placing the institutions themselves in direct political crossfire.

Both public and private HBCUs must also activate and empower their alumni associations as extensions of institutional sovereignty. Alumni associations exist in a different legal and political space and they are often registered as independent nonprofits, free from the direct control of state governments or university boards. This autonomy allows them to operate where the universities cannot. Through alumni associations, HBCUs can channel capital, intelligence, and partnerships in ways that stay outside the reach of regulators or political gatekeepers. Alumni bodies can create joint funds, invest in African debt instruments, or collaborate with African banks and diaspora enterprises. The understanding between HBCUs and their alumni networks must be clear and disciplined: the institution provides intellectual and structural guidance; the alumni associations execute the capital movement. This relationship becomes a discreet circulatory system of sovereignty with universities generating the vision and expertise, alumni executing the financial maneuvers that advance that vision.

HBCUs can further support this ecosystem by funneling institutional capital and intellectual property toward their alumni associations in strategic, deniable ways. Research centers can license data or consulting services to alumni-managed firms. Endowments can allocate small funds to “external collaborations” that, in practice, seed diaspora initiatives. Career and alumni offices can quietly match graduates in finance and development with African institutions seeking diaspora partners. These are small, legal, but potent acts of quiet nation-building. The success of this strategy depends on discipline, secrecy, and shared purpose. HBCUs, particularly the public ones, must move as institutions that understand the historical realities of Black advancement: every act of power must be both visionary and shielded. Alumni associations, meanwhile, must operate as the agile extensions of these universities, taking calculated risks on behalf of the larger mission. If executed carefully, this dual structure of HBCUs as the intellectual architects and alumni associations as the financial executors creates a protected channel for diaspora wealth creation. It allows public institutions to avoid political exposure while still advancing the collective objective: redirecting Black capital toward Africa and reestablishing a financial circuit of trust, obligation, and empowerment across the diaspora. In this model, the public HBCU becomes the hidden engineer, the private HBCU the visible vanguard, and the alumni network the financial hand. Together, they form an ecosystem of quiet innovation and a movement that builds transnational Black sovereignty not through protest or proclamation, but through precise and deliberate financial design.

Skeptics might argue that African American banks lack the scale or technical capacity to engage in sovereign lending. This concern, while not unfounded, can be addressed through collaboration. No single Black institution must go it alone. The path forward lies in consortium models of pooling resources, sharing risk, and leveraging collective bargaining power. Diaspora bond funds could be structured as partnerships between African American banks, HBCU endowments, and African development finance institutions such as the African Development Bank (AfDB) or Africa Export-Import Bank (Afreximbank). These organizations already have experience managing sovereign risk and would benefit from diaspora participation, which strengthens their political legitimacy. Furthermore, technology has lowered the cost of entry into complex financial markets. Digital banking, blockchain-based identity verification, and fintech partnerships can allow diaspora institutions to participate in cross-border finance with greater transparency and speed. The real obstacle, therefore, is not capacity it is vision. The diaspora’s capital remains trapped within Western financial systems that reward liquidity but punish sovereignty. Redirecting even a fraction of that capital toward Africa would shift the balance of global economic power in subtle but profound ways.

Sovereignty in the modern world is measured as much in capital access as in military or political power. Nations that cannot borrow on fair terms cannot build on fair terms. The same is true for communities. African Americans, long denied fair access to capital, should understand this truth intimately. The African debt question, then, is not a distant geopolitical matter it is a mirror. If African American banks and financial institutions continue to operate solely within the parameters of domestic credit markets, their growth will remain capped by a system designed to contain them. But if they extend their vision outward to the African continent, to Caribbean nations, to the global diaspora then they create new asset classes, new partnerships, and new pathways to power. Moreover, engagement with African debt markets enhances geopolitical influence. It positions African American institutions as interlocutors between Africa and global finance, enabling a collective voice on credit ratings, debt restructuring, and investment policy. That is the kind of influence that cannot be achieved through philanthropy or symbolism it is built through transactions, treaties, and trust.

Other diasporas have already proven this model works. Jewish, Indian, and Chinese global networks have long used financial interconnectivity as a tool of sovereignty. Israel’s government issues bonds directly to diaspora investors through the Development Corporation for Israel—a program that has raised over $46 billion since 1951. The Indian diaspora contributes billions annually in remittances and investments that underpin India’s foreign reserves. The African diaspora, by contrast, remains financially fragmented despite its vast size and income. With over 140 million people of African descent living outside Africa, the potential for coordinated capital deployment is immense. Even modest participation of say, $10 billion annually in diaspora-held African bonds would change the global conversation around African finance and diaspora economics. This scale of engagement requires trust, transparency, and accountability. African nations must commit to governance reforms and anti-corruption measures that assure diaspora investors of integrity. Likewise, African American institutions must build financial literacy and confidence around African markets, overcoming decades of Western media narratives portraying the continent as unstable or uninvestable.

The long-term vision is a self-sustaining ecosystem of diaspora credit: African American and Caribbean banks pool capital to buy or underwrite African debt; HBCUs model sovereign risk, publish credit analyses, and design diaspora finance curricula; African governments and regional banks issue diaspora-oriented financial instruments; fintech platforms connect diaspora investors directly to African projects; and cultural finance diplomacy transforms diaspora engagement into official national strategy. The ecosystem would allow wealth to circulate within the global African community rather than being siphoned outward through exploitative intermediaries. Over time, such networks could support not only debt financing but also equity investment, venture capital, and trade finance all under the umbrella of Black sovereignty economics.

At its core, this initiative is not merely about money. It is about the reconfiguration of power. The African diaspora cannot achieve full sovereignty while its economic lifeblood flows through institutions indifferent or hostile to its future. Engaging African debt markets transforms the diaspora from spectators of African development into its co-architects. It also transforms Africa from a borrower of last resort to a partner of first resort within its global family. For African American banks, this is the logical next chapter. The institutions that once shielded Black wealth from domestic exclusion now have the opportunity to project that wealth into international inclusion. It is a matter of strategic foresight aligning moral mission with financial opportunity. As the world edges toward a multipolar order where the U.S., China, and regional blocs vie for influence, the African diaspora must define its own sphere of power not through slogans but through balance sheets. A sovereign people must have sovereign finance.

Toward a Diaspora Credit Ecosystem

The long-term vision is a self-sustaining ecosystem of diaspora credit:

  1. Diaspora Banks & Funds: African American and Caribbean banks pool capital to buy or underwrite African debt.
  2. HBCU Research Hubs: HBCUs model sovereign risk, publish credit analyses, and design diaspora finance curricula.
  3. African Institutions: African governments and regional banks issue diaspora-oriented financial instruments.
  4. Fintech Platforms: Secure, regulated digital systems connect diaspora investors directly to African projects.
  5. Cultural Finance Diplomacy: Diaspora engagement becomes part of national policy—similar to how nations court foreign direct investment today.

The ecosystem would allow wealth to circulate within the global African community rather than being siphoned outward through exploitative intermediaries. Over time, such networks could support not only debt financing but also equity investment, venture capital, and trade finance all under the umbrella of Black sovereignty economics.

In 1900, at the First Pan-African Conference in London, W.E.B. Du Bois declared, “The problem of the twentieth century is the problem of the color line.” A century later, that color line has become a credit line. It is drawn not only across borders but across ledgers between who lends and who borrows, who owns and who owes. The African American bank and the African treasury are not distant cousins; they are parts of one economic body severed by history and waiting to be reconnected by will. Engaging African debt markets is not charity it is strategy. It is the financial expression of unity long preached but rarely practiced. The next stage of the African world’s freedom struggle will not be won merely in the streets or in the schools. It will be won in the boardrooms where capital chooses its direction. If African American finance chooses Africa, both sides of the Atlantic will rise together not as debtors and creditors, but as partners in sovereignty.

Disclaimer: This article was assisted by ChatGPT.

The (Black) Power Couple & Family Business That Could Have Been: Entrepreneur Ron Johnson & Dr. Kimberly Reese, M.D.

By William A. Foster, IV

“Black love encompasses romantic partnerships, familial bonds, friendships, and a collective commitment to uplifting and empowering each other.” – Taylor Moorer & Alexander Dorsey

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Let me begin with this. There was no character on A Different World that held my attention the way Kimberly Reese did. Graceful. Brilliant. Driven. A woman on her way to becoming a doctor and never once apologizing for her intellect. I was mesmerized. And I still am. So forgive me if this article has a bit more heart than business metrics—though trust me, we’ll get to those too.

Kimberly Reese, played by Charnele Brown, was more than just the token “smart Black woman” character. She was a symbol. She was the dream our mamas prayed for us to meet and our daddies hoped we’d bring home. She was what happens when Black excellence meets Southern charm meets pre-med grit. And then there was Ron Johnson. Ronald Marlon Johnson. A whole enigma. Part clown. Part visionary. If Dwayne Wayne was Silicon Valley, Ron Johnson was Bed-Stuy with a business plan. He wasn’t just comic relief, he was a prototype. The first glimpse we got of the HBCUpreneur: the student hustler learning lessons in the real world as much as in the classroom. Ron Johnson was what every HBCU business school ought to teach: how to build from where you are with what you have.

But instead of marrying into mogulhood with Kimberly Reese and forming a real HBCU power couple like the Obamas of Black medicine and enterprise the writers took another route. A safe one. A disappointing one. This is the story that should have been written. This is the power couple and family business that could have been.

According to a 2023 report from the National Black Chamber of Commerce, over 70% of Black-owned businesses are sole proprietorships meaning they begin and end with one person. Fewer than 10% survive into the second generation. That’s not a flaw in ambition. It’s a failure in structure. We don’t often think in dynasties. In systems. In scaling. Now imagine a Ron Johnson who took that Hillman business degree and didn’t just open a club or restaurant, but built RJ Health Enterprises; an integrated chain of community health clinics, urgent cares, and medical real estate investments focused on underserved Black communities across the South. Imagine Kimberly Reese as co-founder and Chief Medical Officer. A respected OB/GYN on the board of Meharry, Howard Med, and Morehouse School of Medicine. Their flagship clinic, “Reese & Johnson Family Health,” could’ve become a cornerstone of African American healthcare.

We’re talking about a $500 million business in 15 years. Not hypothetical. Real math. According to IBISWorld, the U.S. urgent care market was valued at $38 billion in 2023. Black communities represent a disproportionate share of preventable hospitalizations due in part to lack of affordable, trusted, and culturally competent providers. The Reese-Johnson health business could have been both remedy and revolution.

There is something revolutionary about a Black man and woman building together not just emotionally, but economically. As of 2024, only 8% of all U.S. employer businesses are owned by Black Americans, and of that sliver, a mere 2% are co-owned by Black spouses or partners. Family businesses, when managed strategically, are intergenerational launchpads. Take the Hoffmann-Oeri family of Switzerland, owners of pharmaceutical giant Roche. Their company, founded in 1896, now generates over $70 billion annually. But more importantly, it has built economic moats and family wealth for six generations.

The Reese-Johnson duo had the potential blueprint: a physician’s vision for preventative and culturally attuned care, an entrepreneur’s eye for monetizing access, experience, and brand, and a shared identity rooted in the HBCU ethos of service and innovation. They weren’t just fictional characters. They were avatars for what could be real.

The fact that no HBCU business school has a “Ron Johnson Center for Entrepreneurship” or that no HBCU medical school offers a joint MD-MBA program named after fictional pioneers like Reese and Johnson is a shame. Not because we need to deify characters but because those characters gave us a canvas to imagine bigger for ourselves. HBCUs too often shape students to be labor. To integrate. To get the job. But not to create the job. And certainly not to imagine owning an empire with the person you love, built from the same institution that educated you both. If we are serious about economic empowerment, we must institutionalize HAO (HBCU Alumni Owned) companies as a KPI for alumni success. A different world wasn’t just the name of the show. It should have been the result.

By 2005, Reese and Johnson, both Hillman alums, launch RJ Med Group with three components: RJ Clinics, a chain of urgent care centers in HBCU cities: Jackson, Baton Rouge, Baltimore, Atlanta, Tallahassee, and Salisbury. Clinics cater to walk-ins and are integrated with digital records and telehealth by 2010. RJ Research Institute, a Black-led nonprofit focused on studying racial disparities in maternal health, hypertension, and mental health. Sponsored research partnerships with Xavier, Howard Med, and NIH. RJ Ventures, a holding company investing in HBCU med tech startups, pharmacy delivery services, and neighborhood health food stores. The group employs over 5,000 across the South and sponsors 200+ internships annually for HBCU students in medicine, public health, business, and tech. And of course, they endow the $10 million Hillman Health Equity Fellowship.

We’ve seen versions of this in real life: John and Nettie Singleton, co-founders of a Harlem-based pharmaceutical distribution company that grossed $22 million before being acquired. Dr. Patrice and Raymond Harris, founders of a network of Black-owned mental health clinics in Georgia. Michelle and Barack Obama—yes, yes, we know. But their synergy reminds us how intellect, ambition, and partnership can turn policy into legacy. Ron and Kimberly could’ve been the HBCU version of this—part CVS, part Kaiser Permanente, part Wakandan vision.

Because representation is not just about visibility. It’s about possibility. When the writers broke them up, it wasn’t just a romantic loss it was a missed opportunity to show Black America what family business could look like when rooted in love, purpose, and institution. Television shapes narratives. And narratives shape expectations. And expectations? They shape outcomes. If there were more shows modeling Black couples building businesses, maybe more Black MBAs and MDs would consider entrepreneurship as a couple’s journey. Maybe more HBCUs would invest in interdisciplinary labs between medicine and business schools. Maybe that “different world” we dreamed of would feel more like a blueprint than a slogan.

As HBCU alumni and stakeholders, we must write our stories forward. We must see every Kimberly Reese as not just a doctor, but a dynasty builder. Every Ron Johnson as more than a hustler, but an heir. And we must stop waiting for television to imagine our greatness. Let HBCUs teach love in their curriculum not just as poetry, but as partnership. Teach ownership as legacy. Teach entrepreneurship as service. Let our future Hillman couples dream bigger than GPAs and Greek life. Let them dream empires.

Kimberly Reese and Ron Johnson didn’t get the ending we hoped. But that doesn’t mean their story was pointless. It means we were given the tools. Now it’s on us to build.

More Than A Decade Later: New York’s Carver Bank Has Not Returned To African American Ownership

At close of market May 16th, 2025 Carver Federal Savings Bank (Ticker: CARV) stock price was $1.37 and had a market capitalization of $7 million.

In the heart of Harlem, a modest stone building bears a powerful legacy. Carver Federal Savings Bank, founded in 1948 to serve African Americans shut out of the financial system, once stood as a proud monument of Black economic independence. But more than a decade after a series of financial interventions shifted its ownership structure, Carver remains out of African American hands—raising questions about the future of Black-owned banking in America’s largest city.

For much of the 20th century, Carver Federal Savings Bank wasn’t just a bank—it was a symbol. Born in the crucible of racial segregation, the bank was named after George Washington Carver, a gesture toward economic empowerment and self-reliance in an era when African Americans couldn’t freely access mortgages, capital, or commercial loans. Carver stood apart as one of the few banks chartered to serve underserved Black communities with full-service financial products, not just basic deposit services. By the 2000s, Carver had grown into the largest Black-operated bank in the United States, holding nearly $800 million in assets and a footprint that extended across New York City. But the financial crisis of 2008 brought a devastating blow to community banks nationwide. Carver was no exception.

In 2011, to prevent collapse, Carver accepted a $55 million recapitalization led by Goldman Sachs, Morgan Stanley, Citigroup, and Prudential Financial. The deal saved the institution from immediate failure but came with a price: Black ownership was diluted, and eventually disappeared altogether. “It was like watching a cultural landmark sold off piece by piece,” says Alfred Edmond Jr., senior vice president at Black Enterprise. The investors involved in the bailout argued that their capital preserved an essential community institution. Without it, Carver may have followed the path of other Black banks that shuttered in the wake of the crisis. Yet critics argue that Wall Street’s “rescue” functioned more as a quiet takeover.

As of 2024, Carver is publicly traded under the ticker symbol CARV on the NASDAQ. But its board of directors and major shareholders no longer reflect the community it was founded to serve. African American representation remains, but it is symbolic at best—not controlling. This is not merely symbolic loss. According to a 2023 Federal Reserve report, only 16 Black-owned banks remain in the United States—down from more than 50 in the 1990s. Black-owned banks hold less than 0.01% of America’s banking assets, despite African Americans comprising over 13% of the population. These institutions face outsized scrutiny, undercapitalization, and, more recently, cultural erasure. “Carver’s transformation reflects a broader systemic problem,” says Mehrsa Baradaran, professor of law and author of The Color of Money: Black Banks and the Racial Wealth Gap. “These banks are often asked to solve problems created by centuries of exclusion without the capital or autonomy to do so.”

In the wake of the George Floyd protests in 2020, corporate America made a wave of public commitments to racial equity. JPMorgan Chase pledged $30 billion. Bank of America committed $1 billion. A smaller yet symbolically important gesture came in the form of investments into Black-owned banks, often through special deposit programs or equity infusions. Carver, still labeled as a Minority Depository Institution (MDI), became the recipient of some of this renewed attention. Goldman Sachs’s One Million Black Women initiative included community bank support. JPMorgan made technical assistance available. But none of these efforts changed the fact that the bank was no longer under Black control. “The irony is that companies are promoting racial equity while owning and profiting from a once-Black institution,” says Nicole C. Elam, president and CEO of the National Bankers Association. “There’s no accountability mechanism to ensure community control is returned.” Despite all the attention, Carver’s stock remains volatile, trading below $4 per share for much of 2024. Its market capitalization hovers under $20 million—hardly a prize for large investors. And yet, efforts to return control to Black investors or the community have stalled.

At first glance, the logic is simple. If Black community leaders or financial institutions want Carver back, why not just buy it? The answer, as usual, lies in a thicket of regulatory burdens, capital constraints, and systemic inequities. First, buying back a publicly traded bank is not cheap. Not only must investors pay for the shares, they must also meet stringent capital adequacy standards, undergo intense scrutiny from the Office of the Comptroller of the Currency (OCC) and the FDIC, and develop a viable turnaround plan. That requires not only money, but financial expertise and a willing group of institutional backers. Second, Black institutional capital remains relatively shallow. The combined assets of all Black banks in America are less than those of a mid-sized regional bank. Few HBCU endowments top $1 billion. Black venture capital and private equity firms are growing but still under-resourced. “If you don’t control the capital, you don’t control the bank,” says John Rogers Jr., founder of Ariel Investments. “And Black America still doesn’t have control of the capital.”

Some believe that the pandemic-era racial reckoning presented a missed opportunity. Corporate America was writing big checks. Foundations were searching for credible ways to support Black wealth-building. Influential Black philanthropists like Robert F. Smith and Mellody Hobson were encouraging long-term investments. With the right coordination, a capital stack combining philanthropy, mission-oriented investment, and community contributions could have reestablished Black control of Carver. But that coordination never materialized. “Institution building takes vision and orchestration. We had the moment. What we didn’t have was the mechanism,” says William Michael Cunningham, an economist and banking analyst. “Everyone wanted to help, but no one wanted to lead.”

New York’s political leadership has been largely silent on the issue. Harlem’s representation in the city council and state legislature rarely mentions Carver publicly. Even as the Adams administration touts equity initiatives and minority small business support, it has not made a coordinated effort to support community banking or institutional ownership transfer. Compare this to other minority community examples. In Chicago, the city has created a $100 million Community Wealth Fund to help finance minority entrepreneurs and institutions. In Atlanta, the Russell Center for Innovation and Entrepreneurship works closely with regional banks and city government to support Black business ecosystems. “New York talks a good game,” says Inez Barron, a former city councilmember. “But when it comes to economic infrastructure, the silence is deafening.”

The erosion of Black control of Carver has not gone unnoticed by its depositors. Harlem residents and small business owners say they still bank with Carver out of loyalty—but many no longer see it as their bank. “The staff are still great. The service is personal. But it doesn’t feel like we own it anymore,” says Celeste Washington, who owns a beauty salon two blocks from the 125th Street branch. “It feels like a museum of what Black finance used to be.” Others are more cynical. “It’s the same bank name, same building, but a different master,” says a former Carver employee who requested anonymity. “The soul’s been sold.”

Despite the challenges, some financial architects are working to engineer a return to community control. One idea gaining traction is a cooperative buyback. Using a vehicle similar to a special purpose acquisition company (SPAC), a collective of Black investors, philanthropists, and mission-driven capitalists could pool resources to buy out majority shareholders. A parallel idea involves transferring shares to a nonprofit trust governed by Harlem residents and business leaders. Others are pushing for a broader transformation of Black institutional capital. “We need to stop thinking of banks as only banks,” says economist Darrick Hamilton. “Think of them as economic platforms—distribution points for housing finance, entrepreneurship, education loans, and job creation. That’s what Carver could be again.” A Black-owned financial institution, particularly in a city as rich and diverse as New York, could be pivotal in building a community-centered economic ecosystem—from affordable housing cooperatives to small business lending networks to cultural real estate ownership.

Observers say that Black colleges and universities, especially those in the northeast like Howard University, Lincoln University (PA), and Morgan State, could play a strategic role. These institutions, along with Black philanthropic funds and pension boards, could pool endowment dollars to create an acquisition consortium. Even a modest $50 million fund could provide enough leverage to reclaim majority control and reorient Carver toward mission-driven service. “Imagine if Carver became the lead underwriter of mortgages for Black college alumni in major cities,” says Anthony Jackson, a Black banking consultant. “Or the back-end servicer of student loan refinancing for HBCU graduates. That kind of synergy could multiply.” The projected ROI on such a move isn’t trivial. Assuming a 10% annual return over 30 years, a $50 million investment grows to more than $872 million—more than the combined assets of most Black-owned banks today. It’s a long-term play—but one that offers strategic cultural, economic, and financial returns.

Carver’s story is still being written. It could continue as a bank preserved in name only, a hollowed-out shell of its former self. Or, with vision, coordination, and capital, it could return to its original purpose: not merely to serve Black communities, but to be owned by them. What’s at stake is more than a bank. It’s about ownership, power, and whether the symbols of Black advancement can be reclaimed—or will remain curated artifacts of a more ambitious past.

Disclaimer: This article was assisted by ChatGPT.

Bringing New Faces to the Global Shipping Industry: A Nod to Garvey & Black Star Line

“A ship in harbor is safe, but that is not what ships are for.” – Grace Hopper

 The global shipping industry is the backbone of world trade, moving 90% of goods across the seas, yet it remains a sector with limited diversity. Despite the industry’s significance in shaping the global economy, the workforce is largely homogeneous, primarily composed of men from developed nations, particularly those in Europe and East Asia. However, in a rapidly changing global landscape, diversity has become an asset. A more inclusive workforce is vital for fostering innovation and addressing the industry’s evolving challenges, from sustainability to technological disruptions. Historically Black Colleges and Universities (HBCUs) are uniquely positioned to play a transformative role in reshaping the future of the global shipping industry. This article will explore how HBCUs can contribute to diversifying the global shipping workforce through entrepreneurship, engineering programs, and the development of new financial models, while also looking at opportunities for HBCUs to collaborate with Sub-Saharan African nations to strengthen their shipping economies.

The global shipping industry is vast, encompassing everything from container ships that carry goods across oceans to ports that manage cargo and logistics operations. According to the United Nations Conference on Trade and Development (UNCTAD), the shipping industry moves over 11 billion tons of goods every year, with more than 50,000 merchant ships currently in operation. The economic significance of the shipping sector cannot be overstated, as it is integral to the functioning of international trade.

However, while the industry generates trillions of dollars in revenue annually, it is also a sector that faces numerous challenges. These include overcapacity, rising fuel prices, environmental concerns, labor shortages, and increasing automation. As these challenges mount, the need for innovative solutions becomes more urgent. This is where a more diverse workforce can make a meaningful impact. Diverse perspectives in leadership, engineering, and operations can fuel the creative thinking necessary to solve the industry’s complex problems.

HBCUs, institutions of higher learning that were founded with the mission of educating African Americans, have long been at the forefront of producing professionals who excel in a variety of fields, including engineering, law, business, and the sciences. Engineering programs at HBCUs are known for their robust curriculum, which emphasizes both theoretical foundations and practical applications. For example, institutions such as Howard University, Tuskegee University, and Morgan State University have long had strong engineering programs that prepare students for careers in industries such as aerospace, civil engineering, and electrical engineering.

In the context of global shipping, engineering graduates from HBCUs could bring fresh perspectives to the industry. The need for highly skilled engineers in the shipping sector is crucial, particularly in the fields of automation, sustainable shipping technologies, and shipbuilding. Many shipping companies are already embracing automation, with some vessels being operated with minimal human intervention. However, as technology advances, the need for engineers who can design, implement, and maintain these technologies will only grow.

The shortage of engineers in the shipping industry is a pressing issue. According to a 2020 study by the International Transport Workers Federation (ITF), there is a growing need for skilled workers, particularly as the sector embraces digitalization and automation. This presents a major opportunity for HBCUs to expand their engineering programs and tailor them to the specific needs of the shipping industry. HBCUs can offer specialized courses in maritime engineering, shipbuilding, logistics systems, and sustainable shipping practices.

Entrepreneurship is another area where HBCUs can make a significant impact in the global shipping industry. While much of the shipping industry has been dominated by large multinational corporations, there is room for smaller, innovative companies that can introduce new business models and technologies. Entrepreneurship in shipping could involve the creation of new logistics companies, port management systems, or innovative shipping technologies.

HBCUs have a long history of nurturing entrepreneurs who have gone on to make significant contributions to various industries. The entrepreneurship programs at HBCUs often focus on fostering leadership, problem-solving skills, and creativity, all of which are essential for succeeding in the competitive world of shipping. HBCU alumni have made notable contributions to industries as diverse as technology, entertainment, and healthcare. With the global shipping industry ripe for disruption, there is an opportunity to create a new generation of Black entrepreneurs who can innovate in this space.

One possible avenue for entrepreneurship in the shipping industry is the development of sustainable shipping solutions. The International Maritime Organization (IMO) has set ambitious targets for reducing greenhouse gas emissions from the shipping industry, with a goal of cutting emissions by 50% by 2050. HBCUs, with their strong engineering programs, could become key players in developing technologies that reduce the environmental impact of shipping. From energy-efficient vessels to the use of alternative fuels, there is ample room for innovation.

Another area of opportunity lies in the logistics and supply chain sector, which has become more important than ever in the wake of the COVID-19 pandemic. The shipping industry has seen unprecedented disruptions in supply chains, which has led to a renewed focus on resilience and flexibility. HBCUs can help foster the next generation of leaders in supply chain management, creating businesses that help move goods more efficiently and cost-effectively.

In addition to engineering and entrepreneurship, financial institutions and models are another critical area where HBCUs can help reshape the global shipping industry. The role of Black-owned banks and investment firms is particularly important, as they can provide the necessary capital for new ventures and innovations in shipping.

Black banks, such as OneUnited Bank and the Carver Federal Savings Bank, play a critical role in financing businesses in underserved communities. However, they also have the potential to play a key role in financing global industries like shipping. As the shipping sector increasingly looks for ways to incorporate sustainability into its operations, there is a growing demand for green financing, which focuses on funding projects that have a positive environmental impact.

HBCUs can play a critical role in helping Black banks navigate this growing demand. HBCU alumni with backgrounds in finance, business, and engineering can help shape financial products that support sustainable shipping projects. For example, a specialized green shipping fund could be created to finance the development of more sustainable vessels, port facilities, or supply chain innovations. Such initiatives could also foster closer ties between Black-owned banks and the global shipping industry, creating opportunities for greater access to capital for emerging shipping companies.

In addition, Black-owned investment firms could become key players in the growing trend of impact investing. By focusing on companies that prioritize environmental, social, and governance (ESG) factors, Black investors can help drive change in the shipping sector by funding companies that prioritize sustainability, diversity, and innovation.

While engineering and entrepreneurship are critical to diversifying the shipping industry, it is also important to recognize the variety of other career paths within the shipping ecosystem. These roles, which range from logistics and supply chain management to port operations and maritime law, also present opportunities for HBCU graduates.

Logistics and supply chain management, in particular, is an area where HBCUs can have a significant impact. The increasing complexity of global trade requires professionals who understand not only how to move goods across borders but also how to manage and optimize the flow of goods at every step of the journey. HBCUs can help train the next generation of logistics professionals who can work in every facet of the supply chain, from procurement to distribution.

Port operations and management is another key area of opportunity. Ports are the critical juncture in the global shipping process, and they require skilled professionals who can oversee operations, manage labor forces, and ensure that goods are moved efficiently and safely. HBCUs can help fill this gap by offering specialized training in port management and logistics operations.

Furthermore, the global shipping industry requires legal professionals who understand maritime law and international trade regulations. Maritime law is a complex field that requires expertise in areas such as insurance, shipping contracts, and international treaties. HBCUs, with their robust law programs, can help train future lawyers who will specialize in these areas, creating opportunities for Black professionals to shape the legal framework of the global shipping industry.

Sub-Saharan Africa, with its vast coastline and strategic positioning along key maritime routes, has significant untapped potential in the global shipping industry. African nations have long faced challenges in building sustainable shipping economies due to inadequate infrastructure, limited human capital, and heavy reliance on foreign shipping companies. However, the region is increasingly prioritizing infrastructure development, trade facilitation, and regional economic integration, creating opportunities for collaboration with HBCUs.

Educational Partnerships and Training Programs

One of the most immediate opportunities for HBCUs lies in the development of educational partnerships that address the skills gap in Sub-Saharan Africa’s shipping and logistics sectors. HBCUs can collaborate with African universities to offer joint programs in maritime engineering, logistics management, and maritime law, developing a local workforce capable of managing and optimizing African ports and shipping fleets.

Entrepreneurship and Innovation in Shipping

HBCUs can help African nations build sustainable infrastructure solutions by training entrepreneurs to develop local shipping companies, port management systems, and innovative logistics technologies. The emphasis on green shipping innovations, such as energy-efficient vessels and alternative fuels, could help Sub-Saharan Africa become a leader in sustainable maritime solutions.

Collaborative Research and Development

R&D partnerships between HBCUs and Sub-Saharan African countries can drive technological innovation in shipping, from automation and digitalization to sustainable shipping practices. HBCUs can collaborate with African governments to improve port efficiency, reduce congestion, and optimize the flow of goods across borders.

Financial Partnerships and Investment Opportunities

HBCUs can also partner with Black-owned investment firms and African development banks to fund shipping infrastructure projects in Sub-Saharan Africa. Through collaboration, these institutions can help finance the modernization of ports and shipbuilding projects, fostering local businesses and reducing the region’s dependency on foreign shipping companies.

The global shipping industry faces significant challenges as it adapts to a rapidly changing world, from the rise of automation to the imperative of sustainability. To meet these challenges, the industry needs a diverse and innovative workforce that can think outside the box and create new solutions. Historically Black Colleges and Universities (HBCUs), with their strong engineering programs, entrepreneurial spirit, and commitment to producing talented professionals, are uniquely positioned to help diversify the global shipping industry. By expanding their curricula, fostering entrepreneurship, and strengthening ties with Black banks and investment firms, HBCUs can help shape the future of the global shipping industry, bringing new faces, ideas, and opportunities to this critical sector of the global economy. Moreover, through partnerships with Sub-Saharan African countries, HBCUs can play a transformative role in building sustainable shipping economies in the region, fostering regional integration, and reducing dependence on foreign shipping companies. These efforts not only contribute to the development of Sub-Saharan Africa but also strengthen the global shipping industry by introducing new voices, technologies, and business models that promote greater sustainability and innovation.