“The family is the nucleus of civilization.” — Will Durant

When news broke from Senegal that so-called “schools for husbands” were being used to lower maternal and newborn mortality rates, the headlines focused on the novelty of men being taught to wash dishes, attend prenatal visits, and support women’s healthcare. Yet beneath the surface, Senegal’s program is not just about chores or even just about health, it is about reshaping cultural norms so that households operate as functional units rather than fractured spaces of authority and neglect. In a country where patriarchal structures often keep women from making life-saving decisions without a man’s permission, Senegal’s government and community leaders recognized that sustainable change had to address the power imbalance between men and women.
This insight carries an important lesson for African America. The African American family is facing a structural crisis. Only 38 percent of African American children grow up in two-parent households compared to 78 percent of white children, and the numbers are even more stark when considering households of generational stability, wealth accumulation, and transmission of institutional knowledge. The decline of the two-parent household in African America has had profound consequences not just for children, but for adults who often enter adulthood without ever having witnessed sustained partnership between equals.
What if African America had its own version of Senegal’s schools expanded to include both husbands and wives, and designed for straight couples and LGBTQ couples alike? A “School for Husbands and Wives” could become a powerful cultural and institutional lever, equipping African Americans with the skills, expectations, and frameworks to build households that are not only emotionally healthy but also institutionally productive.
Why African America Needs Schools for Husbands and Wives
African Americans live in a paradox: on the one hand, they are among the most religiously active groups in the country, with churches historically serving as community hubs. On the other hand, African American households are disproportionately fragmented. The reasons are historical and structural—slavery destroyed family continuity, Jim Crow restricted marriage rights, mass incarceration and discriminatory welfare policies tore apart families, and modern labor and housing policies continue to erode family stability.
The consequence is that too many African Americans enter relationships without having observed healthy models of partnership. This absence manifests itself in multiple ways:
- Gender distrust: Many African American men and women view each other as competitors rather than partners, shaped by economic inequality and media stereotypes.
- Power imbalances: Without clarity on roles, relationships often collapse under stress: financial, emotional, or social.
- Institutional gaps: Families are the basic units of institutions. When African American families are weak, African American institutions remain undercapitalized and undercoordinated.
This reality is not confined to heterosexual couples. LGBTQ African Americans, who face both external discrimination and internal cultural tension, often have even fewer family blueprints to draw upon. Whether in straight or queer relationships, the challenge remains: how do two people form a sustainable partnership when their models are fragmented, mistrust abounds, and institutional frameworks are weak?
A School for Husbands and Wives would take on this challenge directly, teaching the mechanics of partnership in the same way Senegal’s program teaches men the mechanics of maternal health support. But instead of focusing solely on chores or permissions, the African American model would expand to include economics, conflict resolution, institution building, and cultural grounding.
The Senegalese Model: A Starting Point
Senegal’s schools for husbands use respected community figures like imams, former soldiers, and elders to teach men about women’s rights, maternal health, and shared responsibilities. The success lies in reframing: chores are not humiliating, they are acts of love; women’s health decisions are not threats, they are family investments; shared authority is not weakness, it is strength.
For African Americans, a School for Husbands and Wives could use a similar approach: respected voices drawn from the community like professors, entrepreneurs, cultural leaders, and married couples who have sustained long-term partnerships would teach relationship and family skills as community investments. The aim would be to destigmatize conversations about partnership and create new models where none exist.
Curriculum for Partnership
What would a School for Husbands and Wives look like in African America?
- Economics of Partnership
- Teaching couples how to pool resources effectively, manage debt, invest in assets, and prioritize institutional wealth over individual consumption.
- Lessons on real estate, life insurance, trusts, and estate planning—so that households become wealth anchors, not debt traps.
- Conflict Resolution and Communication
- Many couples replicate cycles of mistrust they observed growing up. Training in conflict resolution, active listening, and equitable compromise would be central.
- Both straight and LGBTQ couples would benefit from structured conversations on navigating cultural stigma, managing extended family expectations, and sustaining emotional intimacy.
- Household Labor Distribution
- Senegal emphasizes men helping with chores to reduce women’s burdens. In African America, the conversation must extend further: both partners share responsibility for cooking, cleaning, parenting, and professional ambitions.
- The school would also address how unpaid labor at home directly connects to economic outcomes, productivity, and career success for both partners.
- Cultural and Historical Grounding
- African American couples would be taught the history of the African American family as an institution under assault—from slavery to mass incarceration.
- By understanding the intentionality of these assaults, couples would better grasp the importance of intentional partnership as resistance.
- Parenting as Institutional Strategy
- Children should be raised not just with love, but with strategy: to become contributors to African American institutional wealth and culture.
- Parents would learn to combine elements of “tiger” and “gentle” parenting—discipline and nurture balanced toward the goal of institutional power.
Straight and LGBTQ Couples Together
Too often, discussions of African American family structure exclude LGBTQ couples, reinforcing division where there should be solidarity. A School for Husbands and Wives would explicitly include both straight and LGBTQ couples, recognizing that the core challenges of partnership communication, trust, economic strategy, cultural grounding are universal.
In fact, LGBTQ couples often demonstrate resilience in building intentional families under hostile conditions, a skillset that all African Americans can learn from. By including diverse couple models, the school would normalize different family structures while emphasizing the shared goal: strong, functioning partnerships that build institutions.
Institutional Implications
African American institutions such as HBCUs, banks, businesses, nonprofits are only as strong as the families that sustain them. Wealth is built in households before it is transferred to institutions. If African American households remain fragmented, then institutions will remain weak.
A School for Husbands and Wives could therefore be sponsored or housed by HBCUs, serving both as a community program and as a research lab. Partnerships with African American financial institutions could integrate financial literacy into the curriculum. Faith institutions, cultural centers, and civic organizations could all play roles in teaching and sustaining graduates of the program.
The benefits would ripple:
- Higher marriage stability rates among African Americans.
- Greater pooling of household income, increasing wealth accumulation.
- Stronger parenting, producing children with higher educational attainment and cultural grounding.
- Increased institutional giving and investment, as families with stability contribute more to churches, HBCUs, and community organizations.
Policy and Public Health Dimensions
A School for Husbands and Wives should not be seen only as a cultural innovation, but also as a public health and policy strategy. The lack of stable households directly correlates with higher rates of poverty, incarceration, and health disparities. Policymakers could frame such schools as preventative investments, much like job training or nutrition programs.
Public funding, alongside philanthropic investment from African American institutions, could help establish pilot programs in cities with large African American populations. These schools could even be tied to existing healthcare infrastructure such as community health clinics so that relationship education is linked to wellness checkups, parenting support, and financial literacy programs.
If Senegal can link male training to maternal survival, African America can link couple training to family survival.
Lessons from Senegal’s Caution
Senegal’s experience shows that change is incremental and contested. Some men embrace new roles; others resist. Likewise, in African America, not everyone will accept the idea of formal schools for partnership. Some will argue that love is natural and cannot be taught. Others will resist LGBTQ inclusion. Some will see the program as unnecessary “therapy culture.”
But institutions are built through intentionality, not accident. Just as one studies law to become a lawyer or finance to become a banker, so too must African Americans study partnership if they are to build families that function as institutional engines.
A Vision Forward
Imagine a future where every African American couple, before or after marriage, participates in a School for Husbands and Wives. They leave not only with a deeper love for each other but with tools for building wealth, resolving conflict, and raising children with purpose. They learn to see themselves as not just individuals, but as co-founders of a household institution.
The Senegalese model shows us that cultural change is possible when men are trained to view equality as strength. African America can expand that vision: training both husbands and wives, straight and queer, to view partnership as the foundation of institutional survival.
Just as Senegal’s schools for husbands aim to save lives, African America’s schools for husbands and wives would aim to save legacies.ve legacies.





Charlamagne Tha God & Jemele Hill: The Debate They Both Got Right and Wrong
“If you don’t own anything, you don’t have any power.” — Dr. Claud Anderson
When Charlamagne Tha God proclaimed, “Wake your ass up and get to trade school!” after NVIDIA’s CEO Jensen Huang suggested that the next wave of American millionaires will come from plumbers and electricians, he was not simply shouting into the void. He was echoing a national frustration, one rooted in the rising irrelevance of a degree-driven economy that no longer guarantees stability or wealth. Student debt has grown into a generational shackle, corporate loyalty is dead, and a working class once promised a middle-class life for earning a degree has found itself boxed out of the very prosperity it was told to chase. Charlamagne’s message resonated because trades feel like a lifeboat in an economy where white-collar work has become overcrowded, uncertain, and increasingly automated. But Jemele Hill’s response, “There’s nothing wrong with getting a trade, but the people in the billionaire and millionaire class aren’t sending their kids to trade schools” was the kind of truth that punctures illusions. She was not critiquing the trades; she was critiquing the belief that skill, in isolation from ownership, can produce power.
Her point hits harder within African America because our community has historically been guided into labor paths whether trade or degree that position us as workers within someone else’s institutions. It is not a coincidence. As HBCU Money examined in “Washington Was The Horse And DuBois Was The Cart”, the historical tension between industrial education and classical higher learning was never about choosing one or the other. It was about sequencing. Booker T. Washington understood that African America first needed an economic base, a foundation of labor mastery and enterprise capacity. W.E.B. DuBois emphasized intellectual development and leadership cultivation. But Washington was right about one thing: without an economic foundation, intellectual prowess has no institutional home. And without institutional homes, neither the trade nor the degree can produce freedom. African America today is suffering because we abandoned Washington’s base-building and misinterpreted DuBois’s talent development as permission to serve institutions built by others.
Charlamagne’s trade-school enthusiasm fits neatly into Washington’s horse, the practical skill that generates economic usefulness. But Hill’s critique reflects DuBois’s cart understanding how society actually distributes power. The mistake is that neither Washington nor DuBois ever argued that skill alone, or schooling alone, was enough. Both ultimately pointed toward institutional ownership. Neither wanted African Americans to remain permanently in the labor class. The trades were supposed to evolve into construction companies, electrical firms, cooperatives, and land-based enterprises. The degrees were supposed to evolve into banks, research centers, hospitals, and political institutions. What we actually did was pursue skills and credentials not power. We mistook competence for control.
This is why the trades-versus-degrees debate is meaningless without ownership. Becoming a plumber or an electrician provides income, but not institutional leverage. Becoming a lawyer or an accountant provides upward mobility, but not institutional control. A community with thousands of tradespeople and thousands of degreed professionals but without banks, construction firms, land ownership, hospitals, newspapers, media companies, sovereign endowments, or venture capital funds is still a community of laborers no matter how educated or skilled.
This structural truth becomes even clearer when viewed through the lens of how the wealthiest Americans use education. HBCU Money’s analysis, “Does Graduate School Matter? America’s 100 Wealthiest: 44 Percent Have Graduate Degrees”, observes that while nearly half of America’s wealthiest individuals do hold graduate degrees, the degrees themselves are not the source of wealth. They are tools of amplification. They work because the individuals earning them already have ownership pathways through family offices, endowments, corporations, foundations, and networks that translate education into power. Graduate school matters when you have an institution to run. It matters far less when your degree leads you into institutions owned by others.
African American graduates rarely inherit institutions; they inherit responsibility to institutions that do not belong to them. So the degree becomes a ladder into someone else’s building. And trades, stripped of the communal ownership networks they once fed, become a ladder into someone else’s factory, subcontracting chain, or municipal maintenance operation. We are always climbing into structures that someone else owns.
This cycle was not always our trajectory. The tragedy is that HBCUs once created institutional ecosystems where skill and knowledge were used to build African American economic capacity—not merely transfer it outward. As HBCU Money argued in “HBCU Construction: Revisiting Work-Study Trade Training”, many HBCUs historically operated construction, carpentry, and trade programs that literally built the campuses themselves. Students learned trades while constructing residence halls, dining facilities, barns, academic buildings, and infrastructure that the institution would own for generations. That model kept money circulating internally, built hard assets, created institutional wealth, and established capacity for African American contracting firms. It produced not just skilled laborers it produced apprentices, foremen, entrepreneurs, and business owners. It produced Washington’s economic foundation.
The abandonment of these models created a void. Trades became disconnected from institutional development. Degrees became pathways to external employment. And HBCUs which once trained students to build institutions were transformed into pipelines feeding corporate America and federal agencies that rarely reinvest into African American institutions at scale. This is why the trade-school-versus-college debate is hollow. Both are simply skill paths. Without ownership, both lead to dependence.
Charlamagne’s sense of urgency comes from watching African American millennials and Gen Z face an economy with fewer footholds than their parents had. But urgency alone cannot produce strategy. Hill, consciously or unconsciously, pointed out that the wealthy understand something we have not fully grasped: the ultimate purpose of skill, whether manual or intellectual, is to strengthen one’s own institutional ecosystem not someone else’s. The wealthy do not send their children to college to find jobs; they send them to college to learn to oversee family enterprises, influence policy, govern philanthropic endowments, and maintain social capital networks. A wealthy family’s electrician child does not go into electrical maintenance he goes into managing the electrical firm the family owns.
This is the distinction African America must confront. We keep choosing roles instead of building infrastructure. We choose jobs. We do not choose institutions. We chase wages. We do not chase ownership. This is not because African Americans lack talent or ambition. It is because integration disconnected African America from its economic development logic. In the push to integrate into white institutions, we abandoned the very institutions that anchored our communities—banks, hospitals, insurance companies, manufacturing cooperatives, and HBCU-based work-study and trade ecosystems.
The future requires rebuilding a Washington-first, DuBois-second model. The horse that is the economic base must return. The cart that is the intellectual class must attach to institutions that the community owns. Trades should feed African American contracting firms, electrical cooperatives, and infrastructure companies that service Black communities and employ Black workers. Degrees should feed African American financial institutions, research centers, HBCU endowments, political think tanks, and venture funds. Every skill, trade, or degree must be tied to institutional expansion.
Otherwise, we will continue mistaking income for empowerment, education for sovereignty, and representation for ownership. Trade or degree, individual success means little when the community remains institutionally dependent. Wealth that dies with individuals is not power; it is a temporary advantage. Power is continuity. Power is structure. Power is ownership.
The choice before African America is not between trade and degree. It is between labor and ownership. No skill, not plumbing, not engineering, not medicine, not law creates power without institutions. We are not lacking talented individuals; we are lacking the institutional architecture that turns talent into sovereignty.
Charlamagne spoke to survival. Hill spoke to structure. Washington spoke to foundation. DuBois spoke to leadership. The synthesis of all four is the path forward. Without institutions, African America will always remain the labor in someone else’s empire even when the labor is highly paid, well-trained, and excellently credentialed. Only ownership transforms skill into power, and without rebuilding our institutional ecosystem, we will continue to debate trades and degrees while owning neither the companies nor the universities.
Ownership is the only path. Without it, neither the horse nor the cart will ever move.
Disclaimer: This article was assisted by ChatGPT.
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