Tag Archives: racial wealth gap

Consumer Credit Now Rivals Mortgage Debt in African American Households

First our pleasures die – and then our hopes, and then our fears – and when these are dead, the debt is due dust claims dust – and we die too. – Percy Bysshe Shelley

African American household assets reached $7.1 trillion in 2024, a half-trillion-dollar increase that might appear encouraging at first glance. Yet beneath this headline figure lies a structural vulnerability that threatens to undermine decades of hard-won economic progress: consumer credit has surged to $740 billion, now representing nearly half of all African American household debt and approaching parity with home mortgage obligations of $780 billion. In the world of good debt versus bad debt, African America’s bad debt is rapidly choking the economic life away.

This near 1:1 ratio between consumer credit and mortgage debt represents a fundamental inversion of healthy household finance. For white households, the ratio stands at approximately 3:1 in favor of mortgage debt over consumer credit. Hispanic households maintain a similar 3:1 ratio, as do households classified as “Other” in Federal Reserve data. The African American community stands alone in this precarious position, where high-interest, unsecured borrowing rivals the debt secured by appreciating assets.

The implications of this structural imbalance extend far beyond mere statistics. They reveal a community increasingly dependent on expensive credit to maintain living standards, even as asset values nominally rise. Consumer credit grew by 10.4% in 2024, more than double the 4.0% growth in mortgage debt and far exceeding the overall asset appreciation rate. This divergence suggests that rising property values and retirement account balances are not translating into improved financial flexibility. Instead, African American households appear to be running faster merely to stay in place, accumulating debt at an accelerating pace despite wealth gains elsewhere on their balance sheets.

What makes this dynamic particularly insidious is the extractive nature of the debt itself. With African American-owned banks holding just $6.4 billion in combined assets, a figure that has grown modestly from $5.9 billion in 2023, the overwhelming majority of the $1.55 trillion in African American household liabilities flows to institutions outside the community. This represents one of the most significant, yet least discussed, mechanisms of wealth extraction from African America.

Consider the arithmetic: if even a conservative estimate suggests that 95% of African American debt is held by non-Black institutions, and if that debt carries an average interest rate of 8% (likely conservative given the prevalence of credit card debt and auto loans), then African American households are transferring approximately $120 billion annually in interest payments to institutions with no vested interest in Black wealth creation or community reinvestment.

For context, the entire asset base of African American-owned banks—$6.4 billion—represents less than one month’s worth of these interest payments. The disparity is staggering. According to the FDIC’s Minority Depository Institution program, Asian American banks lead with $174 billion in assets, while Hispanic American banks hold $138 billion. African American banking institutions, despite serving a population with $7.1 trillion in household assets (yielding approximately $5.6 trillion in net wealth after liabilities), control less than 0.1% of that wealth through their balance sheets.

This extraction mechanism operates at multiple levels. First, there is the direct transfer of interest payments from Black borrowers to predominantly white-owned financial institutions. Second, there is the opportunity cost: capital that could be intermediated through Black-owned institutions creating deposits, enabling local lending, building institutional capacity but instead enriches institutions that have historically redlined Black communities and continue to deny Black borrowers and business owners at disproportionate rates.

Third, and perhaps most pernicious, is the feedback loop this creates. Without sufficient capital flow through Black-owned institutions, these banks lack the resources to compete effectively for deposits, to invest in technology and branch networks, to attract top talent, or to take on the larger commercial loans that could finance transformative community development projects. They remain, in effect, trapped in a low-equilibrium state unable to scale precisely because they lack access to the very capital that their community generates.

The near-parity between consumer credit and mortgage debt in African American households signals a fundamental divergence from the wealth-building model that has enriched other communities for generations. Mortgage debt, despite its costs, serves as a mechanism for forced savings and wealth accumulation. As homeowners make payments, they build equity in an asset that typically appreciates over time. The debt is secured by a tangible asset, carries relatively low interest rates, and benefits from tax advantages.

Consumer credit operates on precisely the opposite logic. It finances consumption rather than investment, carries interest rates that can exceed 20% on credit cards, builds no equity, and offers no tax benefits. When consumer credit approaches the scale of mortgage debt, it suggests a household finance structure tilted toward consumption smoothing rather than wealth building—using expensive borrowing to maintain living standards in the face of inadequate income growth.

The data from HBCU Money’s 2024 African America Annual Wealth Report confirms this interpretation. While African American real estate assets totaled $2.24 trillion, growing by just 4.3%, consumer credit surged by 10.4%. This divergence suggests that home equity, the traditional engine of African American wealth building, is being offset by the accumulation of high-cost consumer debt.

More troubling still, the concentration of African American wealth in illiquid assets with real estate and retirement accounts comprising nearly 60% of total holdings limits the ability to weather financial shocks without resorting to consumer credit. Unlike households with significant liquid assets or equity portfolios that can be tapped through margin loans at lower rates, African American households facing unexpected expenses must often turn to credit cards, personal loans, or other high-cost borrowing.

This creates a wealth-to-liquidity trap: substantial assets on paper, but insufficient liquid resources to manage volatility without accumulating expensive debt. The modest representation of corporate equities and mutual funds at just $330 billion, or 4.7% of African American assets means that most Black wealth is locked in homes and retirement accounts that cannot easily be accessed for emergency expenses, business investments, or wealth transfer to the next generation.

The underdevelopment of African American banking institutions represents both a cause and consequence of this debt crisis. With combined assets of just $6.4 billion, Black-owned banks lack the scale to compete effectively for deposits, to offer competitive loan products, or to finance the larger commercial and real estate projects that could drive community wealth creation.

To understand why bank assets matter for addressing household debt, one must grasp a fundamental principle of banking: a bank’s assets are largely composed of the loans it has extended. When a bank reports $1 billion in assets, the majority represents money lent to households and businesses in the form of mortgages, business loans, and lines of credit. These loans are assets to the bank because they generate interest income and (ideally) will be repaid. Conversely, the deposits that customers place in banks appear as liabilities on the bank’s balance sheet, because the bank owes that money back to depositors.

This means that when African American-owned banks hold just $6.4 billion in assets, they have extended roughly $6.4 billion in loans to their communities. By contrast, African American households carry $1.55 trillion in debt. The arithmetic is stark: Black-owned institutions are originating less than 0.5% of the debt carried by Black households. The remaining 99.5% or approximately $1.54 trillion flows to non-Black institutions, carrying interest payments and fees with it. If Black-owned banks held even 10% of African American household debt as assets, they would control over $155 billion in lending capacity more than twenty times their current scale creating a powerful engine for wealth recirculation and community reinvestment.

The exclusion from consumer credit is even more complete than these figures suggest. There are no African American-owned credit card companies, and most African American financial institutions lack the scale and infrastructure to issue Visa, MasterCard, or other branded credit cards through their own institutions. When Black consumers carry $740 billion in consumer credit much of it on credit cards charging 18% to 25% interest virtually none of that debt flows through Black-owned institutions. Every swipe, every interest payment, every late fee enriches the handful of large banks and card issuers that dominate the consumer credit market. This represents the most direct and lucrative form of wealth extraction: high-margin, unsecured lending with minimal default risk due to aggressive collection practices, all flowing entirely outside the Black banking ecosystem.

By comparison, a single large regional bank might hold $50 billion or more in assets. The entire African American banking sector commands resources equivalent to roughly one-eighth of one large institution. This scale disadvantage manifests in multiple ways: higher operating costs as a percentage of assets, limited ability to diversify risk, reduced capacity to invest in technology and marketing, and difficulty attracting deposits in an era when consumers increasingly prioritize digital capabilities and nationwide ATM access.

The decrease of Black-owned banks has accelerated these challenges. The number of African American-owned banks has declined from 48 in 2001 to just 18 today, even as the combined assets have grown from $5 billion to $6.4 billion. This suggests that the survivors have achieved modest scale gains, but the overall institutional capacity of the sector has contracted significantly. Each closure represents not just a loss of financial services, but a loss of community knowledge, relationship banking, and the cultural competence that enables Black-owned institutions to serve their communities effectively.

The credit union sector presents a more substantial but still constrained picture. Approximately 205 African American credit unions operate nationwide, holding $8.2 billion in combined assets and serving 727,000 members. While this represents meaningful scale more than the $6.4 billion held by African American banks the distribution reveals deep fragmentation. The average credit union holds $40 million in assets with 3,500 members, but the median tells a more sobering story: just $2.5 million in assets serving 618 members. This means the majority of African American credit unions operate at scales too small to offer competitive products, invest in digital banking infrastructure, or provide the full range of services that members need. Many church-based credit unions, while serving vital community functions for congregations often underserved by traditional banks, hold assets under $500,000. The member-owned structure of credit unions, while fostering community engagement and democratic governance, also constrains their ability to raise capital through equity markets, leaving them dependent on retained earnings and member deposits for growth, a particular challenge when serving communities with limited surplus capital.

This institutional deficit has profound implications for the debt crisis. Without strong Black-owned financial institutions, African American borrowers must rely on financial institutions owned by other communities that often offer less favorable terms. Research consistently shows that Black borrowers face higher denial rates, pay higher interest rates, and receive less favorable terms than similarly situated white borrowers. A 2025 LendingTree analysis of Home Mortgage Disclosure Act data found that Black borrowers faced a mortgage denial rate of 19% compared to 11.27% for all applicants making them 1.7 times more likely to be denied. Black-owned small businesses received full funding in just 38% of cases, compared with 62% for white-owned firms.

These disparities push African American households and businesses toward more expensive credit alternatives. Unable to access conventional mortgages, they turn to FHA loans with higher insurance premiums. Denied bank credit, they turn to credit cards and personal loans with double-digit interest rates. Lacking access to business lines of credit, entrepreneurs tap home equity or personal savings, increasing their financial vulnerability.

The absence of robust Black-owned institutions also deprives the community of an important competitive force. Where Black-owned banks operate, they create pressure on other institutions to serve Black customers more fairly. Their presence signals that discriminatory practices will drive customers to alternatives, creating at least some market discipline. Where they are absent or weak, that discipline evaporates.

Corporate DEI programs that once channeled deposits to Black-owned banks have been largely eliminated. The current federal political environment is openly hostile to African American advancement, with programs like the Treasury Department’s Emergency Capital Investment Program facing uncertain futures. External support structures are collapsing precisely when they are most needed, leaving African American institutions and individuals as the primary actors in their own financial liberation, a task made exponentially more difficult by the very extraction mechanisms this analysis has documented.

The near-parity between consumer credit and mortgage debt in African American households is not a reflection of poor financial decision-making or cultural deficiency. It is the predictable outcome of structural inequalities that have limited income growth, constrained access to affordable credit, concentrated wealth in illiquid assets, and prevented the development of financial institutions capable of serving the Black community effectively.

The comparison with other racial and ethnic groups is instructive. White, Hispanic, and other households all maintain mortgage-to-consumer-credit ratios of approximately 3:1 or better. They achieve this not because of superior financial acumen, but because they benefit from higher incomes, greater intergenerational wealth transfers, better access to credit markets, and stronger financial institutions serving their communities.

African American households, by contrast, face headwinds at every turn. Median Black household income remains roughly 60% of median white household income. The racial wealth gap, at approximately 10:1, ensures that Black families receive less financial support from parents and grandparents. Discrimination in credit markets, though illegal, persists in subtle and not-so-subtle forms. And the institutional infrastructure that might counterbalance these disadvantages from Black-owned banks, investment firms, insurance companies remains underdeveloped and undercapitalized.

The result is a community that has achieved a nominal wealth of $5.5 trillion, yet finds that wealth increasingly built on a foundation of expensive debt rather than appreciating assets and productive capital. The $740 billion in consumer credit represents not just a financial liability, but a transfer mechanism that annually extracts tens of billions of dollars from the Black community and redirects it to predominantly white-owned financial institutions.

Breaking this pattern will require more than incremental change. It will require a fundamental restructuring of how capital flows through the African American community, how financial institutions serving that community are capitalized and regulated, and how wealth is built and transferred across generations. The alternative of continuing on the current trajectory is a future in which African American households accumulate assets while simultaneously accumulating debt, running faster while falling further behind, building wealth that proves as ephemeral as the credit that increasingly finances it.

The data from HBCU Money’s 2024 African America Annual Wealth Report provides both a warning and an opportunity. The warning is clear: the current path is unsustainable, with consumer credit growing at more than double the rate of asset appreciation and institutional capacity remaining stagnant. The opportunity is equally clear: with $5.5 trillion in household wealth, the African American community possesses the resources necessary to build the financial institutions and wealth-building structures that could transform debt into equity, consumption into investment, and extraction into accumulation.

The question is whether the community, and the nation, will recognize the urgency of this moment and take the bold action necessary to recirculate capital, rebuild institutions, and restructure household finance before the debt trap closes entirely. The answer to that question will determine not just the financial trajectory of African American households, but the capacity of African America rise in power and to address the racial wealth gap that remains its most persistent economic failure.

Disclaimer: This article was assisted by ClaudeAI.

HBCU Money Presents: African America’s 2024 Annual Wealth Report

African American household wealth reached $7.1 trillion in 2024, marking a half-trillion-dollar increase that signals both progress and persistent structural challenges in the nation’s racial wealth landscape. While the topline growth appears encouraging, the composition reveals a familiar pattern: wealth remains overwhelmingly concentrated in illiquid assets, with real estate and retirement accounts comprising nearly 60% of total holdings. The year’s most dynamic growth came from corporate equities and mutual fund shares, which surged 22.2% to $330 billion—yet this represents less than 5% of African American assets and a mere 0.7% of total U.S. household equity holdings, underscoring how far removed Black households remain from the wealth-generating mechanisms of capital markets.

The liability side of the ledger tells an equally sobering story. Consumer credit climbed to $740 billion in 2024, now representing nearly half of all African American household debt and growing at more than double the rate of asset appreciation. This shift toward unsecured, high-interest borrowing—particularly as it outpaces home mortgage debt—suggests that rising asset values are not translating into improved financial flexibility or reduced economic vulnerability. What makes this dynamic even more troubling is the extractive nature of the debt itself: with African American-owned banks holding just $6.4 billion in combined assets, it’s clear that the vast majority of the $1.55 trillion in African American household liabilities flows to institutions outside the community. This means that interest payments, fees, and the wealth-building potential of lending relationships are being systematically siphoned away from Black-owned financial institutions that could reinvest those resources back into African American communities, perpetuating a cycle where debt burdens intensify even as the capital generated from servicing that debt enriches institutions with no vested interest in Black wealth creation.

ASSETS

In 2024, African American households held approximately $7.1 trillion in total assets, an increase of more than $500 billion from 2023, with corporate equities and mutual fund shares recording the fastest year-over-year growth from a relatively small base, even as wealth remained heavily concentrated in real estate and retirement accounts—together accounting for more than 58% of total assets.

Real Estate

Total Value: $2.24 trillion

Definition: Real estate is defined as the land and any permanent structures, like a home, or improvements attached to the land, whether natural or man-made.

% of African America’s Assets: 34.2%

% of U.S. Household Real Estate Assets: 5.1%

Change from 2023: +4.3% ($100 billion)

Real estate remains the dominant asset class for African American households, accounting for over one-third of total household assets. While modest appreciation continued in 2024, ownership remains highly concentrated in primary residences rather than income-producing or institutional real estate, limiting liquidity and leverage potential.

Consumer Durable Goods

Total Value: $620 billion

Definition: Consumer durables, also known as durable goods, are a category of consumer goods that do not wear out quickly and therefore do not have to be purchased frequently. They are part of core retail sales data and are considered durable because they last for at least three years, as the U.S. Department of Commerce defines. Examples include large and small appliances, consumer electronics, furniture, and furnishings.

% of African America’s Assets: 8.8%

% of U.S. Household Durable Good Assets: 6.2%

Change from 2023: +3.3% ($20 billion)

Corporate equities and mutual fund shares 

Total Value: $330 billion

Definition: A stock, also known as equity, is a security that represents the ownership of a fraction of the issuing corporation. Units of stock are called “shares” which entitles the owner to a proportion of the corporation’s assets and profits equal to how much stock they own. A mutual fund is a pooled collection of assets that invests in stocks, bonds, and other securities.

% of African America’s Assets: 4.7%

% of U.S. Household Equity Assets: 0.7%

Change from 2023: +22.2% ($60 billion)

Defined benefit pension entitlements

Total Value: $1.73 trillion

Definition: Defined-benefit plans provide eligible employees with guaranteed income for life when they retire. Employers guarantee a specific retirement benefit amount for each participant based on factors such as the employee’s salary and years of service.

% of African America’s Assets: 24.4%

% of U.S. Household Defined Benefit Pension Assets: 9.7%

Change from 2023: +7.5% ($40 billion)

Defined contribution pension entitlements

Total Value: $880 billion

Definition: Defined-contribution plans are funded primarily by the employee. The most common type of defined-contribution plan is a 401(k). Participants can elect to defer a portion of their gross salary via a pre-tax payroll deduction. The company may match the contribution if it chooses, up to a limit it sets.

% of African America’s Assets: 12.4%

% of U.S. Household Defined Contribution Pension Assets: 6.0%

Change from 2023: +4.8% ($40 billion)

Private businesses

Total Value: $330 billion

% of African America’s Assets: 4.7%

% of U.S. Household Private Business Assets: 1.8%

Change from 2023: +3.1% ($10 billion)

Other assets

Total Value: $770 billion

Definition: Alternative investments can include private equity or venture capital, hedge funds, managed futures, art and antiques, commodities, and derivatives contracts.

% of African America’s Assets: 10.9%

% of U.S. Household Other Assets: 2.7%

Change from 2023: +6.9% ($50 billion)

LIABILITIES

“From 2023 to 2024, African American household liabilities rose by approximately $100 billion, with consumer credit, now representing nearly 48% of all liabilities, driving the majority of the increase and reinforcing structural constraints on net wealth accumulation despite rising asset values.”

Home Mortgages

Total Value: $780 billion

Definition: Debt secured by either a mortgage or deed of trust on real property, such as a house and land. Foreclosure and sale of the property is a remedy available to the lender. Mortgage debt is a debt that was voluntarily incurred by the owner of the property, either for purchase of the property or at a later point, such as with a home equity line of credit.

% of African America’s Liabilities: 50.3%

% of U.S. Household Mortgage Debt: 5.8%

Change from 2023: +4.0% ($30 billion)

Consumer Credit

Total Value: $740 billion

Definition: Consumer credit, or consumer debt, is personal debt taken on to purchase goods and services. Although any type of personal loan could be labeled consumer credit, the term is more often used to describe unsecured debt of smaller amounts. A credit card is one type of consumer credit in finance, but a mortgage is not considered consumer credit because it is backed with the property as collateral. 

% of African American Liabilities: 47.7%

% of U.S. Household Consumer Credit: ~15.0%

Change from 2023: +10.4% ($70 billion)

Other Liabilities

Total Value: $30 billion

Definition: For most households, liabilities will include taxes due, bills that must be paid, rent or mortgage payments, loan interest and principal due, and so on. If you are pre-paid for performing work or a service, the work owed may also be construed as a liability.

% of African American Liabilities: 2.0%

% of U.S. Household Other Liabilities: ~2.8%

Change from 2023: 0% (No material change)

Source: Federal Reserve

Cultural Triumph, Institutional Fragility, Financial Violence: Uncle Nearest and the Case for Black-Owned Banks

“Financial violence has always been America’s quietest weapon and when African America builds without its own banks, it builds on sand.” – HBCU Money

The announcement that Farm Credit Mid-America, a Kentucky cooperative lender, had placed Uncle Nearest and its affiliated companies under federal receivership has shaken both the whiskey industry and African American business circles. The suit, seeking repayment of more than $108 million in loans, highlights not only the fragility of high-growth consumer brands but also a longstanding structural reality: the absence of large, African American-owned financial institutions that could have acted as lender, partner, and safeguard. At its height, Uncle Nearest was not just a spirits company. It had become a cultural symbol, a multimillion-dollar brand built on the rediscovered story of Nathan “Nearest” Green, the enslaved man who taught Jack Daniel to distill. But symbols are poor substitutes for capital. When the credit cycle turns and lenders impose stricter terms, symbols do not pay creditors, nor do they provide the liquidity needed to weather missteps. Uncle Nearest’s fate is therefore not only a corporate matter but a macro-lesson in institutional gaps that continue to undermine African American economic power. And it is inseparable from a longer history of European Americans wielding financial violence to weaken or erase African American institutions.

Farm Credit Mid-America’s complaint is straightforward in legal framing but heavy in consequence. It alleges default on revolving and term loans, misuse of proceeds—including purchase of a Martha’s Vineyard property outside agreed-upon terms—and inflated valuations of whiskey barrel inventories pledged as collateral. The cooperative insists the company failed to provide accurate financial reporting and violated covenants on net worth and liquidity. For the court, these alleged breaches justified appointing a receiver to oversee Uncle Nearest’s assets. For the wider market, the case raises questions about how one of the fastest-growing American whiskey brands could become so overextended in such a short time. But to view this only through the narrow lens of corporate mismanagement is to miss the structural point. Uncle Nearest turned to Farm Credit Mid-America precisely because African America has no equivalent institution at scale. The problem is not just a troubled borrower but a financial architecture in which African Americans must seek credit from institutions historically aligned against them.

European Americans have long recognized that domination requires more than guns and laws—it requires control of finance. Throughout American history, financial violence has been deployed to cripple African American economic advancement. The Freedman’s Savings Bank collapse in 1874 wiped out the life savings of formerly enslaved depositors, and the federal government refused to fully compensate them, teaching African Americans early that their deposits could be sacrificed without recourse. In the 20th century, European American banks and the federal government codified racial exclusion through redlining maps, systematically denying mortgages in Black neighborhoods. This was not neutral finance; it was engineered financial violence, preventing African Americans from entering the homeownership wealth pipeline. The burning of Greenwood in Tulsa in 1921, often remembered as a physical massacre, was also a financial one. Banks, insurance companies, and credit lines were destroyed alongside homes and businesses. Without access to capital, Greenwood could never fully rebuild. In more recent times, financial violence has taken the form of predatory lending. Subprime mortgage products were disproportionately pushed onto African American homeowners before the 2008 financial crisis, wiping out a generation of household wealth. European American-controlled finance profits from African American participation in the economy while denying equal access to capital formation. Uncle Nearest’s entanglement with Farm Credit Mid-America is not an anomaly but a continuation. When European American-controlled institutions are the gatekeepers of capital, they wield the power not only to finance but also to foreclose, to empower but also to erase.

The Uncle Nearest saga is a case study in how celebrated success stories often obscure fragile foundations. For nearly a decade, business media and cultural outlets heralded the brand as a triumph of African American entrepreneurship. The company claimed exponential growth, distribution in all 50 states, and a flagship distillery that drew tourists. Yet financial statements were rarely disclosed, and profitability was never the focus. The enthusiasm reflected a broader dynamic: African American brands often become cultural darlings before they become financially resilient. Without deep ties to institutional lenders within their own community, they must rely on external credit relationships that can sour quickly. When this happens, the story moves from triumph to turmoil in a matter of months.

At the core of this episode lies a more sobering truth. African American households control nearly $1.7 trillion in annual spending power, but African American-owned financial institutions hold less than 0.5% of U.S. banking assets. The top African American-owned bank has under $1 billion in assets; Farm Credit Mid-America, the plaintiff in the Uncle Nearest case, controls more than $25 billion. This mismatch leaves African American entrepreneurs, even those with national brands, dependent on institutions whose strategic priorities do not necessarily align with sustaining African American economic power. When defaults arise, the lender’s duty is to recover capital—not to protect the cultural or institutional significance of the borrower. European American-controlled finance, then, becomes not merely a neutral system but an instrument of selective gatekeeping. It funds African American brands when profitable, then withdraws and seizes control when convenient, replicating patterns of dispossession stretching back centuries.

Receivership is not always terminal. In many instances, companies emerge leaner and restructured. A skilled receiver may stabilize operations, preserve brand value, and even attract new capital. But for Uncle Nearest, the optics are punishing. A brand that marketed authenticity, resilience, and cultural restoration is now under external control. From an institutional perspective, the more important lesson is this: receivership often transfers control of assets from founders to outsiders. In this case, the intellectual property, inventory, and brand narrative of Uncle Nearest may ultimately end up in the hands of a major spirits conglomerate. The cultural capital painstakingly built could be monetized by global firms with no obligation to the communities that celebrated the brand’s rise.

This is hardly a new pattern. African American economic history is dotted with enterprises that gained cultural significance but lacked the institutional scaffolding to survive financial storms. From insurance firms in the early 20th century to radio stations in the late 20th century, the cycle repeats: individual success, rapid expansion, external borrowing, crisis, foreclosure, and eventual transfer of ownership. The absence of African American-controlled capital at scale explains why these cycles recur. Wealth is preserved and multiplied not through consumption but through financial intermediation like banks, insurers, investment funds, and cooperatives. Without these, individual businesses operate in a structurally hostile financial environment, an environment designed and maintained by European American interests.

The Uncle Nearest case illustrates several lessons that extend beyond whiskey or even consumer goods. Growth without institutional capital is fragile; rapid expansion must be supported by lenders whose incentives align with the borrower’s long-term survival. Transparency is essential; overstated inventory, inflated collateral, or vague reporting create vulnerabilities. Community lenders could impose discipline while understanding cultural context. Symbols cannot substitute for structures; a brand can inspire, but only institutions preserve value across generations. And perhaps most importantly, financial violence must be anticipated. Entrepreneurs cannot treat European American-controlled capital as neutral. It must be engaged with caution, hedged against, and ultimately replaced by African American-owned capital.

If African American entrepreneurs are to avoid similar fates, the ecosystem must address the capital gap at its root. That means building financial institutions with assets measured not in millions but in tens of billions. Institutional investments by profitable African American owned corporations and high net-worth African Americans of existing African American banks could create scale and efficiency. Other institutional investment vehicles such as real estate investment trusts, private credit funds, and venture platforms controlled by African American institutions could channel capital into businesses without reliance on external lenders. Partnership with HBCUs could pool university endowments, serving as anchor investors for community-controlled funds. These strategies require not just capital but governance discipline. Failed experiments in the past show that poorly managed institutions can collapse under their own weight. The challenge is to combine professional financial management with community accountability.

Internationally, minority communities have built financial ecosystems as buffers against exclusion. In South Korea, family-owned conglomerates leveraged domestic banks to grow global brands like Samsung and Hyundai. In Israel, tight networks of banks, state funding, and venture capital built the foundation for a high-tech economy. African American institutions remain far from achieving comparable coordination. Philanthropic donations, though celebrated, often flow into consumption or temporary relief rather than capital formation. Until African American institutions master the art of financial intermediation, the cycle of celebrated rise and sudden vulnerability will continue.

Uncle Nearest’s predicament carries symbolic weight precisely because the brand itself was constructed around reclaiming lost African American contributions. Nathan “Nearest” Green’s story gave the company authenticity, and Fawn Weaver’s stewardship turned it into a case study of cultural entrepreneurship. But culture without capital is precarious. If the brand is ultimately sold or absorbed into a global portfolio, the irony will be stark: once again, the African American contribution will be remembered, but the financial returns will flow elsewhere. This pattern mirrors the broader reality of African American culture in America—ubiquitous in influence, marginal in ownership.

What would a different outcome look like? Imagine a scenario where an African American-owned financial cooperative, with $20 billion in assets, had been Uncle Nearest’s primary lender. When financial stress emerged, restructuring discussions would occur within the community, balancing creditor protection with brand preservation. A workout plan could have extended maturities, injected bridge capital, and preserved ownership. Instead, the present outcome will likely see the brand either auctioned, restructured under external oversight, or sold into a larger portfolio. The story of Uncle Nearest will remain in museums and marketing campaigns, but the financial rewards will slip away—just as European American institutions have ensured through financial violence for generations.

The Uncle Nearest receivership is not just a cautionary tale about aggressive borrowing or mismanagement. It is a systemic reminder of what happens when cultural triumphs outpace institutional capacity, and when European American-controlled finance holds the decisive power. Financial violence has been the consistent tool used to limit African American progress—from denying mortgages, to burning banks, to predatory subprime lending. Today it manifests in legal filings, receiverships, and foreclosures that strip ownership while preserving value for others. Until African American communities control financial institutions of sufficient scale, stories like this will recur: brilliant brands, celebrated entrepreneurs, cultural resonance—and eventual loss of ownership when credit turns cold. Only when African America builds banks, insurers, funds, and cooperatives at scale will financial violence cease to be an inevitability and become a relic of the past.

The call to action is clear. This moment must not be treated as another sad headline in the long story of African American dispossession. It must be the spark for a generational project to build the financial scaffolding that has been systematically denied. African American investors, entrepreneurs, and institutions cannot wait for European American finance to treat them fairly; fairness has never been the logic of capital. They must pool resources, scaling banks, capitalize funds, and demand that philanthropy move beyond symbolic gifts toward endowments and capital vehicles that last. The future of African American business depends not on individual brilliance or cultural resonance but on the quiet, disciplined construction of financial power. If Uncle Nearest becomes a turning point, it will not be because of whiskey. It will be because African America finally decided that financial violence would no longer be its inheritance, and that institutional capital, built and controlled internally, would be its defense.

Disclaimer: This article was assisted by ChatGPT.

Working Hard For The Money: African America Comes In Dead Last When It Comes To Passive Income

“If you don’t find a way to make money while you sleep, you will work until you die.” — T. Harv Eker

In the American imagination, wealth is often synonymous with work—grit, grind, and the relentless pursuit of the paycheck. Yet the country’s richest families rarely labour for their living. Their fortunes compound quietly, buoyed by investments, dividend-paying stocks, real estate, and business interests. For Black households, whose median net worth remains a fraction of their white counterparts, accessing such passive income streams remains a frontier of both opportunity and historical consequence.

According to recent data from the U.S. Census and the Federal Reserve, only 7% of Black households report receiving passive income—whether from rental properties, interest, dividends, or business ownership—compared to 24% of white households. And when such income does exist, the median amount for Black families barely touches $2,000 annually, compared to nearly $5,000 for white households. This income disparity is not incidental. It reflects generations of exclusion, underinvestment, and systemic barriers to asset ownership.

But it is changing.

Across the U.S., a growing cohort of Black investors, entrepreneurs, and financial organizers are working to reverse this trend. From stock investing circles to community real estate funds and digital asset education, there is an awakening to the principle that “money must work when we do not.”

A Quiet Crisis in the Wealth Equation

Wealth in America has never been evenly distributed, but the passive income gap underscores a more insidious asymmetry: not just what people earn, but how money is multiplied. For much of the 20th century, Black Americans were systematically denied access to the very tools that compound wealth. Home loans were redlined. Stock brokers ignored Black neighborhoods. Black-owned businesses were underfinanced and over-regulated.

“We talk a lot about income inequality, but asset inequality is far more dangerous,” says Dr. Lenora Matthews, professor of finance at Howard University. “Passive income is how wealth survives across generations. Without it, every dollar must be earned, every month restarted from zero.”

The result has been a fragile wealth ecosystem. Black households are more likely to rely solely on wages, less likely to inherit financial assets, and more burdened by student debt. This combination severely limits participation in the capital markets that fuel passive income.

Enter the Index Fund

Among the most accessible starting points for passive income is the stock market—particularly index funds and ETFs (exchange-traded funds). These instruments offer low-cost, diversified exposure to the market and require little financial sophistication.

Platforms like M1 Finance, Public, and Fidelity now allow investors to buy fractional shares, meaning a person can invest $10 into the S&P 500 rather than $500 for a single share. Many Black investors are leveraging this entry point to build long-term portfolios with monthly contributions.

Tasha McDaniel, a teacher in Atlanta, began investing during the pandemic with just $50 per paycheck. “I never thought I’d be an investor,” she says. “But I realized my savings account was losing to inflation. Now my dividends buy more shares automatically.”

Her strategy follows a principle now gaining traction in Black financial circles: automatic reinvestment. Known as DRIP (Dividend Reinvestment Plan), it ensures that dividend payments purchase additional shares—compounding returns without additional cash input.

Real Estate: The Tangible Asset

Beyond equities, real estate remains the second pillar of passive income strategy. But here too, Black households have been historically marginalized. In 2022, the Black homeownership rate stood at 44%, compared to 74% among whites, a gap wider than it was in 1968 when the Fair Housing Act was passed.

And yet, platforms like Roofstock, Fundrise, and Arrived Homes are lowering the barriers. These services allow users to invest in rental properties, either fractionally or outright, while property management is handled externally—turning what was once an intensive business into a hands-off income stream.

“There’s a myth that you need $100,000 to buy a rental,” says Marcus Green, a Detroit-based real estate investor. “But with the right markets and leveraging community capital, Black investors can and are buying back the block.”

Indeed, co-investment models are growing. In cities like Birmingham, Baltimore, and Chicago, Black investment clubs are pooling resources to purchase duplexes and small multi-family homes. Each investor receives a percentage of rental income, and over time, equity appreciation.

The model is not new. It mirrors how Jewish, Chinese, and Caribbean diasporas historically approached real estate. What is new is the technological infrastructure allowing even small investors to participate.

Business Ownership: The Third Rail

Owning a business is arguably the most lucrative form of passive income—especially if it can be structured to run without the founder’s daily involvement. But again, Black entrepreneurs face outsized barriers. A 2021 Brookings report found that Black-owned businesses are half as likely to receive funding and receive only a third as much capital, even when creditworthiness is equal.

Still, entrepreneurship remains a favored strategy. Digital businesses—especially those selling information products, such as eBooks, online courses, or print-on-demand merchandise—offer high margins with low startup costs.

“I created a personal finance course for new parents,” says Jamal Pierce, a Houston-based father of two. “It took me three weekends. Now it makes $500 a month, and I haven’t touched it in a year.”

Similarly, Black creators on platforms like YouTube, Etsy, and Substack are finding ways to turn knowledge, creativity, and community into automated income. While these streams begin modestly, they represent a critical shift: from hourly labor to scalable value.

Trust, Trauma, and Financial Literacy

While access to capital is critical, trust and cultural engagement are equally important. Surveys consistently show that Black Americans are less likely to trust financial institutions. This distrust is not irrational. From the exploitation of Freedman’s Bank to discriminatory banking practices in the 2000s housing crash, history abounds with financial betrayal.

To bridge this gap, a new generation of Black financial educators is emerging. TikTok influencers, YouTube educators, and community workshops are now teaching passive income strategies with a culturally relevant lens.

“Financial literacy must come from trusted voices,” says Ayana Holland, founder of Black Wealth Book Club. “We aren’t just teaching stocks; we’re healing financial trauma.”

Her organization hosts monthly readings and investment challenges, helping members open brokerage accounts, buy dividend-paying stocks, and learn the language of capital.

Group Economics Reimagined

One of the most powerful but underutilized tools in the Black community remains cooperative economics. The tradition of “sou-sous” and rotating savings clubs dates back centuries but is now being modernized into investment syndicates and real estate cooperatives.

In New York, the Umoja Investment Circle—formed by five Black women—collectively saved $60,000 in a year and used it to buy a cash-flowing rental property in upstate New York. Each member now receives quarterly dividends.

“We realized we didn’t need to wait for the bank,” says founding member Tiffany Rhodes. “We were the capital.”

Such models not only build wealth but restore a sense of agency and interdependence. They allow families and communities to reclaim the capital flight that has plagued Black neighborhoods for decades.

Digital Assets and the Cautionary Horizon

The emergence of digital assets, particularly cryptocurrencies and decentralized finance (DeFi), has sparked curiosity and concern among Black investors. On one hand, Black Americans have adopted crypto at faster rates than their white peers, drawn by its decentralization and promise of wealth democratization.

On the other, the market’s volatility and regulatory uncertainty pose significant risks. The collapse of platforms like FTX and Celsius has reignited warnings about speculation without education.

“Crypto is not the enemy,” says Kaylin James, a blockchain consultant. “But we must separate hype from fundamentals. Bitcoin can be a long-term store of value, but not every coin is your ticket to freedom.”

The lesson is clear: passive income must be built on understanding, not urgency.

Policy Interventions and Structural Change

While individual strategies matter, structural change is essential to closing the passive income gap. Federal and state policies must expand access to retirement accounts, support first-time homebuyers, and fund Black-owned startups.

Programs like baby bonds, universal 401(k) participation, and public banking could democratize the tools of wealth. So too could the strengthening of historically Black financial institutions—credit unions, community development financial institutions (CDFIs), and HBCU endowments.

Indeed, institutions like OneUnited Bank and the HOPE Credit Union are already deploying capital into underserved areas, while crowdfunding models like Black Wall Street Cooperative are testing new modes of community finance.

Toward Financial Sovereignty

The quest for passive income is not merely a financial ambition—it is a reclaiming of time, dignity, and possibility. For Black households, it represents both survival and sovereignty. It is the freedom to plan, to rest, and to invest in future generations.

In a world where work grows ever more precarious and inequality more entrenched, the ability to earn without labour is no longer a luxury. It is an imperative.

As Jamal Pierce puts it: “I don’t want my kids to inherit hustle. I want them to inherit options.”

The shift is underway. The movement is growing. Passive income is not a dream. It is a strategy—and a declaration—that Black wealth will not be denied, only delayed.

Chart: Chamber of Commerce using U.S. Census Bureau’s 2019 American Community Survey

Analysis with Focus on African Americans

The chart presents data on median passive income and the percentage of households with passive income across different racial/ethnic groups. Here’s a focused analysis on African Americans (Black households) in comparison to others:

Passive Income Levels

  • Black households have the lowest median passive income compared to other groups.
  • Their median passive income is around $2,500, significantly lower than White, Hispanic, and Asian households, which are all above $4,000.
  • This suggests that Black households have less access to wealth-generating assets such as investments, rental properties, and other income-generating financial vehicles.

Percentage of Households with Passive Income

  • Black households also have the lowest percentage of households receiving passive income (approx. 6%).
  • This is significantly lower than Non-Hispanic White and Asian households, indicating that fewer Black families are benefiting from income streams outside of wages and salaries.
  • The disparity may be linked to historical and systemic barriers to wealth accumulation, including lower rates of homeownership, limited access to capital for investments, and disparities in inheritance.

Comparative Insights

  • Hispanic households, despite having near the same percentage of households receiving passive income as Black households, have a relatively equal median passive income to White and Asian households with White, Asian, and Hispanic households median passive income being over 50 percent greater than African American households.
  • In contrast, Non-Hispanic White and Asian households have both a higher proportion of households with passive income and significantly higher median passive income, suggesting a stronger institutional wealth advantage.
  • The data reinforces broader economic research that points to racial wealth gaps in the U.S., where Black families historically have had fewer opportunities to build wealth post World War II due to the G.I. Bill and desegregation leading to the demolishing of African American institutional wealth.

Potential Implications & Solutions

  • Financial literacy & investment education: Increasing awareness and access to investment opportunities can help improve passive income for Black households.
  • Wealth-building programs: Policies aimed at reducing barriers to property ownership and business investment can support long-term financial stability.
  • Access to capital: Expanding access to business loans, stock market investments, and other wealth-building tools can improve financial mobility.

Additional Insights on Passive Income Disparities for Black Households

Building on the previous analysis, let’s explore some deeper economic, historical, and structural factors that contribute to the lower levels of passive income among Black households.


Historical Barriers to Wealth Accumulation

  • Redlining & Housing Discrimination:
    • Homeownership is a key driver of wealth in the U.S. Black Americans were historically excluded from homeownership through redlining, restrictive covenants, and discriminatory lending practices.
    • Even today, Black homeownership rates remain significantly lower, limiting the ability to build home equity that could generate rental income or be passed down to future generations.
  • Limited Access to Financial Markets:
    • Generational wealth disparities mean Black families are less likely to inherit assets such as stocks, bonds, or investment properties.
    • The racial wealth gap reduces the ability to invest in income-generating assets like rental properties, mutual funds, or businesses.

Income vs. Wealth: Why This Matters for Passive Income

  • Higher Reliance on Earned Income:
    • The data suggests that Black households rely more on wages and salaries rather than passive income streams.
    • Without accumulated wealth or financial investments, it becomes harder to transition from relying solely on wages to generating income passively.
  • Debt Burden & Financial Constraints:
    • Black households tend to carry higher levels of student loan debt relative to income.
    • This reduces disposable income that could otherwise be invested in wealth-generating assets like stocks, businesses, or real estate.

Entrepreneurship & Business Ownership

  • Lower Rates of Business Ownership:
    • Business ownership is a major source of passive income, yet Black entrepreneurs face systemic barriers to access funding.
    • According to studies, Black business owners are more likely to be denied loans or receive less funding than White business owners with similar qualifications.
    • The lack of capital prevents many Black entrepreneurs from scaling their businesses into passive income-generating enterprises.

Investment Disparities

  • Lower Stock Market Participation:
    • Stock investments are a major source of passive income (dividends, capital appreciation).
    • Research shows that Black Americans are less likely to invest in the stock market, often due to financial constraints, lack of investment knowledge, or distrust in financial institutions.
    • This contributes to the income gap, as wealthier groups benefit disproportionately from stock market growth.
  • Retirement Savings Gap:
    • Black workers are less likely to have employer-sponsored retirement accounts such as 401(k) plans, which can serve as passive income sources later in life.
    • Lower contributions to retirement accounts also mean reduced wealth accumulation over time.

Policy & Structural Solutions

To address these disparities, several targeted interventions could help increase passive income opportunities for Black households:

Financial Education & Investment Access:

  • Expanding financial literacy programs to educate communities about investing, real estate, and wealth-building strategies.
  • Encouraging early participation in retirement and investment accounts.

Homeownership Support:

  • Strengthening first-time homebuyer assistance programs for Black families to increase homeownership rates.
  • Expanding access to fair lending and mortgage assistance programs.

Entrepreneurship & Capital Access:

  • Increasing access to venture capital and business loans for Black entrepreneurs.
  • Expanding mentorship programs that connect Black business owners with experienced investors.

Workplace & Policy Interventions:

  • Strengthening retirement benefits and employer-matching programs.
  • Enforcing anti-discrimination laws in financial institutions to ensure fair lending practices.

The chart illustrates a clear racial disparity in passive income, which is a key driver of long-term financial stability. Addressing this gap requires both individual financial strategies and systemic policy changes to create more equitable opportunities for Black households to build and sustain wealth.

Investment Strategies for Building Passive Income in Black Households

Building passive income requires a strategic approach to investing, asset accumulation, and financial planning. Here are some tailored investment strategies that can help Black households increase wealth and long-term financial stability.


Stock Market Investing (Long-Term Wealth Growth)

Investing in the stock market is one of the best ways to generate passive income through dividends and capital appreciation.

How to Get Started:

Invest in Index Funds & ETFs:

  • Index funds (e.g., S&P 500) and exchange-traded funds (ETFs) offer diversification and long-term growth with minimal risk.
  • Example: Vanguard Total Stock Market ETF (VTI), SPDR S&P 500 ETF (SPY), or Fidelity Zero Large Cap Index Fund (FNILX).

Dividend Stocks for Passive Income:

  • Some stocks pay dividends, providing consistent cash flow.
  • Examples: Johnson & Johnson (JNJ), Coca-Cola (KO), Procter & Gamble (PG).
  • Consider Dividend ETFs like Vanguard Dividend Appreciation ETF (VIG).

Start Small & Use Fractional Shares:

  • Apps like Robinhood, M1 Finance, and Fidelity allow investing with as little as $5.
  • Investing in fractional shares lets you own expensive stocks (e.g., Amazon, Apple) without needing full stock prices.

Retirement Accounts for Tax Advantages:

  • 401(k) or 403(b) Plans (if employer-sponsored) – Max out contributions, especially if there’s an employer match.
  • Roth IRA or Traditional IRA – Tax-free or tax-deferred investment growth.

Real Estate Investing (Building Generational Wealth)

Real estate is a powerful way to create passive income and build long-term wealth.

Ways to Invest in Real Estate:

🏡 Rental Properties (Buy & Hold Strategy):

  • Purchase properties in high-growth areas and rent them out.
  • House-hacking: Buy a duplex, live in one unit, and rent the other to cover your mortgage.

🏘 Real Estate Investment Trusts (REITs) (For Hands-Off Investing):

  • REITs allow you to invest in real estate without owning property.
  • They pay out dividends and grow in value over time.
  • Examples: Vanguard Real Estate ETF (VNQ), Realty Income Corp (O).

🏗 Short-Term Rentals (Airbnb, VRBO):

  • Renting out a portion of your home or a property on Airbnb can generate passive income.

🏠 Crowdfunded Real Estate:

  • Platforms like Fundrise, Roofstock, and RealtyMogul let you invest in real estate with as little as $500.

Entrepreneurship & Online Business (Creating Scalable Income)

Starting a business can provide long-term passive income if structured correctly.

Low-Cost Online Business Ideas:

💻 Create Digital Products (eBooks, Courses, Templates):

  • Platforms like Gumroad, Teachable, and Udemy allow you to sell digital products with no inventory costs.

🎙 Monetize Content (YouTube, Blogging, Podcasting):

  • Ad revenue, affiliate marketing, and sponsorships can generate passive income over time.
  • Example: Start a finance blog, career coaching YouTube channel, or real estate investing podcast.

📈 Affiliate Marketing & Dropshipping:

  • Promote other brands’ products and earn commissions without handling inventory.
  • Use platforms like Amazon Associates, Shopify, and ClickBank.

Passive Income from Bonds & Fixed-Income Investments

Bonds provide steady income with lower risk than stocks.

Best Bond Investments:

📜 U.S. Treasury Bonds & I Bonds:

  • Safe and backed by the government.
  • I Bonds protect against inflation and currently offer high-interest rates.

🏦 Corporate Bonds & Municipal Bonds:

  • Corporate bonds pay higher interest but carry slightly more risk.
  • Municipal bonds offer tax-free income and are great for long-term wealth preservation.

📊 Bond ETFs for Diversification:

  • Example: Vanguard Total Bond Market ETF (BND).

Community & Group Investing (Building Wealth Collectively)

Pooling resources can help overcome capital barriers in investing.

How to Invest as a Group:

👥 Investment Clubs & Stock Groups:

  • Join or create an investment group to collectively buy stocks or real estate.
  • Apps like Public and M1 Finance allow social investing.

🏡 Real Estate Syndication & Co-ops:

  • Partner with others to invest in properties together.
  • Example: Several families invest in an apartment complex and split the rental income.

🌍 Peer-to-Peer Lending (P2P):

  • Platforms like LendingClub allow investing in loans for passive interest income.

Leveraging Technology & Automation for Passive Income

📲 Set Up Automated Investing:

  • Use Robo-Advisors (Wealthfront, Betterment) for hands-off investing.
  • Set up automatic dividend reinvestments (DRIP) to grow wealth faster.

📱 Passive Income Apps:

  • Honeygain & Nielsen Rewards: Earn passive income by sharing internet bandwidth.

📈 Side Hustles with Passive Potential:

  • Print-on-Demand (Etsy, Redbubble)
  • Amazon Kindle Direct Publishing (KDP)

Final Takeaways: Actionable Steps

🔹 Step 1: Open a brokerage account (Fidelity, Vanguard, or Charles Schwab) and start investing in stocks, ETFs, or REITs.
🔹 Step 2: If possible, buy a rental property or start with REITs for real estate exposure.
🔹 Step 3: Automate savings & investments through 401(k), Roth IRA, or Robo-advisors.
🔹 Step 4: Explore low-risk passive businesses.
🔹 Step 5: Consider group investing with family or community investment clubs.

African American Poverty By HBCU/PBI States (2020)

“With segregation, with the isolation of the injured and the robbed, comes the concentration of disadvantage. An unsegregated America might see poverty, and all its effects, spread across the country with no particular bias toward skin color. Instead, the concentration of poverty has been paired with a concentration of melanin.” – Ta-Nehisi Coates

HBCUs and PBIs are arguably African American institutions that are built to solve and protect African American interests. There is no greater crisis that currently faces African American economically than its poverty. Its impact across all statistics like health outcomes, civic participation, business creation, student loan debt, and the list goes on and on. What exactly HBCUs and PBIs are doing about African American poverty in their cities and states is complicated to address. Many would say that simply graduating the number of African Americans with degrees is more than enough. That is until you realize the depth and impact our counterparts are using their higher educational institutions to do. MIT has an incubator that allows students to create companies while matriculating. Schools like Stanford have helped create Google, Harvard is the birthplace of Facebook, University of Texas and Texas A&M formed UTIMCO to create the nation’s largest endowment, and much more. PWIs banking with banks like J.P. Morgan, Wells Fargo, and others ensuring that European American owned banks have a deposit base that allows them to conduct the business of financially protecting their community and lending for European American homeownership and small business creation. HBCUs, not so much. It is also not just the HBCUs, but HBCU foundations, HBCU alumni associations, and other organizations that are supposed to be part of the vanguard/ecosystem of African American institutional development that pulls African American individuals, families, and communities away from poverty in conjunction with other African American institutions.

Poverty is already a complex and layered system and African American poverty is that on steroids. Each state and the HBCU/PBIs institutional system in it are part of the counterattack against African American poverty. Or at least we want them to be. For the alumni and administrations who see their institutional system as part of the empowerment and pulling of African America out of the throws of poverty it requires to know the actual depths of the situation.

Among the U.S. states with the highest poverty rates for 2022, HBCU/PBI states constituted 8 out of the top 10 for overall poverty.

ALABAMA

Overall Poverty (2020): 15.5%

Overall Poverty (2015): 19.3%

African American Poverty (2020): 23.5%

African American Poverty (2015): 31.1%

Change In African American Poverty 2015-2020: Decreased 24.4%

ARKANSAS

Overall Poverty (2020): 16.2%

Overall Poverty (2015): 18.9%

African American Poverty (2020): 27.1%*

African American Poverty (2015): 33.2%*

Change In African American Poverty 2015-2020: Decreased 18.4%

CALIFORNIA

Overall Poverty (2020): 11.8%

Overall Poverty (2015): 16.5%

African American Poverty (2020): 19.0%*

African American Poverty (2015): 25.4%*

Change In African American Poverty 2015-2020: Decreased 25.2%

DELAWARE

Overall Poverty (2020): 11.3%

Overall Poverty (2015): 12.5%

African American Poverty (2020): 17.3%

African American Poverty (2015): 19.9%

Change In African American Poverty 2015-2020: Decreased 13.1%

DISTRICT OF COLUMBIA

Overall Poverty (2020): 13.5%

Overall Poverty (2015): 17.7%

African American Poverty (2020): 21.6%*

African American Poverty (2015): 25.9%*

Change In African American Poverty 2015-2020: Decreased 16.6%

FLORIDA

Overall Poverty (2020): 12.7%

Overall Poverty (2015): 16.5%

African American Poverty (2020): 19.8%*

African American Poverty (2015): 26.9%*

Change In African American Poverty 2015-2020: Decreased 26.4%

GEORGIA

Overall Poverty (2020): 13.3%

Overall Poverty (2015): 18.3%

African American Poverty (2020): 18.8%

African American Poverty (2015): 27.0%

Change In African American Poverty 2015-2020: Decreased 30.1%

ILLINOIS

Overall Poverty (2020): 11.5%

Overall Poverty (2015): 14.4%

African American Poverty (2020): 24.2%*

African American Poverty (2015): 30.6%*

Change In African American Poverty 2015-2020: Decreased 20.9%

KENTUCKY

Overall Poverty (2020): 16.3%

Overall Poverty (2015): 19.1%

African American Poverty (2020): 24.4%*

African American Poverty (2015): 32.4%

Change In African American Poverty 2015-2020: Decreased 24.7%

LOUISIANA

Overall Poverty (2020): 19.0%

Overall Poverty (2015): 19.8%

African American Poverty (2020): 29.4%*

African American Poverty (2015): 33.7%*

Change In African American Poverty 2015-2020: Decreased 12.8%

MARYLAND

Overall Poverty (2020): 9.0%

Overall Poverty (2015): 10.1%

African American Poverty (2020): 12.9%

African American Poverty (2015): 14.6%*

Change In African American Poverty 2015-2020: Decreased 11.6%

MASSACHUSETTS

Overall Poverty (2020): 9.4%

Overall Poverty (2015): 11.6%

African American Poverty (2020): 17.6%

African American Poverty (2015): 21.8%

Change In African American Poverty 2015-2020: Decreased 19.3%

MICHIGAN

Overall Poverty (2020): 13.0%

Overall Poverty (2015): 16.2%

African American Poverty (2020): 25.9%*

African American Poverty (2015): 33.0%*

Change In African American Poverty 2015-2020: Decreased 21.5%

MISSISSIPPI

Overall Poverty (2020): 19.6%

Overall Poverty (2015): 21.5%

African American Poverty (2020): 30.7%

African American Poverty (2015): 34.3%*

Change In African American Poverty 2015-2020: Decreased 10.5%

MISSOURI

Overall Poverty (2020): 12.9%

Overall Poverty (2015): 15.5%

African American Poverty (2020): 21.2%

African American Poverty (2015): 28.1%*

Change In African American Poverty 2015-2020: Decreased 24.6%

NEW YORK

Overall Poverty (2020): 13.0%

Overall Poverty (2015): 15.9%

African American Poverty (2020): 20.0%

African American Poverty (2015): 23.2%

Change In African American Poverty 2015-2020: Decreased 13.8%

NORTH CAROLINA

Overall Poverty (2020): 13.6%

Overall Poverty (2015): 17.2%

African American Poverty (2020): 21.5%

African American Poverty (2015): 26.5%

Change In African American Poverty 2015-2020: Decreased 18.9%

OHIO

Overall Poverty (2020): 13.1%

Overall Poverty (2015): 15.8%

African American Poverty (2020): 27.3%*

African American Poverty (2015): 34.7%*

Change In African American Poverty 2015-2020: Decreased 21.3%

OKLAHOMA

Overall Poverty (2020): 15.2%

Overall Poverty (2015): 16.6%

African American Poverty (2020): 28.2%*

African American Poverty (2015): 29.9%*

Change In African American Poverty 2015-2020: Decreased 5.7%

PENNSYLVANIA

Overall Poverty (2020): 12.0%

Overall Poverty (2015): 13.6%

African American Poverty (2020): 24.9%

African American Poverty (2015): 29.5%

Change In African American Poverty 2015-2020: Decreased 15.6%

SOUTH CAROLINA

Overall Poverty (2020): 13.8%

Overall Poverty (2015): 16.8%

African American Poverty (2020): 23.1%*

African American Poverty (2015): 26.0%

Change In African American Poverty 2015-2020: Decreased 11.2%

TENNESSEE

Overall Poverty (2020): 13.9%

Overall Poverty (2015): 18.3%

African American Poverty (2020): 21.5%

African American Poverty (2015): 30.9%

Change In African American Poverty 2015-2020: Decreased 30.4%

TEXAS

Overall Poverty (2020): 13.6%

Overall Poverty (2015): 17.2%

African American Poverty (2020): 18.6%

African American Poverty (2015): 23.2%

Change In African American Poverty 2015-2020: Decreased 19.8%

VIRGINIA

Overall Poverty (2020): 9.9%

Overall Poverty (2015): 11.8%

African American Poverty (2020): 16.4%*

African American Poverty (2015): 21.2%*

Change In African American Poverty 2015-2020: Decreased 22.6%

*Denotes that African Americans had the highest poverty rate among all groups during that period.

SOURCE: TalkPoverty.org; KFF.org