‘No matter where you show up on the spectrum of Blackness, the United States owes you something’, begins the foreword of ‘The Black Agenda’. 

Edited by Anna Gifty Opoku-Agyeman, and populated with essays by Black scholars and experts from  many walks of life, ‘The Black Agenda’ shows readers exactly why this statement is true, and how the United States must change to become more equitable, intersectional, and just.

Each essay in ‘The Black Agenda’, while different in content, soulfully urges its reader to internalize the importance of change in America. There are plenty of unique expertises and lived experiences, alongside helpful figures.  Taken together, they add up to an overwhelming conviction: oh shit, something really needs to change. This sensation, at least for me, paired nicely with the other sensation of: oh shit, I need to be a part of this change.

Part of what makes the book so inspirational is the powerful writers’ presence behind each essay. The editor writes that ‘The Black Agenda’ is a love letter to Black experts, that recognises the “tireless and relentless work of Black research and policy experts that often goes unnoticed.” The book explores race, gender, and other political and social ideas from essayists such as Dr. Sandy Darity, Dr. Hedwig Lee, Mary Heglar, and Janelle Jones, all of whom provide a broad spectrum of expertises to learn from. 

And the work pays off. From Black experiences such as the unjustness of algorithmic bias (artificial intelligence bias) to Black people to the discrediting Black, Queer influencers, the book does a fantastic job of informing a general reader about the deep intersectionalities that lie within Blackness. An added bonus: it provides the perfect, shareable fact for when you’re struggling at Thanksgiving conversations with your racist aunt who thinks most people ‘don’t see skin color’.

I especially enjoyed the essays about less mainstream conversations in America, such as, ‘Centering Black Queer creatives in Sustainability’, by arii lynton-smith, which encapsulated the essence of intersectionality. This essay gives us the history of influencers in sustainability, talking about how many of the current sustainability trends (in industries like fashion and makeup) and sustainability influencers rose to popularity through Black practices that Black people have grown up with for decades. 

lynton-smith writes, ‘We shopped at thrift stores and repaired our clothes. We were doing zero-waste swaps before they were viral internet hacks, not because it was aesthetic, but because it was survival.’

The problem? That white influencers are often exalted for sustainability trends that originate from Black creatives, with little to no credit. There’s a reason why, besides maybe Leah Thomas, there are far more popular white influencers in the sphere of environmentalism. Finding a Black and Queer well-known influencer? As lynton-smith writes: nearly impossible.

lynton-smith goes on to talk about creating a space for those existing at the intersection of Queer theory, Black liberation, and Sustainability. She captures the essence of intersectionality in this essay, and along with the essays by other contributors, the theme of intersectionality remains strong.

In particular, some essays had both facts and numbers, exemplified by moments of individualized stories. 

In ‘Queer as in Abolishing the Police: Criminal Justice and Black LGBTQ People’, for example, the essays begins with this fact: ‘At the current pace of decarceration, it will take twenty-four years for the federal prison population to return to pre-mass incarceration levels, sixty-eight years for state prison populations to return to pre-mass incarceration levels, and nineteen years for the Black incarceration rate to equal the 2019 white incarceration rate.’

Although I was moved by this essay, it wasn’t just because of numbers like that one. It was because it later told the story of  Michael Johnson, a gay Black collegiate wrestler. Johnson was diagnosed with HIV, and claims to have informed all of his sexual partners of his diagnosis. He was sentenced to 30 years. The reason? ‘Recklessly infecting another with HIV’.

This particular story wholly illustrated how the American criminal injustice system mistreats Queer, Black people, in a way that was personal, and woven cleverly into the rest of the essay. For those reasons, it resonated deeply and memorably with me.

More stories like Johnson’s would strengthen the collection. The pages of The Black Agenda wanted for more life and human-ness, alongside the facts and numbers that were inherently about life and human-ness. 

But don’t get me wrong- this book is still entirely worth the read, even for story lovers like me. The importance of ‘The Black Agenda’ really does lie in its ability to provide myriads of must-know information about the Black experience. I completely understand the value of centering structural problems. It is reminiscent of legendary feminist writer bell hooks’ ideas in this way.