Op-ed: Black Future News: Black Wall Street Thriving for 10th Year in a Row

TULSA, Okla.— The sun rises slowly over Greenwood Avenue. Vendors unlock storefronts bearing last names that echo a century of resilience: Okafor Books, Robeson Records, Johnson & Daughters Textiles. Drones zip overhead delivering orders from Black-owned grocery cooperatives while artists sip coffee in gallery courtyards adorned with murals of 2020 protesters who dared to imagine something more. 

But it’s not just another Monday. It’s year 10 of a Black Wall Street revival that is only growing stronger. 

“To see our neighborhoods doing so well is a testament to the strength of our communities,” said Ursula Pitt-Jones, a 75-year-old Tulsa resident who was just a child when the initiative started.

“I like to imagine this is what our ancestors enjoyed before it was all burned down … but on a scale even they never imagined because now this growth is nationwide. It’s not just in pockets — and that also makes it a lot more difficult to fight and burn down again. We feel a safety I’m not sure our ancestors ever did,” she said.

For the 10th year in a row, the modern, sprawling Black Wall Street has reported a net growth in both Black-owned businesses and Black household wealth in its core zones, spanning several states — from Tulsa to Jackson, from Birmingham to Buffalo.

What began as an audacious experiment in community self-determination has matured into a working model: Reparative economics meets media equity meets community investment. And at its center is one idea made real: We are the news we’ve been waiting for.

Black Future News

Decades ago, when the Black Future News initiative launched centering media reparations as its model, few predicted its scale — let alone its staying power. Housed in the Media 2070 project, it was just after 2020 and national memory was still heavy with the deaths of George Floyd and too many others.

Mainstream news cycles had cooled on telling important stories, and the promised diversity investments from corporate media had quietly disappeared. But Black journalists, organizers and entrepreneurs saw an opening. They called it the 50-Year Media Reparations Movement — a long-view strategy to shift narrative power, not just break news.

“We always knew the vision was worth fighting for,” said then-Media 2070 senior director Anshantia Oso for a 2026 cover story in Essence. “When we control our narratives, we’re able to end systemic disenfranchisement and the harmful stories and ideas that shape perception of our communities.”

Inspired by the 2020 Media 2070 call for media reparations, the initiative outlined a bold framework: Transfer ownership of media infrastructure, reinvest in community-led storytelling, and build pipelines for future journalists and media-makers. But this wasn’t just about journalism. At its heart was a demand: Tell the truth about Black life — not just its pain, but its brilliance, complexity and futures.

A culture shift

This truth-telling is what powered the modern Black Wall Street movement. In the early days, small grants funded pop-up newsstands in places like Detroit, Houston and Los Angeles. But these weren’t just exhibitions. They were living archives. People gathered at Black Future Newsstands to read, watch and hear stories by us and for us.

Coverage that had once only made it into “special issues” was now year-round — highlighting Black farmers reclaiming land, cooperatives reducing food deserts, mutual-aid networks delivering health care, and cities launching universal basic-income pilots Black economists had designed.

And when those stories reached the masses, something shifted. 

“I started with just reading more Black news,” said Antonio “Tony” Washington, a 50-year-old Black resident of Jackson, Mississippi. “I’m not the most active news reader; I just take the information and use it for my day but I started to understand the value of good journalism that considers all perspectives as I watched mainstream news skip over so many issues and stories. Why would I trust them when they do cover us?”

Investment then followed narrative control. Policy followed exposure. And crucially, communities followed one another. Black Wall Street wasn’t just about Tulsa anymore — it became a symbol for any concentrated, community-centered economic resurgence that prioritizes equity, wellness and dignity. 

And the movement spread en masse. 

The power in controlling the narrative

Today, the 10-year milestone brings with it lessons — and new challenges. Sustained success means scale, but scale always brings tension. Can this effort remain grassroots while expanding across state lines? Can media platforms designed for truth resist the temptation to go corporate when advertisers come knocking? Can we build for everyone without diluting our power?

There are no easy answers. But there are clear roadmaps.

As Media 2070’s vision continues to guide us, we are reminded that control of our narratives not only heals harm, but protects and prioritizes our needs and systems that uplift us.

We’ve known for decades that representation matters. But what Black Future News has taught us is that ownership multiplies. When we control the stories, we don’t just change minds — we change markets, city budgets and national priorities.

This is what the ancestors meant by “each one, teach one.” This is what Tulsa 1921 dreamed before the flames.