Black folks in America have been fighting for centuries—fighting to be seen, to be heard, to be free. And yet, after all the battles, all the sacrifices, all the so-called “progress,” what do we really have? A system that still thrives on our oppression, an economy that still locks us out, a political structure that still views our existence as a problem to be managed rather than a people to be empowered.
The backlash is predictable. Reconstruction led to Jim Crow. Civil Rights led to mass incarceration. Obama led to Trump and MAGA. Every gain has been met with a violent, systemic counterattack. It’s not paranoia; it’s history. It’s the pattern. And anyone paying attention can see that whatever advancements we make in this era will be met with an equal or greater force determined to shove us back down.
So why stay? Why keep running into a burning house, hoping this time the fire won’t consume us?
Battered Wife Syndrome & Black America
Battered Wife Syndrome—now called Battered Woman Syndrome (BWS)—is a psychological condition that explains why some women stay in abusive relationships even when they have the option to leave. It’s a cycle: the abuser hurts them, apologizes, promises change, and then the abuse starts all over again. Over time, the victim becomes conditioned to accept the pain as normal, believing there’s no escape, no better option.
Sound familiar?
Black America has been in an abusive relationship with this country for centuries. The system beats us down, then dangles just enough hope in front of us to keep us from walking away. A new Black mayor. A few more Black CEOs. A Juneteenth holiday. Some symbolic gestures to make us feel like progress is happening—until the next beating comes.
If a battered woman wants to survive, what’s the real solution? Is it staying to fight? Is it reasoning with her abuser? Or is it leaving and building a new life where she’s not constantly under attack?
If the answer is obvious for her, why isn’t it obvious for us?
Stockholm Syndrome & The Illusion of Hope
Stockholm Syndrome is when hostages develop a psychological bond with their captors, to the point where they defend them. They start believing their survival depends on the very people who kidnapped and abused them.
Black America has been held hostage for so long that some of us have convinced ourselves that this country is the only option. “Where else would we go?” “It’s bad everywhere.” “At least we know what to expect here.” That’s not logic—it’s trauma talking.
Mwalimu Malik Shabazz (Malcolm X) spoke on this decades ago. He addressed those who dismissed the idea of reconnecting with Africa, saying:
“You say, ‘I ain’t left nothing in Africa.’ Why, you left your mind in Africa.”
Malcolm X wasn’t just talking about physically relocating—he was talking about the mental chains that keep us bound to this system, the erasure of our connection to our roots, the deliberate stripping of our history that leaves us fighting for crumbs instead of reclaiming the whole loaf.
We have been so conditioned to see America as our only option that even suggesting Africa as an alternative brings ridicule. But let’s ask an honest question: what exactly has America given us that we couldn’t build elsewhere, on our own terms?
Going Back to Africa: A Return, Not a Retreat
Let’s be clear—“going back to Africa” is not about running away. It’s about returning to something that was stolen from us. It’s about recognizing that we have a global Black community that exists outside of the trauma of white supremacy.
Some will scoff at the idea, parroting the rhetoric fed to them by the same system that keeps them shackled. They’ll say Africa is poor, unstable, corrupt. But who fed them that lie? The same media and institutions that tell them America is the land of opportunity while kneeling on their necks.
Africa is not perfect—no place is. But it is ours. It is a continent rich in resources, culture, and opportunity. More and more Black Americans are waking up to the idea that staying in a nation built on our oppression is not the only path. Ghana’s Year of Return was not just a tourism campaign—it was a call to action, an invitation to reconnect, invest, and build a future beyond the walls of systemic racism.
We don’t all have to physically relocate to embrace this mindset. But we do have to reclaim our global identity. We have to stop fighting for a seat at a table that was never built for us, and start building our own tables.
So Where Does That Leave Us?
Not everyone is going to leave. Some will stay and fight because that’s all they know. And that’s their choice. But for those who are tired of fighting a rigged game, tired of surviving instead of thriving, tired of watching every win turn into another loss, it’s time to start looking outward.
There are places in the world where we can build, grow, and control our own destinies. It won’t be perfect. Nowhere is. But at least the battle won’t be against a system that was built specifically to keep us in our place. At least we’ll have the space to create something new.
Black people don’t owe America our loyalty—not after what it has done to us. And the idea that we should stay and keep fighting for a seat at a table that was never meant for us? That sounds a whole lot like battered wife logic.
It’s time to ask the real question: Are we fighting because we believe we can win? Or because we’re too afraid to walk away?
