I often refer to the economic conditions we see in our Black community is Black-a-nomics. But that description is truly rooted in Feel-a-nomics: the economy that you can feel.

Feel-a-Nomics gets past the philosophical abstractions you hear about so much on the news that politicians use to paint a rosier picture than the reality you’re facing. Feel-a-Nomics doesn’t care about corporate profits or dividend projections because those earnings don’t trickle down to your wallet. It doesn’t pay any attention to inflated job numbers when we know that it takes at least two of those jobs to earn a living wage.

Feel-a-Nomics is the economy that affects every day of your life.

Foreclosure rates are skyrocketing up 21% for the first half of 2026 and car repossessions were up 43% as of January. That’s Feel-a-Nomics because it’s your home on the chopping block and that’s the car you need to get to and from your job.

Credit card debt is surging as more than half of Americans are forced to rely on credit cards to pay for basic needs like groceries, rent and utilities. Student debt has jumped since the Trump administration reversed course on Biden repayment and forgiveness plans. This unconstitutional war has brought us record high diesel prices and fertilizer costs along with 16 unnecessary American deaths with a Feel-a-Nomics impact of higher prices at the pump and the grocery store as it costs our farmers more not just to grow our food, but to send it to us too.

Consumer confidence is at its lowest level since 2014. The median household income in America is $87,460 but it takes a median income of $150,000 to buy a home. Affordable housing is sitting vacant because folks still can’t afford it particularly with the dramatic cuts to SNAP and Medicaid we saw in Trump’s “Big Ugly Bill.”

The MAGA healthcare cuts are piling on new premiums and high deductibles. High inflation, particularly at the gas pump and the grocery store, is cutting our legs from under us. The value of our dollar is shrinking at every turn and it doesn’t matter anymore if you want to get a second or third job because, according to another piss poor jobs report, the work just isn’t out there.

According to the Federal Reserve, the net worth of Black households is down 25%. That’s our home. That’s our community. Those are our families! That’s Feel-a-Nomics and, here in the Black community, it hurts. So let’s turn that pain into progress.

After gutting the Voting Rights Act and more, President Trump and the MAGA Congress has done everything they can to cripple Black progress and Black communities. They’ve picked our pockets and our bodies to the bone. But there’s something we can do about it.

The economics of voting are undeniable and, try as they might, they can’t keep us out of the voting booth. That’s why we have groups like State Voices, Repairers of the Breach, Common Cause, No Kings and more coming together to drive voter mobilization and participation. That’s why Repairers of the Breach is organizing 1,000 marches to the polls across the South and battleground states like North Carolina where 201,609 voters cast their ballots on Thursday’s first of early voting.

That’s a 46.7% increase in early voting from 2022. That’s huge! But it’s just the start.

We need a generational, Presidential year-type turnout if we’re going to turn this ship around and find the Feel-a-Nomics relief we need in our communities. That means we all have to do our part from the streets to the suites.

We need everyone from the PhDs to folks who don’t have a GED. We need the farmers and forklift drivers, college students to life students, front line workers for everyone who works on the line.

We need everyone.

We’ve all felt the impact of MAGAnomics and Trumpism. We’ve all felt the pain whether it’s that empty feeling looking at bills you just can’t pay no matter what you cut or the cramp in your stomach because you’re skipping meals trying to keep the lights on.

We’ve all felt the pain of these Feel-a-Nomics. But the good news is that we have an opportunity right now to do something about it. We have the opportunity to make a change at the ballot box.

But it’s going to take all of us to make it happen. It’s going to take every shoulder against the wheel to push back on the big money holding us down. It’s going to take all of us but we’ve done it before.

Are you ready to do it again?

Big Mama had a way of seeing something in you before you could see it in yourself.

My grandmother, Lucille “Big Mama” Allen, came from a generation that believed in correction. I grew up in a household where somebody might tell you, “Go get me a switch.” You knew what that meant.

But age has taught me something: correction without direction can stop behavior, but it doesn’t always develop the person.

Sometimes what we call a young man’s problem is really an undeveloped gift.

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I learned that through mentoring.

I once worked with a young man who was gambling and running numbers. Now, I wasn’t going to celebrate the behavior. Wrong is wrong. But I also refused to believe his mistakes represented the totality of who he was.

I looked underneath the behavior.

This young brother understood numbers. He understood money, calculation and risk. His gift wasn’t gambling. His gift was his mind. So I introduced him to another image: Mansa Musa, the legendary African ruler whose name became synonymous with extraordinary wealth, commerce and economic power. to The message was simple: You already have something inside you. Now what are you going to do with it? That young man redirected his abilities. What had been operating in the wrong environment found purpose through education, accounting and legitimate business. Today, he has built a leading Bookkeeping firm in California’s East Bay.

That is what mentoring can do. It is also why I created programs like City MenTor and why, for 25 years, City Men Cook has celebrated fathers, mentors and men who show up. Mentoring isn’t creating somebody in our image. It is helping somebody recognize what God already placed inside them. I thnaks GOd for allys ike Pastor Keith Lofton who helpe me keep the programs grunded in Faith.

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Scripture tells us to “fan into flame the gift of God.” — 2 Timothy 1:6.

Somebody reading this has a gift that survived mistakes, disappointment, rejection, bad decisions and maybe even your own attempts to bury it.

But it survived.Now comes the question Big Mama might ask

Baby, if God restored your gift, who are you using it to restore?

Don’t just celebrate your comeback. Reach back. Find somebody whose gift came wrapped wrong—and help them unwrap it.

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Big Mama said: Don’t throw away the gift. Redirect it. Develop it. Then give it away.

Terry Allen is an NABJ award-winning Journalist, DEI expert, PR professional, and – Vice President at FocusPR, founder of the charity City Men Cook, and Dallas Chapter President of NBPRS.org

Based on reporting by Texas Metro News.

For generations, the Black church has stood strong in our communities through every historical change this country has experienced. During the civil rights movement and in recent times, faith leaders have helped uplift Black sanctuaries to register voters, keep food pantries open for people in need, and sit with families in hospital rooms in their most desperate moments. When our people faced new trials, they could always look to our faith leaders and the church to lean in to help us be included in these transformative changes.

Artificial intelligence is the latest revolutionary change to impact our society, and much like other transformations before us, underserved communities often get left behind.

I was recently featured in a report entitled “Faith, Community & AI” and it found that people send ChatGPT more than 70 million messages a week about religion. Nearly 22 million involve studying sacred texts, and 16 million ask about religious practices and holy days. Our members make up part of those numbers. They bring questions of faith to these tools every day.

Pastors have noticed, and according to a September 2025 Lifeway Research survey of 1,003 Protestant pastors, 42 percent said they use or experiment with AI in ministry. I count myself among them.

I write my sermons by hand, through prayer and study. When I finish a draft, I ask ChatGPT this question: “Where might this sermon become unclear or difficult to follow for someone early in their walk of faith?” It shows me gaps in my preparation, like where I incorrectly assumed everyone would know the context of who the Pharisees were. Then, change comes from my own pen, not the robot. The tool helps me reach the person in the back pew while the message still comes from me.

If I could have my wish, our whole community would take a similar posture. We must use these tools, understand them, and most importantly be present to help shape them if we want to be included in the coming change.

I implore my fellow faith leaders to use these tools. Start now and use them with wisdom. We count on each and every one of you to make sure our communities help write the next chapter of this story. This rapid change is not as unfamiliar as it may sound. My first understanding of AI came from using a calculator for the first time in grade school. We did not call it AI, but it was a tool that helped me work through mathematical equations hours more efficiently.

It starts with training; there is no involvement without understanding. Free AI trainings have begun in our churches and community centers across the nation. Every faith leader should sign up and, when possible, encourage members of your congregations to join you. By learning how to use AI, we can better understand what it can do, make up our own minds about its impact, and have a say in how it shapes our communities.”

Next, we must be at the tables where the builders of these tools make decisions. Presence is the first step toward understanding, and that gap is only bridged through a coordinated effort. How can any tool serve a community well if that community is not part of the conversation? Our traditions, needs, and concerns must be accounted for, and Black faith leaders are already making that happen. OpenAI’s recent Faith report states plainly that AI should never become an arbiter of religious truth. I fully intend to hold the company to its word, and the most effective way I can do that is from inside.

I will close with this––we must diligently protect what only the church can give. A believer in Seoul, Korea quoted in the report warned, “if you pour every struggle into a private chat, your pastor and your friends may never learn you need help.” A chatbot will not sit with a grieving family or pray with you at two in the morning. As we adopt this technology, it is up to us to ensure it keeps people connected to each other and to their church.

Rev. Dr. Adolphus Lacey is senior pastor of Bethany Baptist Church in Brooklyn, New York.

When KevOnStage took the stage at The Pageant Sunday night, his house rules let everyone know what they were in for with his one-man show “Grief Sucks.”

“Do not judge yourself. Do not judge the jokes. Just laugh,” he said.

Even within his directions, were jokes.

He gave the audience permission to cry, but quietly – because Black people have a tendency to do things at full volume.

The hour that followed provided plenty of laughter. But underneath the humor were truths that anyone who has ever lost someone could feel deep in their chest.

The show was based on his experience of losing his brother, best friend, manager and business partner Jason Fredericks. He died suddenly of a heart attack four years ago at the age of 42.

Kev warned the audience to be mindful of their social media — both the wild posts that could end up being someone’s last and the intrusive ones people make after a loved one dies. And he gave people permission to laugh at the moments that feel too outrageous to say out loud — the ones that become inside jokes for families trying to survive the worst days of their lives.

“Grief is dark humor,” he said as he walked through the story of his brother’s death — a story he jokingly blamed on Nia Long.

He found a way to give permission to laugh at the outlandish moments that often serve as inside jokes. Those who have lived through some of the worst moments of their lives and not only found a way to talk about it, but to steal a laugh in the midst.

“Grief is dark humor,” he said as he walked through the story of his brother’s death — a story he jokingly blamed on Nia Long.

“I know that sounds crazy,” he said. “It’s not her fault — but it is her responsibility.”

It was a jarring moment, but it let the audience know exactly what kind of honesty they were in for.

He said his brother’s death was “proof that she is drop‑dead gorgeous.”

“Sometimes things are funny — and sometimes things are funny because you should not be laughing,” he said.

The show moved through a series of points about grief, each one backed by a story that made the room nod in recognition. He talked about how grief can twist ordinary moments — how it can make you jealous of people with siblings or irritated by strangers having a good day.

He explained how grief can twist even the simplest moments, how it can make you jealous of people with siblings, or irritated by strangers having a good day. He brilliantly compared grief to a rock stuck in your shoe. Sometimes it’s small and manageable. Other times its jagged and unbearable – but always there.

He also talked about the unfairness of grief — how the world doesn’t stop when your loved one dies, how people still go to Raising Cane’s, still pick up their kids, still laugh. And he talked about the heartbreak of realizing his brother never got to see things he would have loved, from TV shows to cultural moments. And that he was robbed of the opportunity to engage with him about them.

“He would have loved Sinners,” Kev said. “But he never got to see it.”

At one point, he paused to show a video of his brother telling him how proud he was. The room went quiet. It wasn’t the polite kind of silence – but the kind where you can hear someone in the back sniff. The crowd assured him that it was okay for him to take a beat. His voice shook as he pushed through. Those pauses made the audience lean in even more.

Kev made grief feel communal. He made people laugh at things they didn’t think they were allowed to laugh at. And he reminded everyone in the room that grief doesn’t make sense, doesn’t follow rules, and doesn’t care about timing. And most importantly, he drove home the point that it also doesn’t have to be carried alone.

There were moments when his emotions got the best of him. There was the video he shared of his brother telling Kev how proud he was of him that compelled him to take a beat. His voice quivered as he powered through. Those pauses made the audience connect with the show all the more. Grief Sucks wasn’t just comedy. It was catharsis. It was storytelling. It was a room full of people realizing they weren’t the only ones trying to make sense of loss.

KevOnStage gave them permission to feel all of it — and to laugh anyway.

Internet personality and standup comedian KevOnStage used the sudden and unexpected loss of his brother as the foundation for a one-man show that was funny, honest and a little dark – often at the same time.

Sunday night, he brought “Grief Sucks” to The Pageant. His barometer check

KevOnStage walked onto The Pageant stage Sunday night with a promise: that the next hour would be funny, honest and a little dark. And he delivered all three — often at the same time.

His one‑man show, Grief Sucks, was as relatable as it was funny. It was the kind of performance where the audience laughed hard, then caught themselves nodding in recognition. Because beneath every punchline was a truth that anyone who has lost someone could feel in their chest.

He opened with the kind of humor that only comes from someone who has lived through the worst days of their life and somehow found a way to talk about it. He told the crowd they had permission to cry, laugh, sit still, or just breathe — but to “cry quietly,” because, as he joked, Black folks tend to do everything at full volume.

Then he went straight into the story of losing his brother — not with soft edges, but with the kind of raw honesty that made the room go still. He explained how grief can twist even the simplest moments, how it can make you jealous of people with siblings, or irritated by strangers having a good day. He compared grief to a rock stuck in your shoe: sometimes small and manageable, sometimes jagged and unbearable, but always there.

And he didn’t shy away from the intrusive thoughts that come with loss — the ones people rarely admit out loud. He shared the moment he realized he had lived longer than his older brother ever got to, and how that fact sits heavy no matter how much time passes.

Kev’s storytelling is built on the kind of humor that comes from real life — the funeral home upcharges, the family dynamics, the dark jokes that slip out at the worst possible moments. He told a story about previewing his brother’s body with his wife and grandmother, and how one unexpected comment turned into an inside joke that has carried them through four years of grief.

He also talked about the unfairness of grief — how the world doesn’t stop when your loved one dies, how people still go to Raising Cane’s, still pick up their kids, still laugh. And he talked about the heartbreak of realizing his brother never got to see things he would have loved, from TV shows to cultural moments.

The most emotional part of the night came when he recounted the day his brother died — the phone calls, the confusion, the hope, and finally the moment his nephew said, “He’s gone,” while Kev was sitting in a middle seat on a United flight. He told it plainly, without theatrics, and the room held its breath.

But even in that story, he found a way to make people laugh — not at the pain, but at the absurdity of life continuing around you when your world has just shattered.

By the end of the show, KevOnStage had done something rare: he made grief feel communal. He made people laugh at things they didn’t think they were allowed to laugh at. And he reminded everyone in the room that grief doesn’t make sense, doesn’t follow rules, and doesn’t care about timing — but it also doesn’t have to be carried alone.

Grief Sucks wasn’t just comedy. It was catharsis. It was storytelling. It was a room full of people realizing they weren’t the only ones trying to make sense of loss.

And on a Sunday night at The Pageant, KevOnStage gave them permission to feel all of it — and to laugh anyway.

Based on reporting by St. Louis American.

Instead of it taking place at an Ivy League school in Ithaca, New York, what would it look like if a national story concerning rape allegations from fraternity members took place on an HBCU campus in Atlanta, Washington, D.C., or Nashville?

Would President Donald Trump still feel “badly” for the alleged?

Do you think the Kappas, Sigmas, and Alphas would face the same scrutiny?

Might people use more compassionate language when discussing the case’s legalities?

We already know the answers to those questions.

Sunny Hostin from “The View” recounted a call she received from actress Cynthia Erivo, who said, ‘Sis, I know you, and I know your heart and your life’s work has been about protecting women and children. But the clip that I saw doesn’t reflect who you are.” Hostin’s initial remarks about the case focused on its legal aspects, lacking compassion for the alleged victims and other survivors who might have been affected. Hostin reflected, “Instead of leading with the law, I need to lead with empathy so that people can receive the message about the law. I was accused of defending these young men and victim-shaming, which is something I would never do since I spent the majority of my career prosecuting sex crimes.”

If you’re reading this, then you are already aware of the allegations against the “Cornell 7.” The news comes just weeks after 14 people were charged in connection with the alleged trafficking of kilos of cocaine on Penn State’s campus by members of white fraternities. A decade ago, the rape scandal at Baylor University dominated the news, which was around the same time as the Brock Turner case at Stanford.

I ask again: how would the news coverage, social media chatter, and podcast conversations differ if such incidents happened on HBCU campuses and included members of Black Greek-letter organizations?

Based on reporting by Atlanta Daily World.

For years, technology has been one of America’s fastest-growing economic sectors—and one where Black professionals remain significantly underrepresented.

In 2025, Black workers made up 12.7% of the U.S. workforce, according to the U.S. Bureau of Labor Statistics, but only 7.4% of the high-tech workforce, according to the U.S. Equal Employment Opportunity Commission. Their share of high-tech employment had remained essentially stagnant since 2005. Black workers also represented just 5.7% of high-tech managers.

For Black women, the gap is even wider. A 2023 Kapor Foundation report found Black women represented less than 3% of the tech workforce, with even fewer in decision-making and ownership roles.

So, instead of waiting for the broader technology industry to solve its representation problem, could Black Houston build something of its own?

The answer: Yes—but not simply by drawing a line on a map.

Houston has the pieces

Dr. Reagan Flowers, founder of C-STEM and Education Consulting Services, believes Houston already possesses many of the building blocks needed for a Black Tech Corridor.

“What I have not seen is the intentionality to connect, capitalize, and organize assets into an ecosystem where Black Houstonians can create, own, and scale technology companies and participate meaningfully in the wealth those companies generate,” said Flowers.

She contends Houston already offers examples of what a technology ecosystem can look like.

The Texas Medical Center’s innovation infrastructure demonstrates the power of institutional partnerships, specialized facilities, and venture funding. The Ion District demonstrates how universities, corporations, entrepreneurs, real estate, and capital can converge. TXRX Labs shows the value of community-accessible maker and technical-skills infrastructure.

Flowers argues Black Houston can learn from all three without simply copying them. The goal, she said, should be a hybrid public-private-community ownership model.

Third Ward makes sense

If there is a geographic spine for such an ecosystem, Flowers points to Third Ward—particularly Emancipation Avenue. Its location is difficult to ignore.

Third Ward sits near Texas Southern University, the University of Houston, and Houston Community College, and connects to Midtown, the Ion District, and the Texas Medical Center.

UH already has a commercialization platform that takes innovations through invention, prototyping, licensing, venture creation, investor connections, and market expansion. Its Technology Bridge provides a large innovation park with laboratories, offices, and space for technology companies.

“To the west is Rice’s Ion District,” shared Flowers. “To the southwest is the Texas Medical Center and its health-tech commercialization engine.”

In other words, Black Houston would not have to build an ecosystem from scratch.

“The pieces are already on the board,” said Flowers. “They have not been organized around Black technology ownership and wealth creation.”

Is there already one?

Parts of a Black tech ecosystem clearly exist. Houston has Black technology professionals, Black-owned startups, STEM nonprofits, workforce development programs, minority business organizations, Black founders and investors, universities that produce diverse talent, and historically Black fraternities and sororities that support innovation.

But Kara Branch, founder and CEO of Black Girls Do Engineer, cautions against defining success by geography alone.

“I think the conversation needs to be bigger than creating a physical ‘corridor,’” said Branch. “A successful technology ecosystem should be measured by what it produces for the community—not simply where it is located or who occupies the space.”

Loretta Williams Gurnell, founder and CEO of SUPERGirls SHINE Foundation, agrees.

“I believe we have one, yet a successful Black tech corridor cannot simply be viewed as a geographic location. It must function as an ecosystem,” offered Gurnell.

That ecosystem would connect K-12 STEM education, colleges and universities, workforce development, entrepreneurs, startups, corporations, investors, innovation hubs, government, faith communities, and civic organizations.

The objective: Create a seamless pathway from classroom to career to entrepreneurship.

Ownership is the point

Why does Black Houston need a Black-centered technology ecosystem? Because access doesn’t automatically equal ownership.

“As AI, automation, cybersecurity, data analytics, robotics, and emerging technologies continue reshaping the economy, we must ask: Who is building the technology? Who owns the companies? Who owns the intellectual property? Who receives the investment capital? Who benefits economically?” pondered Gurnell.

Those questions matter because technology increasingly drives wealth creation.

Laolu Davies-Yemitan, founding principal of Five Woods Realty, similarly argues that participation alone is insufficient.

“If the Black community is going to capture a meaningful share of the wealth generated by the next generation of technological innovation, the pathway must increasingly include ownership—ownership of companies, intellectual property, real estate, investment capital, and the institutions that support entrepreneurial growth,”

– Laolu Davies-Yemitan, founding principal of Five Woods Realty

“If the Black community is going to capture a meaningful share of the wealth generated by the next generation of technological innovation, the pathway must increasingly include ownership—ownership of companies, intellectual property, real estate, investment capital, and the institutions that support entrepreneurial growth,” shared Davies-Yemitan.

Real barriers

Building the corridor—or innovation district—will not be easy. Capital is perhaps the biggest obstacle. Black founders receive a disproportionately small share of venture funding, making it harder to scale companies, hire workers, and conduct research.

Then there is fragmentation. Houston has organizations doing valuable work in STEM education, entrepreneurship, workforce development, and innovation, but many operate independently rather than as parts of a coordinated ecosystem.

Talent pipelines also require attention. Young people in underserved communities can face limited exposure to STEM, limited access to technology resources, mentorship, and professional networks, and limited knowledge of technology careers. Gurnell’s philosophy is straightforward: Exposure creates aspiration; information drives preparation; preparation creates access.

Digital inequity remains another challenge, including disparities in broadband access, devices, digital literacy, and training in advanced technology. And then there’s social capital.

“Deals are made through trusted relationships,” Gurnell said. “Therefore, those relationships have to be exposed, nurtured, and strengthened.”

Branch adds another warning: Houston cannot confuse activity with impact.

“There can be a lot of panels, events, programs, announcements, and conversations,” she said. “But doing the work means consistently showing up after the spotlight is gone.”

Build talent before buildings

That may be the most important lesson.

“The conversation should not begin with buildings,” said Gurnell. “It should begin with talent.”

That means investing in early STEM exposure, workforce readiness, mentorship, entrepreneurship, capital access, and collaboration among nonprofits, corporations, universities, philanthropies, government, and industry.

Branch points to Black Girls Do Engineer’s STEMXUS EdTech infrastructure as an example of building rather than merely discussing solutions.

“We don’t want a young person to simply hear that engineering, technology, or innovation are possible careers,” Branch said. “We want them to build something, solve a problem, use the technology, meet professionals, develop skills, and understand what their next step can be.”

Branch’s litmus test asks, did someone gain a skill, get a job, launch a business, discover a career, or secure capital or customers? Did a family gain access to opportunity?

From corridor to economy

Flowers suggests thinking beyond a traditional corridor and toward a Black Innovation District; one that connects Third Ward, TSU, UH, and HCC with the Ion, TMC, and Houston’s manufacturing and maker infrastructure.

Rather than competing with Houston’s existing innovation centers, it could become connective tissue between those institutions and Black Houston.

Gurnell envisions additional benefits.

“The greatest opportunity before us is not simply creating a Black tech corridor,” Gurnell said. “It is creating a Black innovation economy.”

The infrastructure for such a corridor/economy exists. The question is whether Black Houston can summon the intentionality, investment, collaboration, and ownership required to make it happen.

Based on reporting by Houston Defender.