Black History

COMMENATARY: Blackfolk, Is It Past Time for an Exit Strategy?

JACKSONVILLE FREE PRESS — With federal and state governments aligning with what the article describes as an “anti-Black program,” the article questions the efficacy of traditional civil rights strategies.

Published

3 months ago

July 11, 2026

Post News Group

COMMENATARY: Blackfolk, Is It Past Time for an Exit Strategy?

We have arrived at a terrifyingly familiar crossroads. Over the last year and a half, the current administration has executed its Project 2025 playbook to a tee, systematically dismantling the civil rights progress and hard-won gains of the past 60-plus years.

With every branch of the federal government aligned with this anti-Black program—and a majority of state governors and state supreme courts nodding in lockstep—the illusion of permanent legal protection has shattered.

The worst thing Blackfolk can do right now is assume that everything will “automagically” improve. History is screaming a different story. If we look closely at the repeating loops of the American experiment, we must ask an uncomfortable, urgent question: Is it past time for an exit strategy?

Historically, every single time Black people have fought, bled, and successfully forced this country to pivot away from its white supremacist foundations, a radical, violent political pushback has followed.

The Reconstruction Precedent: After the abolition of slavery and the brief radiance of Reconstruction, the white backlash plunged Black America into Jim Crow—a violent rollback of rights that lasted roughly a century.
The Modern Regression: The monumental gains of the Civil Rights and Black Power movements are being erased right in front of our eyes. In truth, the efforts to dismantle these wins didn’t start recently; they began while the ink on the Voting Rights Act was still wet.

Historians and social commentators today predict that it will take anywhere from 60 to 100 years for Black people living today to fully recover the legal protections, economic ground, and civil rights being stolen from us right now. That means the bitter, unvarnished truth is that most of us living today will not see better days in our lifetime.

If that’s true, why are we still organizing, marching, and voting with the exact same playbook and goals as before? We already know how that story ends: Anti-Black forces will always meet our appeals for justice with violent, economic, and political rollbacks. We need a new approach.

A 21st-century Underground Railroad

For months, national thought leader Lurie Daniel Favors has implored Black people and organizations to stop reacting defensively and start creating the framework for a “21st-century Underground Railroad.” This wouldn’t be a literal trail through the woods, but a sophisticated, underground network designed to allow Black people to escape systemic oppression, pool resources, and find genuine freedom.

But what does a modern exit strategy even look like? The options generally split into two distinct paths: The physical exit and the systemic exit.

“If hereditary bondmen would be free, they must themselves strike the blow… use every means—moral, intellectual, and physical—that promises success,” said the illustrious and under-appreciated Black liberation theologian Henry Highland Garnet, in his Address to the Slaves of the United States, given during the National Negro Convention of 1843. Garnet called for open rebellion against slavery. His idea for an “exit strategy” failed by one vote of being endorsed by the convention.

Option 1: The expatriate route (physical exit)

For some, the answer lies in leaving the United States entirely. This is not a new impulse. In the late 19th and early 20th centuries, Black intellectuals and colonization societies led by figures like Alexander Crummell, Garnet, and Martin Delany argued that Black humanity, creativity, and intellect could never fully flourish on a soil so deeply poisoned by anti-Blackness.

Crummell actively championed emigration, believing that building up self-determining communities elsewhere was a far nobler use of Black genius than begging for citizenship from a nation that despised them.

In 2026, the expatriate route means looking toward West African countries (such as Ghana, with its continued “Year of Return” initiatives), parts of the Caribbean, or European hubs that offer a lower baseline of anti-Blackness. The goal is to relocate to societies that welcome our humanity rather than criminalize it.

But how many of us have the economic capacity to make such a move? On the flip side, how many of us can afford to stay in the U.S. with anti-Blackness rising exponentially daily?

Option 2: Economic secession (systemic exit)

For others, the best exit strategy isn’t physical relocation, but a deliberate exit from America’s economic and social systems. This means creating our own self-reliant, self-determining networks right here. It looks like building independent food supply chains, autonomous security apparatuses, private educational institutions, and closed-loop economic systems. It’s the practice of being in America without being dependent on it. Multiple Black Power Movement members back in the 1960s and 70s called that creating a “nation within a nation.”

The danger of assuming “It can’t happen here”

This is not a message of gloom and doom; it is an urgent wake-up call. Global history is littered with stories of “othered” groups whose rights were slowly, methodically eroded by the dominant society. In almost every instance—from pre-WWII Europe to various global genocides—the erosion of rights started slowly, and then accelerated so fast that it appeared to come out of nowhere.

In every single one of those historical tragedies, there was always a small, prophetic minority calling for an exit strategy. And in every instance, the vast majority of the oppressed group pushed back, insisting that conditions could never get that bad.

Until they did.

Activating the exit

We don’t need a singular, definitive answer today, but we absolutely must begin organizing around the possibilities. Blackfolk need to take concrete steps immediately:

Assess and Resource: Black organizations and individuals must audit their assets, identifying who has the means, dual citizenships, or remote capabilities to pivot.
Build the Infrastructure: We must fund the infrastructure for both paths—supporting those who choose to build autonomous zones of survival in the States, and establishing legal and financial pipelines for those who choose to leave.
Normalize the Conversation: We must strip away the stigma of “giving up” on America. Leaving a burning house isn’t cowardice; it’s intelligence.

We can no longer afford the luxury of hope without a contingency plan. Whether we choose to exit geographically or economically, we must build the backdoor now. History has shown us the script—it’s time we finally change our ending.

Based on reporting by Jacksonville Free Press.

Post News Group

Posts by Post News Group

Up Next

IN MEMORIAM: A Queen Mother’s Journey Home

Don't Miss

Governor Stein Signs Jaleeyah’s Law

Post News Group

Click to comment

Black History

Listening as a Lifeline: A Doula’s Witness to Black Maternal Health

OAKLAND POST — Maternal mortality and pregnancy-related mortality use different time frames and methods and are not interchangeable. Finalized 2024 CDC data recorded 649 maternal deaths nationally. The overall rate was 17.9 deaths per 100,000 live births, but for non-Hispanic Black women it was 44.8, compared with 14.2 for White women and 12.1 for Hispanic women.

Published

5 days ago

October 4, 2026

Post News Group

By Antoinette Stewart-Eneh, Special to California Black Media Partners

Word Count: 1058

Note: Client A, B & C, names are withheld for privacy; these accounts reflect my recollections as their Doula.

Client A rocked her hips on a birthing ball, surrounded by pale wood and warm textiles in a softly lit Scandinavian-style office. I was her doula through a Southern California maternal health company combining nurse-led care, technology, and wraparound support.

She was a healthy Black woman in her thirties. Her baby girl was doing well; her partner took notes as we discussed labor and advocacy.

Then we turned to their chosen hospital. I knew it well—and remembered a phrase from another client’s experience: “Policy of Sovereignty.”

Client B had been told she needed a repeat cesarean as a precaution, though the reasoning was unclear. Her obstetrician, who performed her first cesarean two years earlier, had assured her throughout pregnancy that she was healthy, healed, and ready for a vaginal birth. We asked staff to review her chart, consult her obstetrician, and reconsider immediate surgery. Instead, they invoked the “Policy of Sovereignty.”

The physician on duty, we were told, had final authority, regardless of her established care plan. I asked whether an ultrasound or reassessing the baby’s position could offer clarity. Cesareans can be lifesaving. But were Client B’s history, informed consent, and circumstances guiding this decision—or was routine overriding individualized care? We kept asking for her obstetrician. Beneath every request was a deeper question: Was she being heard?

The Numbers Behind the Stories

Statistics arrive in clean columns. The experiences behind them do not.

Maternal mortality and pregnancy-related mortality use different time frames and methods and are not interchangeable. Finalized 2024 CDC data recorded 649 maternal deaths nationally. The overall rate was 17.9 deaths per 100,000 live births, but for non-Hispanic Black women it was 44.8, compared with 14.2 for White women and 12.1 for Hispanic women.

In California, Black birthing people experienced 56.5 pregnancy-related deaths per 100,000 live births during 2020–2022—3.8 times the White rate and four times the Asian rate.

As a doula serving Los Angeles and San Bernardino Counties, I see faces behind those numbers. I remember concerns raised softly, then firmly, then desperately. I am tired of watching Black families enter spaces meant to protect them, only to discover they must defend themselves while laboring, bleeding, trembling, or recovering.

Returning to Client A

Client A’s labor stretched nearly 48 hours. As her condition worsened, she, her partner, and I asked whether a cesarean should happen sooner. A provider questioned my place as a doula, then said she was next.

Six more hours passed.

She entered surgery visibly ill with a serious uterine infection, her baby malpositioned and stuck. Her partner later recalled the provider saying, “This baby would never have made it through the birth canal.”

Those words landed like a blow. Our urgency had been treated as ignorance. With Client B, we questioned why surgery was inevitable. With Client A, why it was delayed. Doula advocacy is not about one kind of birth. It is about informed consent, individualized care, and timely action. Hospital routine should never outweigh the person carrying the risk.

Survival Cannot Be the Standard

The Black maternal health crisis includes unequal care, untreated conditions, racial bias, delayed referrals, poor communication, and inadequate postpartum support. It is about birth plans respected only until a hospital becomes less busy and postpartum care that asks whether a mother survived, not whether she has what she needs to recover.

Survival cannot be the standard. Technology can support care, but it cannot replace human connection. An algorithm cannot detect fear in a patient’s eyes, and a mission statement alone cannot ensure adequate staffing or culturally responsive care.

The Story of Client C

Before I arrived, I heard the chaos through Client C’s phone. Staff struggled to locate her baby’s heartbeat on an external monitor as her fear and blood pressure rose. I pleaded for an internal electrode before surgery.

“There’s not enough time,” a nurse said.

“I would like to wait for my doula,” Client C called out.

But she was medicated, hurried through consent, and wheeled away while I listened.

In the operating room, after a shift change, another nurse placed an internal electrode and said, “The previous monitor wasn’t working.”

No one responded.

According to her father, the obstetrician avoided eye contact: “We need to move forward.”

Surgery may still have been necessary; that was not mine to determine. But if faulty equipment helped create the emergency, the family deserved acknowledgment and explanation—not silence. No family should have to wonder whether major surgery followed an unavoidable crisis or a machine failure no one recognized in time.

From Prevention to Accountability

After supporting nearly 100 families, I have learned that danger often begins before admission. I have urged clients to seek care—and heard why they feared returning: dismissed pain, harsh words, shame for asking questions.

Care cannot be holistic where Black families do not feel safe enough to speak or return. Representation matters, but providers of color cannot repair inequity alone. They need adequate staffing, mentorship, culturally responsive training, reliable equipment, and colleagues that are reflective of all the aforementioned. It’s not the Black providers job to care for just the Black patients, everyone should have the same goal.

The Momnibus Act, California’s Medi-Cal doula benefit, the Transforming Maternal Health Model and the Perinatal Equity Initiative require more than promises; they need sustained funding, reliable reimbursement and accountable implementation.

Birth should be sacred. Yet too many Black birthing people arrive carrying the burden of proving their pain is real. A doula can listen, educate, comfort, and advocate—but cannot repair a system that refuses to listen. The true measure of progress is what happens when a Black birthing person says, “Something is wrong.”

Are they believed? When equipment fails, is that failure acknowledged? Do families leave not merely alive, but safe, respected, supported, and whole?

Until those answers are consistently yes, California’s maternal health success story remains unfinished.

About the Author

Antoinette Stewart-Eneh is a mother of two, holistic maternal wellness advocate, and birth and postpartum doula who has supported families since 2019. She serves as program operations coordinator for Frontline Doulas, a volunteer client coordinator with the Joy in Birthing Foundation and a childbirth educator in South Los Angeles. She is studying to become a midwife and lactation educator.

Post News Group

Posts by Post News Group

Activism

Oakland Post: Week of September 30 – October 6, 2026

The printed Weekly Edition of the Oakland Post: Week of September 30 – October 6, 2026

Published

5 days ago

October 4, 2026

Oakland Post

To enlarge your view of this issue, use the slider, magnifying glass icon or full page icon in the lower right corner of the browser window.

Oakland Post

Posts by Oakland Post

Black History

IN MEMORIAM: The Rev. Leon “Sonny” Clark, Longtime Orange County Pastor and Community Leader, Dies at 72

Rev. Leon William “Sonny” Clark, the longtime pastor of New Spirit Baptist Church in Santa Ana and a prominent faith and community leader in Orange County, passed away on September 9 at the age of 72. Born in Bennettsville, South Carolina, Clark was a U.S. Navy veteran who dedicated his life to service. He served various Southern California churches before leading New Spirit Baptist Church for over 22 years, extending his work into counseling, mentoring, and civic engagement, and supporting the African American community. To learn more about his life and contributions, read more.

Published

2 weeks ago

September 28, 2026

Post News Group

The Rev. Leon “Sonny” Clark. File photo.

By Bo Tefu, California Black Media

Rev. Leon William “Sonny” Clark, longtime pastor of New Spirit Baptist Church in Santa Ana and a respected faith and community leader in Orange County, died Sept. 9. He was 72.

Born Oct. 2, 1953, in Bennettsville, South Carolina, Clark was a U.S. Navy veteran who later built a life of service centered on family, faith, ministry, and community.

Clark began his formal ministry at Metropolitan Baptist Church in Altadena in 1978. After acknowledging his call to ministry in 1980, he preached his first sermon and went on to serve churches throughout Southern California, including Second Baptist Church in Riverside, Mount Vernon Baptist Church in Rubidoux, Antioch Missionary Baptist Church in Pomona, and Friendship Baptist Church in Yorba Linda.

In November 2003, Clark was called to lead New Spirit Baptist Church in Santa Ana, where he served as pastor for more than 22 years. His work extended beyond the pulpit through counseling, mentoring, civic engagement, and efforts to strengthen Orange County’s African American community.

Clark served on the Orange County Heritage Council and supported efforts to preserve and celebrate African American history and culture. He helped organize the Orange County Black History Parade and Unity Festival, served on the Interfaith Committee and the Orange County Transit Authority, and served as president of the Orange County Ministers Conference.

In 2024, the City of Santa Ana recognized Clark for his contributions to the community. He also received the Orange County Southern Baptist Association Hall of Faith Award and was previously honored as Pastor of the Year by the Orange County Heritage Council.

Clark is survived by his wife, Andrea Joyles Clark; six children, Shawn Williams, Le Ondra Clark Harvey, Kyla Coward, Joshua Clark, Marissa Clark and Ashley Clark; grandchildren and great-grandchildren; siblings; extended family; and the New Spirit Baptist Church congregation.

A wake will be held Thursday, Oct. 1, from 4 to 8 p.m. at New Spirit Baptist Church, 701 S. Sullivan St. in Santa Ana, with a remembrance service from 5 to 6:30 p.m.

A Celebration of Life will be held Friday, Oct. 2, at Friendship Baptist Church, 17145 Bastanchury Road in Yorba Linda. Viewing begins at noon, followed by the service at 1 p.m.

Burial will take place Monday, Oct. 5, at 10:15 a.m. at Riverside National Cemetery.

Clark often shared a guiding principle that shaped his ministry: “Start where you are. Use what you have. Do what you can.”