False Hope and Restoring Faith in Humanity

It’s taken me a long time to accept that living in a society where we are constantly told to "be grateful" for the scraps of progress is, at its core, a society that was never designed to protect us. Perhaps, in the past, Black people were dismissed as no competition—never seen as equals, only ever seen as labor. The systems created were never meant to include us as citizens. When the first enslaved Africans were taken, there was no vision of Black people as part of this "great" society. The plan was for us to remain enslaved indefinitely.

What the architects of this system didn’t anticipate was the resilience, courage, and unity of Black people. They didn’t expect us to continue resisting, even when the laws, the violence, and the constant threats of lynching and death were meant to break our spirits. But we never stopped. Despite the odds, we built communities, businesses, and safe havens, such as the Black Wall Street in Tulsa. We achieved success despite Jim Crow laws, segregation, and the systemic barriers constantly put in our way.

The fight for our civil rights was never about their willingness to concede but about our refusal to accept less than what we deserve. They didn’t willingly give us the right to vote, the right to study, or the right to work. Every inch of progress was hard-won through marches, protests, and even loss of life. And though we have come so far, there’s still this question: why did it take so long? Why did it take so much blood, so much sacrifice?

The truth is, many of the concessions we’ve won weren’t out of a sense of justice or empathy from the oppressors. It was more about appeasement—placating us so that we’d stop disrupting their lives. But even when we were "given" the right to education, to vote, or to work in certain industries, it was always with strings attached. These rights came with invisible barriers, systemic hurdles, and constant reminders that we weren’t supposed to get this far.

And yet, here we are. Black millionaires, athletes, business owners, and leaders in every walk of life. Despite all odds, we have continued to rise. But this progress makes the systems of oppression uncomfortable. They’ve never been comfortable with Black success. And now, with the help of media, politics, and law enforcement, there’s a familiar tactic being used to maintain control: keeping us in line through subtle oppression, microaggressions, and outright violence.

When a Black athlete like LeBron James speaks out, the response from some is, "Just shut up and dribble." It’s a way to remind us that we’re still not supposed to have a voice. We’re still expected to play our role, to entertain, to work—but not to speak. The truth is, the systems in place were never designed to benefit us. Any progress we’ve made was achieved by pushing through, by demanding change, not by being granted it out of goodwill.

And now, we have to ask ourselves: if they didn’t care about us then, why would they care now? When we protest, when we march, when we shout for justice, the system remains largely indifferent. It’s not designed to care. It’s designed to contain, to manage, and, when necessary, to punish. The deaths we witness on camera, the daily injustices—these aren’t accidents. They are byproducts of a system that was built to prioritize some lives over others.

So where do we go from here? We must continue to move in unison, understanding that our power lies in our ability to disrupt, to build, and to protect each other. We are the catalysts for progress. We’ve always been. And though the system wasn’t built for us, we’ve proven time and time again that we can and will reshape it.

It’s not about seeking their approval or waiting for their understanding. It’s about taking the power into our own hands, continuing to build our communities, support our youth, and push for a future where we are no longer asking for rights, but where those rights are undeniable.

https://people.com/chica/laura-ingraham-says-her-shut-up-and-dribble-remarks-were-not-racist/