Some pollsters are concluding that Black men are trending conservative. They’re asking the wrong question. Black men have always spanned the ideological spectrum. We have nuanced political views that don’t fit neatly into the liberal vs. conservative binary. The real question is what we can do to invite more Black men, especially young men, into the political process.
New research from afour-year project to study the Black electorate shows that while almost half (41 percent) of Black people believe in their power to come together and make change, 22 percent are cynical about politics and elections, and another 18 percent are susceptible to this disillusionment. Millions of young Black men fall into the cluster researchers call “rightfully cynical.” They aren’t convinced that voting will change their material conditions. The researchers call their cynicism rightful because politicians and institutions have failed to serve their interests. POWER Interfaith and other groups commissioned the research because we wanted to better understand the diversity of the Black electorate, especially among Black men.
We represent some of that diversity. Greg Edwards, a Gen X-er, was raised in a segregated New Jersey town in the 1970s, where every push for progress was met with resistance. Marcus Bass is a millennial from North Carolina who was politically awakened during the Black Lives Matter protests of the 2010s. But in our work as community organizers and in our personal lives, we both hear the same thing: many young Black men feel ignored, misunderstood and outright betrayed by the political system.
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If we are serious about protecting democracy, we cannot afford to blame or shame young Black men who feel that way. Simply telling them their ancestors faced fire hoses to win the right to vote won’t move them, especially when they are still protesting the same injustices today, including police violence. What we need to do instead is break their isolation and help them feel seen and heard. We must create spaces that genuinely embrace Black men, encouraging open dialogue without imposing conformity or diminishing their diverse experiences into a monolithic narrative.
In Pennsylvania, POWER Interfaith is creating spaces for authentic conversations for young Black men and women where we listen more than we preach. Older folks from the“legacy civil rights” generation are hosting soul food dinners in homes and church basements where young people can talk freely about their lives. At a recent dinner, as a result of a judgment-free, intergenerational conversation, a young man who hadn’t voted since 2016 realized he may not be interested in politics, but politics was interested in him: government policies affect the rent he pays, the mortgage he might be denied, and the promotion he might miss. He saw the connection between what is on the ballot and his daily life and decided to step back into the political process.
In the South, North Carolina Black Alliance is partnering with lifestyle influencers, party promoters and fitness groups to start political conversations in a way that feels natural, not forced. For example, a running club in Charlotte attracts more than 300 young Black people every week. Events like these, which bring together young Black people to foster joy and build community, do a better job connecting people than a campaign rally. Culture builds a bridge between what people love and what they can do to make their lives better.
What the research shows, and what we are seeing around dinner tables in Philadelphia and running clubs in North Carolina, is when rightful cynics meet each other, they feel less alone. They realize there is strength in their numbers. Even if they feel like their one vote doesn’t matter, with their collective power, they can decide what laws and policies get passed. They can hold politicians accountable for delivering real solutions for their community. This is where the magic happens—not in the war rooms of political consultants—but in the streets or anywhere young Black people unite and demand better for themselves.
Our love for our community knows no divorce clause. We are bound together by our shared history and collective hope for the future. That’s the beauty of our work as community organizers—it compels us to confront differences, sit with discomfort and ultimately choose one another. Across all our differences, we can build a multiracial democracy that works for everyone. The work continues, no matter who wins in November.
Rev. Dr. Gregory Edwards is the interim executive director of POWER Interfaith in Pennsylvania, and Marcus Bass is the deputy director of North Carolina Black Alliance.
The views expressed in this article are the writers’ own.
