Harris’s ‘Opportunity Agenda for Black Men’ ignores capitalism's realities

In one of the most high-stakes elections in recent memory, Black men across America are drawing significant attention by leveraging their votes. 

Recent polls suggest that Black people, particularly Black men, are expressing growing dissatisfaction with their voting options. This supposed indecision has prompted hysteria, especially for Democrats, as they scramble to galvanize Black male voters. 

Former President Barack Obama recently voiced disappointment in Black men’s lack of enthusiasm for presidential hopeful Vice President Kamala Harris, hinting that sexism, not political disagreement, was the reason. 

The Harris campaign didn't seem to echo Obama’s critique. Instead, the campaign reiterated familiar messaging that Black men’s votes must be "earned," releasing a nine-page policy platform detailing how Harris's initiatives would benefit Black men, focusing on areas like homeownership, mentorship and entrepreneurship. 

At first glance, the Harris-Walz campaign seems responsive in its attempt to name its targeted vision for a group facing gendered racism. They appear progressive, especially in a post-affirmative action era where it is increasingly contentious and, in some cases, illegal. 

However, I argue that the campaign’s latest policy platform is not about Black men’s specific social, political and economic experiences with gendered racism. Instead, the Harris-Walz campaign’s “Opportunity Agenda for Black Men,” released three weeks before the election, serves as a statement of redrawn lines around what will now constitute likely and acceptable race-based advocacy, demands and movements. 

The message is clear: In lieu of more government intervention in determining racial and economic outcomes, racial progress for Black men (and others) will mean they are, in effect, better bosses. 

We’ve seen this strategy before, even in political circles overtly against race-based reforms. Trump’s 2020 campaign, with his “Platinum Plan,” included proposals around “fueling” capital into Black-owned businesses. Trump even carried some of this rhetoric into his 2024 campaign, attempting to partner with a Black barbershop owner who claimed he was tricked into hosting a Trump campaign event under the guise of a small business forum.

Clear compromises have been made as the campaign courts moderate voters in ways that reframe how something like the “racial wealth gap” is explained. Solutions to mitigate racism are increasingly framed as expedient only insofar as they build more enterprising and market-driven citizens. 

To be sure, these desires aren't always imposed from the top; they’re also voiced by Black men and marginalized groups who believe that if they are granted the same opportunities as others — even those who have thrived through exploitation — racial and economic justice will follow.

However, this reorientation to racial justice fails to interrogate how capitalism has historically relied on racial stratification as a means of sustaining and growing. Indeed, “racial capitalism,” a term coined by the late Cedric Robinson, is often a culprit rather than a solution. This is evident in issues raised by the Harris-Walz platform, like labor exploitation and price gouging that Black men face. 

Capitalism, by its nature, extracts surplus value from labor, as seen in slavery and later sharecropping. Most liberals today would not suggest that we should have “diversified” slave ownership or provided financing to replicate the sharecropping model to solve racial and economic inequality.

Yet still, the Opportunity Agenda for Black Men vaguely references entrepreneurial initiatives as a solution to social and economic inequality. Their headline proposal — $1 million forgivable small business loans for Black entrepreneurs — comes at a time when studies predict that Black people’s average net worth could fall to $0 by 2053. 

The platform even nods to cryptocurrency as a place of financial promise, likely influenced by Trump’s engagement, despite the risks Black investors face in this space. Cannabis legalization, framed as another entrepreneurial opportunity, is presented simply and devoid of partisan politics around cannabis taxes’ allocation for increased police budgets amidst ongoing calls for defunding the police. 

Despite the complexities, all these proposals frame the savvy entrepreneur and investor as the new, fair and final destination of those who continue to be oppressed by racism post-affirmative action. Black men are not perceived to be the sole beneficiaries of these reforms, rather, our vulnerability is used as a case study for politicians to articulate new guardrails and parameters for what defines social justice.

As someone who studies how education is discussed during moments of increased visibility for Black men, I am skeptical about the educational projects and policies being imagined. 

I was glad to hear the Harris-Walz campaign’s attention to career and vocational training. However, we should be mindful of how ideas about the "savvy entrepreneur" or "self-determined investor" seep into mentoring programs and other vague initiatives framed as necessary for Black boys and men. 

Focusing on apprenticeship programs for "highly paid and sought-after" jobs does little to address the eradication of low-wage work or to eliminate the possibility of somebody being in line next for such opportunities.

While we anxiously await the future of race-based policy and initiatives to be revealed, we should be careful not to accept invitations into the status quo as a compromise. Rather than promoting capitalist fiction long debunked, the Harris-Walz campaign should craft a platform that tackles the realities of racial capitalism — a system built on exploiting race for economic gain.

Only by addressing this root cause can we foster better outcomes for Black men and other marginalized groups.

Jacques P. Lesure Ph.D. is a visiting assistant professor of education at Brown University. He examines how race, class, gender and political economy shape the educational experiences of Black masculine educators, learners, and leaders both in and beyond formal learning contexts.