Let’s be clear: the disappearance of Black farmers in America isn’t some sad accident of history—it’s a robbery, carried out in broad daylight, generation after generation, with the fingerprints of the federal government, the banks, and corporate America all over the crime scene.
At the turn of the 20th century, Black farmers owned more than 16 million acres of land. That land represented independence, food security, and a measure of freedom from the very system that once enslaved our ancestors. Today? Less than 50,000 Black farmers remain, holding under 5 million acres. That’s not “market forces.” That’s institutional racism stripping away Black wealth acre by acre.
John Boyd Jr., the founder of the National Black Farmers Association, recently reminded PBS viewers that the fight is far from over. He’s been saying what we already know: the USDA—the same government agency meant to serve farmers—has been operating like a hostile gatekeeper, choking off Black farmers from the credit, loans, and subsidies that keep white-owned agribusinesses afloat. For decades, the USDA has functioned less like a service and more like a blockade.
And yes, we all remember Pigford v. Glickman, the “historic” $1.25 billion settlement in 1999 for Black farmers who were denied loans and aid. But let’s be honest—that was hush money. A payout after the damage was already done. You can’t compensate away generations of stolen land, lost opportunity, and broken legacies. How many farms were swallowed by banks or sold off under duress while the USDA dragged its feet? How many children never inherited their family’s acreage because racism was baked into the loan process?
Here’s the ugly truth: land is power. Land is wealth. Land is legacy. And the systematic stripping of land from Black farmers is one of the least-discussed, most devastating attacks on Black economic power in this country. They didn’t just want to control the food system—they wanted to make sure Black people never had the soil under our feet.
But here’s the part they can’t erase: we’re still here. Black farmers are still tilling, still planting, still feeding communities, and still refusing to bow down. Younger Black farmers are re-entering the field, claiming agriculture not as a scar from the past, but as a future worth building. And leaders like Boyd are making sure the nation doesn’t get to look away.
America owes more than acknowledgment. It owes land. It owes policy change. It owes protection for every Black farmer still fighting to hold on. Until then, every empty acre where Black farmers once stood is a monument to America’s unfinished theft.
