What if Black Women Ran the Media?

 

Segregation wasn’t just enforced with signs and sheriffs, you know?! It was reinforced with stories and narratives our ancestors never consented to. As C. Vann Woodward makes clear in The Strange Career of Jim Crow, the Jim Crow system didn’t survive for decades because it was universally loved. It survived because the people who controlled the newspapers, textbooks, and broadcast airwaves decided who was dangerous, who was brilliant, and who was invisible. It’s the same blueprint of control the story, control the people, that runs through our media today. Only now, the gatekeepers have more tools: cable networks, search engine algorithms, trending tabs, and ad revenue models that reward outrage over truth.

So let’s ask the question that history warns us and inspires us to ask: What if Black women ran the media? Not just worked in it. Not just made guest appearances when the ratings dipped or the diversity quota needed filling. I mean — what if we owned it? The networks. The studios. The algorithms. The headlines. The streaming services. The production budgets. The greenlight button. All of it! 

What if Tiffany Cross and Joy-Ann Reid weren’t just anchors but the final word on what stories hit the air, how deep we dig, and whose voices get amplified? What if Candace Owens had the safety and space to unlearn the narratives she’s clung to, and then used her platform to dismantle the systems she once defended? 

This kind of freedom and power would be a win for Black women for sure, but it would also be one of the biggest wins this country has ever seen.

Right now, too much of our media landscape is noise dressed up as news. Celebrity scandals dominate headlines while laws that could change your rent, your voting rights, or your healthcare slip by unnoticed. Election coverage feels more like a ratings competition than a civic duty. Artists are pushed into overnight stardom, only to burn out and be replaced by the next viral sensation. Black culture is treated like a buffet — our slang,  joy, and pain taken in small, marketable bites for someone else’s profit. The boldest creative ideas never make it past the pitch meeting because they’re too “niche” or “too political.” Social media algorithms thrive on outrage and division, feeding us a constant diet of anger and distraction. And too often, audiences don’t have the tools to spot the bias, the funding influence, or the missing context in what they consume.

But if Black women ran the media, the picture would be entirely different. Headlines would put policy front and center, breaking it down in plain language so everyday people could understand and act on it. Politics wouldn’t be treated like a sport — it would be covered with the clarity and urgency Lakesha Cole of She Spark Media brings when she casually breaks down a bill on social media in between. Artists would have the kind of mentorship that’s both profitable and mentally healthy, building careers on integrity instead of exploitation. Cultural coverage would meet the Martie Bowser standard — full, nuanced, and told by people who live it first. Gatekeepers wouldn’t be there to kill daring creative ideas; the Christopher Stewarts, Jazmynd Byrds, Jericka Duncans, or Jemele Hills of the world were completely free to unleash their wildest, most brilliant visions. Online spaces would start to feel like Sunday dinner — welcoming, loving, and safer from trolls than it is today. And media literacy would be taught and practiced like a survival skill, so bias and disinformation would be spotted before they could take root.

If Black women ran the media, we wouldn’t just consume different stories. BABY!!!! We would be living in a different country. One where higher civic engagement, stronger communities, more cultural exports, and less disinformation weren’t lofty goals, but measurable outcomes. One where America wasn’t addicted to distraction because the truth would finally be impossible to bury.

The question isn’t whether we could run it. The question is — how do we get to a place where we do?

The Pretti Talk Reader Challenge 

The media you consume shapes the world you believe in.

So before you click “like” or “share” again, ask yourself:

1. Who created this?  Do they look like me? Do they understand my community? Do they have a stake in telling this story truthfully?
2. Who owns the platform?  Is this a Black-owned, woman-owned, or community-centered outlet — or a corporation deciding what’s “safe” for advertisers?
3. Whose perspective is missing? If the story only includes certain voices, what would it look like with ours leading the conversation?
4. How would this story change if Black women ran the media?  Would it be deeper? More honest? Less biased? More actionable?
5. What can I do next?  Subscribe to a Black woman-led outlet. Share their work. Fund their vision. Demand their presence in national conversations.

Because if you want a freer, sharper, more truthful world, you can’t just wish for it. You have to back the people who are building it.