From Reconstruction to Agenda 47

Anneshia Hardy | The Hardy Exchange

It’s Black History Month, which means it’s time to remind folks that Black history is American history, whether they like it or not. But beyond just a celebration, Black history is a roadmap for liberation, showing us exactly what we’ve been up against and how our ancestors fought to carve out progress against systems dead set on keeping us down. This February, we’re looking back so we can move forward, pulling lessons from the past to build a future where Black freedom and liberation aren’t just protected but expanded.

To begin, we turn our focus to Black economic power, one of the most contested battlegrounds in our history. The struggle for financial sovereignty and wealth-building has consistently been met with resistance, and today, amidst the current administration’s policies under Agenda 47, we see history repeating itself in real-time.

The struggle for Black economic liberation has always been met with organized resistance. From the collapse of Reconstruction to the racial capitalism of today, Black economic power has been seen as a threat to the status quo. And when Black people build, the state responds with violence, whether through white supremacist mobs, federal policy, or economic divestment dressed as “reform.”

Project 2025 and Agenda 47 and similar reactionary policies are not new phenomena. They are extensions of a long-standing counterrevolution, a deliberate attempt to reverse the few gains made in the pursuit of Black self-determination. The Reconstruction era offers a blueprint for understanding the cycle of progress and repression.

After centuries of enslavement, Reconstruction offered Black communities a fleeting moment to define our own futures. Newly emancipated people built thriving communities, acquired land, created cooperative economies, and established schools, banks, and businesses. These institutions, whether the Freedmen’s Bank or self-sufficient towns like Rosewood, were tangible manifestations of a radical idea: that Black people could live free from economic subjugation.

Oh, but of course, the idea of Black people thriving and building their own economic power was just too much for those who had been comfortably lining their pockets off Black labor and suffering. Enter the usual suspects: the Ku Klux Klan throwing their cowardly tantrums, Black Codes making sure the system kept its boot on Black necks, and federal protections mysteriously vanishing right when they were needed most. Because nothing says "fair play" like rewriting the rules the second Black folks start winning.

And just in case there was any doubt about how far they were willing to go, let’s talk about what came next.

Lynching.

Lynchings were not random acts of terror; they were economic warfare. It was a calculated strategy to maintain white economic dominance and to violently remind Black communities that freedom, acts of self-determination, and success would not be tolerated. Land was stolen. Black business districts, from Wilmington to Tulsa, were burned to the ground. White leaders understood then what they understand now, when Black communities control their own resources, they disrupt the racial and economic hierarchy that upholds capitalism and white supremacy itself.

The Civil Rights Movement was another Reconstruction, a radical reassertion of Black people's right to exist, thrive, and demand full participation in the American economy and democracy. It was a second uprising against the structures designed to keep us in a perpetual state of economic suppression. Black people fought to dismantle segregation, secure voting rights, and challenge employment discrimination, all of which directly tied back to economic autonomy. This was our second attempt at dismantling economic apartheid, a system where Black people have been deliberately locked out of wealth-building opportunities, denied access to fair wages, and systematically excluded from financial institutions. Imagine trying to play Monopoly, but every time you pass Go, they change the rules to make sure you never collect $200. That’s economic apartheid in a nutshell. From redlining to predatory lending, to underfunded schools and divestment from Black communities, these systemic barriers have ensured that Black economic mobility remains stifled.

And just like clockwork, the backlash came rolling in, as if Black progress triggers some kind of emergency response from American power structures. The War on Drugs decimated Black communities just as they were beginning to build generational wealth. The dismantling of affirmative action, the rollback of voting rights, and the systematic underfunding of Black schools all served as modern-day Black Codes.

Now, we find ourselves in yet another moment of regression. The attacks on Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion (DEI) programs, the elimination of policies that attempt to redress historic injustices, and the targeting of Black-led institutions are all symptoms of the same reactionary impulse that followed Reconstruction. But it doesn't stop there. Federal divestment from social programs that serve Black and marginalized communities, along with an orchestrated assault on nonprofits that have historically been lifelines in these spaces, are part of a broader strategy to strip resources and destabilize Black economic mobility.

Let's not forget that no one will be free until everyone is free, but everyone won’t be free until Black folks are free. This country’s very foundation is rooted in anti-Blackness, and every mechanism designed to oppress Black people has been repurposed to marginalize and disenfranchise other communities. The same policies that defund Black-led initiatives are being used to gut programs for immigrants, Indigenous communities, and other people of color. The same rhetoric used to criminalize Black protest is now being wielded against LGBTQ+ activists and labor organizers. Look at how voter suppression laws, originally designed to keep Black people from the ballot box, are now being used to strip voting rights from immigrants and formerly incarcerated individuals. Consider how the same tactics used to defund and criminalize Black activism during the Civil Rights Movement are now deployed against Indigenous land defenders fighting against pipelines and environmental destruction. And let’s not forget the systematic attacks on public education. What started with the targeting of Black history and culturally relevant curriculums has now expanded into a full-fledged war on academic freedom, banning books and silencing discussions on race, gender, and inequality. These are not isolated incidents. They are part of a deeply entrenched system that ensures white supremacy remains intact by shifting its focus to whatever marginalized group dares to demand dignity.

Resistance is in our blood. Are we ready to mobilize?

This country has always responded to Black progress with repression. But history has also shown us that resistance is just as inevitable as the backlash itself. We cannot afford to passively watch as the very victories our ancestors bled for are stripped away, piece by piece, under the guise of progress. We gotta move like our ancestors did during Reconstruction, because they weren’t waiting around for permission to demand what was theirs. They saw the setup, they peeped the game, and they still went after what was owed. That's the vibe. That's the energy. That's what we need to bring, not later, but now.

We are still in the fight to reclaim what was stolen. We are still in the struggle for economic liberation. And we must be clear: the fight for Black economic power is not separate from the fight against capitalism, against white supremacy, against the entire system designed to keep us in a permanent state of precarity. It is this state of constant economic instability that forces Black and marginalized communities to fight for survival instead of thriving.

The question is not whether we will resist, resistance has always been our legacy. The question is: will we recognize the moment we are in and organize accordingly?

About the Author

Anneshia Hardy is a narrative strategist, scholar-activist, and social impact entrepreneur committed to leveraging storytelling and messaging for transformative social change. As Executive Director of grassroots communications and media advocacy organizations, Alabama Values and Alabama Values Progress, she leads efforts to strengthen the pro-democracy movement in Alabama and across the South through strategic messaging and digital strategies.

Co-founder of Blackyard LLC, Anneshia equips changemakers to amplify their impact in marginalized communities. With over a decade of experience, she has conducted narrative and messaging trainings for organizations like the NAACP and the Obama Foundation. Anneshia has also shaped strategies for landmark voting rights cases, including Allen v. Milligan. Rooted in the belief that culturally relevant narratives can drive equity and inspire action, she bridges academic insight and real-world advocacy to create lasting change.