By: D.D. Reese

Every ten years, the U.S. Census quietly redraws the map of American power and possibility. It doesn’t just count people, it determines how many congressional seats each state gets and how hundreds of billions in federal funding are distributed. Medicaid, school lunch programs, public transportation, housing support, they all ride on those numbers.

And here’s the hard truth: if you’re not counted, you don’t count.

In the 2020 Census, Black Americans made up just 13.7% of the population. That number shapes everything from the political influence of Black communities to how much federal money reaches our neighborhoods. And it raises questions many in the Black community are already asking: Why does it feel like our vote doesn’t count? Are we seen? Are we heard?

Let’s break that down.

In fiscal year 2024, Medicaid consumed nearly 69% of all federal grants to states, far and away the largest slice. Income security programs like Temporary Assistance for Needy Families and school meals followed. Transportation, education, and health programs split the rest. These dollars fuel everything from clinics to classrooms. And their distribution is based on one thing: data. Census data.

So when we don’t participate, our neighborhoods become statistical blind spots. And then, when funds are allocated or political lines are drawn, we’re left asking why resources are missing. It starts here.

Yes, 13.7% might sound like a small number. But it’s not just about raw population. It’s about representation, visibility, and investment. It’s about making sure our kids get lunch at school. That roads in our neighborhoods get fixed. That health services don’t vanish.

It’s also about rejecting the mindset that the government is our only source of hope.

The Black community is not looking for handouts, we’re demanding a hand-up. We must push for better access to opportunity: through entrepreneurship, financial literacy, job creation, and economic self-determination. We can’t let that 13.7% define the ceiling of what we’re owed or capable of.

But none of that progress is possible if we start from a place of absence. If we don’t show up for the Census, we silence ourselves. If we don’t vote, we give others permission to ignore our needs. The same logic applies: no data, no dollars. No votes, no voice.

It’s time we stop asking if our vote counts and start asking if we’re doing enough to make it count. The same goes for the Census. We have power but only if we claim it. The next Census is in 2030. Let’s be ready. Let’s be counted. Let’s be seen.