Grasping the Soul of Reparations- Beyond Buzzwords
If you’ve ever actually stopped to listen—to really, really listen—to Black and Indigenous voices about reparations, you know this word isn’t just a political talking point.
Reparations is a promise broken, again and again, by a country that would rather repaint its story than confront its wounds. Reparations is blood memory.
Reparations is the echoing absence of what should have been. When I say “reparations,” I’m not talking about charity, I’m talking about an overdue, unapologetic restoration of stolen futures, stolen wealth, and shattered dignity.
Let’s name it for what it really is: reparations is the bare minimum, the baseline for justice, not a bonus.
Whenever someone tries to flatten the conversation—turn it into checks in the mail or political football.
I need them to imagine this- Generations of Black families locked out of homeownership, education, and basic bodily safety; Indigenous land ripped away and parceled off, while their children were forced into assimilation and abuse in government “schools.”
Reparations must meet and address that devastation with real, living change. If you think a one-time payment wipes that slate clean, you haven’t been paying attention.
DOJ- Debt Owed; Justice Denied
The deepest insult is when people say, “My family didn’t own slaves, why should I pay?” Reparations is not about individuals feeling guilty.
It’s about society taking responsibility and reallocating resources hoarded through centuries of legal and social theft.
Our entire economy—our streets, our institutions, the wealth glaringly visible in white suburbs—was built (and is still sustained) by exploitation. If you want to see how deep this goes, my post on the real history of BLM will stun you.
Reparations means moving that wealth, that access, that institutional power, back. It means government payments, yes, but it also means transformative policy.
But if you’re waiting for congress alone to hand down reparations, reckon with this- community-led reparations have been happening under the radar for years now, and anyone with privilege ( wealthy, land-owning, or otherwise) can—and must—take part.
Unraveling Generational Trauma With Generational Wealth
One of the ugliest myths in America is that everyone starts life on the same playing field. Intergenerational trauma from racist violence and constant systemic marginalization haunts Black and Indigenous families.
Meanwhile, folks get to pass down property, savings, “connections.” Reparations is about closing that fatal gap: it is about generational healing, yes, but also about transferring material wealth and power.
That’s the long game, dismantling privilege so it cannot keep regenerating harm.
If you want to know how this gap still shapes our world, take a look at how this “dream” has always been structurally off-limits to Black communities (my breakdown on why BLM still matters covers these inequities in brutal, glaring clarity).
Reparations means not just naming that pain, but actively correcting it, generation by generation.
How Can We Actually Do Reparations—Right This Second?
This is where a lot of people freeze. “What can I actually do about reparations?” asks the well-meaning liberal at every book club.
Here’s the truth: reparations is not just a government responsibility. ACTION, redistribution, and accountability begin at the local and personal level.
True, the scope of institutional harm requires policy, but everyday reparations, on a grassroots scale, can start this afternoon.
In case anyone’s looking for a sign from the universe, here it is- do not wait for permission to pay reparations. You don’t have to have millions, land, or a political platform.
(Though if you do, use them!) The key is material support, repair, and returning resources wherever and however you occupy space stolen by colonization.
Reparations for All—No Respectable Exceptions
One toxic theme in mainstream reparations talk is the question of “worthiness.” Who’s “deserving” of recompense? Who’s “really” a victim?
This smacks of respectability politics and will never get us to freedom.
Reparations must not erase or side-step Black trans women, queer Indigenous people, disabled and neurodiverse Black and brown folks, or anyone continually shoved to the movement’s margins.
Radical intersectional reparations puts queer Black and Indigenous life at the very heart of the solution.
You cannot repair one vector of oppression while ignoring another. If reparations is not feminist, queer-inclusive, and anti-ableist, it isn’t justice—it’s appeasement.
I refuse to settle for that. I push for the totality.
Reparations must permeate every sphere that has weaponized harm, policing, education, health, housing, labor, and family.
Nineteen Human Ways You (and I) Can Practice Reparations—Like, Today
If you want a step-by-step of how reparations can look in the hands of the people, here’s what I hope you’ll do, and what I am striving to do too:
First, make cash reparations part of your regular life—Venmo Black and Indigenous organizers, artists, and families directly, with no strings attached. Treat it as a tithe, not charity, and do not demand gratitude or updates. Reparations.
Second, pay land tax or voluntarily “rent” to your area’s Indigenous tribe. Research whose land you’re on, support their landback funds or programs. Reparations.
Third, inherit wealth? Pass a portion straight on to Black and Indigenous-led organizations, not nonprofits run by “allies.” Reparations.
Fourth, seek out mutual aid—these circles are the lifeblood of everyday reparations. When you see urgent needs, meet them, then amplify, then repeat. Reparations.
Fifth, advocate for reparations at the policy level—lobby your city council, join local coalitions, demand urban budgets that redistribute police funding to reparative projects. Reparations.
Sixth, employ or contract with Black and Indigenous businesses and creators, always paying more than the “going” racist market rates. Reparations.
Seventh, cancel debts owed to you by Black, Indigenous, or racialized friends/colleagues. Write it off, permanently. Reparations.
Eighth, fund Black trans survival funds. Reparations.
Ninth, pay for emotional labor—in conversations, readings, and care work—when Black and Indigenous people are forced to educate, hold space, or support. Reparations.
Tenth, center Black and Indigenous women, femmes, and queer folk in your giving. Reparations.
Eleventh, invest in Black and Indigenous co-operatives and housing collectives. Reparations.
Twelfth, support campaigns returning land to Indigenous stewardship and sovereignty over natural resources. Reparations.
Thirteenth, redistribute any unneeded assets—land, vehicles, tools, equipment—to Black and Indigenous-led farms, collectives, or clinics. Reparations.
Fourteenth, donate regularly—not just in moments of crisis, but in sustainable, planned ways. Reparations.
Fifteenth, lift up the stories, dreams, and talents of Black and Indigenous people by sharing platforms, ceding space, and shutting down gatekeeping. Reparations.
Sixteenth, make reparations recurring: set aside a percentage of your income every year for this purpose, and let it grow as your privilege grows. Reparations.
Seventeenth, center reparations in your conversations—invite your social and professional communities into this push, challenging everyone to do more. Reparations.
Eighteenth, don’t just “call out” racism—fund the repair after harm is done (as I explain in how I never stay silent anymore). Reparations.
Nineteenth, stay humble. Reparations is not a destination. Give up perfectionism and just keep showing up, correcting, and giving, over your entire lifetime.
Restoring What’s Possible, Not What’s Lost
For childfree folks like myself, reparations sometimes gets framed as “future generations” talk.
But for me, reparations is about right now—making the present livable so the future can, one day, be just.
Reparations is not a passing trend or a political chess move, it is about hope, but not hope without backbone. It is about fighting for the beauty and freedom that have always been systematically denied.
If you want to see how this connects to BLM and the ongoing movement for Black lives (and you absolutely should), come look at my post about how to support BLM and how you can too.
Reparations and BLM are threads of the same tapestry—justice pulled taut, past and present wrestling for a future.
Reparations Happening Now—Why We Need More
Truth is, reparations are already happening. People all over the country—especially in grassroots, queer, and radical circles—are quietly redistributing wealth, land, and resources.
Alpha Black Man are leading freedom schools; Indigenous activists are rematriating land. The movement is thriving beneath the radar, but it is nowhere near enough.
Until this country recognizes reparations not as a fringe demand but as fundamental justice, and until it weaves reparations into policy, law, and culture, these gestures—while essential—are still just beginnings. We need a tidal wave, not a drip.
Reparations Is Also About Stolen Time, Stolen Joy, Stolen Safety
One of the hardest truths about our push for reparations is that not everything can be measured in dollars and cents.
What is the price of joy stolen, of families watching loved ones disappear to police and prison, of living scared in your own skin?
What is the cost of having your language, traditions, very sense of belonging ripped away?
Reparations is about aiming to repair what cannot possibly be paid for, but demanding compensation regardless, because justice demands it.
White America has built comfort atop centuries of terror, and as a culture, avoids that basic reality.
Reparations is the flipping of that comfort, the redistribution of possibility, and the relinquishing of what was never honestly earned.
So when someone says, “But I didn’t do any of this personally,” they’re missing the whole point—systems endure and benefit those seated atop them generation after generation, unless we intervene with purpose and humility.
If You Believe in “Allies,” You Must Believe in Reparations
Allyship is more than hashtags, book readings, or heated Thanksgiving debates.
It’s about material risk and material redistribution. You give up power for the sake of justice—you don’t just offer “awareness”.
If you’re still hesitating, think about what it really means if your comfort, security, and inheritance rest on history’s greatest unpaid debts.
If you really believe in Black liberation or Indigenous sovereignty, you must do something about reparations—practically, unromantically, as a matter of daily discipline.
And if you want to keep learning, please read my breakdown of what reparations really mean and how we can make it happen and reflect on the stories that brought you here.
If you’re moved to act, act. Don’t wait for politicians to give you the go-ahead.
Reparations can start in your own home, your own bank account, and your own heart. And it always should.
Reparations and Hope
I know what cynics say: that reparations is “impossible,” “unrealistic,” “too much to ask.”
But when has justice ever fit neatly inside the boundaries of what the powerful consider possible?
What genocide, what lynching, what child taken from a family was ever “possible” for the oppressed to bear?
And still, every day, survivors find the courage to demand repair. Every act of reparation is a small unraveling of the lie that things cannot change.
Building towards reparations is radical hope in action—radical not for wishful thinking, but for insisting the future can only be just if we reckon with the past.
Reparations say: we have not forgotten. We do not accept the given order.
We are showing up, again and again, with our own hands, wallets, and voices.
Reparations Is Not the Endgame—It’s the First Chapter
Let’s be brutally clear—reparations alone will not end every form of oppression or heal every wound. But without reparations, every other discussion about equity, reform, and “moving forward” is a lie.
It is the threshold. It forces all of us to address what has been stolen and ask, if not now, when?
Reparations is “step one” for the country we want—one where power, love, freedom, and resources are truly for all, not guarded by any few.
I am committed to making it happen, piece by piece, day by day. And I’m not alone. I hope you’re with me.
Now, I really, really want to know what you think! Leave a comment below—agree, disagree, something in the middle? I want your opinion. And if this blog matters to you, please help by donating to support this work. Your help lets more people see the truth about reparations and why they matter. Thanks for reading, and hope you join the community!