By Kenneth Braswell
CEO, Fathers Incorporated

There’s a dangerous and persistent narrative in society today that Black men and boys are disposable—throwaways. From media portrayals to educational outcomes, we are bombarded with stories that focus on our deficits—our shortcomings, our problems, and our supposed inability to “measure up.” And while there has been a necessary and rightful push for the empowerment of Black women and girls, it often feels like this is happening at the expense of addressing the deep and unique struggles Black men and boys face. Over time, witnessing the overwhelming force of this narrative has left me starting to believe that maybe society does see us as throwaways—disposable and unworthy of the same attention, support, or healing. It’s a conclusion I’ve tried to resist, but the evidence seems to mount every day.

This isn’t just about who Black men and boys are today; it’s about how society projects these harmful images onto us, starting from childhood. Black boys are told, both directly and indirectly, that they are destined to fail, destined to live out the stereotypes society has built around them. And what’s even more heartbreaking is that these Black boys—boys who should be full of potential and possibility—are growing into the very Black men that society continues to demonize and despise. How can we expect any different when the world has already decided our worth?

I recently had a thought-provoking conversation with Dr. Brandon Frame that shifted my perspective. 

A moderator who had interviewed him mentioned a well-known Frederick Douglass quote: “It is easier to build strong children than repair broken men.” I’d heard this quote referenced countless times as a call to focus on the next generation, but Dr. Frame’s response caught me off guard. He said he didn’t like the quote, and when he explained why, it opened my eyes. 

According to Dr. Frame, the quote implies that we’re okay with leaving broken men broken. It’s as if we’ve accepted the notion that once a man is damaged, he’s beyond saving, and all our energy should be focused on the future rather than repairing the present. What does that say about us as a society? What does it say about our values if we choose to focus only on children at the expense of the men who are struggling and in need of healing now?

Dr. Frame’s critique of this celebrated quote touches on the larger issue: how quick we are to throw Black men away as if their worth and potential have an expiration date. But if we don’t address the traumas and challenges Black men face, what kind of example are we setting for the next generation of boys?

Let me be clear: Empowering women and girls is essential, and I support that movement wholeheartedly. But what’s troubling is how the elevation of one group often involves stepping on the necks of Black men, using us as scapegoats for issues that go beyond gender dynamics. The dialogue around “misogyny” and “toxic masculinity” seems almost exclusively aimed at Black men, as though we are the singular source of these problems, and it’s used to justify our continued disempowerment.

What’s rarely discussed is how Black men, too, are victims of toxic societal structures. While we are accused of misogyny, we live in a world that devalues us for anything beyond what we can provide—our labor, our physical presence, our ability to perform. Our humanity, however, remains unaddressed, and our emotional needs ignored.

A recent report from the Brookings Institution showed that Black boys are consistently among the lowest performers in educational attainment, graduation rates, and job acquisition. While we have focused enormous efforts and resources on uplifting girls and women, Black boys continue to fall behind, struggling in a system that has already dismissed them. This is not a gender war—it’s an “us” problem, and society is all too comfortable with letting Black boys and men fall by the wayside.

In recent years, social media has amplified divisive conversations, driving a wedge between Black men and Black women. Instead of fostering healing and collaboration, much of the current dialogue focuses on finger-pointing and assigning blame. Platforms that should serve as spaces for productive dialogue often turn into battlegrounds where Black men and women are pitted against each other in a struggle over who has been hurt more, whose trauma is more valid, and whose value to the world is greater.

Scrolling through these conversations, you’ll find countless posts debating who is right or wrong, who has suffered more, and who has been damaged the most by systemic oppression. This online discourse sometimes devolves into harmful competition, with accusations flying about misogyny, toxic masculinity, and an erasure of Black women’s experiences. The broader, more nuanced conversation about how we can support and uplift each other gets lost in the noise of divisiveness.

The binary struggle over whose pain matters more or whose value is higher doesn’t reflect our shared reality. The truth is that we are all affected by the systemic forces that have sought to devalue us both. Black women’s empowerment does not need to come at the expense of Black men, and vice versa. We are in this fight together, and healing needs to be a collective effort, not a competition.

At the root of these issues is a societal problem, not an individual one. The struggles Black men and boys face are not a result of personal failures or inherent flaws but rather the product of systemic forces designed to keep us from reaching our full potential. Yet the current narrative places the blame squarely on us, suggesting that Black men are inherently dysfunctional and that Black boys are predetermined to fail.

According to the Schott Foundation, only 59% of Black boys graduate from high school, compared to 80% of white boys. And once they leave the school system, these boys face even more challenges in the workforce, where opportunities are limited, and racial bias further hinders their progress. Meanwhile, Black men are incarcerated at more than five times the rate of white men, according to the NAACP

This persistent criminalization starts early, often in the form of disproportionate disciplinary actions in schools. Our boys grow up in a world that tells them they are less—less deserving, less capable, and less human. And when they finally become men, they face that same disdain and dismissal. It’s no wonder that Black men feel disempowered and discarded. Society doesn’t just throw us away; it sets us up for that fate.

This is not just a problem for Black men—it’s a problem for all of us. When we fail to invest in the well-being and healing of Black men, we fail to build a society that values all its members equally. Black men and boys aren’t inherently broken, but the systems that fail to support them certainly are.

If we want to change the trajectory for Black men and boys, we must start by shifting the narrative. Instead of accepting the idea that Black men are disposable, we need to recognize the inherent value they bring to their families, communities, and society. We must stop using divisive language that pits us against one another and build coalitions that prioritize collective healing.

We must challenge the notion that repairing broken men is too difficult. In reality, healing Black men is as important as building strong children; the well-being of Black boys cannot be separated from the well-being of Black men.

Investing in Black men’s emotional, mental, and social well-being is not just an act of repair—it’s an act of transformation. When we uplift Black men, we uplift their families, communities, and ultimately ourselves.

As Dr. Frame reminded me, we cannot be content with leaving broken men behind. Healing is a process that requires all of us, and it’s time we start treating the struggles of Black men with the same urgency and care that we extend to others. Until we do, we’ll continue to perpetuate the cycle that tells Black men and boys they are throwaways. And that is a narrative none of us can afford to believe.


Kenneth Braswell stands as a towering figure in the world of responsible fatherhood, illuminating the path for countless fathers with his groundbreaking work. As the visionary founder and CEO of Fathers Incorporated, he’s championed the cause of nurturing healthy families, having created a blueprint for fathers to navigate the unique challenges of parenthood. His unmatched expertise has not only transformed lives but also elevated the national conversation on fatherhood, earning him accolades from esteemed platforms like the OWN Network and the Atlanta Business Chronicle.


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Posted by Fathers Incorporated

Fathers Incorporated (FI) is a national, non-profit organization working to build stronger families and communities through the promotion of Responsible Fatherhood. Established in 2004, FI has a unique seat at the national table, working with leaders in the White House, Congress, U.S. Department of Health & Human Services, Family Law, and the Responsible Fatherhood Movement. FI works collaboratively with organizations around the country to identify and advocate for social and legislative changes that lead to healthy father involvement with children, regardless of the father’s marital or economic status, or geographic location. From employment and incarceration issues, to child support and domestic violence, FI addresses long-standing problems to achieve long-term results for children, their families, the communities, and nation in which they live.

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