Refusing the label of 'minority:' Reclaiming our place as the global majority
COMMENTARY: Why are Black people considered minorities? Why do we accept the label?
This piece appears in the March edition of the Black Iowa Newspaper.
By Abena Sankofa Imhotep,
A white woman "ally" recently spoke up in a Black-centered space and casually used the term "minority" to describe Black people. It was cringeworthy, and I challenged the notion immediately and rightfully, though the reaction in my head was far more visceral. Why do we keep allowing this?
Because we've been conditioned to. We've been taught to prioritize survival over sovereignty, to seek inclusion instead of autonomy.
Accepting terms like "minority" is, frankly, easier than challenging the status quo, especially when the systems around us reward compliance and punish resistance.
We allow it because sometimes we mistake recognition for respect, forgetting that being seen isn't the same as being valued. But most of all, we allow it because rejecting it requires work — unlearning, pushing back and standing firm in a truth that others may find inconvenient. And yet, isn’t our truth worth that fight?
Who does the label "minority" really benefit? There are serious economic consequences tied to this term. On one hand, organizations that can demonstrate they serve "minorities" may secure funding and sustain operations. On the other, if we accept being called minorities, it might make us more palatable to those in power, earning their favor.
But the cost is steep. It means diminishing ourselves to fit into a narrative that strips us of agency and power. It means aligning with a term that reinforces inferiority while ensuring that systemic inequities remain intact. It means perpetuating a lie about our place in the world, and that lie comes at the expense of our human dignity and potential, and our future.
It’s time we level-set about who we really are. But first, let’s define “we.”
When I say “we,” I’m talking about Black people — those of us across the African world who share a history, a culture and an unconquerable spirit. For this conversation, “we” isn’t a broad, catch-all for anyone who might feel loosely connected. It’s specific. It’s deliberate. And it’s about us, for us.
The names we answer to matter. That’s why I changed my own name to one that reflects the culture, my purpose and the reason I was born. My name is my freedom. It is my power. And any attempt to call me by another name is an attempt to re-enslave me — a move I will resist with every fiber of my being. The names and labels we accept shape not only how others see us but also how we see ourselves.
This brings us to the word “minority.”
Let’s call it what it is: a misnomer, a misrepresentation, and, most importantly, a misstep. The word “minority” is a linguistic trap that perpetuates deficiency and diminishment. Its literal meaning — less than, lower, subordinate — is entirely at odds with who we are. Yet, time and time again, we allow this label to be attached to us, whether by others or, worse, by ourselves.
Here’s the reality: Black people are not a minority. Non-white people comprise an estimated 90 percent of the global population. Ninety percent. We are global. And we are the global majority. So why do we continue to accept a label that contradicts our reality? Why do we allow ourselves to be reduced to a fraction, to something “less than,” when the numbers, history and our cultural contributions tell a different story?
This isn’t about semantics. This is about self-determination and self-definition.
Language has power. It shapes perception and directs action.
When we accept the term “minority,” we unconsciously accept a narrative of subordination.
We allow society to place us in a box that suggests we are smaller, weaker and less significant. But when we refuse that label and embrace the truth of our global majority, we take our rightful place as a central force in the world’s story.
Now, let’s be clear: rejecting the term “minority” is not just a linguistic exercise; it’s an act of resistance and liberation. It’s a refusal to participate in a narrative that diminishes us and a declaration that we see ourselves as we truly are: powerful, vast and influential.
So, here’s my charge to you: Refuse to be called a minority. Correct anyone who tries to use that term to define you. Teach your children, your families and your communities to embrace the truth of our global majority.
And while we’re at it, let’s take this moment of reflection further. With political chaos, economic disparities, environmental crises, racism and wars happening here and abroad, now is the time to center who we are unapologetically. Centering Blackness isn’t about fighting against whiteness; it’s about reclaiming our place, prioritizing our people and building a future that reflects who we really are. We can’t afford to let labels like “minority” chip away at our power or distract us from what matters: our communities, our brilliance and our ability to thrive on our own terms.
We are not a minority. We are members of the global majority. It’s time we lived like it. It’s time we spoke like it. It's time we moved like it. And it’s time we refused to answer to anything less.
Abena Sankofa Imhotep is an award-winning author, podcaster and CEO of Sankofa Literary & Empowerment Group. She writes a column as part of the Iowa Writers’ Collaborative,
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The power comes in knowing you come from a rich and strong people. It’s in our DNA, do not accept names that diminish our strength. I Am Black
Great perspective & thx for sharing. Hadn't thot of "minority" in those terms before. But the root word IS "minor" isn't it?