Black America and Space: We Risk Becoming Spectators Once Again
Oh, STEM and STEAM…the magic buzzwords that every underserved school district has been chanting like a spell for the last twenty years. Walk into any school brochure, PowerPoint, or grant application, and you’d think kids in underfunded communities are basically building Mars rovers between lunch and sixth period. Administrators proudly point to a donated 3D printer gathering dust in the corner, or a “STEM Day” that happens once a year, right between standardized testing and whatever crisis comes next. Yet after two full decades of promises, slogans, and colorful STEAM posters taped to cracked walls, what do we really have? Students who can’t take home a functioning laptop. Classrooms with broken microscopes. Robotics teams that never got off the ground because the coach quit after the second week. Teachers who get “training” that amounts to a YouTube video and a prayer. If this is STEM, then no wonder Black America isn’t preparing for orbit; we’re still trying to get working Wi-Fi.
By Don Allen, Journal Of A Black Teacher (2025)
In May 2026, the Haven 1 mission is scheduled to reach orbit—a privately funded leap forward that symbolizes a new era in space exploration. NASA’s own reporting notes that as the International Space Station approaches its planned deorbit around 2030, the future of space will not be driven by national will, but by private innovation. Haven 1 will host four astronauts at a time, carrying out high-stakes research on semiconductors, stem cells, and technologies that will shape the next century. A new chapter in human possibility is being written. Yet one question lingers like cosmic dust: Where is Black America in this future?
The uncomfortable truth is that Black America has been largely absent from conversations about space—not because of a lack of brilliance, curiosity, or potential, but because the pathways into aerospace, private space industries, and advanced research were never built with us in mind. While SpaceX, Blue Origin, Axiom, and Vast Space assemble the blueprint for the future orbital economy, Black communities continue to fight for equitable education, safe neighborhoods, and fair access to technology. How can we talk about placing Black bodies in orbit when our children often lack access to rigorous STEM courses, modern labs, or functioning school infrastructures on Earth?
This absence is not accidental. It is systemic. Historically, our national space narrative cast Black people as spectators to the frontier rather than creators of it. Katherine Johnson, Dorothy Vaughan, and the countless unnamed Black engineers who helped launch America into the stars were hidden for decades. Black children rarely see themselves reflected in aerospace careers, and private space companies often fail to recruit in the communities most capable of transforming their future workforce.
Now, as private companies, not nations, drive space access, the stakes are higher. The emerging space economy is expected to have a significant impact on global communications, medicine, climate technology, manufacturing, and even national defense. If Black America is not at this table, we will once again inherit the leftovers of a world designed without us.
This editorial is a call to clarity: Space is not a luxury issue. It is a future-of-wealth issue. A future-of-health issue. A future-of-power issue. We cannot afford to be missing from a frontier that will define economic mobility for generations.
So, what must change?
Black schools (all schools) must aggressively expand STEM pipelines. Private space companies must recruit us intentionally, not symbolically. Philanthropy must invest in Black space entrepreneurship. Historically Black Colleges and Universities should be funded as research partners in aerospace innovation. And Black America must recognize that space is not someone else’s dream - it is a frontier we deserve to shape.
The next era of space is being built now, by private hands. If Black America does not insert itself into that future, loudly, strategically, unapologetically, we risk becoming spectators once again.
Humanity is going back to space. The only question is whether Black America will be on board.
By Don Allen, Journal Of A Black Teacher (2025)
In May 2026, the Haven 1 mission is scheduled to reach orbit—a privately funded leap forward that symbolizes a new era in space exploration. NASA’s own reporting notes that as the International Space Station approaches its planned deorbit around 2030, the future of space will not be driven by national will, but by private innovation. Haven 1 will host four astronauts at a time, carrying out high-stakes research on semiconductors, stem cells, and technologies that will shape the next century. A new chapter in human possibility is being written. Yet one question lingers like cosmic dust: Where is Black America in this future?
The uncomfortable truth is that Black America has been largely absent from conversations about space—not because of a lack of brilliance, curiosity, or potential, but because the pathways into aerospace, private space industries, and advanced research were never built with us in mind. While SpaceX, Blue Origin, Axiom, and Vast Space assemble the blueprint for the future orbital economy, Black communities continue to fight for equitable education, safe neighborhoods, and fair access to technology. How can we talk about placing Black bodies in orbit when our children often lack access to rigorous STEM courses, modern labs, or functioning school infrastructures on Earth?
This absence is not accidental. It is systemic. Historically, our national space narrative cast Black people as spectators to the frontier rather than creators of it. Katherine Johnson, Dorothy Vaughan, and the countless unnamed Black engineers who helped launch America into the stars were hidden for decades. Black children rarely see themselves reflected in aerospace careers, and private space companies often fail to recruit in the communities most capable of transforming their future workforce.
Now, as private companies, not nations, drive space access, the stakes are higher. The emerging space economy is expected to have a significant impact on global communications, medicine, climate technology, manufacturing, and even national defense. If Black America is not at this table, we will once again inherit the leftovers of a world designed without us.
This editorial is a call to clarity: Space is not a luxury issue. It is a future-of-wealth issue. A future-of-health issue. A future-of-power issue. We cannot afford to be missing from a frontier that will define economic mobility for generations.
So, what must change?
Black schools (all schools) must aggressively expand STEM pipelines. Private space companies must recruit us intentionally, not symbolically. Philanthropy must invest in Black space entrepreneurship. Historically Black Colleges and Universities should be funded as research partners in aerospace innovation. And Black America must recognize that space is not someone else’s dream - it is a frontier we deserve to shape.
The next era of space is being built now, by private hands. If Black America does not insert itself into that future, loudly, strategically, unapologetically, we risk becoming spectators once again.
Humanity is going back to space. The only question is whether Black America will be on board.
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