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“The March on Washington was more than inspiration; it was an act of defiance, a refusal to accept exclusion as fate. Yet here we are, generations later, asking why that promise is still just out of reach.”
More than 60 years have passed since that humid summer day when the Lincoln Memorial became a stage for American resolve—hundreds of thousands asserting their right to quality jobs, freedom, equality, dignity, and opportunity. The March on Washington was more than inspiration; it was an act of defiance, a refusal to accept exclusion as fate. Yet here we are, generations later, asking why that promise is still just out of reach.
To honor 1963, let’s start by naming the truth: economic insecurity and racial injustice in America are not accidental. They are structures built to last, designed and maintained by rules, decisions, and policies at every level. That structure, with its deep foundations and clever rebrandings, is still standing.
How does this system operate, and what does it produce? An analysis by the Federation of Protestant Welfare Agencies outlines a litany of disparities.
The federal minimum wage in 2025 stands at $7.25, unchanged since 2009 and far less than the inflation-adjusted minimum wage demanded by marchers six decades ago, which would have been $21 in 2025 dollars.
Employment structure tells its own tale. Despite high workforce participation, too many Black workers are concentrated in lower-paying service jobs, while white workers are vastly overrepresented in management and professional ranks. The system doesn’t need to say “no”—it simply arranges the options so an equal “yes” is out of reach.
The wealth gap has also worsened since 1963. As of the last quarter of 2024, the average white household held about four times the wealth of Black households, and five times the wealth of Latino households. This is not a natural difference—it is the end result of decades of public and private policies shaping who gets access to wealth-building tools, homeownership, and capital. Year after year, the divide widens, making it ever harder for those born with fewer resources to catch up, no matter how hard they work.
And consider childhood opportunity. Black children are 3.5 times more likely than white children to be in “chronically underfunded” schools, and twice as likely to be in districts failing to meet adequate funding altogether. The practical effect is that these children are asked to chase opportunity while starting a proverbial race several paces behind.
If this weren’t enough, recent federal actions have sharpened the edge. The “One Big Beautiful Bill,” signed into law just last month, took a wrecking ball to key supports relied upon by millions of families. SNAP was cut by $186 billion—about 20 percent—with Black and Latino households twice as likely as white families to be food insecure. Medicaid cuts, eligibility restrictions, and changes to the Child Tax Credit hit hardest where the need is greatest.
Those changes to the Child Tax Credit, for example, will render 2 million U.S. citizen children in mixed immigration status families ineligible for the payment. The ripple effects of these choices are profound, shaping not only what families bring home but what they dream is possible for their children.
And not to mention, these cuts will lead to job reductions in the public sector, a field that has historically provided Black Americans with a pathway to better, more equitable job opportunities and allowed them to build a modicum of wealth. Black employees make up nearly 20 percent of the overall federal workforce, with even higher rates in some of the agencies that are being particularly targeted for cuts.
For example, the workforce of the Department of Education, which is subject to an executive order to facilitate its closure, is over one third (36 percent) Black. The bill that there is nothing beautiful about will also scale back enforcement at the U.S. Equal Employment Opportunity Commission (EEOC), exposing Black and Brown workers to further racism and hostility—and lessens protections and accountability—in the private sector.
Additionally, provisions of the bill will shift billions of dollars worth of costs to state and local governments, forcing them to either cut services to their residents or reduce their workforce. Again, this reduction in state and local government jobs will disproportionately target Black households. For instance, 22 percent of Black women in the labor force held government positions in 2022, a higher rate than any other racial or gender group, with a significant portion of these being at the state and local level.
These persistent gaps are not just the detritus of a forgotten past; they are manufactured by way of structural economic deprivation, a social construct created to normalize and enable systemic limitations on the ability of lower income people and communities to access financial, health, education and social resources that build and sustain wealth, thereby all but ensuring a socio-economic strata with individuals, families and communities living perennially in or near poverty. This is why, for example, policy decisions about minimum wage, job protections, or benefits consistently shape that work is dignified with fair pay and stability for some and denied to others.
We have a long way to fully dismantle the generational economic insecurity created by the systems and structures of law and policy. However, we cannot begin that process while still not addressing the root of the problem; we cannot solve that which we do not measure.
The True Cost of Economic Security (TCES) measure, an economic tool created by the Urban Institute and commissioned by the National True Cost of Living Coalition, is a data-driven assessment of what families really need not just to survive, but to thrive. It counts the actual costs of housing, healthcare, food, childcare, and more, tailored to today’s realities.
This measure too demonstrates the racial inequity that persists today.It shows that 67 percent of Black households are economically insecure, compared to 42 percent for white households. It also provides a new and more accurate benchmark for us to strive toward, and with economic security as our standard, policy can finally match our values.
Imagine wages and structures built on that truth. Programs calibrated to actual living costs and the reality of what families are experiencing. Funding for schools and communities that begin with equity instead of scarcity. A standard of economic security shifts the minimum to mean dignity, agency, and opportunity, not just scraping by.
Change starts by insisting federal, state, and local governments, and even private institutions, use the TCES standard to guide policy. No more hiding behind arbitrary benchmarks. Only a clear line between getting by and truly thriving.
The structure of exclusion was built with intention. Let’s bring that same resolve to building its replacement, a new architecture of opportunity, belonging, and justice. The dream of 1963 was never modest. Neither can be the movement that finally brings it home.
Jennifer Jones Austin is the CEO of the Federation of Protestant Welfare Agencies (FPWA), an anti-poverty, policy and advocacy organization.
