Less Than 1%: Out of 2,400 Streaming Channels, Almost None Belong to Us. Here's What That Costs Our People
The numbers should make us pause.
There are roughly 2,400 streaming channels in today’s expanding media environment. Depending on the source and the definition used, the total number of free ad-supported television channels, often called FAST channels, can range from roughly 2,000 to more than 2,200. Tarik’s working number is 2,400.
The larger truth is this: fewer than 1% are estimated to be Black-owned and Black-controlled.
That figure is an estimate, not the result of one universal public ownership database. It should not be confused with the number of channels that feature Black actors, Black music, or Black-targeted programming. A channel can serve Black audiences without Black people owning the company, the technology, the advertising relationships, the data, or the decisions.
And that is the problem.
We are some of the greatest culture creators on the planet. We create the music, language, fashion, sports moments, dances, stories, and conversations that move billions of dollars. Yet we often do not own the means of production or distribution.
That is what less than 1% means.
Disclaimer: FAST channel counts vary by source and change quickly. The “roughly 2,400” figure is a working estimate, and the “less than 1% Black-owned” figure is an ownership estimate rather than a universally audited statistic. Ownership should mean meaningful equity, voting power, and operational control, not simply Black talent appearing on screen.
1. We are the culture creators, but not the owners
Black consumers and Black communities represent an economic force commonly discussed as a $2.1 trillion Black economy. Nielsen reported approximately $1.7 trillion in Black buying power and projected that figure would exceed $2 trillion by 2026.
That money is real. Our influence is real. Our audience is real.
But money spent is not the same as wealth owned.
When we watch a platform, click an advertisement, buy a subscription, share a show, or make a song go viral, we create value. The question is: who owns the channel receiving that value?
Black audiences are among the most engaged media audiences in the United States. Nielsen’s 2024 Black Audience report found that Black adults spend more than 81 hours each week with media. Black audiences also spend substantial time with connected television and streaming services.
Yet viewing power does not automatically become ownership power.
That is the difference between being the customer and being the shareholder. Between being the talent and owning the studio. Between leasing space inside somebody else’s system and owning the building.
The story of Esau selling his birthright for a bowl of beans is a warning that still speaks to us. A creator may receive a check today while giving away a name, likeness, master recording, publishing rights, or long-term control tomorrow.
A bowl of beans can look like a blessing when you are hungry.
But a birthright is worth more than a temporary meal.
2. Representation is not the same as ownership
Black talent is visible. Black ownership is not.
Nielsen found that 67% of Black audiences say there is not enough representative content on television, even though Black talent has made major gains in share of screen. This tells us something important: seeing Black faces is not the same as seeing our full experiences, history, complexity, and point of view.
Representation without control can become decoration.
Ownership determines:
- Which stories receive funding
- Which creators receive opportunities
- What gets preserved in an archive
- How Black communities are described
- Who controls the advertising revenue
- Who owns the audience data
- Which voices are considered “safe” or “marketable”
- Whether a platform survives when investors lose interest
A company can use Black culture as a business strategy without being accountable to Black communities.
We should not be satisfied with being the product while someone else owns the platform.
3. The historical receipts: when Black people organize, power often responds
This conversation does not exist in a vacuum.
The history of Black institution-building includes surveillance, infiltration, criminalization, and violence. The FBI’s COINTELPRO program targeted Black liberation organizations and other political movements through surveillance, infiltration, disinformation, and disruption. The program’s records are available through the FBI’s declassified COINTELPRO files.
J. Edgar Hoover publicly described Black nationalist organizing as a grave internal threat. The language of that era treated Black unity and independent political organization as dangers rather than democratic participation.
The violence surrounding Black leadership and organizing includes:
- The assassination of Medgar Evers
- The killing of Malcolm X
- The assassination of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.
- The 1969 police raid that killed Fred Hampton
- The 1985 bombing of the MOVE organization’s home and headquarters in Philadelphia, which killed 11 people, including children, and destroyed surrounding homes
- The 1989 mail-bomb murder of civil rights attorney and Savannah leader Robert “Robbie” Robinson
We must also be precise. These cases do not all carry the same evidence or legal finding. Robbie Robinson’s murder, for example, was committed by domestic terrorist Walter Moody, not proven to have been ordered by the government. The MOVE bombing, COINTELPRO, and police violence against Fred Hampton involve documented state actions and official abuses. Other assassinations remain surrounded by disputed evidence, unanswered questions, and competing interpretations.
Being truthful strengthens the argument. We do not need to turn every unanswered question into an authenticated fact.
The documented pattern is already serious enough: Black people who built institutions, organized communities, challenged authority, or created independent political power were often watched, attacked, discredited, or destroyed.
That history helps explain why ownership matters today.
A streaming platform may not look like a freedom organization. But it is an institution. It shapes memory, identity, education, and economic power.
4. What we lost: distribution, archives, and the right to tell our own story
Every generation creates knowledge. But if we do not own the archive, another institution can decide what survives.
Nagast describes The Archive as a collection of more than 5,000 DVDs spanning over 60 years of scholarship. This is more than a stack of discs. It is what we can call Cultural Intellectual Property: knowledge, lectures, documentaries, interviews, and historical records that belong to the intellectual life of a people.
It is a modern Tent of Shem: a place where memory, instruction, and identity can be protected.
The scholars connected to this tradition include:
- Dr. John Henrik Clarke
- Dr. Phil Valentine
- Dr. Frances Cress Welsing
- Professor Griff
- Ivan Van Sertima
- Dr. Ben
Their work challenged the idea that Black people have no history, no intellectual tradition, and no authority over our own story.
An archive gives the next generation a chance to encounter that work instead of depending entirely on institutions that may ignore it, distort it, or make access temporary.
Ownership means preserving knowledge before it disappears.
5. Genesis 9:27 does not curse Ham
Religious language has also been used to justify Black dispossession.
Genesis 9:27 says:
“May God enlarge Japheth, and let him dwell in the tents of Shem; and let Canaan be his servant.”
The passage does not say that Ham was cursed. The curse in the surrounding passage is placed on Canaan, not Ham. Genesis 9:27 also contains no reference to skin color.
The so-called “curse of Ham” doctrine was later used to rationalize slavery, colonialism, segregation, and the belief that Black people were created to serve others.
We should not accept a doctrine built to justify our subjugation.
The same principle applies to media. We were not created to permanently live in somebody else’s tent, contribute the value, and receive only temporary permission to enter.
We need our own tents: our own archives, platforms, studios, distribution systems, and ownership structures.
6. Nagast Entertainment Network is an alternative
Nagast Entertainment Network on Roku represents the kind of alternative this moment requires: a Black-owned, Black-operated media network designed to serve Black audiences and creators.
The goal is not to isolate ourselves from the world. The goal is to stop depending on institutions that can remove our history, undervalue our talent, or profit from our culture without sharing control.
Ownership gives us the ability to build:
- Black-centered programming
- Educational and historical content
- Independent films and documentaries
- Music, comedy, sports, and community conversations
- A permanent home for cultural archives
- New opportunities for Black producers, writers, technicians, and entrepreneurs
7. The dollar must follow the vision
Black ownership is not only a slogan. It is a practice.
It means supporting Black-owned media, subscribing to Black-owned platforms, sharing Black-owned programming, funding Black creators, and investing in institutions that preserve our history.
It also means recognizing the difference between buying a product and building an ecosystem.
A purchase from a black owned sneaker company helps sustain a business. Choosing black owned sneakers, a black-owned shoe store, or a black-owned boot company supports ownership in the marketplace.
A pair of red black and green sneakers, a Marcus Garvey hoodie, or an Egyptian sweater can carry a message, but the deeper message is where the money goes.
This is also the purpose of the Nagast Community Fund: to connect commerce with community development and help turn cultural pride into lasting institutions.
On the National Day of Prayer for Forgiveness and Unity, we should pray, but we should also build. We should ask forgiveness for the ways we have abandoned one another’s institutions, then redirect our dollars toward ownership, education, archives, and media infrastructure.
Summary: We cannot lease our birthright forever
Less than 1% Black ownership across roughly 2,400 streaming channels is not just a media statistic. It is a warning about power.
We are heavy users of media, powerful consumers, and unmatched culture creators. But unless we own the platforms, archives, companies, technology, and distribution systems, our influence remains vulnerable.
Esau sold his birthright for a bowl of beans. Today, creators can make the same mistake by selling their name, likeness, publishing rights, masters, and cultural labor for short-term checks.
The answer is not simply more Black faces on someone else’s channel.
The answer is Black ownership.
Own the platform. Protect the archive. Fund the community. Support Black-owned businesses. Build institutions our children can inherit.
That is how we move from being the culture’s greatest contributors to becoming owners of the means of production.