The Mentality of Society: The Black Dollar and Racial Disparities in St. Petersburg, FL

When we talk about the mentality of society, we’re talking about more than just attitudes—we’re talking about embedded systems. It’s the difference between a racist person and a society that runs on racial inequity. That’s where the story of America gets real. From the Jim Crow era to the streets of modern-day St. Petersburg, Florida, white supremacy was never just a belief—it was designed into laws, schools, banks, and neighborhoods. It still shows up today, just in more polished ways.

The legacy of Jim Crow was never just about segregation. It was a coordinated structure built to maintain racial hierarchy. Legislation made it legal. Education made it acceptable. Media made it popular. Religion made it moral. And economics made it profitable. Even after civil rights laws were passed, those structures didn’t vanish—they adapted. And St. Petersburg, like many cities in America, reflects that transformation.

Take income inequality, for example. In St. Pete, white households earn a median income of $79,545. Black households? $52,891. That’s a gap of over $26,000. This isn’t a matter of work ethic—it’s a matter of historical barriers: redlining, job discrimination, and underinvestment in Black neighborhoods that are still playing catch-up decades later.

The story continues with housing. The same neighborhoods that were once denied loans during the redlining era are now facing a new pressure: gentrification. Older, affordable buildings—many of them in historically Black communities—are being torn down for luxury apartments. Rising costs are pushing families out of neighborhoods they’ve lived in for generations. Sound familiar? It should. It’s a modern remix of displacement that dates back to urban renewal projects that bulldozed Black wealth in the name of progress.

Then there’s policing. In St. Petersburg, Black men are twice as likely to be pulled over for investigatory stops than white men. That kind of policing doesn’t just reinforce fear—it reinforces the message that Black lives are more suspicious, more criminal, and more expendable. These stops aren’t random—they’re built into a system that sees Blackness as a threat.

Even health outcomes tell the same story. In parts of St. Pete like the 22nd Avenue S corridor, life expectancy is more than eight years shorter than in wealthier (and whiter) parts of Pinellas County. That’s not about genetics. That’s about access to doctors, clean air, healthy food, safe housing, and mental health care—things that zip codes often determine more than personal choices do.

So where does this all come together? One word: economics. Specifically, the Black Dollar.

The Black Dollar represents the collective spending power of Black Americans—how money moves through (or quickly out of) Black communities. Nationally, Black Americans hold over $1.6 trillion in buying power. In St. Petersburg, Black households contribute an estimated $1.26 billion annually to the economy. That’s power.

But here’s the problem: that money doesn’t stay. On average, the Black Dollar circulates within the Black community for only six hours. Compare that to 17 days in white communities or 30 in Asian communities. That’s a critical problem. It means that even when money is earned, it’s not building lasting wealth. It’s not creating jobs in the community. It’s not funding schools, businesses, or generational assets. It’s leaking out faster than it can make a difference.

Why? Because of structural gaps. Black-owned businesses are underfunded. Access to capital is still racially skewed. Banks deny loans, appraisers undervalue Black-owned homes, and zoning laws block affordable housing. It’s not just what’s happening—it’s what’s not happening. And that makes all the difference.

The good news? It’s fixable. When the Black Dollar stays in the Black community, even a little longer, things shift. Jobs get created. Neighborhoods stabilize. Futures grow. We’ve seen it with movements like #BuyBlack, platforms like WeBuyBlack and EatOkra, and local entrepreneurship programs. The tools exist. The question is whether the systems—and the people who run them—will allow that kind of growth to thrive.

The mentality of society isn’t set in stone. It’s shaped every day by what we invest in, what we ignore, and who we decide matters. The Black Dollar isn’t just money—it’s potential. And in a city like St. Petersburg, where the scars of the past still show on the surface, honoring that potential means doing more than talking about equity. It means building it—one dollar, one business, one neighborhood at a time.

Because when we let that dollar stay home just a little longer, it’s not just the economy that grows—it’s the whole community.