To Be Black, Female, and Unemployed

This article appears in the December 2025 issue of The American Prospect magazine. Subscribe here.

When the unemployment rate for African American women hit nearly 7 percent in August, alarms went off in Black communities across the country. One of the most widely reported developments was that in the first half of 2025, 300,000 Black women left the workforce. Coupled with a rapid rise in overall unemployment, some economists warned that this shocking development signaled the strong possibility of a recession or worse.

“The patterns that befall Black workers are frequently the patterns that are predictive of what’s coming for other groups in society at some point later on,” says Adia Harvey Wingfield, a professor of sociology at Washington University. The Bureau of Labor Statistics (BLS) began reporting the unemployment rates for Black women and men in 1972. In 1983, Black women saw their highest rate of unemployment ever, coming in at a whopping 18.6 percent, a product of the recession of 1982. The recessionary pressures ebbed, but the Black-white unemployment gaps persisted: The rates for Black Americans have typically been double those of their white counterparts.

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The crusade against diversity, equity, and inclusion (DEI) is also a major factor in job loss among Black women in both the public and private sectors. “That is an area where you will see more Black workers doing that work: We’re being pushed out and shut down as companies are retreating from these efforts and from that commitment,” says Wingfield. When the Trump administration made the decision to shutter all DEI programs, destroy any related jobs, and prosecute employers who use those frameworks in the name of restoring “merit-based” hiring, Black women did and will continue to suffer the fallout. The private sector has followed suit. National Public Radio reported that there were only 17,700 DEI jobs nationwide in January 2025, down from 20,000 positions in January 2023.

The administration’s retreat on the types of federal data being collected as well asgrants to fund race, gender, and poverty research has also had a tremendous impact on progress in understanding the economic hurdles facing Black women. Government officials who offer evidence that throws the credibility of the Trump administration into question have been targeted. After the BLS released a jobs report that showcased a significant slowdown in hiring during the first half of the year, Trump fired the agency’s commissioner, Erika McEntarfer, accusing her of “faking” statistics.

Downsizing the federal workforce has had a tremendous impact on Black women, who constitute around 12 percent of the federal workforce. Although Black women are employed across the government, certain sectors such as education, health, and housing have higher percentages of Black workers. These sectors have seen severe cuts to Black women employees, who often work in administrative or public-facing roles—jobs that are often the first to go during layoffs.

Economic stability for individuals and families depends on stable finances and, especially during periods of unemployment, can even hinge on the availability of emergency funds. “Even when you have high-earning Black women, higher-earning Black families, they’re living those earnings, they’re eating those earnings,” says Anna Branch, the senior vice president for equity at Rutgers University. This is due to the significant gap between Black and white wealth, even within the middle and upper-middle classes. “The class metric is not a security metric. It doesn’t mean there’s no anxiety, and in some ways … having more meant you had more to lose.”

The systemic racism and sexism Black women face complicate their affordability challenges, which differ dramatically from those of most white Americans. When Black women lose jobs, household expenditures take a major hit. In the early 21st century, the truism “When white America catches a cold, Black America catches pneumonia” still applies: Black women in the Trump era are finding themselves having to power through these serious economic repercussions.

A 2022 ANALYSIS BY THE CENSUS BUREAU found that Black households were more likely to be helmed by a woman, while the Pew Research Center has reported that 1 in 4 Black wives outearn their husbands. When factors like inflation come into play, Black Americans end up facing extreme financial hardships more than white Americans, particularly in areas where women are primarily responsible for seeking care providers for themselves or their families.

When it comes to expenses related to children, 24 percent of Black women with children at home devote 20 percent of their income to child care, which isn’t cheap: In 2022, families with one child spent between $6,552 and $15,600 a year on full-time day care. For an unemployed woman with a working partner, these expenses carry a deeper financial burden and may force difficult choices: A woman seeking employment may have to give up child care that she depends on.

But what about the costs that mount before a child is born? Maternal care often brings affordability, access, and quality concerns for Black women “We have a maternal health crisis that we are grappling with in this country right now. Black women are three times more likely to die of pregnancy-related causes compared to their white counterparts,” says Jamila K. Taylor, president of the Institute for Women’s Policy Research.

Chronic health conditions like high blood pressure play a major role in pregnancy, and Black women are 50 percent more likely to be diagnosed with hypertension than white women. High blood pressure, along with diabetes, creates a higher risk of deadly conditions such as preeclampsia. Under the Affordable Care Act (ACA), most health insurance plans (private and public, including enrollment through employment) cover maternity care, including preventative services. By law, plans under the ACA are prohibited from denying coverage for pre-existing conditions during pregnancy.

Mental health disorders can also affect pregnancy outcomes, and certain conditions stem from the pressures of racism. Toxic stress, or “weathering,” is a result of consistent experiences with things such as racial or gender discrimination, poverty, and trauma. Living with the burden of constant stress leads to the weakening of the immune system and can exacerbate other health issues—a cycle expensive to address without health insurance.

Losing a job often means that the comprehensive health care coverage that covers most of the costs of pregnancy-related care is terminated. Unemployed Black women have limited choices: COBRA, a temporary and expensive continuation of a health care plan, or out-of-pocket payments for doctor’s appointments. Otherwise, the person can seek out Medicaid, if they qualify. In 2023, Black people made up a little more than 20 percent of enrollees of Medicaid, while constituting around 13.5 percent of the U.S. population. 4.4 million Black women receive their health insurance through Medicaid, and of those around 2.5 million are of reproductive age. But cuts made to Medicaid and the ACA under the One Big Beautiful Bill Act (OBBBA) are projected to increase the number of uninsured Americans by over 14 million.

Black women who find themselves at this crossroads will be forced to make difficult choices, which can further exacerbate pre-existing health conditions and toxic stress. “Some people are going to decide to forgo health insurance coverage because that could be one of the largest costs for your household,” says Taylor. It’s not just more expensive to pay out of pocket; pregnancy risks may go undiagnosed if a woman doesn’t see a doctor regularly, and any savings a woman or a household has may end up paying for emergency room care, because she cannot afford regular maternal care visits.

Access to various types of gynecological and obstetrics care is a crucial aspect of the affordability conversation. In the wake of the Dobbs decision overturning Roe v. Wade, private clinics that provide abortion services have lost funding and closed across the country. Planned Parenthood was completely defunded under the OBBBA, a major blow to a key provider of low-cost reproductive, sexual health, and family planning services. Traveling for abortion or other reproductive care from states with restrictions and failing to obtain it also comes at a great cost to Black women.

Hospital closures also have a significant impact on people who live in maternity care deserts: In 2020, 1 in 6 Black babies were born in areas with limited or no access to maternity care services. Around 35 percent of counties are classified as maternity care deserts, and they are mostly concentrated in the South, where over half of African Americans live, and the Midwest. Many pregnant people are then forced to travel to access maternal health care, which becomes yet another added cost to ensure a safe pregnancy. In Mississippi, for example, more than 50 percent of counties are defined as maternity care deserts, and in the Mississippi Delta, which is predominantly Black, there is no neonatal intensive care unit. The state’s only facility is in Jackson.

TRUMP ADMINISTRATION POLICIES—from levying tariffs to refusing to fully fund SNAP—have significantly raised the costs of shopping for healthy food. In 2023, 47.4 million Americans lived in food insecure households and 23.3 percent of Black households experienced food insecurity, which was more than double that of White non-Hispanic households, while nearly a third of Black children lived in food insecure households. Although non-Hispanic white Americans are the highest recipients of Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program (SNAP) benefits, representing 44.6 percent of adult beneficiaries, Black people constitute about 27 percent.

Similar to the fate of Medicaid under the OBBBA, changes to SNAP eligibility will lead to around three million people losing their benefits, which will have a disproportionate impact on Black recipients. Although the Special Supplemental Nutrition Program for Women, Infants, and Children (WIC) was not targeted by the OBBBA, changing the requirements to qualify for SNAP (and Medicaid) benefits will produce an indirect impact on the program. It’s been estimated that over three million women and children would lose their income eligibility for WIC if they can no longer access Medicaid. In 2021, more than one million Black women and their children participated in WIC, reflecting a nearly 50 percent participation rate among those who were eligible. During times of personal economic instability, programs such as SNAP and WIC can play a massive role in ensuring that food insecurity does not worsen.

Where an African American woman lives is a prime determinant of food affordability. Just as redlining defines the housing and financial options available to Black people, what some researchers call “food apartheid” occurs in areas where community members have limited or no access to grocery stores with fresh, healthy, and affordable food options. This supermarket scarcity is due primarily to corporate grocers’ own business decision-making.

On average, women are more likely than men to act as the primary grocery shopper in their households, so challenges related to food accessibility and affordability often land on them. During periods of unemployment when one has very little financial stability or savings, these costs pile up—especially when it’s more difficult than ever to receive governmental assistance to pay for food.

Not having a car and living more than one mile away from a supermarket is the reality for more than 2.2 million Americans and introduces major grocery shopping, travel, and cost issues. On average, white neighborhoods have four times as many supermarkets as some predominantly Black ones. Eight percent of Black Americans live in a census tract that has a supermarket, compared to 31 percent of white people.

Food options in such areas are typically limited to smaller convenience stores, fast-food chains, or even dollar stores, while healthier fare is typically more expensive (especially when factoring in the influence of inflation on cost) and located farther away, forcing community members to choose what’s closer and cheaper, which may be unhealthier. Some Black and low-income neighborhoods do not host farmers markets, and residents may not have the ability to travel to local markets or farm stands, which limits access to fresh food.

In neighborhoods east of the Anacostia River (Wards 7 and 8) in Washington, D.C., Black residents have long experienced a lack of major grocery options compared to other areas in the city. Ward 8, which is 82 percent Black, contains only a single supermarket, which has been at high risk of closure. Between 2010 and 2020, Wards 7 and 8 lost four of their seven grocery stores.

Inconsistent access to healthy food options has long-term effects on the health of Black people. “We know that food insecurity can negatively impact a range of experiences and outcomes, including health and the ability for children to learn,” says LesLeigh Ford, an associate director at the Urban Institute. Poor diet can create or exacerbate health issues such as hypertension and diabetes, conditions that can be expensive to treat—especially when unemployed and/or uninsured. It connects directly back to disparities in health care affordability and access, acting as an insidious cycle that leaves Black communities, and Black women, consistently impacted by structural racism.

UNDERSTANDING THE AFFORDABILITY ISSUES that uniquely impact Black women requires voluminous amounts of real-world economic and demographic data. But many researchers now worry about coming up with reliable federal and state-level statistics on race and gender. “This administration has a policy of rolling back the ways we track diversity, equity, and inclusion,” says Janelle Jones, vice president of policy and program at the Washington Center for Equitable Growth. “It’s going to be really hard to say just how widespread and how hard-felt this is going to be when we don’t actually have the numbers that help us determine that on a regular basis.”

These losses will add another layer of work for economists and other analysts trying to devise new policies that will help Black women re-enter the workforce after periods of unemployment that may affect their ability to secure critical maternal care and to budget for groceries. Black women don’t “bounce back” as quickly after times of economic instability, says Ford. “Black folks lost more, and it has taken us a longer time to try to rebuild what we have lost.”

The Trump administration is hell-bent on reversing progress that’s been made over the past decade. As the country leans into an unprecedented social and economic crisis, the future seems bleak. If the past has taught us anything, the ability to persevere despite mounting economic struggles will most definitely frame Black women’s experiences in the years ahead.

This article appears in Dec 2025 Issue.