Was Trump Right About Tariffs? A Hard Look at China, the WTO, and Black Economics

What the mainstream leaders won’t say: How global trade policy helped erase Black middle-class power!

For decades, Americans were told that globalization would lift all boats. That opening trade with China and playing by the World Trade Organization’s rules would benefit workers, increase access to cheap goods, and spur innovation. But for many working Americans—especially in Black communities—the results were far more destructive than advertised.

When Donald Trump imposed sweeping tariffs on Chinese imports and challenged the foundations of global trade, it sent shockwaves through Washington. Critics called it reckless. Supporters called it patriotic. But buried beneath the political noise lies a deeper question: Was he right?

China’s entry into the WTO in 2001 fundamentally reshaped the global economy. American corporations rushed to outsource jobs, lured by cheap labor and weak environmental standards. The result? U.S. manufacturing collapsed, and with it, the economic foundation of many Black working-class communities.

Cities like Detroit, Gary, Birmingham, and Baltimore—once powered by Black labor in union jobs—saw factories close, wages stagnate, and wealth vanish. The U.S. lost millions of jobs. China’s GDP soared. And the WTO, designed to promote fair trade, did little to stop the bleeding.

Trump’s tariff policy was based on a simple idea: if you tax our goods, we’ll tax yours. His administration called it “reciprocal trade.” Critics called it a trade war. But the data reveals something important: for the first time in decades, China faced economic consequences for its practices—from forced technology transfers to currency manipulation and illegal subsidies.

The tariffs didn’t just target China. They challenged a broken system that had long prioritized multinational profits over local industry. Wall Street hated them. But for many forgotten towns and cities, they signaled a long-overdue reckoning.

Here’s where the conversation gets quiet: while Trump framed his tariffs around “the American worker,” Black America was rarely mentioned—by him or by our own Black leaders. And yet, Black communities were hit hardest by the very trade policies Trump was attacking.

While the media obsesses over Wall Street and market volatility, what they fail to say is this: the stock market isn’t the economy — and it damn sure isn’t the Black economy. Less than 35% of Black Americans own stocks, compared to nearly 60% of white Americans. So when trade tensions rattle the markets, the pain felt in Black communities isn’t measured in falling portfolios — it’s measured in job losses, rent hikes, grocery bills, and small Black businesses closing their doors. Wall Street may dip, but Black Main Street takes the fall. And while billionaires worry about quarterly earnings, Black families are still waiting for the return of an economy that includes them all.

Read: Countries Line Up Behind Trump as China Faces 145% Tariff Wall — Is This Strategic Isolation or Economic Warfare?

I live in Westchester County, New York, and according to the 1992 African American Advisory Board Report, the Black middle class was once anchored by the General Motors plant in Tarrytown. That factory didn’t just provide jobs—it built lives. It allowed Black families to buy homes, raise families, and send their children to college. It was a cornerstone of generational wealth in the region, one of the few footholds into the American Dream for Black working-class families.

But when that plant closed—the precursor of the broader outsourcing wave that followed China’s entry into the WTO—the consequences were devastating. Not just for those who lost jobs, but for entire communities. Today, young Black couples can no longer afford to buy homes in Westchester County. The same neighborhoods their parents helped build are now financially out of reach.

And yet, despite this economic trauma, Black political leaders have been largely absent from the national conversation about trade. Instead of addressing the root causes of Black economic decline, the focus remains on symbolic representation—not structural repair. While some Black leaders host wine-and-cheese panels about how much they despise Trump, they remain silent about the trade policies that gutted the Black working class. Some in the Black elite have enough presence for the media and social spaces—but not enough courage to speak for the millions of Black men who can’t find jobs, the many Black cities economically void of Black businesses, or the food lines and homeless shelters overflowing with our people. Meanwhile, young Black children are barely graduating, trapped in cycles of poverty, crime, and violence, with no vision for a future in a global economy that has long since written them off. And after all this, Black Leaders have the Unmitigated gall to act like Black people are winning!

The number of Black men enrolling in college has declined steadily since 2010, dropping by over 30% in just 14 years. This trend reflects deepening socioeconomic barriers, lack of targeted support, and a growing disillusionment with higher education as a path to upward mobility. At many HBCUs, enrollment rates for Black men are at their lowest levels since the 1970s. Without urgent investment in culturally relevant education and economic pathways, an entire generation risks being locked out of both opportunity and influence.

Factory and manual labor jobs were the backbone of the Black middle class. These jobs didn’t require degrees, but they paid well, offered union protection, and gave Black men the dignity of providing for their families. According to U.S. Bureau of Labor Statistics data, the average factory job today pays over $72,000 a year. The average Black man in America earns just $45,000. That gap is not just economic—it’s generational. It’s the difference between owning a home and renting forever. Between sending your kids to college or burying them before they graduate high school. When those jobs disappeared and nothing replaced them, Black communities were set adrift.

Without meaningful work, there can be no economic independence, no strong families, and no stable future. No jobs means no power—and no future. We are witnessing the long-term effects right now: broken homes, abandoned neighborhoods, rising violence, and a generation of young people with nowhere to go but the streets or a prison cell. If we don’t rebuild economic infrastructure that includes Black labor and Black ownership, the future will continue to collapse beneath our feet.

Trade policy has never been race-neutral. It has created winners and losers—and Black America has too often been among the latter.

Trump’s rhetoric may have been brash, but his challenge to the WTO and China’s economic grip was about something deeper: sovereignty. Who controls our economy? Who benefits from our trade deals? Who gets left behind?

If the global economic system is being rewritten—and it is—then Black America must do more than show up. We must be positioned to lead. Our so-called leaders with platforms need to move beyond emotional soundbites and stop fixating on how much they hate Trump. That kind of rhetoric may be cathartic, but it doesn’t build power or produce results. Trump is the president now—and likely will be for the next four years.
Meanwhile, young Black people can’t afford to wait, hope, or vote their way into an economic miracle that hasn’t existed for the last 25 years, especially not from a Democratic Party that played a central role in shipping factories—and generational wealth—out of our communities. We can no longer settle for symbolic gestures or performative equity. We must demand real, material inclusion in the new economy—regardless of who occupies the White House. That means investment in clean tech manufacturing, vocational training, trade infrastructure, export policy, and an industrial strategy that puts Black labor and Black ownership at the center.

Trump may not have had Black communities in mind when he launched his trade war—but that doesn’t mean Black communities didn’t have a stake in the outcome. We do. We always have. And if we don’t start speaking with authority on trade, tariffs, and industrial strategy, we’ll continue to bear the consequences of decisions made without us.

Trade justice isn’t just a white working-class issue. It’s a Black survival issue. And it’s time we start treating it like one.

📚 References & Data Sources

1. U.S. Bureau of Labor Statistics (BLS)
   www.bls.gov
   • Labor force participation, manufacturing employment, government job growth
   • Average wage comparisons by race and industry
2. U.S. Census Bureau
   www.census.gov
   • Median earnings, household income, and homeownership data by race
   • Demographic breakdowns of education and economic outcomes
3. Economic Policy Institute (EPI)
   www.epi.org
   • Reports on U.S.–China trade impacts
   • “Growing China Trade Deficit Cost 3.4 Million American Jobs Between 2001 and 2017”
   • Manufacturing job loss and wage stagnation trends
4. National Bureau of Economic Research (NBER)
   www.nber.org
   • Studies on racial wage gaps, deindustrialization, and labor trends
5. Center for Strategic and International Studies (CSIS)
   www.csis.org
   • Analysis of U.S. economic transformation and the impact of globalization
6. Brookings Institution
   www.brookings.edu
   • Data on Black economic mobility and post-industrial urban decline
   • Research on the racial wealth gap and housing inequality
7. Federal Reserve Bank
   www.federalreserve.gov
   • Reports on wealth accumulation, income disparities, and housing patterns in Black communities
8. Congressional Research Service (CRS)
   crsreports.congress.gov
   • Trade policy history, WTO analysis, and tariff legislation summaries
9. American Institute for Boys and Men
   www.americanboysandmen.org
   • Reports on Black male college enrollment
   • Recent findings on a 25% enrollment drop at HBCUs since 2010
10. Georgetown University Center on Education and the Workforce
    https://cew.georgetown.edu
    • Education trends, economic returns on college, and race/gender disparities
11. NPR Education
    www.npr.org/education
    • Coverage on Black male enrollment decline at colleges and HBCUs