Black art is everywhere in Cincinnati. Equity is not

Jan. 20, 2026, 9:32 a.m. ET

Artists and community members touch up the Black Lives Matter! Mural along Plum Street in front of City Hall, Wednesday, June 15, 2022, in Cincinnati. Artists with Black Art Speaks and community volunteers refreshed the outline of each letter.

Cincinnati loves our rhythm. But it has also played a role in creating our blues. That tension between celebration and harm is written all over our city’s art.

I walk through Cincinnati, and I see murals, sculptures, and installations that are undeniably beautiful. I’m proud of that. Art matters. Art heals. Art tells stories.

But what we see on the walls is only part of the story. The real story lives behind the scenes in the contracts, the budgets, who gets selected, and who owns what when the paint dries. That’s where the truth lives. And the truth is this: Black people are still being left out.

Rhythm on display, harm behind the scenes

Cincinnati celebrates Black culture loudly. Our rhythm, creativity, and style give this city its edge and soul. But too often, that celebration stops short of real investment in Black people.

We are invited to create. We are asked to inspire. And then we watch other people profit.

People love to say, “Look how far we’ve come.” But I look closer and ask a different question: Who actually benefited?

Because it’s one thing to love our culture. It’s another thing to share power, ownership, and opportunity with the people who created it.

Black culture looks good. It feels good. It makes people smile and feel alive. But when it comes to paying Black people fairly for that culture, Cincinnati has missed the mark.

I didn’t arrive at this understanding casually.

I learned how systems really work

Before Black Art Speaks, before murals and public art, corporate America was where I grew up. I’ve always been committed to social justice; that part isn’t new. But corporate America is where I learned how systems actually work: how power moves, how inequity hides, and how accountability is enforced.

Corporate America has flaws. But it has rules. Policies. HR departments. Reporting structures. At least an expectation, sometimes performative, sometimes real, but an expectation nonetheless.

When I entered the art world, I was shocked. There were no rules. No HR. No oversight. No consistent accountability.

The truth is, you can’t and shouldn’t regulate art, but too many people take advantage of that reality.

What I quickly realized is that inequity in the arts can be worse than in corporate America. The gaps are wider. Favoritism goes unchecked. And Black artists are often expected to accept it quietly, and be grateful for “exposure” while someone else cashes the check.

We are celebrated publicly and dismissed privately. Too often, our voices aren’t silenced loudly, but strategically. When our truth doesn’t fit the celebration of the moment, we’re told to soften it, delay it, or redirect it. We’re told which parts of our story are acceptable to tell.

Be inspiring, but not angry. Be cultural, but not political. Be historical, but not current.

That’s not storytelling. That’s containment.

Exposure doesn’t pay the bills

At the same time, our ideas are captured. Our language is reused. Our vision is repackaged and resold, often by people with more access, more funding, and more credibility in rooms we’re still trying to enter.

That’s not collaboration. That’s extraction.

And too often, we’re forced to fight each other for one spot, one mural, one grant, one commission instead of building systems where many Black artists can thrive and lead. If anyone wants a clear example, look at ROMAC, the Robert O’Neal Multicultural Arts Center. A Black-led vision meant to honor our history and future has been waiting years for funding while other institutions move forward with speed and confidence.

That’s not coincidence. That’s priority.

Access circulates in familiar circles

This pattern shows up everywhere. Too often, Cincinnati turns to the same organizations again and again, tapping the same shoulders, circulating the same opportunities while overlooking Black artists who are already here. The ones raising families here. Mentoring youth here. Shaping culture here. Local Black artists are left on the margins, underpaid, or passed over entirely, not because of a lack of talent, but because access keeps moving in familiar circles.

So when people stop in front of a mural and say, “This is beautiful,” they should also ask: Who got paid and at what percentage? Because that’s where equity either shows up or it doesn’t.

I want to acknowledge the meaningful opportunities and support that have embraced Black Art Speaks, from the city of Cincinnati to many partner organizations, without which I likely would not be writing this today. But gratitude does not erase the need for continued action, accountability, and progress.

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