That was actually one of the most illuminating things in the report, how honestly the fathers and Black men talked about their own vulnerability, which I think is a testament to that resiliency that you're talking about. How did you, as researchers, set the conditions that allowed for Black men and fathers to be vulnerable and provide you with those responses?

It really came down to our approach and how we engaged the men from the very beginning. We held focus groups with about 172 Black men and fathers across Chicago, in partnership with Equity and Transformation. But what made the difference was that many of these men were already connected to our programs. There was a foundation of trust. They didn’t just see us as researchers. They also saw us as part of an opportunity structure they could rely on, even before we asked a single question about jobs or family life.

We were also really intentional about who facilitated those conversations. Our focus group facilitators were Black men from the same communities, men with lived experience who could relate to what participants were going through. That matters. People open up when they feel seen, not studied. And we made sure our facilitators were trained in restorative justice practices, because we knew the conversations could unearth a lot of pain.

When you're talking about Black men and the inability to work, or the struggle to provide, it cuts deep. It touches on identity, self-worth, and the weight of expectation. So, we created space for those feelings. We made it clear that their stories would be handled with care, and that they weren’t just venting into the void. We let them know: What you’re sharing with us is going to shape real solutions. This isn’t just research. It’s restoration work.

And I think that’s why they were willing to be so raw and real with us. Because we met them with respect, with empathy, and with a commitment to do something meaningful with what they gave us.

You provide so many strong examples of what systemic injustice looks like in practicality. And one of the ones that I've been interested in since working with Ascend but, is the issue of the burden of child support debt, particularly for men impacted by mass incarceration. I'm wondering if you could explain why child support debt is so emblematic of these systemic issues.

That’s a really important question, and honestly, one that doesn’t get nearly enough attention. Child support debt is a prime example of how systems that are supposed to support families end up doing real harm, especially to Black fathers. And while child support debt can impact all fathers, there’s a disproportionate burden placed on Black men, particularly those who’ve been impacted by incarceration.

What often happens is that child support orders are set based on outdated or inflated income estimates. They don’t reflect a father’s actual financial situation, especially if he’s working low-wage or unstable jobs. So, from the very beginning, the amount he’s ordered to pay may already be unrealistic. Then, if he ends up incarcerated, that order doesn’t automatically adjust. Unless there’s a formal modification, which can be hard to access, that debt just keeps building while he’s behind bars and unable to earn any income.

Even though some legislative reforms have been introduced in recent years to make child support more responsive to the realities of incarceration, we still have far too many men stuck under the weight of old orders and back-owed debt. And the consequences are devastating. Any money they manage to earn, especially from formal employment, gets heavily garnished. That makes it even harder to stabilize their own lives, much less support their children in meaningful ways.

But beyond the financial strain, there’s an emotional and psychological toll. Men have told us about the shame, the frustration, the deep sense of failure. It leaves many of them feeling disposable, unseen, as if their only worth is tied to a dollar amount.

And that’s one of the most painful truths: the system reduces fatherhood to a financial transaction. It overlooks all the other ways that dads contribute, emotionally, spiritually, through time and presence. It sends the message that if you can’t pay, you don’t matter. And in that way, it criminalizes poverty. It punishes men not for being unwilling, but for being unable to meet an unrealistic financial demand.

If we’re serious about strengthening families, we must stop using child support as a tool of punishment. We need to reimagine the system so that it sees Black fathers as full partners in parenting, not just as paychecks. That means recognizing their value beyond money, supporting their efforts to be present in their children’s lives, and creating policies rooted in dignity, equity, and care. When we do that, we don’t just help fathers. We help entire families and communities thrive.

When I saw reparations as a policy recommendation in your report, I started thinking back to some of Dr. Sandy Darity's work at Duke, which I know you're familiar with.

And one of the through lines in that work is the importance of having the political will necessary to move policy solutions forward. You can have really well designed policies, but if you don't have the will to enact policies, it’s hard to make change. So realizing that the report hasn't been out all that long yet, but what have you noticed any findings or recommendations that seem to be resonating with people in a way that might start to grow the political will?

One area that’s definitely gaining traction is the recommendation around guaranteed income. The organization we partnered with, Equity and Transformation (EAT), has already been doing powerful work in this space. They've led efforts to create targeted guaranteed income pilots for system-impacted folks here in Chicago, primarily Black men.

At FFHC, we’re building on that momentum. Right now, we’re laying the groundwork for a targeted guaranteed income program specifically for Black fathers. We’re studying what’s been done, learning from organizations that have implemented similar efforts, and engaging with the philanthropic sector to explore what long-term investment could look like. And because we’re based in Chicago, we’re fortunate to be in a city that’s already piloted guaranteed income at the municipal level. So locally, there’s definitely an appetite for deeper conversations about what a targeted guaranteed income model could mean for justice-impacted Black men and fathers.

The second area where I’m seeing movement is around investing in fatherhood programming. Now, I’ll be honest, I’m not always a fan of how people enter the conversation. Too often, it starts from a deficit-based perspective, framing Black fathers as problems to be fixed. But for us, the approach is entirely different. We see these men as assets, to their children, to their families, and to their communities.

And it’s not just about funding fatherhood programs. The type of programming matters just as much as the investment. We need trauma-informed, culturally grounded, and strengths-based approaches that see Black fathers not as broken, but as burdened. When you invest in our healing, our leadership, and our wholeness, that’s when you start to stabilize families, strengthen communities, and interrupt cycles of harm that have been engineered over generations.

For me, the recommendations in the report weren’t about making a political pitch. They were about telling the truth. We laid out what needs to happen because it’s right. It’s just. It’s necessary. Whether policymakers or institutions choose to act on that is their decision, but our responsibility is to make it plain. To name what justice looks like for Black men and fathers. This report isn’t about asking nicely. It’s about offering a clear roadmap toward dignity, equity, and repair. What folks do with that truth will reveal where their values really stand.

If you had a magic wand to enact one policy solution what would it be? 

Without question, I’d use it to implement a comprehensive reparations program. That’s the policy solution that sits at the root of so much of what we’re dealing with today. The racial wealth gap in this country didn’t just happen, it was built, brick by brick, through generations of government-sanctioned harm. Slavery, Jim Crow, redlining, mass incarceration, these were all policies, not accidents.

So, if policy created the gap, then policy must close it. And the federal government, the same one that upheld those systems of oppression, is both responsible and fully capable of doing that work.

Reparations, to me, isn’t about handouts. It’s about repair. It’s about recognizing the debt that’s owed and making real investments in Black communities to restore what’s been systematically taken. And no, it’s not just about money. It’s about land, housing, education, and economic opportunity. It’s about giving Black people not just a way out, but a way forward.

At the end of the day, this isn’t about charity. It’s about divine justice. Reparations is how we begin to right the wrongs and, assuming no new atrocities occur, finally create the conditions for Black men, fathers, families, and communities to truly thrive.