Underinvestment in rural America hits the most vulnerable communities hardest

People should not have to leave rural communities to find better economic opportunities for themselves and their families, especially when there is so much talent and capability right here at home. But far too often, people from historically underserved regions in the Deep South must leave their hometowns to access the tools, resources and opportunities afforded to others in more resource-rich and diverse pockets of the country. 

Vice President Kamala Harris made this point crystal clear during an April visit to Greenville, Miss., when she said, “communities like Greenville across the South and across our nation — reservoirs of ambition and aspiration just waiting to be tapped.”

I will always remember the children lined up along Highway 1, eagerly waiting for the chance to see Vice President Harris as her motorcade rolled into Greenville to affirm the Biden administration’s commitment to strengthening these communities. Just three weeks later, I had the privilege of joining the U.S. secretary of Agriculture Tom Vilsack and White House Director of the Domestic Policy Council Susan Rice at a roundtable in my hometown of Clarksdale, Miss., where he announced the launch of a new initiative to ensure rural communities have the resources necessary to access the funding deserved. 

For the first time in as long as I can remember, there was a deep sense of hope; that we, the people of the Delta, mattered.

It has not always been that way. Growing up on the Black side of a small rural town, I never knew the gravity of the disinvestment — until I left. When I returned, as the first Black woman officer to work at a local bank in Clarksdale, I saw the systemic barriers in place that made it so. White customers received loans, Black customers did not — even when their credit profiles were similar. 

When it came time for our daughter to transition to middle school, we made the painful decision to leave rural America once again and moved to the suburbs of Memphis. The perceived best education, the white private academy near our home that had no Black teachers or students at that time, would never be an option for my family. We moved to a “high-performing school district” where despite “better infrastructure,” racism and discrimination still existed.

There are countless examples of how disinvestment reverberates throughout rural communities in the Deep South, and the past few years made them all the more visible. But even during more conventional times, those at the edge of our national economy, in small, rural communities, do not have full access to the financial tools that enable others to advance and thrive and in times of economic crisis, to survive. 

Black business owners forego applying for loans at much higher rates than their white counterparts out of concerns that the request will be denied. Likewise, the Paycheck Protection Program (PPP) did not meet the needs of Black, Indigenous and other business owners of color as a response to the pandemic. Not only did PPP rely on traditional banks as the delivery system, but sole proprietorships, which account for more than 90 percent of all Black businesses, were ineligible in the program’s initial phase. These structural inequities decimated already undercapitalized entrepreneurs of color, and they suffered an initial closure rate of 40 percent compared to 17 percent for white-owned businesses as a result.  

As a result, Black people have to do additional work or make concessions that their peers do not. I’ve seen this continuously throughout my 23-year career at Hope Credit Union, where we must import resources to fund services others take for granted. I saw it in Drew, Miss. — a population of 2,000 — when local people came together to organize an online grocery. I saw it in Moorhead, Miss., a town of the same size, when a man walked three miles to our newest branch to borrow money to fix his truck, and when a woman received the assistance that she needed to pay off a predatory loan.

To achieve the goal of equitable access to capital, financial institutions need innovative approaches that account for the needs of those outside their traditional customer base. The visits from the vice president and the secretary were solid first steps. However, we must not get complacent. For all of us living in, from, and depending on rural America, we must ensure public, private and philanthropic leaders follow through on their commitments and direct these once-in-a-generation investments to the places most in need.

We all benefit when more people are equipped to succeed, but we need partners in government and business to take bold and unconventional action. The playing field is not yet level, but nor are the obstacles insurmountable. 

Cassandra Williams is the chief program officer for HOPE (Hope Enterprise Corporation and Hope Credit Union), a $700 million Black- and women-owned community development financial institution and credit union. She leads the strategic direction for all of HOPE’s community and economic development financing activities.