The Museum of Black Futures began as a thought experiment. A satirical “what if” that quickly became something serious. We imagined what would happen if the debts of colonial exploitation, trafficking, and slavery were finally paid — and if we decided to invest our share in building the museum of our dreams.

Not a museum that fits inside the walls of white institutions, but one rooted in our own terms. A place where the creativity of the African diaspora isn’t filtered through Eurocentric frameworks, and where our ancestors’ stolen objects are not locked behind glass as trophies, but returned — physically or spiritually — to the communities they came from. A space for reconnection, for healing, for making new memories together.

From the beginning, the questions ran deep: Why even call it a museum? Why work within a concept that has so often been used to contain us? And if we do, how do we transform it into a sanctuary for Black creativity — and a laboratory for liberation?

The conversations pulled us into bigger territory:
What does ownership mean when it comes to heritage? Can communities hold authority over how their histories and objects are cared for — even when they are scattered across institutions and continents? Could a museum embrace stewardship instead of ownership? Could it be a network instead of a building — with grassroots teams caring for specific pieces of our material culture?

For us, The Museum of Black Futures is not a building. It’s an idea. It’s a method. It’s a refusal to let history end in the present. Right now, it exists as a podcast — a virtual art and heritage lab where we test new formats for community storytelling, speculative design, and ethical restitution. We use it to challenge the defaults of collecting, preserving, and exhibiting, and to imagine alternatives grounded in accountability to our ancestors and solidarity with each other.

And while the name started as satire, it stayed because it asked the right question: What kind of futures are possible when we center Black life, Black memory, and Black imagination?

That question still drives us. And maybe, it’s the only one that matters. Femi Dawkins, take it away!

Production & Sound design: Marcellino van Callias with La Fam Productions

Intro music: Oshunmare

Visuals: Illest Preacha

Drums: Michelle Samba

Follow us on Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/museumofblackfutures/