Photo Credit: SFGate / Worth The Experience
Caption: *When art meets activism: Black breweries paying homage to icons in every pour.*

Hell yeah, let’s talk about National Black Brewers Day.

Because if we’re gonna celebrate beer in this country, we better celebrate the people who’ve been brewing brilliance while fighting like hell to be seen.

🍻 What It Really Means

**Photo Credit:** Arryved / Montclair Brewery
**Caption:** Queen of the craft. Denise Sawadogo blends African roots, Caribbean spice, and Jersey hustle into every pour.

National Black Brewers Day isn’t some watered-down marketing gimmick. It’s not a cute “beer holiday” made for hashtags. It’s a bold, necessary reminder that Black people didn’t just show up to the party. We built the damn brewery.

Our connection to beer runs all the way back to the motherland. Long before Europeans started claiming the craft, Africans were brewing with purpose, precision, and pride. Archaeologists have uncovered beer-making tools and pottery from ancient Egypt and Nubia dating back over 5,000 years. And let’s get one thing straight, the first brewers weren’t dudes in cargo shorts talking about IBUs. They were African women. Our ancestors. They fermented grains, millet, and sorghum into rich, nourishing brews that fueled communities, marked ceremonies, and honored the gods. Beer wasn’t just a drink. It was spiritual. It was social. It was survival.

When the transatlantic slave trade tore through history, so did the theft of knowledge and skill. Enslaved Africans brought their agricultural and brewing expertise to America, where they were forced to use their talents to profit others. Enter Patsy Young, one of the earliest recorded Black brewers in the 1700s. She brewed in Virginia, likely managing fermentation, ingredients, and distribution while living in bondage. Her name is one of the few that survived history, but make no mistake: there were hundreds, maybe thousands like her, whose work kept colonial taverns in business. The irony is that America’s beer industry was built on the labor of people who couldn’t even drink freely.

🍺 The First Black-Owned Brewery

Now let’s fast forward to the 20th century, where a man named Theodore Mack Sr. decided he wasn’t gonna wait for a seat at anyone else’s bar. In 1970, he made history by founding The Peoples Beer Company in Oshkosh, Wisconsin, officially becoming the first Black person to own a brewery in the United States.

**Photo Credit:** Madison365 / Peoples Brewing Company Archives
The man who poured history into a pint. Theodore “Ted” Mack Sr. wasn’t just brewing beer, he was brewing revolution. As the first Black brewery owner in America, he turned The Peoples Beer Company into a symbol of power, pride, and possibility. Every Black-owned brewery today is still sipping from his legacy.

Mack didn’t come from a long line of brewers. He came from Milwaukee, grinding his way up through the beer industry. He worked for Schlitz Brewing Company, one of the biggest producers in the country at the time, and quickly realized that the people doing the work didn’t look like the people cashing the checks. So he decided to change that.

When he bought out the failing Oshkosh Brewing Company, he renamed it The Peoples Beer Company because he believed beer should be for everyone, not just the good old boys who ran the game. His mission was revolutionary: beer by the people, for the people. Mack was years ahead of his time, championing racial equality, fair wages, and community inclusion long before “diversity” became a buzzword. He opened distribution lines to the African American community, creating access for people who’d been priced out or ignored by mainstream brands.

But of course, America didn’t make it easy. Distributors refused to carry his beer. Investors backed out. Competitors undercut his prices and blocked his supply chain. Still, Mack stood tall.

Theodore Mack Sr. didn’t wait for a seat at the table. He built his own and poured a beer while he did it. He didn’t ask for permission, and he sure didn’t wait for approval. He took a system that was designed to keep us out and cracked it wide open. What he built wasn’t just a brewery. It was a blueprint. He brewed belief, legacy, and defiance into every drop.

Mack faced every barrier you could imagine and still turned resistance into recipe. His vision became the yeast that made this whole movement rise. Every Black brewer standing tall today is proof that his fight mattered. He didn’t just make beer. He made history. And while the industry still hasn’t given him his flowers, every Black-owned brewery that pours today is his legacy in liquid form.

🖤 Why It Hits Different

National Black Brewers Day isn’t just about history. It’s about continuity. It’s about connecting ancient African fermentation to modern Black ownership. It’s about giving credit where it’s long overdue.

**Photo Credit:** Beer Today / Harlem Brewing / Beer & Cider News
She pours more than beer; Celeste Beatty crafts heritage, hustle, and Harlem pride in every can.

When I pour a pint on this day, I’m not just thinking about the beer. I’m thinking about the people. I think about the enslaved brewers whose hands shaped the recipes. I think about Theodore Mack Sr., who bet on himself when no one else would. I think about Celeste Beatty of Harlem Brewing Company, who became the first Black woman to own a craft brewery in the U.S. and did it with unapologetic Harlem pride. She turned her love for the culture into liquid storytelling.

I think about Leo and Denise Sawadogo at Montclair Brewery, blending African roots and Caribbean flavor into New Jersey beer culture. About Zackary, Gregory, and Richard from Funkytown Brewery, who are rewriting what craft beer looks like in Chicago. About Black Calder Brewing in Michigan, who are making beer that celebrates heritage as much as hops. And you can’t talk about the new wave without shouting out Moor’s Brewing Company, a Chicago powerhouse bringing luxury and Black excellence to the beer game. Founded by three Black men with a vision bigger than beer, Moor’s blends artistry, business, and unapologetic pride in every can. They didn’t just create a brand. They created a cultural statement that says Black beer is here, it’s refined, and it’s never going back to the margins.

These folks are continuing a legacy that began in Africa, survived slavery, pushed through segregation, and still thrives in a world that keeps trying to box us out.

And let’s be real, the fight isn’t over. Funding for Black brewers is still scarce. Shelf space is limited. Gatekeeping is alive and well. But we don’t quit. We innovate. We collaborate. We keep brewing. Because beer, for us, isn’t just a drink. It’s a declaration.

✊🏾 Cheers to the Culture

To the brewers turning grain into art.
To the homebrewers hustling in their garages.
To the festival founders building space for Black joy.
To the drinkers, writers, and beer nerds keeping the conversation alive.
Y’all are the pulse of this movement.

To the dreamers who haven’t brewed their first batch yet, keep pushing.
To the pioneers who made history, we salute you.
And to the ancestors who brewed while bound so we could brew while free, we honor you with every damn pour.

This is our day. Our craft. Our legacy. And we’re nowhere near done.

To see a full list of Black-owned breweries across the country, check out the National Black Brewers Association at www.nationalblackbrewersassociation.org, they’re keeping track of the culture, the craft, and the movement.