Afrodescendant Ethnoeducation and the School-to-Work Transition in the Colombian Caribbean: The Cases of La Boquilla, Tierra Bomba, and Libertad-Sucre

Abstract

This study analyzed the intersection between Afrodescendant ethnoeducation and the school-to-work transition in three marginalized communities of the Colombian Caribbean: La Boquilla, Tierra Bomba, and Libertad-Sucre. Using a qualitative methodology, the research reconstructed, on the one hand, the institutional framework of Afro-Colombian ethnoeducation since the 1991 Constitution, highlighting public policies implemented and their impacts. On the other hand, it examined the educational dynamics in these localities and their link (or lack thereof) to local labor markets, identifying innovations, limitations, and structural barriers affecting young people’s transition from school to work. The findings show that the Colombian ethnoeducational model has introduced curricular and participatory innovations aimed at enhancing cultural relevance and preparing students for productive life. However, its implementation faces persistent barriers including inadequate infrastructure, the legacies of internal armed conflict, structural racism, limited employment opportunities, and chronic public disinvestment. Despite valuable local initiatives—such as technical training in collaboration with the SENA (National Learning Service, Colombia’s public technical education system) in sectors like fishing and tourism—Afrodescendant youth continue to experience limited labor market integration. Finally, the article offers policy and practical recommendations from a decolonial ethnoeducational perspective, inspired by the pedagogy for liberation, to strengthen the school-to-work transition in contexts of vulnerability.

1. Introduction

The Afrodescendant population in Colombia1 has historically faced conditions of socioeconomic marginalization, racial discrimination, and structural violence (Múnera 2023). These conditions are particularly acute in peripheral regions such as the Colombian Caribbean, where many predominantly Afrodescendant territories endure persistent poverty, limited access to basic services, and the effects of internal armed conflict. In such contexts, the educational trajectories of youth are often disrupted or weakened, which in turn hampers their transition from school to formal employment. The “school-to-work transition” refers to a nonlinear process in which educational trajectories are interconnected with labor market integration. It is not simply the culmination of a basic secondary education followed by immediate entry into employment, but rather a complex path shaped by individual factors (such as skills, aspirations, and support networks), institutional elements (training quality and relevance), and structural conditions (labor market dynamics and public policies), all of which vary by context (Cefalo 2019).

The specialized literature in Colombia has rarely focused on the school-to-work transition of students. Even at the broader Latin American level, the term “school-to-work transition” is scarcely used in social science research but appears more frequently in technical reports issued by international organizations such as CAF–Development Bank of Latin America (Sucre 2016), the European Union, and the United Nations (Blas et al. 2014). This research gap is even more pronounced when analyzing the school-to-work transition within ethnoeducational models, particularly in the case of Afro-Colombian ethnoeducation.

This transition is especially critical for youth in situations of risk or vulnerability—as is the case for many Afro-Colombian youth—since disparities in education and access to decent work, compounded by social exclusion, can result in unemployment and the reproduction of poverty.

In response to these issues, since the 1990s, Colombia has developed an ethnoeducation model2 aimed at adapting education to the cultural specificities of its ethnic groups (Indigenous, Afrodescendant, Raizal, Palenquero, and Romani populations). Afro-Colombian ethnoeducation emerged following the 1991 Constitution, which recognized Colombia as a multiethnic and multicultural nation, and Law 70 of 1993 (Ley 70 de 1993 1993), which in Article 42 mandated the Ministry of Education to formulate an ethnoeducational policy for Black communities with the support of a pedagogical advisory commission. This educational approach sought to reaffirm both Afrodescendant identity and ancestral knowledge and enhance the relevance of education in their territories including preparation for traditional and modern productive activities. In practice, this translated into the creation of ethnoeducational institutions with community-based educational projects; the implementation of the Afro-Colombian Studies Chair (CEA) in the national curriculum from 1998; and the hiring of ethnoeducator teachers through specific public competitions beginning in 2005 under Decree 3323.

All educational institutions—public and private—were legally required to include Afro-Colombian content at the preschool, primary, and secondary levels, particularly in social sciences and humanities, to acknowledge the contributions of Afro peoples to the country’s development. However, more than two decades later, significant gaps persist between policy and actual implementation: many schools self-identify as “ethnoeducational” without adopting substantial changes in their pedagogical practices, and the Afro-Colombian Chair has yet to be fully integrated into all educational establishments (García Araque 2017; Rincón 2019).

Today, the Afrodescendant Colombian Caribbean provides a valuable setting for examining how the ethnoeducational model has functioned in contexts of socioeconomic crisis and violence, and what effects it has—or could have—on the school-to-work transition of young people. This article focuses on three emblematic localities: La Boquilla and Tierra Bomba, coastal Afro communities within the district of Cartagena de Indias (Department of Bolívar), and Libertad, a rural Afro village in the municipality of San Onofre, Department of Sucre. These communities share structural marginalization: high levels of poverty and exclusion, experiences of racism and historical segregation, and the recent dynamics of gentrification and touristification that strain their traditional territories (Riccardi et al. 2024). They have also experienced armed conflict differently: Libertad was the scene of paramilitary violence in the late 1990s and early 2000s (Grupo de Memoria Histórica 2011), while island areas like Tierra Bomba currently face drug trafficking and organized crime that impact community life (Macías 2023, February 28). These challenges create a climate of crisis and uncertainty for youth, raising questions about the role of schools as spaces of protection, cultural empowerment, and preparation for a dignified future.

Within this context, we sought to answer the following research questions: What innovations were introduced by the Afro-Colombian ethnoeducational model, and how have they been implemented in Afro-Caribbean regions, particularly regarding the school-to-work transition? What structural obstacles—such as deficient infrastructure, violence, racism, and underinvestment—hinder this transition in marginalized Afrodescendant communities? What role has the National Training Service (SENA) played in the technical training of Afro-Colombian youth from these communities? Finally, we also wanted to understand what policy and practice recommendations, from a decolonial ethnoeducational perspective, could improve youth labor market insertion in contexts of crisis.

The academic and social relevance of this study lies in articulating typically disconnected fields: on the one hand, ethnoeducational and critical/decolonial pedagogical studies; and on the other hand, research on school-to-work transition and youth employability in vulnerable contexts (Campani 2024). Theoretically, the work is grounded in Paulo Freire’s (1970) pedagogy for liberation, which remains a subject of academic debate and inquiry (Salém Vasconcelos et al. 2023). According to Freire’s legacy, education must be an emancipatory practice for the oppressed, rooted in their own contexts and knowledge, enabling them to become agents of their historical destiny and to walk their own paths to liberation. This research also draws from Latin American decolonial approaches that critique the coloniality of knowledge in conventional schooling and advocate for intercultural curricula that center Afro and Indigenous ancestral knowledge (Quijano 2000; Mignolo 2010). From this perspective, Afro-Colombian ethnoeducation is examined not merely as a multicultural policy, but as a potentially decolonizing project that “foregrounds ancestral knowledge” and challenges Eurocentric educational narratives.

Practically, the study’s findings aim to inform public policies and pedagogical strategies that improve the connection between secondary education (especially in ethnoeducational schools) and training or employment opportunities for Afrodescendant youth. This is particularly urgent in a national context of post-conflict and post-pandemic recovery, where educational and labor inequality continues to deepen among ethnic communities, particularly Afro-Colombians.

The article is structured as follows. First, we present the conceptual and legal framework of Afro-Colombian ethnoeducation, outlining its innovations, developments, and limitations from 1991 to the present. Second, we describe the qualitative methodology employed, based on fieldwork in the three selected communities. Third, we present and discuss the findings, organized around the implementation of the ethnoeducational model in local institutions and its relation to productive dynamics (particularly fishing and tourism); the structural obstacles identified in the school-to-work transition; and the specific role of SENA in the technical training of the youth studied. Finally, we offer conclusions and recommendations, emphasizing ethnoeducational guidelines to strengthen Afrodescendant youth employability in contexts of crisis and exclusion.

Grounded in Freire’s pedagogy of liberation (Freire 1970; Salém Vasconcelos et al. 2023), our approach involves applying a decolonial analysis across three areas: (i) epistemic: recognizing Afro/local knowledge as valid and equal to “official” curriculum content; (ii) pedagogical: using dialogic and problem-posing methods based on territorial contradictions; and (iii) economic–political: creating school–work connections that oppose exploitative tourism and establish Afro-led value chains. We use these lenses to interpret implementation gaps and craft recommendations that promote critical awareness and collective agency among Afro-Caribbean youth.

2. Institutional and Conceptual Framework of Afro-Colombian Ethnoeducation (1991–2025)

2.1. From Constitutional Recognition to Ethnoeducational Public Policies

Ethnoeducation in Colombia is rooted in the 1991 Political Constitution, which recognizes the nation’s ethnic and cultural diversity (Article 7), and in the historic Law 70 of 1993—also known as the Law of Black Communities. This law, the result of mobilizations by the Afro-Colombian movement following the Constituent Assembly, established in Article 42 the obligation of the State to formulate an educational policy that aligns with the cultural needs of Black communities. To this end, the Ministry of National Education (MEN) created the National Pedagogical Commission of Black Communities, comprised of Afrodescendant representatives, to advise on the implementation of this policy. In parallel, the General Education Law 115 of 1994 devoted Chapter III to “educational attention for ethnic groups”, recognizing the particular needs of Indigenous peoples, Black communities (including Afro-Colombians, Raizales, and Palenqueros), and the Romani people.

A key milestone was Decree 804 of 1995 (n.d.), which regulated education for ethnic groups. This decree defined ethnoeducation as a “service” within the national education system and established guidelines for adapting curricula, calendars, and methodologies to the cultural specificities of each group. Two pillars of the Afro-Colombian ethnoeducational policy were set out: first, community-based own education, primarily for rural Afrodescendant collective territories; and second, the Afro-Colombian Studies Chair (CEA), made mandatory in all public and private educational institutions through Decree 1122 of 1998 (n.d.). The CEA aims to incorporate the history, culture, and contributions of Afro-Colombians into the curriculum, ideally through a transversal approach within the social sciences. With regard to the operational features of the Afro-Colombian Studies Chair (CEA), national legislation renders the CEA mandatory (Decree 1122 of 1998 n.d.) and recommends cross-curricular integration over an isolated, stand-alone subject. Laws and decrees do not set a fixed weekly intensity; instead, schools define the number of hours and the content through their Community Educational Project (CEP) and local agreements with families and community councils. In practice, two models coexist: (i) a transversal approach, whereby Afro history, knowledge, and languages are integrated into the social sciences, arts, and even STEM subjects; and (ii) a timetabled ‘CEA hour’, which often has a low intensity and risks folklorization if it is not tied to core areas. Fieldwork indicates that the students’ self-recognition improves when content is co-designed with elders and learning is applied to local productive projects (e.g., La Boquilla’s student-led tourist routes).

On the local level, cities with large Afrodescendant populations, such as Cartagena de Indias, have developed their own ethnoeducational policies. District Agreement 015 of 2004 institutionalized ethnoeducation (District Agreement 015 2004) and the Afro-Colombian Chair as permanent policies in Cartagena. Furthermore, the District Education Department created the Network of Ethnoeducator Teachers (Álvarez-Aterhortúa and Mestre-Mogollón 2023), which brought together educators committed to ethnoeducation. By 2016, the network included more than 50 teachers, most working in schools located in Afrodescendant communities. Nationally, the MEN issued Circular 025 in 2004 (Circular 025 2004) to provide guidelines for implementing the Chair, and Decree 140 of 2006 (n.d.) established regulations for hiring ethnoeducator teachers. Notably, Decree 3323 of 2005 (n.d.) opened a public competition process for hiring Afro-Colombian ethnoeducators in official schools. As a result, over 300 teachers and school leaders were appointed under this mechanism including in Cartagena. Between 2005 and 2015, over 2000 teachers were trained in ethnoeducation, interculturality, and curriculum development for the Afro-Colombian Chair—a major institutional effort in teacher training.

Despite these legal and institutional advances, various scholars have identified persistent limitations in the ethnoeducational policy. First, Decree 804 of 1995 (n.d.) conceptualized ethnoeducation as a “service”, rather than explicitly recognizing it as a right, which made implementation contingent on political will and subordinate to the dominant logic of mainstream education. Black communities initially demanded greater autonomy in educational matters—such as managing resources, selecting teachers, and defining culturally relevant content—but the legislation did not fully grant such powers to community councils or local organizations. In practice, most public schools remained under the control of conventional school administrators and the Ministry of Education, limiting meaningful participation from ethnic authorities.

Second, the recruitment of ethnoeducators through public competitions raised concerns: many candidates selected were not from Afrodescendant communities (since ethnic belonging was not a criterion, and only subject knowledge was evaluated), or they used these appointments to later transfer to urban schools with better working conditions. Once hired, many ethnoeducators were assigned to teach standard subjects rather than ethnoeducation, which was not formally recognized as a standalone subject. Consequently, many ethnoeducational initiatives were reduced to folkloric events (e.g., Afro-Colombian Heritage Day) without being integrated into daily pedagogical practice. The most successful cases were often driven by the activism and commitment of individual teachers rather than institutional support.

After nearly three decades, critical evaluations acknowledge symbolic achievements but also underline gaps in implementation. The establishment of ethnoeducational districts (e.g., Buenaventura, Tumaco) and ethnoeducational institutions (e.g., in Cali) did not always result in transformative practices. In urban settings lacking strong community structures, initiatives often devolved into isolated “ethnoeducational chairs”, generating confusion and inconsistency. As Caicedo (2022) argues, the policy remains weak in legal and institutional terms: it does not enable communities to manage resources, appoint teachers, or develop curricula independently, thereby limiting its transformative potential. Colombia’s compulsory schooling comprises one year of pre-primary (“transition”) and nine years of basic education (Grades 1–9), roughly from ages 5 to 15; upper secondary (Grades 10–11) is not compulsory, although widely attended (Law 115 1994; Decree 2247 of 1997 n.d.). The Constitutional Court (2010) later reaffirmed the right to free primary education by striking down fees allowed under Article 183 of (Law 115 1994). Despite this framework, dropout remains concentrated in peripheral and low-income municipalities, which largely overlap with Afrodescendant territories; official monitoring often lacks ethnicity-disaggregated rates, a gap recently highlighted in DANE’s methodological reviews. Child labor has not disappeared: DANE (2025) estimates show 310,000–311,000 5–17-year-olds working in late 2023–2024 (with 71–72% concentrated among 15–17-year-olds), and a national child-labor rate around 2.9% (Q4 2024), which is higher in rural areas. These background conditions shape the school-to-work transition of Afrodescendant youth.

Moreover, urban public schools—where most of the recruited ethnoeducators work—have become the main settings for ethnoeducation, distancing the model from the rural collective territories where community life is strongest.

Nevertheless, Afro-Colombian ethnoeducation has created significant innovations in multicultural inclusion (Ospino et al. 2021). Among its key contributions are the involvement of elders and traditional knowledge holders in creating community education projects (PECs); curricular adaptations incorporating local history, oral traditions, music, and languages such as Palenquero and Creole (among Raizales); the promotion of Afro-identity and racial self-esteem; and school integration with traditional productive practices (agriculture, fishing, crafts), restoring their value. These innovations represent a shift away from a homogenizing, “banking” model of education (in Freire’s terms), and toward a contextualized pedagogy rooted in the students’ cultures.

Freire’s pedagogy underpins the principle that “education as a practice of freedom” requires the oppressed—in this case, Afrodescendant communities—to be educated from their own worldview, becoming agents of their learning rather than passive recipients. Ethnoeducation, in this sense, seeks to transform the school from a site of cultural alienation into a space of critical consciousness (conscientização) and identity reclamation—key elements for social and economic emancipation. In the Colombian Caribbean, this approach has been applied in diverse ethnic contexts, particularly among Afrodescendant populations. One of the most documented cases in recent academic literature is the work of Father Lauro Negri and the María Eugenia Velandia School in Arjona, Bolívar (Riccardi et al. 2021).

2.2. School-to-Work Transition in Afrodescendant Contexts of Crisis

The transition from school to work is a critical period in young people’s lives, during which they use the skills and capital accumulated through formal education to gain employment, start a business, or continue with higher education. In Latin America, this transition is often problematic for large segments of youth due to the combination of low-quality education, informal labor markets, and the lack of support networks. In the case of Afrodescendant and Indigenous youth, these difficulties are compounded by racial discrimination and the historical exclusion of their communities from economic development. Official reports show that in Colombia, the Afrodescendant population experiences youth unemployment rates higher than the national average and a greater concentration in low-wage informal employment (DANE 2024a). While the Colombian State does not always disaggregate labor statistics by ethnicity, complementary reports to the 2018 Census revealed that Afro populations consistently register higher levels of unmet basic needs (UBN)3, lower access to post-secondary education4, and indicators associated with worse outcomes in labor market insertion5 (DANE 2024a).

In contexts of crisis—such as armed conflict, chronic violence, or economic shocks—the transition to work faces additional obstacles. Many youths are forced to leave school to help support their families or because of safety risks in their communities. Such was the case in Libertad (Sucre) during the period of paramilitary control (late 1990s to early 2000s): threats and massacres led to forced displacement and traumatized a generation, cutting short educational paths. A teacher from Libertad recalls: “This town was deeply hurt by violence between 2000 and 2004 […] Violence and discrimination have influenced the lack of a smooth school-to-work transition.” (Maricruz Bonilla, personal communication, 25 January 2025). Although public order has improved since the 2016 peace accords, smaller armed groups still operate in the region, requiring schools to proceed cautiously. Mere survival has become the priority, relegating goals of higher education or formal employment.

In contrast, in peri-urban Afro communities such as La Boquilla and Tierra Bomba (Cartagena), pressure from the tourism and real estate sectors has created another form of crisis: gentrification and the touristification of territory (Riccardi et al. 2024). In La Boquilla, a traditional Afro fishing village on the outskirts of Cartagena, the rise in luxury hotels and residential complexes over the past two decades has driven up land prices and displaced many local families, leading community leaders to describe the process as “gentrification-driven expulsion”. Tierra Bomba, an Afrodescendant island in Cartagena Bay, faces the commodification of its beaches (e.g., in Punta Arena), where external investors operate restaurants and tourist clubs.

While tourism offers economic opportunities, in both communities, many young people opt for immediate informal work in that sector—such as beach vendors, masseurs, boat operators, or informal guides—rather than completing secondary education or pursuing technical training. As a result, formal education loses its appeal when the surrounding environment offers shortcuts to quick, albeit precarious, income. In Tierra Bomba, the school principal observed: “Some colleagues say the kids here don’t like studying; I don’t think that’s true… it’s that the school hasn’t developed strategies to really engage them. Young people would rather go work on the beach.” (Dimas De Ávila, personal communication, 24 January 2025). In fact, it is common to see youth as young as 12 or 13 helping in family tourism businesses—renting kayaks, working in restaurants, braiding tourists’ hair—and skipping class, since those activities provide immediate income. By the time they reach graduation age (17–18), many have dropped out or barely attend school. This market-induced dropout is a complex phenomenon: on the one hand, it reflects agency and economic contribution by youth; on the other hand, it reproduces informality and limits their long-term development prospects.

In summary, the school-to-work transition of Afrodescendant youth in crisis contexts is affected by multiple interrelated factors. First, there is a deficit in infrastructure and educational resources. Schools in marginalized areas often lack adequate learning environments, limiting their capacity to offer technical training. For instance, the school in Tierra Bomba operates in a severely deteriorated building and had to temporarily relocate students to rented houses due to the risk of structural collapse. The principal asserts: “The deteriorated infrastructure doesn’t allow us to even think about strategies to link young people with the labor market.” (Dimas De Ávila, personal communication, 24 January 2025). In La Boquilla, although the school has a fish farming lab and a productive project, it also faces shortages of equipment and materials.

Another factor impeding the school-to-work transition is the geographical location of each territory. Tierra Bomba is an island without road access, Libertad is a rural hamlet isolated from main highways, and La Boquilla, though adjacent to one of Cartagena’s main tourist zones, lacks efficient public transportation. In all three communities, school supplies arrive with difficulty and infrastructure maintenance is minimal. Furthermore, the lack of sufficient technical and technological infrastructure limits the provision of quality training, reducing the educational model to a predominantly theoretical-academic dimension.

Violence and security concerns also pose obstacles for youth entering the workforce during and after basic education. As noted earlier, the presence of armed actors or illicit economies causes disruptions to school life (e.g., class cancellations due to clashes, informal curfews) and discourages qualified teachers from staying in these regions. In Tierra Bomba in 2023, a police raid to arrest drug traffickers near the school created chaos, forcing a one-week class suspension. Principal Dimas De Ávila noted that the school did not even have a perimeter fence, placing students at risk during such events. These conditions undermine educational continuity and generate post-traumatic stress in youth, making it difficult for them to focus on their studies or envision long-term life plans.

Another key factor disrupting the school-to-work transition is racism, and more broadly, the persistence of stereotypes. Despite official inclusion discourses, racist attitudes continue to affect the job aspirations of Afro youth. Interviews in Libertad revealed that many fear being discriminated against when seeking work outside their communities. Teacher Maricruz Bonilla encourages her students to build ethnic self-esteem: “If you value yourselves and know who you are, no one will trample you […] and if they try, you’ll know how to defend yourselves.” (Maricruz Bonilla, personal communication, 25 January 2025). This underscores the importance of preparing students to face potentially prejudiced labor environments. Structural racism is also evident in the devaluation of diplomas from rural Afro schools. A high school graduate from these territories may face competitive disadvantages in the city due to perceptions of poor school quality—often linked to their ethnic-racial background.

Finally, a growing disconnection between education and local employment further undermines the school-to-work transition. Ideally, ethnoeducation should connect schooling with the productive vocations of the territory (e.g., tourism, fishing, sustainable agriculture). In practice, this articulation is nascent. At the national level, there is a program called “Colegios Amigos del Turismo” (Schools Friendly with Tourism), which was created to strengthen tourism competencies and bilingualism in schools. Ironically, Tierra Bomba was excluded from this program (Mayor’s Office of Cartagena 2024), while other schools with weaker ties to tourism were included—something local teachers have called “paradoxical”. Educators in Tierra Bomba are calling for the creation of at least one technical track in tourism, arguing that the work youth already carry out could be formalized and improved through certification. Similar situations occur in other Afro and Indigenous regions of the country, where general, theoretical education offerings fail to align with local economic opportunities, creating a disconnect between trained youth and the available jobs.

In the face of these challenges, the question arises: What strategies have worked elsewhere to support a more effective school-to-work transition for vulnerable ethnic populations?

3. Methodology

To address the objectives outlined, a qualitative-interpretative methodology was adopted, with an ethnographic and participatory approach. The study was carried out in two main phases, from January 2024 to June 2025. This involved a documentary and bibliographic review of Afro-Colombian ethnoeducation, education policies, and socioeconomic data on the target communities as well as fieldwork in the three selected localities (La Boquilla, Tierra Bomba, and Libertad), centered on conducting semi-structured interviews with key informants and ethnographic observations in educational institutions and community settings.

During the documentary phase, secondary sources were compiled including legislation (the Constitution, Law 70/1993, regulatory decrees, local ordinances), evaluations, and previous studies on ethnoeducation (Castillo Guzmán 2008; Caicedo et al. 2016) and statistical data on population and education (DANE 2024a; Hernández and Arrieta 2020). This review made it possible to construct a timeline of ethnoeducational policy and understand the broader context of the school-to-work transition for Afrodescendant youth in Colombia.

The fieldwork phase focused on in-depth interviews with teachers and school administrators in each community. In La Boquilla, the interviewee was the principal of the La Boquilla Educational Institution (Magaly De la Rosa); in Tierra Bomba, the principal of the Bocachica Educational Institution, located on the island (Dimas De Ávila); and in Libertad, a lead teacher at the Libertad Educational Institution (Maricruz Bonilla). These interviews, each lasting approximately 45–60 min, followed a thematic guide covering perceptions of ethnoeducation (innovations, curriculum, community engagement), the situation of students in their school-to-work transition, experiences with programs like SENA, obstacles encountered, and proposals for improvement. The conversations were audio-recorded with the informed consent of the participants, transcribed verbatim, and analyzed by the authors. The interviewees gave their permission to be identified by their real names in this study.

Although the research was initially framed as non-participant observation to emphasize the researchers’ non-intrusive stance, the degree of involvement varied in practice along a continuum of participation, consistent with the typologies described by Spradley (1980) and Bernard (2006). In La Boquilla, for instance, the first author accompanied community leaders and provided photographic support during the Fishermen’s Patron Saint Festival (1–24 June 2024), at the beginning of the project (21–23 January 2025), and at the start of the school year (30 January–7 February 2024 and 1–22 February 2025). This represented a moderate form of participant observation. In Tierra Bomba, the research team attended community meetings on productive projects (28–30 June 2024; 22–24 January and 12–19 June 2025), adopting an observational stance and occasionally taking on a supportive role. In Libertad (21–31 March 2024), the researchers engaged in dialogue with parents, students, and teachers, combining observation with limited participation in community-led discussions.

Table 1. An overview of the fieldwork instruments, participants, dates, and durations across the three study sites.

Site (Municipality)	Institution/Role	Tool	Date(s)	Duration	Type of Involvement
La Boquilla (Cartagena)	Principal (IE La Boquilla)	Semi-structured interview	29 Jan 2025	~55 min	Interview
La Boquilla	Community leaders	Participant Observation	1–24 Jun 2024	~24 days	Moderate participation (photographic support during festival)
La Boquilla	School community	Participant Observation	21–23 Jan 2025	~3 days	Moderate participation (support at project start)
La Boquilla	School community	Participant Observation	30 Jan–7 Feb 2024; 1–22 Feb 2025	~31 days	Moderate participation (school-year opening)
Tierra Bomba (Cartagena)	Principal (IE Bocachica)	Semi-structured interview	24 Jan 2025	~50 min	Interview
Tierra Bomba	Community meetings	Observation	28–30 Jun 2024; 22–24 Jan 2025; 12–19 Jun 2025	~14 days	Primarily non-participant; occasional supportive role
Libertad (San Onofre)	Lead teacher (IE Libertad)	Semi-structured interview	25 Jan 2025	~45 min	Interview
Libertad	Community meetings	Participant Observation	21–31 Mar 2024	~10 days	Limited participation (community-led discussions)

Participation levels followed classic typologies that conceive observation along a continuum (non-participant to complete participant); we coded “moderate” where supportive actions occurred without leadership roles (Spradley 1980; Bernard 2006).

provides an overview of the fieldwork instruments, participants, dates, and durations across the three study sites.

These observations served to contrast the interview discourse with daily realities and gather additional insights (school climate, teacher–student interactions, connections between the educational context and the local labor and production environments, etc.). Field notes were recorded in an ethnographic notebook.

For the analysis, a triangulation approach was used across sources: interview data were cross-referenced with collected documentation and relevant theoretical literature (Patton 2015). For instance, the teachers’ claims regarding a lack of institutional support were contrasted with the current legal frameworks, and successful strategies mentioned were compared with documented cases from other regions. This process enriched the interpretation and enhanced the validity of the findings. Thematic analysis revolved around categories derived from the research questions: “ethnoeducational innovations”, “implementation in the Caribbean”, “structural obstacles”, “role of SENA”, and “recommendations”. Each category was associated with illustrative interview quotes and references to relevant documents.

The research was framed within a critical-reflective perspective, recognizing the authors themselves as engaged participants. Indeed, this work is part of a broader doctoral and postdoctoral research project aimed at making a positive impact in the studied communities. In line with decolonial ethics, the project seeks to “return the voice” to Afro communities by amplifying their narratives and proposals in academic spaces traditionally dominated by external perspectives. One example is the participation of the collective La Boquilla Te Ve during Communication Week, organized by the University of Cartagena on 28 October 2024 (La Boquilla Te Ve 2024, October 27). Ongoing dialogue with local leaders was maintained throughout the study to validate interpretations and ensure that the recommendations offered responded to the lived realities of the communities.

As a methodological limitation, it is acknowledged that the study focused on the perspective of educators and did not directly include the voices of students or recent graduates. This could be explored in future research to gain a more comprehensive view of the school-to-work transition from the perspective of the youth themselves. Likewise, while the three selected cases are representative of certain dynamics, they do not reflect the full diversity of Afro-Colombian contexts in the Caribbean region. For example, the case of San Basilio de Palenque—a community with its own Afro-Palenquero language and culture—was not included, though it could have added another valuable dimension. Nonetheless, the findings presented here offer trends and insights that are applicable to similar contexts, given that the identified issues (poverty, racism, education–labor disconnect) resonate across many other ethnic communities in the region.

The practices of ethnoeducators—many of whom are members of the same Afrodescendant communities—were identified by interviewees as crucial to revitalizing ethnoeducation “from below.” Indeed, the principal of La Boquilla noted that in 2023, they developed their Community Educational Project (CEP) through a participatory process involving community leaders, elders, parents, students, and teachers, incorporating contributions on local history and ancestral knowledge into the curriculum. This participatory work aligns with the methodologies of Paulo Freire (1970) and Correa de Andreis (2016), based on horizontal dialogue and the co-construction of knowledge. These methodological practices are findings in themselves: they demonstrate how, even amid constraints, Afro communities are working to produce their own educational solutions, looking to their culture as a source of resilience and livelihood. In the following sections, we highlight some of the local initiatives, along with the achievements and challenges observed as well as some final recommendations.

4. Analysis and Discussion of Results

4.1. Implementation of Ethnoeducation in Local Schools

To address this point, we analyzed each territorial case study individually.

We began with La Boquilla, an Afrodescendant coastal community of approximately 6000 inhabitants located in northern Cartagena. Traditionally engaged in artisanal fishing and shellfish gathering, La Boquilla has experienced accelerated tourism and real estate development in recent decades along its beaches and mangrove areas. In terms of education, the community has one official public school (Institución Educativa, IE) that serves students from preschool through to the eleventh grade, and which in 2019 formally adopted the ethnoeducational model, receiving official recognition as an ethnoeducational institution.

One significant innovation in La Boquilla has been the integration of a fish farming project into the technical high school curriculum. As principal Magaly De la Rosa stated, “We offer a technical track in fish farming… we teach our students to preserve the fishing tradition, but in a more technical way.” (Magaly De la Rosa, personal communication, 29 January 2025). With support from SENA and local organizations, the school installed a small fish hatchery where ninth to eleventh grade students learn to raise snook and tilapia in tanks as well as practices in sustainable aquaculture. This project aims to both preserve the traditional fishing profession—threatened by overfishing and industrial competition—and add technological value, enabling youth to set up fish farming operations in their own homes or neighborhoods.

In addition, IE La Boquilla offers a technical specialization in tourism, coordinated with SENA. Starting in tenth grade, students can take SENA modules in “Port Logistics” and “Tourism Services”, receiving a vocational certificate alongside their high school diploma upon graduation. This double certification is a valuable strategy for facilitating labor market entry, potentially opening opportunities in hotels, tourism agencies, or the local port. The principal emphasized the importance of the SENA partnership: “In the case of tourism… we have SENA support. Our students lead the tourist route and explain the territory themselves.” (Magaly De la Rosa, personal communication, 29 January 2025). In fact, in 2022, students from La Boquilla designed a tourist-cultural route with their teachers, where they acted as guides, presenting mangroves, gastronomy, and local stories as part of a hands-on learning experience. This initiative was carried out in collaboration with Corpoturismo Cartagena, which trained the youth in customer service and basic English.

In short, La Boquilla represents a relatively successful implementation of employment-oriented ethnoeducation: localized curricula (fishing, tourism), community participation in the Community Education Project (CEP), and inter-institutional partnerships (SENA, Corpoturismo).

Nonetheless, challenges remain. Gentrification in La Boquilla means that many youth see selling their land or migrating to the city as more profitable than investing in local projects. Moreover, the duality between an exclusive tourism industry controlled by outside investors and the training of local youth may lead to frustration if they later do not find a place in the formal tourism economy. For this reason, local leaders insist that ethnoeducation must be accompanied by broader economic inclusion policies—such as quotas for Afro entrepreneurs in tourism concessions, credit for alumni-led productive projects, and so forth—in order to close the cycle toward successful transitions.

The second territory analyzed was Tierra Bomba, an island with around 9000 inhabitants spread across four settlements: Bocachica, Punta Arena, Caño del Oro, and Tierra Bomba town. It is another example of a coastal Afro community with strong tourism potential but persistent social marginalization. The ethnoeducational institution in Bocachica serves students from across the island. Here, the implementation of ethnoeducational innovations has faced more obstacles. In terms of curriculum, no technical specializations have yet been consolidated; only a general academic track is currently offered.

In 2021, under the leadership of the current principal, a partnership was reactivated with SENA to offer courses in “Port Operations and Outboard Motor Maintenance”—tailored to the island’s boat-based tourism sector. However, student attendance was very low. According to the principal, the course was scheduled outside of regular school hours (likely afternoons or weekends), and many youth preferred to work on the busy beaches (Playa Linda, Cholón) to “make money” from tourists. “The year before last, we had that program with SENA, and the students barely showed up… they won’t come to school when they can go to the beach and earn money. By Monday, they show up with more money than we teachers make.” (Dimas De Ávila, personal communication, 24 January 2025). This reveals a serious challenge: the school is competing with the informal economy for the attention of the youth.

Despite this, the principal sees opportunities and is working to have the institution included in the Schools Friendly with Tourism program to receive support for tourism training and English instruction, stating: “It’s paradoxical that Tierra Bomba, which depends on tourism, is not in that program.” (Dimas De Ávila, personal communication, 24 January 2025). She also plans to propose that the city district establish technical specializations in hospitality and gastronomy, since many young women work as informal cooks or masseuses for visitors. Another innovation underway is strengthening the teaching of Bocachica’s local history, rich in heritage (colonial fortifications) and Afrodescendant resistance, so that students can appreciate it and perhaps work as cultural guides in the future.

In Tierra Bomba, community participation in education is still incipient. The principal mentioned that a CEP has not yet been jointly developed with the island’s Community Council, partly because the council has spent years pursuing collective land titling (which has yet to be granted), and there are ongoing legal tensions with the city over land ownership. Nonetheless, there is growing awareness among teachers of the need to engage the community. The principal, who is not from the island, has made efforts to connect with local leaders and understand the culture. This is relevant because many teachers assigned to rural Afro schools are unfamiliar with the context and apply decontextualized pedagogies. Training teachers in intercultural approaches is vital for ethnoeducational innovations to come alive in the classroom.

The third territory, Libertad, has a particular history of autonomy. Its name refers to its foundation by marooned freedmen in the 19th century. A corregimiento with a predominantly Afrodescendant population of about 5000 people, its local culture is marked by oral tradition, percussion music, and agriculture. In terms of education, Libertad has an educational institution that oversees several rural campuses. This was recognized as an ethnoeducational institution in the 2000s, and has since implemented the Afro-Colombian Studies Chair and cultural projects (folkloric dance groups, community historical memory initiatives, etc.). The interviewed teacher also stated that the school integrates ethnic rights education into its student counseling: “We give them tools, so they know that we have rights, values, and identity.” (Maricruz Bonilla, personal communication, 25 January 2025), aiming to ensure that students are self-aware and do not allow themselves to be discriminated against when they leave the community.

In terms of labor linkages, Libertad faces severe economic limitations; it is a rural area with little labor market beyond subsistence agriculture and small trades. Many youths migrate to Sincelejo, Cartagena, or other cities in search of opportunities. The school, aware of this, has been advocating for vocational training institutions to come to the town. For years, the community has requested that SENA offer weekend courses in Libertad, as it does in the municipal center (San Onofre). In fact, they were promised a program, but it has yet to materialize: “They promised that SENA would come here… we have a school that could host their courses; it would be phenomenal.” (Maricruz Bonilla, personal communication, 25 January 2025). The arrival of SENA is seen as crucial, since those who want to study must currently travel to San Onofre or Cartagena, which entails transportation and food costs that many farming families cannot afford. As the teacher explained, “A campesino father who earns 25,000 pesos a day (about USD 6) can’t afford to pay for his child’s travel and food to go study in town.” (Maricruz Bonilla, personal communication, 25 January 2025). The lack of local training opportunities is perceived as institutional abandonment: “We feel very abandoned by the institutions in this school-to-work transition aspect. I see it as extremely lacking… we are missing so much.” (Maricruz Bonilla, personal communication, 25 January 2025).

In summary, all three communities have attempted, with varying degrees of progress, to align education with their productive realities: La Boquilla with fish farming and tourism; Tierra Bomba with aspirations in tourism and maritime trades; and Libertad with cultural affirmation and demands for on-site technical training. The ethnoeducational innovations introduced—contextualized curricula, community participation, and partnerships with SENA—are valuable, but their effectiveness has depended heavily on governmental support (which has been inconsistent) and on the local conditions of security and infrastructure.

4.2. Structural Barriers to the School-to-Work Transition

Fieldwork and the reviewed literature revealed four major structural barriers that hinder Afro-Colombian ethnoeducation from facilitating an effective transition of youth into decent employment. In terms of informality and territorial opportunity structures, Colombia’s labor market remains highly informal. According to DANE (2024b), nationally, informality hovered around 55% in 2024–25. In Cartagena, the rates fluctuated between ~53% in Q1 2024 and ~49% between December 2024 and February 2025. In Sincelejo6, the urban center of Sucre, informality reached ~65–66% in late 2024. In rural and dispersed areas, informality exceeded 80%, reflecting a scarce presence of firms and weak social protection. This could explain why many young people in Tierra Bomba and La Boquilla priorities immediate earnings in tourism over completing upper secondary or technical education, and why migration to cities such as Cartagena and Sincelejo is often seen as the only path to formal employment, even though urban informality still traps newcomers. Therefore, any school-to-work strategy must acknowledge informality as a structuring reality and incorporate certification, recognition of prior learning, and pathways to formalization (e.g., tourism licensing, safety training, and entrepreneurship support).

The first main structural barrier is inadequate educational infrastructure. As previously discussed, deteriorating school buildings lacking specialized classrooms, Internet connectivity, or equipment make it impossible to deliver high-quality technical or vocational training. Tierra Bomba is an extreme example, where the absence of safe classrooms has forced the improvisation of temporary learning spaces. This not only limits practical learning, but also discourages students and teachers alike. The lack of student dormitories in rural areas is another factor: in Tierra Bomba, adverse maritime conditions (such as high tides) sometimes prevent teachers and students from crossing to Cartagena, which led to the community’s request for a local boarding facility. However, without sustained investment in infrastructure, the urban–rural gap persists, reinforcing educational inequality.

The second main barrier is violence and insecurity. Although open armed conflict has subsided in much of the Caribbean region, new forms of violence (drug trafficking, gangs, extortion, and territorial disputes) have emerged in these communities. The presence of drug trafficking along maritime routes near Tierra Bomba brings with it targeted killings and police operations that disrupt the school environment. Libertad continues to grapple with the social scars of paramilitarism: distrust, fear of reorganization, and some youth being drawn into illicit economies in the absence of alternatives. Violence undermines the school-to-work transition by eroding educational continuity (through dropout and trauma) and deterring private investment that could generate local employment. As long as Afro communities continue to be stigmatized as unsafe areas, it will be difficult to attract formal productive projects capable of employing their youth.

The third main barrier is racism and the resulting structural exclusion. Although racism today is less overt than in previous decades, it is still evident in the underrepresentation of Afro-Colombians in skilled jobs and in public policies that do not prioritize their specific needs. Many Afro youths, even those with formal education, encounter glass ceilings in the labor market: their surname, place of origin, or physical appearance can trigger bias during hiring processes. Additionally, employment opportunities in Colombia often rely on informal networks and personal connections, from which the youth in peripheral communities are generally excluded. This barrier is intangible but very real, and was acknowledged by the interviewees. For instance, the teacher from Libertad psychologically prepared her students to affirm their identity with pride in the face of potential discriminatory situations. The lack of positive role models (entrepreneurs or professionals) from their own ethnic background can also limit their aspirations. Tackling racism in education entails more than teaching Afro-Colombian content; it requires promoting interaction among youth from diverse backgrounds to break down stereotypes. As Estela Simancas, Coordinator of the Anti-Discrimination Observatory of Cartagena, noted, “Teaching about African heritage should be transversal in all schools, not exclusive to Afro institutions, as this would help reduce racial discrimination and foster cultural diversity in Cartagena.” (Rodríguez Barrios 2016, August 14). Overcoming racism would expand employment opportunities by reducing hiring biases and promoting the value of diversity.

The fourth main barrier is institutional disarticulation and underinvestment. There is a gap between policies and regulations and their actual implementation on the ground. While the intentions behind ethnoeducation are commendable, they are not always backed by adequate budgets or monitoring mechanisms. The communities studied expressed a sense of abandonment by the State when it came to supporting youth labor insertion. For example, the absence of SENA in Libertad is symptomatic of the lack of targeted training opportunities for those who need them most. Similarly, Tierra Bomba’s exclusion from district tourism education programs suggests failures in coordination or recognition of its insular context. At the national level, Colombia has yet to develop a robust school-to-work transition policy for ethnic populations. While general youth employment programs exist, such as Renta Joven, the successor to Jóvenes en Acción, which provides conditional transfers to promote education, employment, and entrepreneurship as of 2024 under the National Development Plan—few have incorporated differentiated components for Afrodescendants. This is in contrast to countries like Brazil, where affirmative action in higher education and vocational training for Afro-Brazilians has produced positive results (Hermida 2006; Macêdo et al. 2022).

Underinvestment is also evident in the lack of continuity for successful programs. In La Boquilla, for instance, there have been periods when SENA suspended courses due to administrative changes, disrupting the students’ progress. Thus, the sustainability of these initiatives is key and requires long-term political commitment—something that has been inconsistent in Colombia with respect to the Afro population, despite rhetorical support during the International Decade for People of African Descent (2015–2024).

In summary, the identified obstacles form a vicious cycle. Educational precarity and labor precarity reinforce one another, keeping Afro communities in conditions of marginalization. Overcoming these challenges requires comprehensive interventions that combine improvements in educational quality with local economic development and anti-discrimination efforts.

4.3. SENA and Vocational Training for Afrodescendant Youth

The National Training Service (SENA) has been repeatedly mentioned as a central actor in the articulation between education and employment in Colombia. Its mission is to provide free technical and technological training, with a practical approach aligned with the needs of the productive sector. In theory, SENA is positioned as an ideal bridge for youth from marginalized sectors—including Afrodescendant communities—toward employment through programs such as technician and technologist degrees, rural youth entrepreneurship, and entrepreneurial support, among others.

What specific role has SENA played in the communities studied and among Afrodescendant youth more broadly?

In La Boquilla and Cartagena more generally, SENA has established articulation agreements with various public schools, allowing tenth- and eleventh-grade students to pursue technical careers. This program, known as “double certification”, or sometimes as “SENA in the School”, seeks to improve access to education, promote employability, and strengthen youth entrepreneurship. The principal of the La Boquilla school emphasized: “We have two programs that SENA delivers here… the technical training begins in 10th grade, and when they graduate in 11th, they receive a SENA certificate.” (Magaly De la Rosa, personal communication, 29 January 2025). Training areas offered in Cartagena have included accounting administration and port logistics, among others. Many youth from La Boquilla have continued studying with SENA after graduation, opting for technologist-level programs through sequential pathways. This model has enabled some to find employment in hotels, the Cartagena port, or as bilingual tourist guides (thanks to complementary English courses). However, one limitation noted is the restricted number of slots, and at times, the training areas offered do not align precisely with local vocations. For example, a port logistics program was initially offered in La Boquilla when tourism might have been more relevant. Over time, the offerings have been adjusted.

In Tierra Bomba, SENA’s presence has been more intermittent. Before 2020, a program on outboard motor mechanics was launched, but with low completion rates. In 2023, under new leadership, there were plans to resume training with more flexible methodologies (e.g., modular programs scheduled during the tourism off-season to increase attendance). One challenge cited is that for SENA to deliver courses in a specific location, the host institution must provide “adequate learning environments.” (Dimas De Ávila, personal communication, 24 January 2025), that is, workshops or spaces with the required technical conditions. In schools with poor infrastructure, this becomes a barrier. The principal of Tierra Bomba noted that they are awaiting the construction of a new school facility (already approved by the district) in order to have the necessary workshops and reestablish agreements with SENA.

In Libertad and other rural areas of Sucre, SENA has operated through mobile weekend programs, in which instructors travel to remote localities on Saturdays to deliver basic training (San Onofre, the municipal center, has a SENA facility that sends instructors to outlying towns). However, Libertad appears to have been left out, which the community has voiced as a concern: “There was a proposal for SENA to come on Saturdays, just like in San Onofre […]. We were promised it would come here… we have the space (the school), and it would be phenomenal.” (Maricruz Bonilla, personal communication, 25 January 2025). The prolonged absence of SENA has led to frustration and a sense of territorial discrimination. This case shows that national-level presence is not enough; local management and political will are needed to extend coverage to every corner—especially those affected by violence—where training is most needed to rebuild the social fabric.

At the national level, SENA has implemented some targeted programs for vulnerable populations. For instance, it offers training for victims of the armed conflict, many of whom are Afro and Indigenous youth. Some SENA centers (e.g., the Agroecological Center in Chocó) have an ethnic focus. Additionally, after the Peace Agreement, new programs were launched in municipalities included in the Development Plans with a Territorial Focus (PDET), which encompass many Afro-Colombian regions. Nevertheless, there is no clear public report of SENA’s outreach specifically to Black communities. It would be valuable for the institution to keep statistics on how many Afrodescendant learners it serves and in which fields to assess its impact.

Testimonies from the interviewees underscore the need for a more proactive role by SENA: bringing training “to the last corner” of rural and peri-urban Afro territories; adapting schedules so they do not conflict with school hours; recognizing prior knowledge (as many youths already have informal skills); and integrating entrepreneurship components for those who have no available employers nearby.

In conclusion, SENA is a key piece in the puzzle of the transition from school to work of Afro-Colombian youth. However, its potential has not yet been fully realized in the most underserved communities. Strengthening SENA’s presence—whether through local centers, mobile units, or school-based agreements—is a natural recommendation that emerges from this study and will be addressed in the final section.

Regarding gendered trajectories in Afrodescendant school-to-work transitions, our field notes and national data suggest gender-specific pathways. In tourism corridors, for example, boys tend to be overrepresented in physically demanding or mobility-intensive roles, such as boat handling, porterage and equipment rental, while girls tend to be overrepresented in client-facing services, such as braiding, massage and cooking, often while also taking on care responsibilities at home. Recent releases from DANE (2025) show that most working minors are male (approximately 68%), with over 70% of child labor episodes concentrated in the 15–17 age group. In Cartagena, adolescent fertility remains a concern, with approximately 39 births per 1000 women aged 15–19 in 2024 (Cartagena Cómo Vamos 2025). This interacts with school dropout and the subsequent labor market disadvantages faced by mothers in Colombia. These asymmetries reinforce the need for gender-responsive ethnoeducation including comprehensive sexuality education, childcare support during training, safe mobility, and targeted SENA programs (e.g., hospitality management, culinary arts, and cosmetology) that do not reproduce stereotypes, but rather open higher-value roles such as front-desk operations, certified guiding, and entrepreneurship.

5. Conclusions and Recommendations

The research conducted shows that Afrodescendant ethnoeducation, conceived since the 1990s as a transformative policy, has yet to fully achieve its objectives in facilitating the school-to-work transition for Afro-Colombian youth living in contexts of crisis and exclusion. However, it also demonstrates that not all is inertia or failure. In the case studies examined, valuable innovations and seeds of change are evident—initiatives that, if strengthened, could lead to substantial improvements in the employability and life prospects for these young people.

Summarizing the findings in response to the initial research questions, it is worth highlighting that the innovations within the ethnoeducational model are based on a culturally relevant, participatory, and context-sensitive pedagogical approach. In the communities analyzed, this materialized in curricula that integrated local knowledge (fishing, culture, tourism), the development of educational projects with the community, and the promotion of ethnic pride. These innovations have partially revitalized the role of the school, making it more relevant and appreciated within its social context. Nonetheless, their impact has been constrained by systemic shortcomings: ethnoeducation has often been reduced to symbolism (Afro Chairs, cultural events) without permeating core subject areas such as science, technology, or mathematics from an Afro-centered worldview. Even so, where it has been implemented with commitment, as in the case of La Boquilla, the students acquired specific competencies (fish farming, tourism services) aligned with local opportunities, which is a noteworthy achievement.

Regarding implementation in the Afrodescendant Caribbean, Cartagena de Indias stands out as a pioneer in institutionalizing ethnoeducation at the district level. However, its actual implementation has been uneven. Afro rural zones (La Boquilla, Tierra Bomba, etc.) have embraced ethnoeducation—in fact, they account for most targeted schools—while in urban areas, only certain schools in Afro-majority neighborhoods have incorporated the Afro-Colombian Studies Chair. In the case of Libertad (Sucre), implementation occurred more through the initiative of local teachers than through departmental support. Overall, it is evident that ethnoeducation in the Caribbean has advanced thanks to the commitment of individual leaders; where such leadership is absent, the policy falters.

In terms of the school-to-work transition, specific actions have been limited. Most ethnoeducational institutions do not have robust vocational guidance, entrepreneurship training, or links with companies. The exception lies in the existing agreements with SENA, which should be expanded.

Turning to structural barriers, the findings confirm that inadequate infrastructure, ongoing and historical violence, systemic racism, and insufficient public investment are major obstacles to a successful school-to-work transition. These barriers go beyond education: they reflect broader historical issues of regional development and social justice. Therefore, schools alone cannot be expected to overcome them; comprehensive interventions from the State and society are required—ranging from guaranteeing security and peace in these territories to implementing active anti-discrimination policies in the labor market. In the meantime, schools and communities do what they can—pure resilience—to overcome these obstacles. For instance, renting houses to hold classes when the school building is falling apart, or creating their own productive projects in the absence of state support. That resilience is admirable, but it cannot be the only strategy; institutions must fulfill their role.

From a decolonial, Freirean standpoint (Freire 1970; Salém Vasconcelos et al. 2023), recommendations must go beyond “more programs” and instead reconfigure relations of knowledge, power, and production in Afro territories. First, co-governance: institutionalize shared decision-making (schools–families–community councils–SENA) over curricula and training offers, with formal seats and budgets in PEC committees. Second, epistemic justice: integrate Afro knowledge (e.g., boat-building, fisheries ecologies, culinary arts, oral history) across STEM and the humanities, with dialogic assessment (products, portfolios, community showcases). Third, territorial labor pathways: establish dual training tracks (earn-while-learn) in tourism, aquaculture and logistics—scheduled to avoid peak work hours—and the recognition of prior learning for youth already working informally. Fourth, gender-responsive design: childcare support, safe mobility, and anti-harassment protocols so that girls can access higher-value roles; this includes comprehensive sexuality education. Fifth, measurement and accountability: requirement for ethnicity-disaggregated indicators (enrolment, completion, certification, job placement) from MEN/SENA and local governments. These actions, we argue, cultivate critical consciousness and empower Afro youth to lead dignified transitions from school to work on their own terms—not as recipients but as historical subjects.