Solidarity: The Power of Crossing Lines

“We must learn to live together as brothers or perish together as fools.”

—Martin Luther King Jr.

As a Black immigrant, who grew up in the United States, who has lived in America for over 35 years, who spent over 20 years undocumented, I have grown tired. I have grown tired of the ways in which communities that are in desperate need of and can benefit from solidarity, often either resist or reject solidarity. Consider the fact that across the African Diaspora, we continue to wage “Diaspora Wars,” which wars are not always the (hopefully) harmless and fun arguments, for example, about food.

Which is better: Nigerian jollof  or Ghanaian jollof? Baked mac and cheese or macaroni pie? Rice and beans or peas and rice? Curry chicken or chicken curry?

Then there are the debates about whether or not Black British actors should be cast to play Black American characters, particularly notable figures in American history (e.g., David Oyelowo as Martin Luther King Jr. Selma and David Kaluuya as Fred Hampton in Judas and the Black Messiah). Idris Elba, a Black British actor, finds these debates “annoying”  and has said, “The fact is: we’re all Black.”

The contention between Black Africans, Black West Indians, Black Americans, and Black Brits, for example, is often centered around the idea of  which group of people is qualitatively better—better as in more smart, more respectable, more intelligent, more educated, more cultured, more excellent, more safe, and more acceptable, especially in the eyes of white people. Meanwhile, from Lagos to London, from Port-au-Prince to São Paulo, from Memphis to Khartoum, Black people, the world over, are collectively catching hell. And the hell being caught is not arbitrary or haphazard. The hell of white supremacy is deliberate and calculated.

Regardless of where we were born or raised, most, if not all, Black people have internalized the noxious narratives of anti-blackness foisted upon us by the dominant white culture. But it’s not just Black people who have internalized racism: anti-blackness, specifically, and anti-Indigeneity, generally. Since the 15th century, propelled by the Doctrine of Discovery, Europeans embarked on a centuries-long, greed-fueled, and violence-filled crusade to conquer lands and people, and to extract the resources and riches thereof. In doing so, across Africa, Asia, and the Americas, these European colonizers and their descendants racialized whole people groups and established racial hierarchies with themselves at the top. Thus, still to this day, people of the “Global Majority” continue to practice the ways of whiteness, with which we have been inculcated, and to pursue the rewards of proximity to whiteness.

In 2019, via PBS, Independent Lens premiered  Unlikely Allies: First Rainbow Coalition, the subject of which was a look back at the alliance that had been formed between Black, Latino, and southern white community-based organizations in 1969. The Chicago Black Panther Party, then led by Chairman Fred Hampton, had reached out across racial and ethnic lines to the Young Lords and the Young Patriots, encouraging them to unite around class lines and to fight together for their common goals and mutual interests (e.g., affordable housing, jobs, healthcare, education, eradicating poverty, ending police brutality). While speaking to a diverse audience, pleading his case, Hampton states that there are only two classes: lower and upper, the exploited and the exploited, the oppressed and the oppressor. Thus, he said, “We’re going to fight racism not with racism, but we’re going to fight with solidarity.” Hampton then goes on to say the following:

“They want to keep you to believing that I’m your enemy. . . . Why? Because if you were ever to disregard him, and overlook him for just a minute, and throw away the cause of the racist, and start to dealing with a little logic, then they can be beaten. There would be no one else you could attack.”

Fred Hampton was assassinated by the Chicago Police Department, with the aid and support of the FBI, on December 4, 1969. He was only 21 years years old.

Strength and power are related, but not the same. Strength connotes the capacity to exert force; power connotes the intensity at which force is exerted. Similarly, as there is a difference between strength and power, there is a difference between unity and solidarity. There is strength in unity. There is power in solidarity. Unity increases our collective capacity. Solidarity increases our collective force. For this reason, throughout human history, “divide and conquer” has been a timeless tactic and a successful strategy.

For ages, the people with the most power (physical, social, political, and economic) have used myriad means, including violence, to prevent, to disrupt, to fracture, and to destroy alliances between different groups of people. Why? Because when different and disparate groups of people come  together, join forces, and direct their collective ire towards those in positions of power, there is the possibility for revolt and revolution.

Strength and power. Unity and solidarity. We need it all. Marginalized people and communities of today must learn and draw inspiration from marginalized people and communities of yesterday. As Bobby Seale, cofounder of the Black Panther Party writes:

“Racism and ethnic differences allow the power structure to exploit the masses of workers in this country, because that’s the key by which they maintain their control.”

While it is difficult to break the well-worn habits of viewing people with suspicion, contempt, or both, we must try. However, as Cole Arthur Riley writes:

“[U]nity should not come at the expense of the vulnerable. Its integrity depends upon its ability to make the union safe and honorable.”

To do otherwise, according to Riley, is “annihilation.” We must not be fools. We must use wisdom, cultivate hope, nurture faith, take courage, and exercise love  Solidarity, both intracommunal and intercommunal, is a necessity in the constant struggle that is the fight for justice and liberation.