The ledger of American social justice is heavily written in the blood-red ink of Black people, but the dividends have rarely been shared in kind. For generations, Black people in America have stood on the front lines of freedom, operating under the generous principle that fighting for our own liberation required lifting up every oppressed group.
We built coalitions, popularized the notion of a “rainbow coalition” made up of “people of color,” and shielded communities that lacked our hard-won political leverage. And our gains earned by our blood, sweat, and tears opened doors of opportunity for other “othered” groups. Name a group that was marginalized and shut out from accessing “American” institutions, rights, and freedoms, and nine times out of nine, it was on the backs of Black people’s sacrifices that those groups paraded into a so-called “more perfect union.”
Yet, recent political and cultural shifts have delivered a harsh reality check.
From global social media trends to domestic voting booths, the response to Black solidarity has not been reciprocity, but a doubling down on anti-Blackness. The time has come for a paradigm shift. The only logical antidote to this global hostility is a commitment to radical self-love—expressed not as a sentiment, but as deliberate, protective action.
The “People of Color” coalition illusion
The fractures in the myth of melanated solidarity have become impossible to ignore. Recently, a wave of outrage erupted over viral social media content originating from China, which depicted the blatant exploitation and abuse of Black children, alongside controversial products like the “Natasha Doll.” When Black consumers rightfully called for boycotts, the response from a significant segment of the Chinese-American social media ecosystem wasn’t empathy; it was defensive vitriol, relying on the same tired anti-Black tropes.
This hostility completely ignored a foundational economic truth: hundreds of thousands of Asian-owned businesses thrive directly because of the Black dollars spent in Black neighborhoods.
Not only that; when Trump and crew sought to criminalize and demean all Asians, blaming the entire global COVID pandemic on them, the U.S. saw a massive uptick in violence against Asians in America. And right on cue, the majority of Blackfolk condemned the scapegoating of Asians. Because Blackfolk know, as MLK said, “Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere.”
Yet, the Asian community, for the most part, has been “quiet as a mouse peeing on cotton” when it comes to the death of Nolan Wells–even though he has Asian ancestry. But because Nolan’s father is Black, they see Nolan as Black, and hence, there’s no reason to show care or concern.
This transactional betrayal is not isolated to any one group, though. For decades, the phrase “Black and Brown” was a staple of Texas and national activism. Yet, recent election cycles saw a massive rightward shift among Latino voters toward a MAGA platform explicitly hostile to Black progress and immigrants, especially those from Mexico and South America.
Similarly, Black activists were among the loudest voices condemning apartheid in Gaza. Yet, during the 2024 presidential election, significant Arab and Palestinian voting blocs in states like Michigan pivoted to support a white nationalist platform. When the subsequent Trump administration accelerated the devastation of Gaza, those same communities criticized Blackfolk for refusing to anchor their protests.
As a civil rights advocate, author, and scholar, the late Derrick Bell, famously observed through his theory of “interest convergence,” power-wielding and striving groups rarely support Black rights unless it directly advances their own interests. And even then, it’s only sometimes. So, the expectation of shared moral obligation has proven to be a one-way street.
Intersectional betrayal
This pattern extends beyond ethnic coalitions into gender and diasporic solidarity. Large groups of Blackfolk living in the American Babylon have championed women’s reproductive autonomy, yet a majority of white women repeatedly vote for political agendas that dismantle those very rights.
Even within the broader Black diaspora, unity is fractured by proximity to whiteness. In Minneapolis, sections of the Somali immigrant community openly aligned with anti-Black political rhetoric to distance themselves from African Americans. Yet, when political winds shifted, and the MAGA apparatus predictably targeted those very immigrants, blasting them with the same stereotypes aimed at Blackfolk born and raised in the U.S., the loudest pro-Trump Somali voices suddenly demanded Black “American” protection.
It brings to mind the sobering wisdom of Zora Neale Hurston: “All skinfolk ain’t kinfolk.”
We have worn ourselves out playing the world’s shield, only to be stabbed in the back by the very groups whose backs we protected.
Pathological empathy’s high price
The urge to save everyone is a cultural trait born of Blackfolk, but it has morphed into a dangerous form of pathological empathy. White supremacy has long relied on Black labor and forgiveness to sustain itself. Historians have noted that the so-called United States is the only Western democracy without universal healthcare, largely because white voters historically preferred to sabotage their own well-being rather than see Black citizens benefit from federal programs.
As author Adam Serwer famously titled his analysis of this phenomenon, most visible today in conservative politics, The Cruelty is the Point.
If white folk who are considered part of the power-wielding klan are willing to self-harm to maintain anti-Black hierarchies, we cannot expect marginalized groups seeking proximity to power (i.e. the white-adjacent, white-presenting, and/or off-white folk) to act any differently. They will continue to colonize Black culture, profit from Black spending, and climb through the doors opened by the Civil Rights Movement while stepping on our fingers and faces as they rise.
Moving forward: Black Period
The path forward requires an uncompromising doctrine: BLACK PERIOD.
We must dismantle the exhausting framework of multiculturalism that routinely devalues us. This isn’t a call to hate on others. And truthfully, no amount of ranting is going to stop us from speaking out on injustices wherever they are directed. Still, we’ve got to commit to a mandate to love ourselves first, exclusively, and strategically. Radical self-love means turning our creativity, economic power, voting blocs, and emotional energy inward.
If other communities want our solidarity, they must earn it through sustained, measurable reciprocity. Until then, we must go cold turkey on alliances that deplete us. We must pour our love into our own institutions, our own children, and our own healing. We have fought for the world long enough, only to experience those we fought for turning their backs on us. It’s past time we fight for ourselves. Period.
