I keep coming back to a moment in American history most people have never been taught: when the Black Panthers sat down with poor white southerners and called them brothers in the same struggle.
It was the late 1960s in Chicago. Fred Hampton, only 21 years old, was leading the Illinois chapter of the Panthers. Across the table sat the Young Patriots, white migrants from Appalachia — some fresh out of Kentucky and Tennessee, carrying the baggage of Confederate flags and southern poverty. By every measure, they were supposed to be enemies. But Hampton saw what others wouldn’t: the same system that kept Black families trapped in Chicago’s ghettos was also oppressing poor white families who had come north looking for work.
Alongside Puerto Rican activists, they formed what became known as the Rainbow Coalition. They established free health clinics. They fed children. They organized tenants. They advocated against police brutality. And for a moment, those barriers of race and region mattered less than the shared reality of poverty and neglect.
That was too much for the powers that be. Within months, Hampton was dead — assassinated in his bed in a raid by Chicago police working hand-in-hand with the FBI. The Rainbow Coalition was smeared, infiltrated, and destroyed. Not because it failed, but because it was working.
And here we are in 2025, and the pattern remains unchanged. White Democrats continue to keep Black voters in check by warning of racism and fascism around every corner. Republicans maintain the loyalty of poor white voters by stoking fears of immigrants and “woke culture.” The words may be new, but the outcome is the same: the two largest groups of struggling Americans are too busy fighting each other to realize that both parties are collectively exploiting the country.
Which brings me to the question that keeps nagging me: if the Panthers and the Patriots were alive today, do you think they’d stay silent about the trillions of U.S. tax dollars leaving this country? Do we really believe they wouldn’t be calling out the billions flowing to Israel, Ukraine, and defense contractors while poor Black neighborhoods and poor white towns fall apart right in front of us?
That’s the point. They didn’t have to agree on everything to see the big picture. They didn’t see eye to eye on race. They didn’t erase their differences. But they understood the establishment. They knew the government that militarized police in Black neighborhoods was the same one that left Appalachia in ruins. They knew their survival depended on standing together against the powers above them, not fighting each other at the bottom.
And yet, by 2025, we have lost that habit of dialogue. We don’t sit face-to-face in union halls, church basements, or community centers anymore. Instead, we scroll through our feeds as algorithms shove outrage into our faces. We’ve allowed political gangs and media corporations to define our enemies — not by results, but by slogans.
Meanwhile, the money continues to flow — but not into our neighborhoods, out of them. Bridges fall apart. Schools shut down. Hospitals close. Families drown in debt. And the same establishment that failed us all tells us to keep blaming each other.
The truth is, the biggest threat to those in power has never been Russia, China, or terrorism. It has always been ordinary Americans realizing they share more in common with each other than with the politicians who manipulate them. That’s why Hampton was killed. That’s why King was silenced when he started the Poor People’s Campaign. That’s why Malcolm was taken out after he called for global solidarity.
The question is whether we remember. Whether we have the courage to look beyond the slogans and fearmongering, and to see that the real enemy isn’t across town or across the aisle. It’s above us.
Division is their weapon. Dialogue is our strength. And history has already shown us what happens when we dare to use it.
