No, that isn’t too many P’s.
It was one of the first tests of my revolutionary fervor in this new position. And I faltered.
When given the choice between advocating to keep fighting or to take an offer that promised only limited gains now but had potential for significant reforms over time, I actually talked up the benefits of the deal.
I didn’t want the deal.
I didn’t like the deal.
But as I looked at the sea of young faces, whose future careers and life trajectories might hinge on this decision, I became concerned. It looked like many, swept up in the intense rhetoric and excitement of the moment, might not clearly see what was at stake, nor had a full understanding of what success, as a process and an outcome, would actually look like. That’s when the concern turned into fear.
~
To provide context, I am one of two stewards who represent the Urban and Regional Planning Department at the University of Michigan. I represent the Graduate Employee’s Union (GEO) of this institution, which has a radical and very successful history of pushing for reforms and benefits for its membership. As I write this, we are in the midst of a historic strike which has polarized many in the local community, but has gained international attention and incredible national solidarity. However, our unstoppable force is in the midst of clashing with a seemingly immovable object – a large institution’s pocketbook and inherent conservatism.
Seeing the writing on the wall with the hazards that 2020 has visited on the country, this fight is centered on public health and safety. Certainly, our demands on coronavirus protections and transparency are vitally important to our safety as workers as well as that of the students we teach. However, the seemingly intractable point of conflict is the sweeping policing reforms that we are pushing for and that the administrator refuses to even discuss.
It appears that this could quite possibly be the hill that the union (and potentially every person in the union’s membership) may die on. And from a certain perspective, it could be a worthy death. Policing is the cause célèbre of our current moment, and taking a stand on this issue would send a powerful message about the convictions and moral character of an institution that professes to be progressive. However, looking at the student body and its often-shocking lack of diversity, a thought struck me. This union, which was so gung-ho about fighting for this cause, has few if any oppressed minorities in leadership. For them, the fear of the police was probably purely conceptual, and likely a product of a generalized worldview (albeit one that I share). It was unlikely that any of them had ever been the targets of police violence or had any reasonable expectation to be. In a perverse way, they could afford to be relentless yet non-tactical in their approach. Winning or losing this battle would likely not materially change their world, or their feelings of security, going about their daily lives in a sheltered academic environment. Reflecting on the risks that they were subjecting the membership to, all without meaningfully consulting students and community members from marginalized groups or approaching the fight with a solid strategy, it actually made me angry. And I struggled to understand why. But then it dawned on me.
I was on the verge of becoming a Jim Clyburn.
For those of you unfamiliar with the name, Jim Clyburn was the South Carolina congressman – one of the oldest Black men in Congress – who endorsed Joe Biden during the primaries and arguably turned the tide in favor of establishment Democrats. I remember being furious with him because of the lost opportunity for rapid progress in a country that I had hoped (perhaps foolishly) would be ready for it. But upon reflection, despite my resentment, I understand now what made him take his stand. He was used to incremental change or no change at all. The life of a Black man that lives that long is full of disappointment, rebuke, and abuse. And it is doubtless filled with times not just when progress wasn’t made but, in fact, forward progress was clawed back by angry, fearful, conservative voices who could not stand to see one ounce of their monopoly on power diminished through justice.
And then I looked back on my own life. I’ve been unquestionably blessed, but I’ve also seen a lot of consequence that was unfair and unjust. Many who have been conditioned to doubt my innocence or capacity for civility have snatched away the privileges and (perceived) rights that I felt I was entitled to. Perhaps that’s why our parents punished us so harshly for misbehavior and told us not to expect justice or fairness in this world – even as we looked at the boldness with which many of our White playmates made demands of life and the people around them. Our parents knew all too well that we played by different sets of rules, with outcomes that were potentially disastrous with a single misstep.
So, as I reflected on my feelings about the union’s approach to its demands, I realized that to be Black and political is to be strategic and patient when necessary, but strategic and bold whenever possible. But where does this leave young(ish) Black progressives who have strong convictions but little faith in society and its ability to tolerate meaningful equity reforms? It leaves us in a precarious place, where our aims themselves can be fundamentally endangered by the eagerness with which we chase them.
For many POC who try to remain nonpolitical (out of fear, fatigue, or lack of bandwidth), life is a perpetual lab trial of staring at a cookie, patiently waiting in hopes of getting a second cookie, while knowing the whole time it is quite possible that the first cookie will be snatched away. But it isn’t all that different for those of us who are politically active. Using perhaps a more apt analogy, to seize the small amount of ground that one can get risks potentially greater gains, but to storm the hill brings the possibility of losing it all. Strategic thinkers often frame their tactics in such dualities. But for the Black progressive, it is preventing a third scenario that forces us to act even when we’re tired, and scared, and the outcome isn’t clear – that of standing still and getting mowed down by enemy fire anyway. We don’t have the luxury of waiting for justice or hoping for the best, but we also cannot afford to charge forward without a plan and expect to live to fight another day. The progress that we dream about, long for, and can almost taste isn’t something that is ever ceded willingly. Just as MLK said, “Freedom is never voluntarily given by the oppressor; it must be demanded by the oppressed.” But this will never come easily or without sacrifice and planning because, as George Orwell wrote, “We know that no one ever seizes power with the intention of relinquishing it.”
All that being said, we, as progressives of color, have to keep marching in the face of seemingly intractable disputes, against power structures with nearly blemish-free records of wins. We have no choice. But we have to be strategic about it. Calls for systemic change are often denied for generations, and those who defend the status quo are ready to ensure that it doesn’t happen on their watch. In order to seize the moment and not end up casualties of poor execution, we have to be the best-prepared, smartest, and most level-headed people in the room. Because if we are putting our bodies, our freedom, and our leverage to create lasting change on the line, we damn-well better make sure that we aren’t doing it for nothing.
~
Quasi-epilogue: Immediately after the vote to keep striking (which passed by a commanding margin, with me in the minority), I signed up for a picket shift, began writing notices for both the administration and anxious students about the next steps, began brainstorming on how to be most effective with my co-steward, and mentally prepared for a long fight. In for a penny, in for a pound, I guess. Sometimes, even if it wasn’t your preferred choice, you’ve got to take up the cause and fight like it was your idea to begin with. That’s how solidarity works.
Fear of a Black Planner 