Thoughts on Black Solidarity

So, I’m in this class called “African-American Philosophy.” We are reading a book by Tommie Shelby called We Who Are Dark: The Philosophical Foundations of Black Solidarity. Brother Shelby is a professor at Harvard University . In his book, Shelby takes head on the critics who would say that today – considering all of the advances America has had in regards to racial equality – “Black solidarity” is an unnecessary form of “identity politics” and that it superficially calls for group loyalty in an ever-evolving multi-racial, and multi-cultural society.

Shelby , however, comes out on the right end. His entire book is devoted to defending the stance that “Black solidarity” is an important political stance to be adopted by Blacks. But he is careful in his analysis. He clearly defines this Black solidarity in terms of a political solidarity, a point that I accept. But I do take issue with some aspects of his argument.

He says that the philosophical foundation for Black solidarity is anti-racist political struggle, but I think he’s missing something. I submit that the philosophical foundation of Black solidarity is “anti-oppression” political struggle as opposed to just “anti-racist” political struggle. Thinking about Black solidarity in terms of anti-oppression political struggle addresses the pluralism amongst “we who are dark” and works to weed out every form of oppression in our lives.

For instance, a social justice organization that wants a robust Black solidarity must not only focus on “Blackness” or anti-racist political struggle. They can certainly organize within an anti-racist framework, but they must at least have a more far-reaching analysis of the world. A social justice organization such as this must also look at gender and issues of class in order to form a stronger and more robust Black solidarity.

A real world example is the Mike Tyson case (the Clarence Thomas/Anita Hill situation is another) where he was accused, and convicted, of raping Desiree Washington. Black feminist critiques of this case raised important questions about Black solidarity during this period. Many Black folks who called for Black solidarity in the Tyson case (i.e. defending the Black man) did so at the expense of the Black woman involved (i.e. the possibility of a Black woman being sexually assaulted is to be marginalized to make room for “Black solidarity”). Within this conception of Black solidarity, Black men reap the benefits of blind loyalty while Black women shut up and support their men.

In this case, prominent Black male leaders (I’m thinking particularly of Louis Farrakhan.) called for “Black solidarity” to defend these Black men from what they saw as a castrating white-supremacist power structure. What they didn’t realize - or maybe they did - is that they were fueling the patriarchal machine that has historically devalued the lives, experiences, and credibility of Black women. We must remember a time not that long ago when the rape of a Black woman was impossible because society viewed her as being so promiscuous that her consent was to be assumed.

So it seems to me that at once we are calling for “Black solidarity,” but at the same time we are disenfranchising half of our group by using the language of patriarchy and sexist thinking. A Black solidarity that has an anti-racist political struggle as its foundation could possibly ignore – as we see in the case above – the fact that Black women are both Black and women. A Black solidarity that has an anti-oppression political struggle as its foundation recognizes this potential dilemma and would incorporate, for instance, a feminist critique and bring us closer to finding truth.

To create and maintain a robust Black solidarity, its foundation must extend beyond a narrow anti-racist political struggle and bring into question issues of gender, class, and ability, just to name a few; essentially, the foundation must be anti-oppression and anti-domination.