Dear Black liberals: Palestine TikTok activists aren't the enemy

As I sit in a cafe in Cairo, I often engage in a familiar exchange with staff. They ask me where I am from, and I reply that I am from Senegal and Gambia but live in the United States.

Upon learning that I live in the US, the question that follows is, “What do you think of Palestine?” This question reflects a nuanced understanding that distinguishes between the actions of the US government and its people.

It recognises that while the US government may not represent its citizens, Palestine serves as a point for discussing human suffering, critiquing not only US policies but also broader global systems it has helped to establish.

We are at a critical moment where Internationalism is gaining renewed importance as a key framework for understanding contemporary politics. Internationalism, as articulated by figures like Kwame Ture, underscores the importance of solidarity and shared struggles across national boundaries.

Recent pro-Palestinian protests have highlighted how domestic injustices faced by communities of colour in the US are intertwined with the country’s foreign policies. For instance, George Floyd’s killing exposed how violent surveillance technologies are often developed overseas, and then deployed against marginalised communities in the US.

The entanglement of domestic and international issues underscores a persistent struggle against imperialism, which manifests abroad and within its national borders.

The current centrist political climate in the US champions voting as a moral imperative, especially with the looming threat of a returning Trump presidency.

Enter Kamala Harris, whose past as a former prosecutor presents significant challenges for many Black voters. Despite these concerns, her identity as a Black woman is foregrounded in discussions about her campaign.

This brings up the issue of identity politics, which is the language adopted by liberals as the model for political progress for marginalised groups.

Some argue that a Harris presidency could benefit Black Americans, even though her record suggests otherwise.

Towards a Black Internationalism

In this election cycle, debates between some Palestinian and Black content creators on platforms like TikTok highlight a critical issue: the cognitive dissonance of Black liberals regarding Palestine, and the need to re-centre Internationalism.

Some argue that supporting Harris aligns with pro-Black advocacy, elevating it above all other identity struggles, while others challenge this view, leading to friction between 'political' communities.

These online discussions, despite the peculiar timing, can often create ahistorical divisions rather than fostering solidarity. As solidarity with Palestine grows and the connections between different struggles become clearer, it’s crucial to refocus on Internationalism to bridge these divides and strengthen collective action.

To understand how we arrived at this point, it is essential to revisit the legacy of the Civil Rights era. The dominant narrative of the Civil Rights era, often simplified and sanitised, overlooks the radical elements that pushed for international solidarity and justice.

Instead, a narrative of assimilation and integration prevails, reflected in the current discourse surrounding Harris. Current debates often revolve around the protection and revocation of rights, which creates a precarious situation where individuals compete for limited resources.

The liberal rendering of the civil rights struggles has led to a focus on rights and integration rather than justice and liberation.

The systematic destruction of radical Black movements has left a dominant narrative that fails to account for the broader, internationalist perspectives.

The exploitation of anti-Blackness by some Black liberals to undermine solidarity is a troubling trend. It obscures the broader fight against imperialism and seeks to further entrench Black people as symbols of empire. This co-optation obscured even those with the best intentions, leading to a narrow understanding of Black solidarity.

Recent months have shown that the divide between domestic and foreign policy is more illusory than substantive.

While anti-Blackness remains a real issue, it should not hinder our commitment to international causes like Palestinian liberation. Liberation is not a zero-sum game; supporting one struggle does not diminish the other.

One example of transcending these narrow perspectives is Kwame Ture, formerly Stokely Carmichael, who was a vocal advocate for Palestinian liberation in the 20th century. In August 1968, Ture spoke at a convention organised by Arab students at the University of Michigan, shortly after the Six-Day War.

This event, which saw participation from both Arab students and the Black Panther Party, highlighted the connections between Black liberation and Palestinian resistance. Ture’s speech explicitly linked Black struggles to anti-Zionism, emphasising a shared fight against imperialism and dehumanisation.

Ture’s stance was not an isolated case; many Black leaders and movements have historically supported Palestinian liberation. This solidarity was rooted in a recognition of Zionism as a European colonial enterprise, akin to other forms of oppression faced by Black communities. This tradition of Black Internationalism, exemplified by Ture, offers a model of solidarity that remains relevant today.

The recent controversies and debates within Black and Palestinian ‘political talking spaces’ underscore the urgent need to reaffirm our commitment to internationalism.

As we navigate these complex issues, we must resist the temptation to reduce our struggles to narrow, liberal frameworks. Our strength lies in our solidarity. The legacy of Ture reminds us that our struggle for liberation is interconnected, transcending geographical and political boundaries.

Momodou Taal is a PhD student in the Africana Studies department at Cornell University, he is also the host of The Malcolm Effect podcast.

Follow him on X: @MomodouTaal 

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Opinions expressed in this article remain those of the author and do not necessarily represent those of The New Arab, its editorial board or staff.