From the Civil Rights Movement until Now: Black Americans in Solidarity with Immigrants

In the late 1930’s my great grandparents were brave and made a choice to leave their families, their home, and everything that they knew with the hope of a better future for their children. Their migration north was an act of fleeing few opportunities for work and constant terrorism. When they landed in New York City, they stayed with friends until they were able to settle into their own apartments. Living in New York City was not perfect- there is no outrunning the anti-blackness and racism that is foundational to this country. But moving did offer a reprieve from the bleak futures offered in their hometowns in South Carolina and Virginia. New York City offered hope- so they moved.

I am a 4th generation Harlemite because of the decision that my great grandmother, and others in my family, made to search for a better life in a place far from home. My family, and millions of others like ours, suffered from state-sponsored segregation and we know what it means to be taxed but excluded from resources that we’ve paid into. This story has so many echoes with what African, Asian, and Central American immigrants are experiencing today. Moving from one place to another, in search of a better life. Excluded from the privileges of citizenship but not excluded from the jobs that no one else wants. We know this story so well because the first iteration began with us in 1619.

Since being trafficked to this country 405 years ago, Black Americans have fought tirelessly against white supremacy to make this country a more perfect union. Despite race and prejudice being enshrined in the highest laws of the land, the Civil Rights movement was a tidal wave ushering the passage of the Civil Rights Act of 1964 and Voting Rights Act of 1965. Around the same time this movement finally toppled the Immigration Act of 1924, also known as the Asian Exclusion Act, when Congress passed the Immigration and Nationality Act of 1965. The new law abolished the race-based immigration quota system that only prioritized immigrants from Northern and Western Europe and excluded many other groups of people based solely on their race. The Immigration and Nationality Act of 1965 instead, prioritized refugees, people with special skills, and those with family members living in the United States. Most importantly, this law forbade discrimination in the issuance of immigrant visas on the basis of race, sex, nationality, place of birth, or place of residence- a clause that was included because of the struggle for Civil Rights.

Today, “immigration enforcement” is the blunt tool that the Trump administration is leveraging to dismantle our civil rights and terrorize both Black and immigrant communities across the country. Under the guise of pursuing people who are said to be unlawfully present in the US, Trump has vastly expanded the scope of ICE- an organization whose officers wear masks to round up and disappear citizens and non-citizens alike. See the recent “raid” in Chicago, which might aptly described as a “slave catching campaign,” or the invasion of Washington, DC, where people who are unhoused seemed as much a target as immigrants. After deporting some immigrants to El Salvadoran prison camps President Trump expressed the desire to send “homegrown terrorists” to these camps as well. It’s not hard to see that this is code for Black people, Muslims, and anyone else Trump decides to target. The money that ICE is using to surveil and detain immigrants is also being used against the Black community. Instead of providing the funding to help our children learn, or to help our communities thrive, our government is prioritizing funding ICE to crush any sense of stability in our families and neighborhoods.

Solidarity between the Black community and immigrants is critical in this moment. As the actor and musician Vic Mesna wrote in his recent oped with the New York Times, “we must stand up for the human rights of everyone if we expect to continue to have those rights ourselves“.

The most recent immigrants, who have settled in Harlem from Central/South America, the Caribbean, and Africa over the past three years, may not be my blood but they are people. Just like my great grandparents, they have dreams of a better life and better opportunities for their children. There has to be enough space here for all of us to pursue these goals.

And, in those spaces of welcoming new arrivals to New York City, and to America, it is very important to have African Americans- Black people- in the mix. We know what it is like to push America to uphold her promises and it is because of the fights that we led, that America’s newest arrivals are able to enjoy these rights.

As an adult, I’ve met many migrants- although none who made a journey from within the United States. The migrants that I’ve met in Harlem were from Mali and Ecuador- people who didn’t share my native tongue but whose stories felt so familiar to me. I’ve never been to either of those places but I understand, I can empathize, with the horrors that someone has to be faced with to leave their home.

It is happening more frequently now- people move, but people fleeing is something different. It’s something my people did just a few generations ago, and because they moved my grandmother was able to graduate from high school, and some of her children were able to graduate from college, and I was able to go to college and graduate school. The building that my great grandmother moved into when she first arrived in NYC is the same building that I live in with my family- that’s 4 generations that were able to call Harlem home because of one decision that she made all those years ago.

Our shared story of migration connects us to the migrants who are arriving today and our shared path forward rests in solidarity.