From Allyship to Solidarity
I joined the growing throng of people arced around the front steps of the student union. Students held up signs that read “Minnesota to Mizzou” and “Concerned Student 1950,” echoing call-and-response chants from the speakers on the steps. For a moment, I marveled at the size of the crowd. This was my first political rally, coming from a small town where there was no real tradition of dissent or civil disobedience. The only action resembling a protest I could remember was a professor and two students from the local college standing at the corner of Main Street, holding signs with “Occupy Wall Street” slogans that garnered no real reaction from passing cars.
The infectious buzz in the air warmed me as I moved closer to the center of the crowd. The president of the University of Minnesota Students for Justice in Palestine took to the steps to speak in solidarity with Concerned Student 1950, the students organizing against racism on the University of Missouri campus. In her speech, she spoke of the historic tradition of Black-Palestinian solidarity and referenced Palestinians from Gaza tweeting advice about tear gas to protesters in the Ferguson Uprising.
For the first time in my life, I felt connected to something bigger than myself, surrounded by like-minded people who were passionate about justice and solidarity.
It was a stark contrast to my antagonistic experiences arguing with other students at my high school about Black Lives Matter, when the movement catapulted into being during my senior year.
The Minnesota to Mizzou rally was a show of solidarity with Black students at the University of Missouri, organized under “Concerned Student 1950” — referring to the year the University of Missouri admitted its first Black student — against racist incidents on campus. The student movement brought about the resignation of the University of Missouri system president and started a national conversation across college campuses about racism. Many similar movements and demands followed suit. And for me, the Minnesota to Mizzou rally would be the first of countless protests and rallies as I would soon join Students for Justice in Palestine and become more involved with campus organizing. It was the first time that I felt the power of the people.
I joined the board of Students for Justice in Palestine as an intern during our 2016 Divestment campaign, where we introduced a resolution to go through the Minnesota Student Association (MSA). The resolution asked that the University of Minnesota divest from weapons corporations complicit in Israeli violations of Palestinian human rights. It was my first introduction to the Boycott, Divestment, and Sanctions (BDS) movement and to student organizing. A critical part of this initial campaign was building solidarity. The resolution was sponsored by over 30 student groups, most of which represented students of color, as well as numerous professors. During the MSA forum, our allies and supporters showed up and spoke up in support of our cause. Despite the palpable tension in the room as we were constantly derailed from speaking on Palestine, the outshowing of support and the anger reflected in our allies was powerful. An empty version of the resolution passed, stripped of any mention of Palestine or Israel and of the names of professors and student groups who had signed onto a much more robust resolution.
This model of solidarity catalyzed me to get more involved with student organizing, meeting with other student activists, representing SJP in activist coalitions. It also served as inspiration for the 2018 Divestment campaign we ran. Frustrated by the inability to control our narrative and speak on Palestine, we decided to go the route of a student body referendum, where the entire student body would be able to vote on the question of divestment. While the 2016 campaign brought the conversation of Palestine to campus, the 2018 campaign expanded that conversation.
Our core tenet was the idea that none of us are free until all of us are free, and with this in mind, we built a divestment coalition. This went beyond allyship; instead, we were connecting our struggles in a meaningful way.
The corporations we highlighted in 2016 were not only committing human rights violations in Palestine. We built our referendum question by centering our narratives, our struggles, and our values: “Should the students of the University of Minnesota demand the Board of Regents divest from companies that are 1) complicit in Israeli violations of Palestinian human rights, 2) maintaining and establishing private prisons and immigrant detention centers, or 3) violating Indigenous sovereignty?”
The referendum was a success; it passed with a majority student vote with exactly the wording above. It was a successful campaign because we built a coalition that moved beyond allyship to solidarity. We were able to see how our struggles connected rather than simply show surface-level support for each other. This concept of co-liberation is perhaps best exemplified by a quote from an Aboriginal activists group: “If you have come here to help me, you are wasting your time. But if you have come because your liberation is bound up with mine, then let us work together.” From that first Minnesota to Mizzou rally to UMN Divest 2018, I felt the power of solidarity and learned in struggle with my comrades. As I continue to grow and develop my politics, I carry with me the lessons I learned and the relationships I built, and I believe more strongly than ever that the liberation of all people is possible.