As spoken at No Kings 3, March 28, 2026

When we talk about Black history, too often we speak about it like it’s over.
Like it’s something finished. Something behind us.

We talk about slavery. We talk about segregation. We talk about marches and victories.
We mention the Civil Rights Movement and we tell ourselves that progress has already been won. But the truth is—Black history is not just history. It is happening right now.

And if we’re honest with ourselves, we can see it in the systems that still shape people’s lives today—including U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement, known as ICE.

Now, some people hear “ICE” and think this is only about immigration.
But for many Black people and people of color, it feels like something more.

Because history has shown us a pattern. A pattern where laws and systems are used not just to protect—but to control, or to decide who belongs—and who does not.

From slave patrols…
to Jim Crow laws…
to mass incarceration…

And now, for many, immigration enforcement feels like the next chapter in that same story.

Black immigrants—people from Africa, from the Caribbean—are often treated more harshly, detained longer, and overlooked in conversations about justice.

And sometimes, even Black citizens—people born in this country—are questioned, stopped, and forced to prove they belong.

Think about that.

In a nation built on freedom, there are still people who have to prove their right to exist.

So we have to ask ourselves:

Is this really just about immigration?
Or is it about race?
About power?
About history repeating itself in new forms?

Because the truth is, the world is watching.

They see a country that speaks loudly about liberty and justice for all—
but struggles to deliver it equally.

They see families separated.
They see fear in communities of color.
They see people treated as problems instead of human beings.

And they remember our history.

But here’s the most important part of that history:

Black history is not just a story of oppression.

It is a story of resistance.

It is a story of people who stood up when systems tried to push them down.
Who spoke out when silence was easier.
Who demanded dignity when the world denied it.

And that same spirit is alive today.

In protests.
In voices.
In communities refusing to be invisible.

Because the lesson of Black history is simple, but powerful:

Injustice anywhere cannot be ignored everywhere.

So this isn’t just about ICE.

It’s about who we choose to be.

Do we repeat history?
Or do we rise above it?

Do we look away?
Or do we speak up?

Because one day, people will look back at this moment—
just like we look back at the past—and ask:

What did we do when it mattered?