 What does it say about the world that massacres those who fight for its freedom? From the slaughter of African soldiers in Thiaroye, Senegal, in 1944 to the bombing of the MOVE organization in Philadelphia in 1985, the message is clear: Black liberation terrifies those who profit from our oppression. These stories—separated by decades and continents—reveal a global pattern. When Black people demand dignity or autonomy, the response is swift, brutal, and devastating. Whether through bullets, bombs, or systemic erasure, oppressive systems work overtime to ensure Black communities “know their place.” But they also reveal something else: resistance is woven into the fabric of Black existence. From Thiaroye to MOVE, Black people have shown that our fight for liberation is relentless—and necessary. Thiaroye: Soldiers Betrayed, Histories ErasedOn December 1, 1944, African soldiers—known as the Tirailleurs Sénégalais—returned to Senegal after fighting for France in World War II. They had risked their lives to liberate Europe, only to face indignity and betrayal. Instead of receiving the wages and pensions they were promised, they were met with contempt. When they peacefully protested this injustice, French troops opened fire, killing at least 35 men, though many estimate the death toll to be closer to 300. This massacre wasn’t about unpaid wages. It was a deliberate act of colonial dominance. France wanted to send a message to its African colonies: Your sacrifices mean nothing. Your lives mean nothing. Stay in your place. The tragedy of Thiaroye was buried in colonial archives for decades, a deliberate erasure meant to silence this moment of resistance. As historian Mamadou Diouf explains, “Thiaroye was more than a massacre. It was an attempt to reassert the racial hierarchies of empire.” MOVE: Black Autonomy as a ThreatForty years later, in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, the same fear of Black liberation led to another massacre. The MOVE organization was more than just a group—it was a community rooted in African traditions, sustainability, and anti-capitalism. MOVE rejected the values of a system built on exploitation, choosing instead to live in harmony with nature and one another. For this, they were deemed a threat. On May 13, 1985, Philadelphia police dropped a bomb on MOVE’s home, killing 11 people, including five children, and destroying 61 homes in a predominantly Black neighborhood. Survivors, like Ramona Africa, were shot at as they fled the flames. “They dropped that bomb on us because we were Black people who stood up for what we believed in,” she later said. MOVE’s destruction wasn’t just about one house. It was a warning. Like Thiaroye, it was meant to crush the idea of Black autonomy and remind us of the price of resistance. The Global Pattern of Anti-BlacknessThiaroye and MOVE are part of the same global story. Across continents and decades, anti-Blackness manifests as a deliberate strategy to suppress resistance. The tools may change—guns in Senegal, bombs in Philadelphia—but the purpose remains the same: maintain control through violence and erasure. Both events reveal a shared strategy:
The numbers make the scale of this oppression undeniable. During World War II, African soldiers received less than half the pensions of their white counterparts (Al Jazeera). In the United States, 56 Black veterans were lynched between 1919 and 1946 simply for wearing their uniforms (Equal Justice Initiative). And in Philadelphia, the MOVE bombing left 250 people homeless, yet no officials were held accountable (PBS). The Revolutionary Power of Self-CareThe violence against Thiaroye and MOVE wasn’t just physical—it was psychological. It was about keeping Black people tired, isolated, and disconnected from our history and each other. That’s why self-care is not a luxury—it’s a revolutionary act. As Audre Lorde wrote, “Caring for myself is not self-indulgence, it is self-preservation, and that is an act of political warfare.” True self-care isn’t about indulgence. It’s about survival, healing, and reclaiming the time and energy that these systems try to steal from us. What Revolutionary Self-Care Looks LikeRevolutionary self-care begins with reclaiming what this world tries to take from us: our history, our community, and our joy. Reclaim Your History: Start with the stories they don’t want us to know. Talk to your children about Thiaroye and MOVE. Share these truths with your community. As Toni Morrison said, “The function of freedom is to free someone else.” Build Your Community: Oppression thrives on isolation. Find your tribe—the people who see you, uplift you, and fight alongside you. bell hooks reminded us that “Beloved community is formed not by the eradication of difference but by its affirmation.” Protect Your Rest and Joy: Rest is resistance. This system profits from our exhaustion. Choosing to rest and find joy is a radical act of defiance—and a necessary one. Honor Your Roots: Reconnect with the practices that kept our ancestors strong, from herbal remedies to ancestral veneration. These acts remind us of the power we carry. Why This Matters TodayThe stories of Thiaroye and MOVE show us the lengths to which systems of power will go to suppress Black resistance. But they also remind us of our resilience. From the Haitian Revolution, where enslaved Africans used their spiritual knowledge to defeat colonial powers, to MOVE’s vision of communal living, Black people have always resisted. This is why rhetoric like “Make America Great Again” is so dangerous. It isn’t just nostalgic—it’s a longing for a time when Black people were enslaved, excluded, and erased. But history shows us something else: we have never stopped fighting. A Call to ActionWe can’t change the past, but we can honor it. By remembering Thiaroye, MOVE, and countless other stories of Black resistance, we reclaim the narratives they tried to steal. By caring for ourselves and our communities, we prepare for the fight ahead. The system wants us to believe we are powerless. But as our ancestors have shown us, resistance is in our blood. If this article moved you, taught you something new, or inspired you, please share it. Share it with your friends, your family, and your community. Let’s make sure these stories, and the lessons they carry, are never forgotten. Together, we can honor our past and build a future rooted in truth and liberation. Sources
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 Poverty doesn’t just make life harder—it multiplies harm. The less you have, the more it costs to survive, turning today’s small struggles into tomorrow’s impossible crises. In a system designed to exploit the most vulnerable, poverty charges interest—and we’re all paying the price. Living under capitalism, particularly as a Black American, often feels like navigating a system intentionally designed to exhaust and exploit you. The weight of systemic oppression, generational trauma, and financial inequity doesn’t just hurt—it compounds. For many, survival feels like an endless uphill battle, and the kind of change needed to break these cycles can seem impossibly far away. This isn’t an appeal for empty hope or hollow validation. It’s a call to confront the forces that keep so many of us trapped and to name them for what they are: systems that thrive on inequality. This is about refusing to let those systems win, even if the solutions feel out of reach. The System Was Built to ExploitThe challenges Black Americans face today didn’t appear overnight. They are the direct result of policies intentionally designed to exploit and exclude. From slavery to sharecropping, Jim Crow laws, redlining, and mass incarceration, systemic racism has shaped the economic landscape of this country. One of the most devastating examples is the war on drugs, which disproportionately impacted Black families. Between the 1980s and 1990s, mandatory minimum sentencing laws for drug offenses disproportionately targeted Black men, tearing families apart and leaving Black women to spearhead households alone. By 2000, more than 1.5 million Black men were missing from their communities due to incarceration or early death (Equal Justice Initiative, 2015). This systemic dismantling of Black family structures has become normalized. Today, nearly 70% of Black children are raised in single-parent households, compared to just 25% of White children (Pew Research Center, 2019). This norm—rooted in systemic oppression—forces Black women to shoulder not only the emotional burden of raising children but also the financial responsibility of paying bills, securing housing, and building wealth in a system designed to work against them. As Dr. Dorothy A. Brown observes in The Whiteness of Wealth, “The consequences of discriminatory policies compound over generations, creating a cycle of disadvantage that Black women are often left to navigate on their own.” Poverty Charges InterestThe financial consequences of systemic inequality are staggering. Rising housing costs, stagnant wages, and inflation disproportionately affect low-income families. And here’s the kicker: poverty charges interest. When you can’t afford to solve a problem today—whether it’s paying a bill, repairing something essential, or addressing your health—the cost doesn’t stay the same. It grows. Over time, small problems turn into big ones, and the resources needed to fix them become even harder to access. This is how poverty traps people in a cycle. The lack of immediate resources forces decisions that solve today’s emergencies at the expense of tomorrow’s stability. It’s not just about being broke—it’s about how poverty compounds harm, creating situations that feel impossible to escape. Meanwhile, Black women are disproportionately employed in low-wage industries like retail and service jobs, earning 64 cents for every dollar earned by White men (National Women’s Law Center, 2021). This wage gap means less access to resources and an even greater vulnerability to financial emergencies. Angela Glover Blackwell points to the need for systemic reform: “When we invest in the most vulnerable, we create conditions where everyone can thrive. But right now, the system is designed to do the opposite—exacerbating harm for those who need the most support.” Performative Solutions Aren’t EnoughEven the solutions offered to alleviate suffering often fall short. Grants like the Amber Grant for Black women or programs through Black Girl Ventures can be life-changing for a few recipients, but they’re far from guaranteed. Thousands of women apply for these grants every month, making them highly competitive. Mutual aid networks, while faster and less bureaucratic, are often underfunded, with 63% of urban programs reporting a lack of resources (Center for Economic Democracy, 2021). At the systemic level, companies launch diversity initiatives or promote wellness campaigns that fail to address the root causes of inequality. Without actionable policies—such as fair wages, universal healthcare, or affordable housing—these efforts amount to little more than window dressing. The Fight for ChangeThe change we need—universal basic income, reparations, guaranteed housing—may not come to pass in our lifetimes. That’s a devastating reality to sit with, especially when our ancestors fought and died for a better future, and many in our generation fail to use the tools they sacrificed for, like voting or activism. So why fight at all? Because change isn’t just about the future—it’s about reclaiming moments of joy and power in the present. Resistance isn’t always about dismantling entire systems; sometimes, it’s about creating space to breathe, rest, and survive in a world that tries to suffocate you. Bella’s Apothecary—a business I’ve built to center care, rest, and healing for Black women—is one small piece of that resistance. It’s not about fixing everything; it’s about refusing to let the system take all of me. Every product, every ritual, every act of care is a reminder that we are more than what this system wants us to be. As Audre Lorde said: “Caring for myself is not self-indulgence, it is self-preservation, and that is an act of political warfare.” The world isn’t fair, but we are not powerless. Every moment of healing, every small act of care, and every refusal to give in is a step toward reclaiming the life we deserve—whether we see the results in this lifetime or not. Sources
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AuthorBella Eiko is a single mother of a 2 boys, freelance journalist, foodie & Civil Rights activist that is dedicated to building a better world by increasing communication & applying positive changes to her everyday life. This endeavor includes educating both herself as well as her son about sustainable living and healthy alternatives to everyday products using practical application. Categories
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