The Myth of Black and Brown Coalition

 The Myth of Coalition: A Wake-Up Call from San Jose’s Corridors of Power

 The recent political scandal in San Jose, involving city councilmen Peter Ortiz and Domingo Candelas, serves as a stark and unsettling revelation. Discovered within a secret digital forum, their derogatory and racist language—directed at both Black and Mexican communities—is more than a personal failing; it is a profound breach of public trust. This incident, emerging from a group chat aptly named “Tam Hall” after a notoriously corrupt political machine, demands more than superficial outrage. It necessitates a critical re-examination of a long-held political narrative: the enduring myth of a monolithic Black and Brown coalition. The uncomfortable truth exposed by this scandal is that such alliances are often a one-way street, built on a foundation of convenience rather than genuine, reciprocal solidarity.

The details of the case are damning. The group chat, discovered on the confiscated phone of a councilman facing felony child molestation charges, was a space where the n-word and slurs like “scraps” for Mexicans were exchanged with casual indifference. This was not merely “locker room talk” or private jest. When individuals who hold the keys to a city’s resources—budgets, housing policies, and law enforcement protocols—engage in such dialogue, their words cease to be private opinions. They become precursors to public action. Racist jokes, when normalized among decision-makers, inevitably manifest as biased policies: budget cuts for Black neighborhoods, disproportionate police presence, and educational neglect. The company these councilmen kept, and the language they embraced, reveals a worldview that directly contradicts their public duties and the diverse constituency they were elected to serve.

 

This incident powerfully dismantles the romanticized notion of Black and Brown solidarity. The narrative of a united front against oppression sounds beautiful in theory, but in practice, it frequently operates as a system of exploitation where the labor of solidarity falls disproportionately on one side. Foundational Black Americans (FBA) are consistently expected to be the vanguard of every progressive struggle—showing up for immigration marches, chanting for police reform, and lending their voices to housing rights. Yet, when anti-Black racism rears its head, whether through police brutality, voter suppression, or, as in this case, the casual bigotry of elected officials, the promised coalition often fractures into silence or, worse, complicity. The expectation of Black support becomes a given, while reciprocal advocacy is treated as an optional courtesy.

 

The scandal in San Jose is a microcosm of this broader dynamic. Here were officials representing one of America’s most diverse cities, yet their private communications were steeped in the very anti-Blackness and intra-ethnic prejudice they are publicly presumed to combat. This is not a bug in the system of coalition-building; it is a feature. It highlights how anti-Blackness can persist even within politically aligned non-white groups, functioning as a tool to maintain existing power structures. The subsequent public apologies—formulaic statements about healing and misunderstood values—ring hollow. They are performative damage control, apologies for being caught, not for the underlying beliefs. True accountability would involve tangible consequences, not just public relations management.

 

Therefore, this moment must serve as a catalyst for a new political clarity. The demand can no longer be for solidarity in name only, but for unequivocal reciprocity. If a coalition partner remains silent in the face of anti-Backness, they are not an ally but an enabler. The energy, protest, and unwavering support of the Black community are precious resources that must be invested wisely—in organizations and movements that demonstrate their commitment through action, not just rhetoric. The lesson is not to abandon the concept of coalition, but to refine it. A true coalition is not a hustle where one group’s needs are perpetually prioritized over another’s. It is a mutual pact, a two-way street of respect and advocacy.

 In conclusion, the racist group chat in San Jose is more than a political embarrassment; it is a mirror reflecting the deep-seated cracks in America’s racial justice movements. It calls for an end to the charitable model of activism, where Black communities are expected to carry the burdens of others without receiving commensurate support. The path forward requires a clear-eyed commitment to partnerships that are validated by consistent action and mutual respect. The wake-up call has been issued: trust must be earned, loyalty is reciprocal, and any coalition that fails to condemn anti-Blackness unequivocally is not a coalition at all, but a façade that perpetuates the very injustices it claims to oppose.