It’s everywhere! “BIPOC.” You cannot seem to get away from it. We both remember when the preferred reference to those on the receiving end of racist and national oppression was “people of color.” Then suddenly we became BIPOC—a change urged by many as a specific form of enlightenment.
BIPOC, of course, stands for “black, indigenous and people of color.” The term’s rise to favor can be traced back to several factors. One is the demographic transformation of the country following the 1965 Immigration and Nationality Act, which gave preference to relatives of US citizens and those with specific skills. As a result, larger numbers of migrants from the Global South have arrived on our shores and, in various ways, have transformed discussions regarding race and color. Two, the decline—until recently—of the Black Freedom Movement, beginning in the 1970s, led many leftists and progressives to downplay the continued significance of anti-Black racism, the oppression of African Americans, and the importance of the Black Freedom Movement in shaping US politics. Third is the political resurgence of the neo-fascist and racist social movement unleashed in full fury by Donald Trump. A principal aim of that movement is the full institutionalization of white minority rule—an American apartheid state—motivated by a deeply rooted fear of the “Great Replacement,” that a “majority-minority” country will dismantle the systemic white privilege that pervades every political, economic, and social institution in the United States. This right-wing movement’s campaigns against immigrants, Muslims, Black Lives Matter, critical race theory, etc.—ranging from the rhetorical attacks by Donald Trump to the murders in El Paso and Buffalo—have understandably motivated oppressed communities of color to consider how to designate commonality in their collective freedom struggle.
However, there is an additional factor—one that many people wish to deny or downplay. And it is an extremely sensitive issue. Under the rubric of diversity, post-1965 Immigration Act, immigrants of color (and their descendants) started to be moved—by whites—into positions of leadership in various nonprofits, unions, and other progressive organizations, superseding nonimmigrants of color. These promotions were identified as representing “diversity,” even though those chosen had a very different—indeed qualitatively different—experience with white supremacist national oppression. Over time this process resulted in a slow but steady increase in resentment among nonimmigrant peoples of color.
Originally “BIPOC” emerged as a means of asserting that the experiences of Black and Indigenous peoples could not and should not be erased or subordinated. We agree with the intention. Yet there remains a problem—or maybe a few problems. For starters, the label created a racial hierarchy akin to the old “Black people and other minorities.” It was basically saying that there was a ladder of oppression that must be recognized—and at the top of the ladder were the most oppressed peoples of color. Creating such hierarchies leads to an “oppression Olympics” in which various populations and movements compete. This is deeply problematic.