Mobilization in Minneapolis on January 23 against ICE and the killing of Renée Good. Photo by a participant, who wishes to remain anonymous; used with permission
On Wednesday, January 7, a white US citizen named Nicole Renée Good was driving near her home in Minneapolis when a US Immigration and Customs Enforcement agent shot and killed her. Renée, as she was known to her family and friends, was a 37-year-old mother who loved poetry and cared deeply for her community. After attempting to wave ICE officers on, Good was approached by the agents and confronted before the shooting. Eyewitness accounts from neighbors as well as recorded video show the events as they unfolded for the world to see.
Soon after videos of her death were posted, Donald Trump described Renée Good as a “professional agitator” and stated that the “Radical Left is threatening, assaulting, and targeting our Law Enforcement Officers and ICE Agents on a daily basis.” He went on to say, “They are just trying to do the job of MAKING AMERICA SAFE.” The Trump administration and federal officials continued to double down on the terrorism narrative, despite the eyewitness testimony and video evidence that appeared to show Renée simply trying to leave the scene.
For centuries, the ruling class in America has used race to pit the masses against each other in an effort to prevent socioeconomic unity. In the 1600s it was racial division. Today, it’s identity politics. The idea is the same: pit the working class against each other to distract from the concentration of power and wealth at the top.
This use of societal division can be traced back to Bacon’s Rebellion of 1676–77. Groups of enslaved and indentured laborers in colonial Virginia worked side by side in the tobacco fields of wealthy plantation owners. Overworked, underpaid, and considered disposable, they recognized they had a common enemy. An alliance was formed between the European indentured servants and the indentured, enslaved, and free Africans. This terrified the elite ruling class.
What followed has served as a systemic tool to keep populations at bay for hundreds of years. In an effort to sow division between the indentured servants and enslaved Africans, racialized labor was enforced and the concept of “white” was created and codified. Slave codes throughout the colonies strengthened the racial divide by legally enforcing slavery as hereditary and lifelong. Slave patrols were formed and enforced by law in 1704, making it compulsory for non-landowning, poor white men to police enslaved Black people. By 1705, racial oppression became law with the Virginia slave codes. Elevating the status of poor whites was just enough to prevent another rebellion and to create an artificial incentive to protect their status, which was only slightly better than that of enslaved Black people.
Before the 1600s, people identified themselves through attributes such as family lineage, religion, and nationality. The invention of race allowed European colonialism to prosper by reinforcing power among the elites and helped stave off a unified resistance among the working class. Over time, laws and economics have favored white skin and worked against Black and brown people and their communities. Look no further than the prison system in our country, with America housing more incarcerated individuals than any other developed nation on earth—the majority of which are Black and brown men. This is not by mistake. The Thirteenth Amendment to the Constitution abolished slavery with the exception of as punishment for a crime. Yet we disproportionately criminalize Black life. Characterizing people who are not white as a mutual enemy makes it easier to place blame than to confront the actual governmental failures that make all of our lives more difficult.
If “othering” is the preferred tool of division that stokes the flames of fear and rage, one needn’t look hard to find it. We take in sensational messaging daily that categorizes people as threats. Whether it’s Mexican immigrants and drug cartels, Venezuelan gangs overtaking apartment complexes in Colorado, or Haitian migrants eating pets in Ohio, the focus is always turned away from the real systemic problems that Americans face.
Renée Good’s skin color did not protect her from government-sanctioned violence. Her death exposed a larger truth that violence experienced under this administration is not rooted solely in racism but is now also directed at anyone challenging its authority. Messaging of “domestic terrorism” is now directed toward anyone considered to be obstructing ICE operations or in opposition to the Trump administration.
The real threat that Americans face is not immigration, crime in cities, cultural differences, or a mom driving her car. It’s the concentration of power at the top and prioritization of corporate profits over people. This institutionalized division is hindering progress for everyday people. Wages have not kept up with inflation. Health care is increasingly out of reach. Housing is unaffordable. Student debt, medical debt, and credit card debt are putting people into a financial debt trap of generational precarity. Climate disasters are desecrating entire communities and ecosystems. Gun violence and mass shootings continue to be a daily reality. All of this sustained by corporate interests that profit off of death and destruction.
With the Supreme Court’s Citizens United decision in 2010, corporate money now has nearly unfettered influence in our elections. The 2017 Tax Cuts and Jobs Act, along with the more recent Big Beautiful Bill, significantly cut corporate tax rates—benefiting the wealthiest among us with deductions for assets like private jets, while cutting funding to programs like Medicaid, Medicare, and the health insurance marketplace. Wealth inequality is also skyrocketing at levels never seen before, with a small number of America’s top billionaires amassing trillions of dollars collectively as of 2026. To be clear, that’s American taxpayer money paying for that jet—yet increasing teacher pay is untenable.
These are realities we all live under regardless of political beliefs, because they are driven by class power: a system fed by the labor of many and benefiting just a few. Yet instead of a media environment addressing these increasingly dire circumstances, we continue to be fed the same messaging that the threat is our neighbor and not an unchecked power structure.
There’s a lesson to be had from Bacon’s Rebellion. We, the people, are more powerful together. The concentration of power at the top thrives on racial, cultural, and political division in order to succeed. A government bought by corporations cannot properly serve the public.
Minneapolis has set a great example for what it looks like when neighbors and community members show up for one another across differences. Local participation is where change begins. Building community through shopping at local businesses, participating in local elections, attending city council and school board meetings, supporting local independent media, and building mutual aid are all ways to connect and build strong alliances.
One of the most historically proven methods of collective organizing is the labor movement. Unions strengthen the working class by giving workers collective power. Unions have a broad understanding for the conditions that impact working people, from fair wages and workplace safety to civil rights, immigration, corporate accountability, gender equality, immigration, international workers rights, infrastructure investment, and prison reform.
There is power when working-class people come together and find commonality in our shared interests. Politicians and corporations may use fear and threats to divide and conquer. Working-class Americans also have a useful tool that we need to start utilizing: solidarity.
Kristin Davis is a resident of Champaign County and writes about labor and class in America.