Reclaiming “Association”: From Solidarity to Common Cause

Migration is currently at the heart of a global, moral panic. In the face of this, many have suggested that solidarity with “people-on-the-move” — a term used by migrants themselves to challenge the hierarchies built into categories like migrant, refugee, and asylum seeker — is the primary form of politics needed, as they are in the immediate crosshairs of authoritarian and liberal governments alike. As I will elaborate on below, some see solidarity as a form of “care for,” and some see it as “care with.” Each of these notions embeds different relations of power, some more symmetrical, some more asymmetrical. In either case, people-on-the-move are the focal point, and the question is how to care.

In studying the panic around criminality in “Policing the Crisis,” Stuart Hall devised a method of conjunctural analysis to understand the wider political landscape.¹ The premise of this essay picks up in that tradition, arguing that the panic over migration is a diversion from the real set of problems caused by racial capitalism and the nation-state form. People are living more precarious lives, as the richest 1 percent of the global population monopolize over 40 percent of the world’s financial assets and ever-new forms of capitalist extractivism continue to render the environment uninhabitable for many. People are moving in search of better lives (and sometimes just life itself). Those lucky to be born into wealthy countries are taught to blame migrants for their precarity in a zero-sum game: nation-states work to enable the movement of capital, in predictably racialized ways, but otherwise do not help to enhance, let alone equalize, life chances. They protect certain “citizens” at the expense of those designated the excess, the leftovers, or what Neferti Tadiar calls “remaindered life.”² These are exclusionary formations. Migrants are the fall guy — the scapegoat; the attack on them is the result of a few hording the wealth and resources of the world, and building walls to protect it. What kinds of care and justice are needed now which address a so-called “crisis” that is not about migrants, but nevertheless punishes them?

I suggest that while solidarity may be one way to engage, we need new, transversal forms of care and engagement, precisely because migration is a symptom of a wider set of problems that implicate everyone. To be clear, when I speak of care, I am thinking of care as politically potent, collective action, similar to what Deva Woodly has called “structural care” in the case of the Movement for Black Lives.³ Structural care addresses structural harms, reclaiming the legacies of Black feminists like Audre Lorde, who think of care as a form of political warfare in the case of those who are marginalized.⁴ To this end, I will suggest that Marx’s concept of “association” may be a more fitting way to conceive of the kinds of transversal, non-exclusionary (caring) politics we need for our fascist times.⁵

I start with solidarity and its limits because the migrants, or the people-on-the-move, I have talked to have explicitly rejected it as a form of organizing and care, claiming the idea of “common cause” instead. I will go into detail below, but I want to acknowledge that solidarity can mean many things and has many genealogies: it can both be the radical fire that feeds revolutions and a justification for reformist reforms, captured by the state and the NGO complex. In what I am describing, the latter is the prevailing notion of solidarity, one that implicitly embeds hierarchical relations between groups, closer to caring for or saving rather than caring with people on equal terms. In this case the care that accompanies solidarity can blend with logics of humanitarian aid, and the term “solidarian” reflects this combination. As I see it, solidarity is based on shared values, feelings, or understandings; solidarity can assume a community, or it can imply a set of hierarchical relations between groups. The key point is that in both cases, it assumes a form of shared recognition and social, racial, or class proximity, one that limits the extent to which people can be with and work with one another from positions of radical difference, or even indifference.⁶

I am proposing a repurposing of Marx’s concept of association as a way in which very different kinds of people come together to demand and enforce action and change, through forms of collective and horizontal political organizing, and new forms of collective social reproduction. This term preceded solidarity in the workers’ movements and was used to describe both the ways in which workers were organizing against capitalism and for a vision of cooperative sociality in a post-capitalist society. Association is a form of unity in everyday life as much as in the workplace, countering the isolation and alienation created by capitalism and competition. As Marx suggested, association indexes a form of sociality that cuts across the opposition between individual and society — freely associated people, who come together in activity with one another, as equal producers.⁷ While both solidarity and association involve collective action, the idea of association emphasizes activity in direct relation with others and control over the means of production. To be sure, “association” is now also used for groups, like cultural or sporting associations, but here, in returning to its Marxist genealogy, I also think of it as a verb — to associate — to indicate that it is always about activity.

I am interested in forms that are transversal and contingent, and not necessarily about long-term shared values or attachment, but which nevertheless do the work of care on both the scale of the intimate and the larger political landscape. In what follows, I suggest that occupations are one form that association takes — what I have described elsewhere as experiments in “commoning,” or “the common.”⁸ Here I want to think about what brings them together affectively and politically. Drawing on the concept of association, I will propose that we take activity as the basis of collectivity, forging its own forms of dispersed, non-exclusionary care.

To ground this brief exploration, I first turn to “Les Gilets Noirs” or the Black Vests — a play on the “Gilets Jaunes” or Yellow Vests movement in France — one of the more recent incarnations of the sans-papiers movement (literally, those without papers), or the movement by/for undocumented migrants. Starting in 2018, Les Gilets Noirs worked in association with the collective La Chapelle Debout, an anti-racist, anti-imperialist, and anti-fascist collective who work with migrants among others. In what follows, I look to their joint organizing because together they have questioned the concept of solidarity and used the idea of common cause instead in their forms of occupation and action. Second, I explore the relationship between the concepts and practices of solidarity and association. Finally, I will explain why I think association might work better for our times.

I. Occupations: Les Gilet Noirs/La Chapelle Debout

I have been drawn to the ways in which people-on-the-move, working with many others, are attempting to create space to live in forms not condoned by forms of liberal capitalist governance. These include what they call “occupations” of border zones, hotels, abandoned buildings, monuments, and churches. People are not just fighting for the freedom to move but also the freedom to live in place.

To be clear, I am aware of how troubling the term “occupation” can be, particularly in relation to settler colonialism. Tragically the ongoing genocidal violence in Palestine has put this issue front and center globally. The question is whether such acts of occupation can themselves be repurposed toward freedom; that is, whether these new ways of being together can practice decolonial politics, working with Indigenous communities against the nation-state to undo rather than further the settler-colonial project. This can be a project of “unoccupying” the land — to use a term by Indigenous scholar Sandy Grande — in the name of redistribution or repair.⁹ The point is not to imagine or claim the land as empty or available but precisely to refuse the authority of the state, challenging its right to decide who resides where.

Occupations — referring to a type of squatting, albeit with a particular political goal — have taken different forms.¹⁰ In addition to those in France, people-on-the-move have occupied locales in Greece, Italy, Spain, the Netherlands, Germany, the US, and Canada, among others. While each occupation is grounded in local histories and political contexts, they share a transnational imagination and set of strategies where the goal is to build collective infrastructures in which people can live together outside the rules of sovereignty and capital. In each case — this is absolutely critical to these experiments, making them different from many other migrant rights struggles — people-on-the-move join with other types of people to build infrastructures: longtime community members, houseless people, workers, young people, anarchists, organizers, and those simply looking to lend a hand. They do not necessarily agree with each other or have anything in common other than the immediate goal to live in freedom, and, as such, to challenge the regimes of inequality at whatever scale necessary.

Les Gilets Noirs have come together by way of a strategy of occupation, albeit a double-pronged one: on the one hand, they have claimed space to make what Hannah Arendt might call a political “appearance,” rendering inequality and exclusion visible; on the other, they have occupied abandoned buildings in order to live together collectively.¹¹ The political mode of appearance is the rupture of the consensus by those who are not legible, who do not count, and who are invisible until that moment.¹² In this sense, appearance is the moment of true political possibility — the condition for the emergence of new collectivities and political subjects. It is a disruption of the realm of the “sensible,” by which philosopher Jacques Rancière means the shared framework of perception that shapes what can be seen, heard, said, and thought in a particular society.¹³ By creating consensus, the sensible passes itself off as “the real,” even as reality is always a matter of construction.¹⁴ On both fronts, that of political appearance and collective living, Les Gilets Noirs helped change the dynamics of the city, putting themselves at the heart of it, reclaiming space. But in the process, they also prefigured a new political subject: that of a dispersed, temporary, unruly decolonized collective. By rupturing the sensible and by occupying spaces, Les Gilets Noirs and their associates act and build new forms of contingent collective subjectivity, but in ways that do not require shared community.

On the first front, Les Gilets Noirs started in May 2019 by occupying Charles de Gaulle Airport, the country’s largest airport from which many migrants are deported. They then moved on to occupy the lobby of the multinational catering company Elior in June 2019 in La Défense business district of Paris. Elior represents the heart of French neo-imperialism: Les Gilets Noirs pointed to their role in making profits selling weapons to Africa, feeding conflicts that in turn have led many of these very same sans-papiers to flee to Europe. Then they occupied the famous Pantheon, a mausoleum for distinguished French citizens — a potent symbol of the French republic from which sans-papiers have been excluded. Indeed, in this way, Les Gilets Noirs were visually refiguring and decolonizing the collective political subject of France, expanding its borders beyond the nation-state. Through their movement into and occupation of these various spaces, they disrupted order, they unsettled: they forced others to care about them, to think about French history differently — as part of a global history of Empire. 

On the second front, in the spring of 2022, after La Chapelle Debout scoped out the many abandoned buildings in the city, the collective occupied a location in Paris’s 9th arrondissement. This group included a cross-section of people: sans-papiers and citizens, children of immigrants, workers, people of color, and whoever needed a place to live moved in. They called it “L’Ambassade des Immigrés” (the Embassy of Immigrants). Together with locals from the neighborhood, they transformed the space into a home: it was a place for collective living and learning. They worked to build a collective kitchen; they called on everyone with expertise. They stocked it with beds and began creating social infrastructures for people to access French and English language lessons, legal aid, medical care, and accompaniment to court. Though they were expelled by the state within months, they continue to occupy different locales. There is a new one nearly every month; the latest occupations have been by and for undocumented minors, who have called themselves “le Collectif des jeunes du parc de Belleville.”¹⁵

We can think of the power of collective movement by thinking about the words “mobile” and “mobility” and their roots in the Latin “mobilis.” In the seventeenth century, the phrase “mobile vulgarus” — an unstable crowd — was shortened to the word “mob.”¹⁶ A mob referred to the disorderly part of the common people; it meant a riotous assemblage, a crowd or gang. One part of the definition of a mob is its fickleness, its movement. In the eighteenth century, as Martina Tazzioli points out, the mob referred more specifically to vagabonds and vagrants; as she states, here the mob refers to both the “people” and their troubling actions.¹⁷ In other words, it is not about the identity of a group per se but precisely about how people come together as a group to unsettle or disrupt.¹⁸ As historian Marcus Rediker writes, sailors and laborers and others were called motley crews or mobs when their collective actions threatened private property and authority.¹⁹ Similarly, these migrant occupations exceed the nation-state, defying the rules of citizenship and private property. They are composed of people from all over the world, with and without legal status, occupying private or public (state) property. They use translocal strategies that people often learn while on the move or bring with them, whether as migrants, organizers, or locals. As a constantly coalescing, decolonized collective, mob, or a contingent “we,” the associates of Les Gilets Noirs are reshaping the nature of political subjectivity, centering activity. Once again, this differs from solidarities based on shared values and feelings.

II. Against Solidarity 

Les Gilets Noirs/La Chapelle Debout have argued that their occupations do not work by solidarity. They have refused humanitarian aid and other forms of help, which they liken to solidarity, and repudiated the language of innocence and victimhood. They suggest that they do not want to be cared for, in the sense of being saved. Solidarity, in their understanding, is about being in alliance with or in support of a certain group of people while being outside it, rather than seeing oneself as part of that group’s struggle. They point to the way that the French Left has said they are in solidarity with sans-papiers assuming that they can stand alongside, without feeling that they are actually implicated in the sans-papiers’ struggle. Those leftists (the collective underscores) do not see themselves as personally invested, touched, or involved.

With this critique in mind, two of the participant-organizers explained to me that they worked with others to shift the affective regime of struggle away from a focus on suffering and toward an unrepentant and strident struggle for dignity and equality — and thus away from the more familiar language of care. La Chapelle Debout did a lot of its organizing from the “foyers” or migrant hostels, but they organized with others in their neighborhoods. When they occupied Elior, for instance, they joined the striking cleaning workers. In this sense, they call for a politics that goes beyond identity and beyond deservingness. They wage a broader fight: they insist that theirs is a movement for all — not just for people-on-the-move or personnes exilés — against a racist, capitalist, patriarchal system. It is a movement that recognizes histories of exploitation and extraction and pushes for freedom of circulation. This is why both modes of occupation — that is, demonstrations in high-visibility public places and squatting in spaces for living — center histories of imperialism and capitalism.

In this sense, they insist that they do not want solidarity, just common cause, as they admit to forms of difference and conflict.²⁰ More generally, as stated by those involved with La Chapelle Debout, it is not clear that solidarity describes the way that people come together in these spaces, even as they come together in common cause and participate in a form of sharing and mutuality. As I see it, people-on-the-move come from different backgrounds, regions, languages, and perspectives, and most have already endured violence along their travels; they are mixing with anarchists, feminists, locals, and houseless people. People come together in contingent ways, sometimes with trepidation and suspicion, sometimes with generosity and neighborliness, and sometimes with indifference. Sometimes it is simply about necessity.

Must people be in solidarity and agree on a common goal or program, or even feel allied with a larger cause? La Chapelle Debout suggests that they do not. Instead, they use a form of spatial political action, organizing in place, with some common goals, building new forms of being together that are not easy or innocent. La Chapelle Debout reframes the struggle to show that it is relevant to everyone. In this sense, I understand liberation for sans-papiers in Gary Wilder’s terms, as a “concrete universal.”²¹ It affects everyone, even if people come to it from different positions. La Chapelle Debout suggests that this is because we live in a common world where the fate of each depends on all. In this sense, they reject the hierarchical relations often embedded in languages of solidarity as care and, instead, try to remake the meaning of care as a more detached, egalitarian form of action. At the same time, as I will elaborate on in the next section, their occupations are all about care in the sense of social reproduction.

To be sure, once again, solidarity has contradictory histories and meanings: it can be both revolutionary and instrumentalized, co-opted. In France, solidarity was part of state ideology in the Third Republic; it was a normative principle and aided in consolidating capitalism. But it has also been the basis for struggle by and for workers, in the Pan-Africanist movement, as part of May 1968, and in relation to anti-colonial internationalism, among many other revolutionary movements.²² We have already mentioned the tension between solidarity as sustaining, or even requiring, an a priori collective, community, or group and it acting as a method of fighting in concert, whether or not one feels anything for the people one fights alongside. What La Chapelle Debout is saying is that there is no a priori collective. It’s a movement, and the struggle requires people who do not agree or identify with one another to fight together in a contingent way against certain conditions of domination. No one should want to live in a world where people are murdered at the borders and where increasing numbers of people are treated as less than human. It requires a contingent, transversal collectivity. 

III. Toward Multiscalar, Feminist Association  

I have been trying to understand what Les Gilets Noirs and La Chapelle Debout are advocating for by returning to the concept of association. In thinking with the activity of these groups, I have encountered three critical advantages to the concept of association. I will briefly elaborate on each, adapting the concept to help us think about today’s world. First, we might think of it as a method, not a community. With association, there is no pre-formed group to be in solidarity with, no interior core to help or support. People come together by way of activity — they associate — and as such this can happen across multiple domains, statuses, struggles, and forms of privilege and domination. As part of this, association as method allows the refusal of the relations of power and differentiation that capitalism requires, including the way race is used to enshrine capitalist inequality. People can decide where they enter, based on the idea that we are differently implicated in this system — but association acknowledges that we are all a part of it. No one stands outside of it. Today many of those being targeted by right-wing regimes are simply framed and produced as the excess: they are excluded or expelled from the current political and social order. They may be poor, brown, Black, trans, pregnant, houseless, intellectuals, artists, or leftists. Yet they do not necessarily have anything more than that in common. Association provides a method by which to think about how they come together in contingent forms — not based on identity, proximity, or affective connection.

Second, association allows us to think about care differently. It takes us away from the challenges of solidarity as care and its tension with forms of (hierarchical) aid. Instead, by centering relations of production, it draws our attention to production’s mutually constitutive, dialectical other: social reproduction. Social reproduction is “the fleshy, messy and indeterminate stuff of everyday life”; it is the biological reproduction of the labor force, including childcare, food, shelter, clothing, and health care.²³ This is the stuff of care, on both intimate and larger political scales. Looking through a decolonial feminist lens, we see that in fact, occupations — as forms of association and commoning — are about social reproduction.²⁴ People at L’Ambassade des Immigrés worked together to cook and eat; they created educational opportunities for both children and adults; they developed a collective infrastructure for health care. Occupations are about creating the collective conditions for people to live, whoever they are.

But occupations also take on other scales of social reproduction: the political organizing for better lives. It is not accidental that Les Gilets Noirs organized with the cleaning workers, those who perform the labor of social reproduction, when occupying Elior, the multinational catering company. As Premilla Nadasen has shown, social reproduction is not simply about the pre-conditions of work, but the care industry is itself a profit source and a way to extract capital.²⁵ In this sense, Les Gilets Noirs bring a focus to the dynamics of imperialism which have fed and funded the welfare state in France and elsewhere on the backs of those who were colonized; migrant labor continues to be exploited to this end. That is, these forms of association call attention to and fight against the global inequalities of racial capitalism, exemplified by the circuits of social reproduction, where those in the Global South — often former colonies — can only afford to live by sending their kin to work in the care industries (domestic labor, childcare, eldercare, cleaning, etc.) of the Global North.

Third, then, a refitted concept of association can accommodate a necessarily multiscalar approach, with an extended temporality. When associating for common cause, people come together in intimate ways to cook and do childcare, but occupations also work on a larger scale of the political. Occupations call attention to the inequalities and exploitation involved in the global circuits of capital, and to imperial relations more broadly that have happened over generations. Unlike solidarity, which I am conceptualizing here as a coming together with people one relates to or as a community, association can work to address the divisions and inequalities created by racial capitalism over time and space. This is because association can happen in ways that bring diverse geographies and generations into the same frame, without necessarily being built on shared values. Association as method allows a temporary coalescence of people from seemingly very different struggles for a common cause.

IV. Associating Against Fascism

In this sense, association may work better right now as a way to think about how the different types of people who are being targeted, criminalized, and abandoned can come together. Most importantly, it enables a large enough frame for everyone to see their implication in this regime of domination, at any particular moment — as both people who can be targeted and those who benefit from the targeting of others. I will give examples located in part in the US, but neither the forms of fascism/authoritarianism nor the forms of association can be contained by nation-states: they are all already transnational.

For instance, the sanctuary movement, which is necessarily a transborder movement, has been about giving refuge to people-on-the-move, even as it has been reinvigorated and reinvented since the 1980s when it initially began. Now, however, these struggles are being forced into dialogue with those fighting for the liberation of Palestine, as the latter are also being aggressively targeted for detention and deportation. While many in the sanctuary movement in the US and across the Americas are already involved across these struggles, and in transnational no-borders movements more broadly, many are not. Many do not see themselves implicated in transnational Palestine solidarity movements, and many others are fearful about engaging, feeling it is a step too far, or perhaps that it is not “their” fight. And yet, in the fight against detention, kidnapping, deportation, and incarceration, people from these various positions and struggles are being thrown together. They are already being associated with one another, whether they choose it or not. Association, in this sense, allows people an expanded frame by which to join with others, in a contingent way, for the common cause of stopping ICE and transnational detention and deportation regimes.

Similarly, trans people are being targeted by the Trump administration which has attacked their right to a passport with the correct gender assignment, withdrawing their ability to move freely.²⁶ Those who are naturalized citizens also have no choice but to see themselves as implicated, as their relationship to the US is being questioned: Trump announced that he wants to meet a quota, denaturalizing a hundred to two hundred people per month in 2026.²⁷ Black and brown people have always been targeted by the police, but this has been escalated by the zealous racialized targeting of people who “look” like migrants (revealing how nation-states are fundamentally racist constructions). It behooves women too to see themselves as implicated, insofar as their reproductive rights have been withdrawn in many US states, requiring that they too become people-on-the-move if they want rights; and so on, all the way down. These are all different movements with different risks and stakes. Solidarity with one group is not helpful because it exceeds each of them: they meet at the intersections of fascism, borders, and the larger system of carceral, racial capitalism.

To be sure, there are movements that work across single-issue or identity-based struggles, expanding the frame and working across their intersections. In addition to Les Gilets Noirs and La Chapelle Debout, the campaign for abolitionist sanctuary in the US is one such political struggle, asking how a movement to create spaces free from state violence for those who are undocumented can also take on the broader challenges of inequality in American cities, including police violence and mass incarceration.²⁸ Abolitionist sanctuary has joined in contingent ways with the political struggles for “no borders” in places like Europe and Australia and with the various transnational Movements for Black Lives. This is one path forward. But whether it is through this associational activity or others, the goal should not necessarily be solidarity; rather, it should be establishing a set of contingent, transversal concerns and a general feeling of implicated-ness for all, in and by fascism. We have to work beyond silos and beyond the obvious groupings and identities which bind people together in relations of care. As such, whether we disagree with each other or not, whether we care for each other or not, the fight against fascisms and authoritarianisms in their multiple, devastating mutations can be strengthened by coming together as freely associated people, in common cause.

Endnotes

1. Stuart Hall, Chas Critcher, Tony Jefferson, John Clarke, and Brian Roberts, Policing the Crisis: Mugging, the State, and Law and Order (Macmillan, 1978).[↑]
2. Neferti X. M. Tadiar, Remaindered Life (Duke University Press, 2022).[↑]
3. Deva Woodly, “The Politics of Care,” virtual lecture, The New School for Social Research, June 18, 2020, https://youtu.be/ih6F6N9pg-A?si=kCmsuMMGCiMCoF1k[↑]
4. Audre Lorde, A Burst of Light (Firebrand Books, 1988).[↑]
5. See Karl Marx and Friedrich Engels, The Communist Manifesto (International Publishers,1948); Karl Marx, “Economic and Philosophical Manuscripts (1844),” in Early Writings (Penguin, 1992); and Karl Marx and Friedrich Engels, “The German Ideology,” in The Marx-Engels Reader, ed. Robert Tucker (Norton, 1978).[↑]
6. I take the idea of solidarity as proximity from a talk by Seán Binder at the conference “Transdisciplinary Conversations on Migrant Solidarity: Definitional & Experiential Approximations,” at Nebrija University in Madrid, June 2-3, 2025.[↑]
7. Marx and Engels, The Communist Manifesto.[↑]
8. Miriam Ticktin, “Care and the Commons,” Contemporary Political Theory 20, (2023); Miriam Ticktin, Against Innocence: Undoing and Remaking the World (University of Chicago Press, 2025).[↑]
9. Sandy Grande, “Accumulation of the Primitive: The Limits of Liberalism and the Politics of Occupy Wall Street,” Settler Colonial Studies 3, no. 3–4 (2013).[↑]
10. These join a history and genealogy of similar types of movements inspired by the autonomous tradition, from the Occupy movement and the Spanish encampments, to the Arab uprisings, to land occupations and squatters movements.[↑]
11. Hannah Arendt, The Human Condition (University of Chicago Press, 1958).[↑]
12. Jason A. Frank, The Democratic Sublime: On Aesthetics and Popular Assembly (Oxford University Press, 2021).[↑]
13. Jacques Rancière, Dissensus: On Politics and Aesthetics, trans. Steve Corcoran (Continuum, 2010).[↑]
14. Frank, The Democratic Sublime; and Rancière, Dissensus.[↑]
15. See Abdourahamane Keita, “Jeunes du parc de Belleville : ‘Nous sommes abandonnés par l’État’,” Politis, December 20, 2024, https://www.politis.fr/articles/2024/12/carte-blanche-jeunes-du-parc-de-belleville-nous-sommes-abandonnes-par-letat/. See also Léa Coffineau’s forthcoming dissertation, “Boza Generation: Anti-Colonial Discourse, Innocence, and the Politicization of West African Migrant Youth in France” (PhD diss., City University of New York, forthcoming).[↑]
16. See The Oxford English Dictionary.[↑]
17. Martina Tazzioli, “The Government of Migrant Mobs: Temporary Divisible Multiplicities in Border Zones,” European Journal of Social Theory 20, no. 4 (2016).[↑]
18. See Robert Shoemaker, The London Mob: Violence and Disorder in Eighteenth-century England (Bloomsbury 2007).[↑]
19. Marcus Rediker, Outlaws of the Atlantic: Sailors, Pirates, and Motley Crews in the Age of Sail (Beacon Press, 2014).[↑]
20. See Plateforme d’Enquêtes Militantes, “Les Gilets Noirs, c’est pas un collectif, c’est un mouvement! Archéologie d’une lutte antiraciste,” ACTA, September 2, 2019, https://acta.zone/les-gilets-noirs-cest-pas-un-collectif-cest-un-mouvement-archeologie-dune-lutte-antiraciste/.[↑]
21. Gary Wilder, Concrete Utopianism: The Politics of Temporality and Solidarity (Fordham University Press, 2022).[↑]
22. Wilder, Concrete Utopianism.[↑]
23. Cindi Katz, “Vagabond Capitalism and the Necessity of Social Reproduction,” Antipode 33, no. 4 (2001).[↑]
24. Ticktin, Against Innocence.[↑]
25. Premilla Nadasen, Care: The Highest Stage of Capitalism (Haymarket Books, 2023).[↑]
26. ACLU, “Supreme Court Allows Trump Administration To Enforce Discriminatory Passport Policy,” press release, November 6, 2025, https://www.aclu.org/press-releases/supreme-court-allows-trump-administration-to-enforce-discriminatory-passport-policy.[↑]
27. See Hamed Aleaziz, “Trump Administration Aims to Strip More Foreign-Born Americans of Citizenship,” New York Times, December 17, 2025, https://www.nytimes.com/2025/12/17/us/politics/trump-immigration-citizenship-denaturalization.html.[↑]
28. Naomi A. Paik, “Abolitionist Futures and the US Sanctuary Movement,” Race & Class 59, no. 2 (2017).[↑]