The Black Panther Party is often misunderstood. In many textbooks, it is reduced to images of leather jackets, raised fists, and confrontation. From a Black perspective, however, the Black Panther Party was not born out of violence—it was born out of necessity. It was a response to generations of state violence, economic abandonment, and the constant message that Black lives were disposable. The Panthers did not invent resistance; they organized it.
When many people learn about Martin Luther King Jr., they are taught a version of him that feels quiet, safe, and finished. He is often remembered only for having a dream, for being peaceful, and for bringing everyone together. But for Black people, Dr. King was not just a symbol of unity — he was a Black man speaking directly out of centuries of struggle, grief, faith, and resistance.
Venezuela’s story cannot be understood without understanding oil. Sitting at the top of South America, Venezuela holds some of the largest oil reserves on Earth, a resource that brought wealth, influence, and deep connections to the United States. For decades, U.S. oil companies helped extract Venezuelan oil, and oil money funded schools, healthcare, and food programs. But this wealth also created dependence. When a country builds nearly everything around one resource, that resource begins to shape its politics, its economy, and its relationships with other nations.
We often hear that those who don’t learn from history are doomed to repeat it — but the truth is, we’re already repeating it. Not because we’ve forgotten the past, but because too many of us have never learned our own. Until we face our ancestry honestly — whether it’s rooted in colonization, survival, or resistance — we’ll keep living out the same old patterns. Real change begins when we stop rewriting history to comfort ourselves and start reclaiming our true stories, with honesty and accountability.
Before borders and ships, before the violence that scattered us, the peoples of Turtle Island and the African continent shared a way of being rooted in relationship. Both knew that to live well meant to live in kinship — with the earth, with spirit, and with one another.
The Return to Kinship is a remembering — of how our rivers once flowed together, and how they can meet again. It is a call to rebuild what colonization tried to break: balance, belonging, and the sacredness of our connection to all life.