When Hatred Hides Behind Solidarity
“True solidarity does not scapegoat. It stitches us together across our differences and insists on healing for all — not just the favored few.” - Mary Coughlin
Let’s be clear:
It is never acceptable to fight one form of hate with another.
And yet here we are — watching in real time as Islamophobia is repackaged as “solidarity,” and political repression is sold as “safety.”
This week, after Zohran Mamdani — a Muslim, Indian-born New York Assemblymember — won the Democratic mayoral primary, Republican leaders didn’t just criticize his views.
They called for him to be stripped of his citizenship.
Why? Because of his support for Palestinian human rights.
Let that sink in.
A U.S. Congressman has formally asked the Department of Justice to denaturalize an American citizen based on his political speech — conflating it with “material support for terrorism.” Not because Mamdani committed violence. Not because he incited it.
But because he dared to say that Palestinians are human beings worthy of rights, dignity, and liberation.
And worse still?
These attacks are being framed as protecting Jewish communities.
As if we must choose between being safe or being just.
As if opposing antisemitism requires embracing Islamophobia.
But Trauma Knows Better
If you’ve worked in trauma-informed care, you know this playbook.
It’s called "divide and conquer."
It’s what systems do when they’re more invested in power than in healing.
When we pit oppressed groups against each other — Jews vs Muslims, immigrants vs citizens, Black vs white — we ensure that no one heals.
We ensure that the trauma stays stuck — recycled, redirected, rebranded.
This isn’t about public safety. It’s about political scapegoating.
And it’s not just cruel — it’s dangerous.
Because once you normalize stripping people of rights based on identity or speech, no one is safe. Not Muslims. Not Jews. Not you. Not me.
A Call to Integrity
Caring Science teaches us that healing is relational.
That to be human is to be interconnected.
That justice is not a hierarchy of who deserves compassion more — it’s the practice of unconditional dignity.
This isn’t about partisanship — it’s about principle.
No political affiliation should determine who is treated as fully American or fully human.
Because the moment we make rights contingent on party lines or personal beliefs, we fracture the very foundation of a just society.
Let me say this plainly:
You can be against antisemitism without being anti-Muslim.
You can support Palestinian freedom without condoning violence.
You can hold grief and complexity without caving to fear.
Zohran Mamdani is not a terrorist. He is a citizen. A public servant. A man of conscience.
And the attempt to make an example out of him is not about safety — it’s about silencing dissent.
We must not look away.
We must not let our trauma — collective or personal — be weaponized against someone else’s truth.
Now is the time for a bolder kind of solidarity.
One rooted not in fear, but in fierce love.
One that does not choose between people’s pain, but tends to all of it.
One that says: I see your humanity, even if we disagree.
I will not let you be erased.
In fierce love and unwavering truth,
Mary
P.S. If this message stirred something in you — a yes in your bones, a fire in your chest — I invite you to join me. Become a Trauma-Informed Professional (TIP) and help rehumanize care from the NICU to the nation. Or simply stay connected and inspired by signing up for my newsletter, where we weave science, soul, and skill into a movement for change.
