By Carla Thomas
The Truth Contributor
Surely, I’m not the only one feeling the weight of these never-ending boycotts. Everywhere we look, anti-Blackness is rearing its ugly head, from institutions and corporations profiting from our labor to brands that commodify our culture while disregarding our humanity. Being called to boycott all of them can feel overwhelming and like a losing battle. Every week when a new company is exposed, when another brand makes headlines for its racism, we’re given another list of companies and products, telling us who to no longer support, what to no longer buy, and where to no longer shop.
How do we decide what’s worth boycotting when the entire system is complicit?
Black communities have a long history of using economic resistance as a tool for justice and systemic change. The Montgomery Bus Boycott of 1955 was a 381-day protest that crippled Montgomery’s public transit system and led to the Supreme Court ruling that bus segregation was unconstitutional. There was also the Anti-Apartheid Boycotts of the 80s-90s. Black activists in the U.S. and around the world boycotted companies that did business with apartheid South Africa.
So, what’s the strategy for today?
Boycotting isn’t just about refusing to spend money, it’s about reclaiming our power. But when nearly every major company has been complicit in anti-Black practices, is it realistic to expect us to cut ties with them all at once? Some say we should abandon businesses at the first sign of wrongdoing. Others argue that economic disengagement must be targeted and strategic. The truth is, without a plan, without organization, without a collective goal—boycotts risk becoming nothing more than scattered protests, each one burning out before it can ignite real change.
If we want to understand what makes a boycott effective, all we need to do is look at history. The Montgomery Bus Boycott didn’t succeed just because people stopped riding the bus—it worked because they had a plan – a community-organized transportation network that allowed Black residents to avoid using segregated buses while still getting to work, school, and other essential places.
Carpool networks were established, with Black drivers volunteering their cars and designated pickup locations set up across the city. Black-owned taxi services played a crucial role, with some drivers charging the same fare as the bus to support the movement. For those who didn’t have access to a ride, walking became an act of protest, with many boycotters traveling miles each day to demonstrate their commitment. Churches and community organizations provided financial support, helping to fund gas and vehicle maintenance for carpool drivers. This well-organized system allowed the boycott to last for over a year, proving that economic resistance is most effective when paired with sustainable alternatives.
Contrast that with today, where we’re expected to drop a company the moment its name appears on a list—without alternatives, without a support system, without a clear end goal.
Trying to boycott every company, store, product and organization that’s problematic isn’t just exhausting, it’s unsustainable. If a boycott isn’t something that can realistically be maintained, it won’t create lasting change. Boycotts only work when they are intentional. Otherwise, they become performative resistance—symbolic acts of outrage with no lasting impact.
If we’re truly serious about economic resistance, let’s not just focus on where we won’t spend our money—let’s be intentional about where we will.
Directories, apps and platforms dedicated to highlighting Black-owned businesses are plenteous in nearly every industry. From grocery stores to bookstores, from salons to tech companies–alternatives do exist. No one is saying we must exclusively shop Black, but shifting even a portion of our spending makes a difference.
Beyond supporting individual businesses, we should also invest in cooperative economics—community-owned co-ops, credit unions and buying clubs that create long-term alternatives to corporations that have never had our best interests at heart. Cooperative economics focuses on long-term financial and economic empowerment by creating systems where wealth is shared and reinvested within a community. It’s about building sustainable economic institutions that benefit the community not just individuals.
Circulating the Black dollar doesn’t just keep money in our communities, it builds an infrastructure that outlasts any single boycott.
Civil rights organizations and legal aid groups already exist in our city to document discrimination, file lawsuits, and push for policy reform. We should be supporting them just as much as we support boycotts. And when it comes time to vote, we should be backing politicians with a real track record of prioritizing racial equity—not just the ones who show up at Black churches during election season.
Let’s talk about mutual aid—communities directly supporting each other. This isn’t a new concept. The Black Panthers ran over 60 community programs that provided direct aid to Black communities, one of which was a free breakfast program for children. These systems make us less dependent on corporations that have never truly valued us. Mutual aid is about direct, collective support where we help each other meet our basic needs, often in response to systemic failures. It is based on solidarity rather than charity, meaning that those who participate are both giving and receiving support.
Calling out corporations is one thing. But investing in and sustaining our own communities? That’s where real power lies.
I don’t want to overlook boycotting in the digital age, where companies fear bad press more than lawsuits. We’ve seen it time and time again—when a business is exposed for racism, public pressure forces them to act right. Starbucks took a major hit when word spread about its stance on Palestine.
Target, after scaling back its DEI initiatives, faced intense backlash and boycotts. Its stock plummeted, and now, as stakeholders sue over financial losses, the company is scrambling to reintroduce diversity policies. But the damage is done—both to its bottom line and to its credibility. We ain’t goin’ back.
Other brands have been forced to issue apologies, revise policies, and even fire executives due to viral backlash. But if we want that momentum to translate into real power, we can’t get caught up in an endless cycle of outrage. We must build sustained pressure, and demand more than just PR-driven apologies.
Boycotts and economic protests are powerful tools, but they should never leave our own people struggling. If we want boycotts to be more than temporary acts of resistance, they must be part of a larger strategy. At the end of the day, we can’t afford to let boycotting be a moment—it has to be a movement. The companies we withdraw from today will only be replaced by others unless we shift the very structures that allow anti-Blackness to thrive. That means organizing, educating, and redirecting our dollars toward building sustainable Black wealth and power.
The question is no longer just “Who should we boycott?” but “How do we make boycotts part of a larger strategy for liberation?”