Solidarity requires courage and commitment

By Fabrizio Sasso
Executive Director, Sacramento CLC

In the labor movement, we talk a lot about what we’re owed, like fair wages, safe working conditions and dignity on the job.

And we should.

Working people built this country, and we deserve our share. But lately, as our president sows division and hatred, I’ve been thinking more about what we owe each other.

We owe each other solidarity. Not just during a strike or a contract fight, but in the quiet, everyday struggles that don’t make headlines. When a member is grieving, or facing eviction, or navigating a broken healthcare system, that’s when solidarity matters most. Not in slogans, but in home cooked meals delivered to the doorstep. In rides to doctor appointments. In showing up.

We owe each other patience. Labor is not a sprint, it’s a generational relay. That means making space for new leaders who are still learning. And it means honoring the wisdom of those who’ve been in the trenches longer than we have. It means choosing mentorship over ego, listening over lecturing, and even sometimes following over leading.

We owe each other honesty. When something isn’t working, when bureaucracy slows us down or internal politics distract us from the mission, we have to call it out and fix it. The labor movement is only as strong as our ability to self-reflect and grow. Sometimes this is uncomfortable, pushing us in new and unfamiliar directions. Often, it takes us out of our comfort zones. But it is always this big-tent, welcoming vision of labor that makes us stronger, and gives us our power. It is understanding that whatever our differences, we are the working people of America, and our goals are the same—work with dignity, safe communities, fair treatment.

We owe each other courage. Because let’s be real, the challenges we face are intimidating. Housing is unaffordable, corporate power is unchecked, and workers are under attack. But we come from a tradition of people who faced worse and won. Not because they were fearless, but because they were brave together. This isn’t just the physical courage of being willing to stand on a picket line, but the spiritual courage to stand up when others are under attack.

More and more, the corporate and political powers in this country are attempting to pick off the weak and vulnerable, whether it’s attacking the rights of the LGBTQ+ community or disappearing immigrants into the labyrinth of detention. It’s easy for those who aren’t directly affected by these attacks to sit on the sidelines, to watch with horror without acting. But we all need to ask ourselves what we owe our siblings in labor, and who we are in the hardest of moments. Will we put comfort over solidarity? Will we put personal safety over the collective good? These aren’t easy questions, but spiritual courage requires us to ask them of ourselves.

And finally, we owe each other hope. That may sound soft in a world that feels increasingly hard. But hope is not naive. Hope is not blind.

It’s a strategy. It’s what keeps us knocking on doors in 100-degree heat, organizing when the odds are long and believing that a better world is possible, even when we haven’t seen it yet.

This movement works because we work for each other. This movement works because we stand for each other. This movement works because we care for each other, even when that caring is difficult. Even when that caring is dangerous.

So as we head into the summer and all the fights that lie ahead, let’s remember that our real strength isn’t just in our numbers or our contracts, it’s in our care. And that care manifests in solidarity.

That’s what makes labor different. That’s what makes it powerful. That’s what makes labor worth fighting for, and with.