When people hear Cinco de Mayo, they picture margaritas, mariachi bands, and Instagram captions with fake accents. But for me, a Black gay man, descended from enslaved Africans in a country still drunk on white supremacy having incestuous relationships with racism, Cinco de Mayo isn’t a party. It’s a battle cry.
It’s a reminder that oppressed people have always had to fight empires. And it’s proof that when we stand together, even the so-called “unbeatable” can fall.
On May 5, 1862, the French army — white, European, wealthy — invaded Mexico to install a puppet emperor. Confident of easy conquest, they were instead met by poor, brown, Indigenous Mexican fighters who refused to kneel. At Puebla, they handed France its first major defeat since Haiti, 1803.
That was more than a military win — it was a moral one. A victory of the oppressed over the oppressor, of dignity over domination. It altered history.
While Puebla raged, the U.S. was in civil war. The Confederacy — traitors — were fighting to keep my ancestors enslaved. They begged Europe, including France, for help. Napoleon III wanted to intervene, according to records of his meetings with Confederate John Slidell. But Mexico threw a wrench in his plans. The resistance at Puebla forced France to send more troops and money south, draining their ambitions. That disruption, along with British pressure to remain neutral, helped keep France out of our war.
That delay bought the Union time: time for Lincoln to issue the Emancipation Proclamation, and time for nearly 200,000 Black people to pick up arms — not just to save the Union, but to end slavery.
So no, we don’t celebrate Cinco de Mayo because of tequila. We celebrate because Mexican resistance kicked the sh … struck a blow that echoed across borders. Their stand helped crack the foundation of slavery in the U.S. Their fight helped make our freedom possible.
And now, in 2025, we face a new kind of empire. A domestic one. Fueled by racism, fear, and hate — and led by a man who embodies everything Puebla stood against: Donald Trump, son of an immigrant, Fred Trump, who proudly marched with the KKK in New York.
Trump isn’t just a politician. He’s the face of white nationalism masked as patriotism. He has called for mass deportations, praised dictators, promised revenge on enemies, and targeted the civil rights of Black, brown, and queer people. He’s openly campaigning to become an American autocrat.
Let’s be clear: Trumpism is an evil empire. It’s a movement determined to erase our history, silence our voices, and crush democracy itself.
We can’t treat this like just another election. We are in a fight for our future. Like the soldiers at Puebla, we are outgunned, underestimated, and up against a ruthless machine. But history teaches: when people rise with truth, peaceful protest, and voting, empires fall.
Mexico abolished slavery in 1829 — decades before the U.S. When our ancestors fled bondage, many didn’t go north. They crossed the Rio Grande, where Mexico welcomed them as people, not property. That was revolutionary.
That’s what Cinco de Mayo means to me. Not kitschy slogans, but resistance. A rejection of white supremacy — past and present. Puebla wasn’t just a Mexican victory. It was a blow against global white domination. It was our victory too.
Today, we must carry that legacy. We must name the enemy — racism, fascism, Trumpism — and fight it. Not politely, but powerfully. At the ballot box, in the streets, in schools, in our culture, with our dollars. We must organize like our lives depend on it — because they do.
So no, I won’t be celebrating Cinco de Mayo with sombreros and shots. I’ll be honoring the freedom fighters — Mexican and Black — who faced down empires and said, “You will not conquer us.”
Their courage gave us this moment. Now it’s on us to make it matter.
The struggle didn’t end in 1862. It’s here. It’s now. And if we don’t resist — with everything we’ve got — we risk losing everything they bled for.
Cinco de Mayo is a call to resist. Answer it.
Hashim Coates is a U.S. Navy veteran, born and raised in Colorado. He is a seasoned political strategist with a deep commitment to social justice and equity.
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