You’ve probably seen it on a tote bag or a vintage-style Instagram post. A black-and-white photograph showing two men holding a hand-painted sign that reads: "Yellow Peril Supports Black Power." It’s an arresting image. It feels modern, yet the grainy film tells you it’s decades old.
Lately, this specific yellow peril supports black power image has become a sort of shorthand for Asian-Black solidarity. But honestly, most people sharing it don't really know where it came from or who those guys are. They weren't just random protesters caught in a lucky shot. They were radical activists in a time when "Asian American" wasn't even a term people used yet.
Solidarity isn't a vibe. It's work.
The image captures Richard Aoki and an activist often identified as a member of the Free Huey movement during a 1969 rally. It wasn't about being "allies" in the way we talk about it over coffee today. It was about survival. It was about the realization that the struggles of the Black Panthers and the nascent Asian American movement were tied to the same broken systems.
The Story Behind the Sign
The year was 1969. Oakland was a pressure cooker.
Richard Aoki, one of the men in that yellow peril supports black power image, is a complicated figure in history. He was a Japanese American who had been interned as a child during World War II. That experience sticks with you. It changes how you see the government. Aoki eventually became a field marshal for the Black Panther Party. Think about that for a second. A Japanese American man held a leadership rank in the Black Panthers.
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He was the one who provided the Panthers with some of their first firearms. He coached them on military discipline.
The sign itself was a middle finger to the "Model Minority" myth before that term had even fully hardened into the weapon it is today. By reclaiming "Yellow Peril"—a racist, xenophobic slur used to depict Asians as a literal existential threat to the West—these activists were leaning into the fear. They were saying, "If you're going to call us a peril, then we will be a peril to your oppression."
It’s a gritty contrast to the way Asian Americans are often told to behave: quiet, hardworking, and invisible.
Why This Image Exploded Decades Later
Images have lives of their own. This one lay dormant in archives—specifically within the work of photographers like Pirkle Jones and Ruth-Marion Baruch—before exploding back into the mainstream during the 2020 Black Lives Matter protests.
Why then?
Because people were looking for a blueprint. During the "Stop Asian Hate" movement, there was a lot of tension. People felt like they had to choose a side or that their struggles were in competition. This yellow peril supports black power image served as visual proof that a different way existed. It showed that fifty years ago, people had already figured out that liberation isn't a zero-sum game.
But we have to be careful.
When an image becomes a meme, it loses its teeth. You can buy this image on a sticker for five dollars, but that doesn't mean you're doing the radical organizing that Aoki was doing. The image is a reminder of the Third World Liberation Front (TWLF). This was a coalition at San Francisco State College and UC Berkeley. It wasn't just Black and Asian students; it was Chicano and Native American students too. They went on the longest student strike in U.S. history.
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They won.
They got the first Ethnic Studies departments in the country. That's the legacy behind the sign. It’s not just a cool aesthetic; it’s a record of a successful, multi-racial power grab.
Complications and Hidden Histories
History is messy. If it isn't messy, it’s probably propaganda.
In 2012, years after Richard Aoki’s death, FBI records were released that suggested he might have been an informant. This sent shockwaves through the activist community. Was the man in the yellow peril supports black power image a double agent?
Some of his former comrades, like Diane Fujino, who wrote a definitive biography on him, have pushed back against a simple "snitch" narrative. They argue his contributions to the movement were real, regardless of the FBI's attempts to infiltrate. Others find it harder to reconcile. This complexity matters because it reminds us that our heroes are human and the state is very good at sowing distrust.
If we only look at the image as a "pure" symbol of unity, we miss the reality of how hard it is to keep these movements alive when the government is actively trying to dismantle them.
Then there is the term "Yellow Peril" itself.
Some modern activists find it dated or even offensive. They prefer "Asian American." But the activists in 1969 chose those words because they were aggressive. They were reacting to the Vietnam War. They saw the "G.I. version" of Asians as the enemy and decided to align themselves with the "enemy" at home—the Black power movement.
How to Actually Use This History
If you're going to reference the yellow peril supports black power image, you should probably do more than just post it. You have to look at the structural ties.
Look at the garment workers' strikes in the 80s. Look at the way Black and Asian communities in Detroit rallied after the murder of Vincent Chin, even when the media tried to keep them apart. Look at the current fights for affordable housing in Chinatowns across the country, which often mirror the fights against gentrification in historically Black neighborhoods.
Solidarity is a muscle. If you don't use it, it atrophies.
The image is a prompt. It’s asking: What are you doing now that matches that energy?
Actionable Steps for Genuine Solidarity
To move beyond the aesthetic of the yellow peril supports black power image and into actual practice, consider these shifts in how you engage with community organizing:
- Study the Third World Liberation Front: Don't just look at the photos. Read the original 1968 demands from the SF State strike. It provides a masterclass in how to build a coalition where every group's specific needs are met without erasing their unique identities.
- Support Grassroots Cross-Racial Alliances: Look for organizations like the Asian American Feminist Collective or local chapters of Black Lives Matter that specifically host cross-community workshops. These groups do the "boring" work of policy and mutual aid that the famous photo represents.
- Audit Your Media Consumption: If your understanding of Asian American history starts and ends with the "Model Minority" narrative, you're missing the radical tradition. Seek out filmmakers like Rea Tajiri or authors like Frank Chin to see the more rebellious side of the history.
- Move Beyond Symbolic Posting: If you share the image, pair it with a link to a bail fund or a local community land trust. Turn the digital "vibe" into a material resource for people currently on the ground.
- Acknowledge the Friction: Real solidarity involves uncomfortable conversations about anti-Blackness within Asian communities and xenophobia within Black communities. Ignoring the tension makes the solidarity fake. Lean into the hard talks; that’s where the actual "Power" in the sign comes from.
The photograph isn't a relic of the past; it’s a standard for the future. It’s a call to be as brave as the people in the frame, even when the cameras aren't rolling.