You’ve probably seen the photo. It’s grainy, black and white, and usually pops up on Instagram or Twitter every May during AAPI Heritage Month or whenever there’s a new wave of social justice protests. It shows two young men—Richard Aoki and another activist—holding a hand-painted banner that reads: Yellow Peril Supports Black Power.
It’s a striking image. It feels bold. It feels provocative. But for a lot of people, it also feels a little confusing. What does "Yellow Peril"—a racist slur used to justify the exclusion and internment of Asians—have to do with Black liberation?
Honestly, the story is much messier and more interesting than a single viral photo suggests. This wasn't just about a slogan. It was about a radical realization in the 1960s that Asian Americans couldn't just "model minority" their way out of racism. They had to pick a side. And many chose to stand with the Black Panthers.
Reclaiming a Slur to Find a Voice
To understand why activists would ever use a phrase like "Yellow Peril," you have to look at the climate of the late 1960s. Before this era, the term "Asian American" didn't even exist. People were identified—and identified themselves—as Japanese, Chinese, Filipino, or Korean. They were largely siloed.
The term "Yellow Peril" was originally a xenophobic shorthand. It was the fear that East Asians would over-run the West, steal jobs, and destroy "civilization." It was the logic behind the Chinese Exclusion Act of 1882 and the forced relocation of Japanese Americans during World War II.
So, why use it on a sign?
Identity is a weapon. By the time the Yellow Peril Supports Black Power slogan gained traction, young activists at UC Berkeley and San Francisco State University were tired of the "Oriental" label. They wanted something that signaled they were a threat to the status quo. If the white establishment viewed them as a "peril," then fine—they would be a peril. But they would be a peril that stood in solidarity with the Black community.
It was a pivot. A sharp one.
The slogan was a rejection of the "model minority" myth, a concept coined by sociologist William Petersen in 1966. Petersen basically argued that Japanese Americans were "succeeding" because of their culture and work ethic, implicitly using them as a wedge to criticize Black activists who were demanding systemic change. Young Asian radicals saw this for exactly what it was: a trap. They realized that being the "good minority" just meant being a tool for white supremacy.
Richard Aoki and the Panther Connection
You can't talk about this movement without talking about Richard Aoki. He’s the guy often credited with the most famous instance of the sign. Aoki was a Japanese American who had been interned at Topaz as a child. That experience changed him. It gave him a front-row seat to what happens when the government decides you aren't "American enough."
Aoki eventually moved to Oakland, where he became close friends with Huey P. Newton and Bobby Seale. When they started the Black Panther Party for Self-Defense, Aoki was right there. In fact, he was one of the first people to provide the Panthers with firearms and tactical training. He became a Field Marshal for the party.
Think about that for a second. An Asian American man was a high-ranking member of the Black Panthers.
It wasn't just him, though. The movement was bigger than one guy. It was the Red Guard Party in San Francisco’s Chinatown, which modeled itself directly after the Panthers. They had their own 10-point program. They served free breakfast to kids. They pushed for decent housing. They realized that the struggles in the "ghetto" and the "ghettoized" Chinatown were two sides of the same coin.
The Third World Liberation Front
In 1968, this all came to a head with the Third World Liberation Front (TWLF) strikes. This was a coalition of Black, Latino, Native American, and Asian American students. They didn't just want better grades. They wanted a complete overhaul of the education system. They wanted Ethnic Studies.
The strikes were brutal. Police were on campus every day. Blood was spilled.
But this was the moment the "Yellow Peril" identity solidified. By joining the TWLF, Asian students were saying that their history was tied to the history of the colonized world. They saw the Vietnam War not just as a political conflict, but as a racial one—Asian people being killed by the U.S. military abroad, while Black and Brown people were being oppressed at home.
Solidarity wasn't a metaphor. It was a survival strategy.
Why This History Gets Erasured
So, if this was such a big deal, why don't we learn about it in school?
The "model minority" narrative is a powerful drug. It’s much easier for the American educational system to promote the idea that Asian Americans succeeded through quiet assimilation than to admit they once carried guns and marched alongside the Panthers. The Yellow Peril Supports Black Power era is inconvenient. It disrupts the idea that these communities are natural enemies.
There's also the uncomfortable truth about Richard Aoki himself. Decades later, records emerged suggesting he might have been an FBI informant. It’s a messy, complicated legacy that scholars like Diane Fujino have spent years parsing through. Some see it as a betrayal; others see it as a testament to how deeply the state feared this kind of cross-racial solidarity. Regardless of the truth about Aoki's personal motives, the movement he helped spark was real. The people in the streets weren't informants. They were activists who genuinely believed in a unified front.
Modern Echoes: From 1968 to 2020
Fast forward to the 2020 Black Lives Matter protests following the murder of George Floyd. You saw the sign again. This time, it was on high-def phone cameras and TikTok.
But the context had shifted. In 2020, we saw the rise of the "Asian American" identity being tested. On one hand, you had Asian American police officers involved in Floyd’s death (like Tou Thao), which sparked a massive internal reckoning within the AAPI community. On the other hand, you saw thousands of Asian Americans marching, carrying the "Yellow Peril" banners once more, trying to bridge the gap.
It’s not always easy. Anti-Blackness exists within Asian communities. Anti-Asian sentiment exists within Black communities. To pretend otherwise is just lying. But the history of Yellow Peril Supports Black Power reminds us that these tensions aren't inevitable. They are often manufactured by a system that benefits when we fight each other for scraps.
The Complications of "Yellow Peril" Today
Is the slogan still useful? That’s a debated topic.
Some younger activists feel that "Yellow Peril" is too tied to East Asian identity, ignoring South Asians, Southeast Asians, and Pacific Islanders. Others feel that reclaiming a slur used against your ancestors is a powerful act of defiance. There's no consensus, and that's okay. History is a conversation, not a textbook.
What matters is the underlying principle: the idea that no one is free until everyone is free. That's not just a cheesy Pinterest quote. For the radicals of the 60s, it was a tactical reality. They knew that if the state could crush the Black Panthers, they would be next.
Actionable Insights for Cross-Racial Solidarity
Understanding this history is step one. Doing something with it is step two. If you're looking to move beyond the slogan and into actual support, here’s how to approach it:
- Educate within your own circles. The hardest conversations usually happen at the dinner table. Tackling anti-Blackness in Asian households—or vice versa—is more impactful than posting a graphic on Instagram.
- Support grassroots coalitions. Look for organizations that are actually multi-racial. The Asian American Legal Defense and Education Fund (AALDEF) or local groups like CAAAV (Organizing Asian Communities) often work on issues like housing and policing that affect multiple marginalized groups.
- Reject the "Pitting" Narrative. When you see news stories that frame Asian and Black communities as being in a "race war," look at the systemic issues behind the headlines. Who benefits from that conflict? Usually not the people in the neighborhoods.
- Study the Nuance. Read books like Heartbeat of Struggle by Diane Fujino or The Color of Success by Ellen Wu. Moving past the "viral photo" level of history helps you understand the actual logistics of how these groups organized.
The Yellow Peril Supports Black Power sign wasn't just a fashion statement. It was a declaration of war against a system that wanted to keep people divided. It’s a reminder that our histories have always been intertwined, whether we acknowledge it or not.
Stop looking at the photo as a relic of the past. Start looking at it as a blueprint. It shows that when we refuse to play the roles assigned to us—the "thug," the "model minority," the "alien"—we actually start to become a threat to the structures that hold us all back. That is the real peril.