The Art of Division

You ever notice how the world sometimes feels like a canvas being torn instead of painted on? There’s this undercurrent, this subtle hum, of forces that thrive on keeping us at odds especially when it comes to race and class. I call them the divisive operators, those voices, systems, or even algorithms that seem to have a mission: to make sure we’re too busy fighting each other to notice the bigger picture. It’s like they’re handing out scripts for a play where poor folks, no matter their skin tone, end up battling over scraps while the real feast happens somewhere else.

Picture this: two neighbors, both struggling to make rent, both hustling to keep food on the table. One’s Black, one’s White, but their worries? Pretty much the same. Yet, somehow, they’re nudged into seeing each other as the problem. Maybe it’s a news headline that pits one group against another, or a politician’s soundbite that stokes fear, or even those sneaky algorithms on our screens that amplify the loudest, angriest voices. These divisive operators they’re like artists of chaos, painting mistrust where there could be solidarity.

But let’s slow down, take a breath, and ask: Why? Why is it so easy to get us to turn on each other? I think it’s because division is a distraction. When poor folks Black, White, Brown, whatever are too busy arguing over who’s got it worse, we’re not asking the bigger questions. Like, who’s profiting while we’re all scraping by? Who’s writing the rules that keep us stuck? It’s almost like there’s a playbook: keep the races divided, keep the poor fighting, and keep the system humming along without anyone looking too closely at the gears.

Now, I’m not saying there’s some shadowy figure twirling a mustache, plotting it all out (though, let’s be real, sometimes it feels that way). A lot of this comes from systems that have been around forever economic structures, media habits, even the way we’re taught history. They lean into our differences, amplify them, and make us forget we’re all trying to paint our own little masterpiece of a life. Social media? Man, it’s like a megaphone for this stuff. Algorithms don’t care about truth; they care about clicks. And nothing gets clicks like outrage. So, we end up with feeds full of “us vs. them,” and before you know it, we’re all a little more isolated, a little more suspicious.

But here’s the flip side, the part that feels like a sunrise after a long night: we can choose a different canvas. What if we stepped back, took a deep breath, and saw each other as collaborators instead of competitors? Imagine poor folks across all races linking arms, sharing stories, and saying, “Hey, we’re in this together.” That’s the art of connection, and it’s more powerful than any divisive operator out there. It starts small: a conversation, a shared meal, a moment of listening instead of shouting. It’s like sketching the first lines of a new painting, one where we’re all in the frame.

So, how do we get there? Maybe it’s about noticing when we’re being played when that headline or post is trying to spark division instead of understanding. Maybe it’s about seeking out stories that remind us of our shared struggles, like the way a single mom in one neighborhood and a factory worker in another are both fighting the same bills, the same fears. It’s about creating spaces online, in our communities, in our hearts where we can be real with each other. No filters, no agendas, just humans trying to make it through.