For a long time, scholars of social movements assumed that political coalitions form when different groups discover they have aligned interests. But in American history, those alignments have usually been short-lived and shaky at best. Labor unions, civil rights groups, immigration activists, and environmentalists have each followed their own logic, rarely coming together in any lasting way. In recent years, though, something more surprising has started to happen — a new kind of convergence visible in movements like “May Day Strong.”
To understand why, we need to look at the deeper structure of politics in the Trump era.
Trumpism didn’t just energise its own supporters. It redrew the entire political map into a sharp, simple binary: real Americans versus elites, insiders versus outsiders, loyalists versus enemies.
This binary did two things at once. Inside Trump’s base, it created stronger unity. But on the other side, it unintentionally created a shared sense of threat for a wide range of groups that previously had little in common. Suddenly, workers facing job insecurity, immigrants under pressure, racial justice activists, and climate organizers all found themselves staring at overlapping challenges — economic inequality, declining protections, and a system that seemed increasingly stacked against them.
This is a crucial shift. Traditional coalitions usually form around shared goals or similar ideologies. The new ones forming now are built on something different: a shared feeling of vulnerability and structural pressure. “May Day Strong” is a clear example of this emerging intersectional coalition.
Inside this movement, workers, migrants, climate activists, and racial justice groups aren’t uniting because they all agree on the same detailed platform. They’re coming together because they see themselves as targets of the same broader system of power and inequality. In their view, it’s not just a bunch of separate bad policies — it’s one connected structure.
Trumpism plays a strange, paradoxical role here. On one hand, it deliberately deepens division and polarisation. On the other, that very polarization pushes its opponents closer together. You could call it “convergence through conflict.” The harder the lines are drawn, the more likely broad coalitions become on the other side.
That said, these new coalitions are inherently unstable. They’re built on overlapping grievances rather than a deep, shared identity. Because of that, internal tensions are almost guaranteed. What feels urgent to labour organisers might feel secondary to climate activists or immigration advocates. Balancing those different priorities is one of the biggest challenges they face.
Still, this diversity can also become a strength. When these groups manage to link their issues together, they create a bigger, more powerful story. Phrases like “workers versus billionaires” or “economic justice for all” aren’t just catchy slogans — they help weave very different experiences into one larger narrative of inequality.
None of this is happening in a vacuum. Real material conditions have made it possible: widening economic gaps, unstable jobs, the rise of the gig economy, and the steady erosion of worker protections have created a shared reality that different groups can recognise in their own lives.
In the end, Trumpism didn’t create these conditions, but it accelerated them. By intensifying polarisation and weakening trust in institutions, it pushed many groups to see their struggles as connected.
The big question now is whether these coalitions can last. Can they turn temporary moments of unity into something more permanent — actual organisations and structures? If they stay just as protest movements, they’ll probably fade. But if they build real staying power, they could become a significant new force in American politics.
What we’re seeing is a reconfiguration of how social movements work in the United States. Polarisation isn’t only creating division — it’s also producing unexpected forms of convergence. Fragile as it may be, this convergence carries real potential to reshape the political landscape.
At its core, “May Day Strong” is more than just another protest. It reflects a deeper shift: moving away from strictly identity-based politics toward something more coalition-driven and intersectional.
And here’s the biggest irony: much of this new unity has been fueled, indirectly, by the very political force that set out to divide the country.
The views expressed in this article belong to the author and do not necessarily reflect the editorial policy of Middle East Monitor.
