Superheroes in Street Clothes: Reclaiming Power Together

Power doesn’t have to be about domination; it can be about connection.

I find in groups and organizations made up of people who have been marginalized by oppressive systems, folks are often afraid to seem or to be too powerful. Maybe it’s because we often experience power over instead of with. It’s like sitting in a room full of super heroes, who insist on wearing their street clothes.

From the moment I stood up to a frustrated teacher in fourth grade—organizing my classmates into the hallway to sing and dance to the Ike & Tina Turner version of Proud Mary, until he couldn’t help but laugh and apologize—I learned something that has shaped my life ever since: power doesn’t have to be about domination; it can be about connection. When we build power with instead of over, something transformative happens.

My journey through activism—from the urgency of ACT UP in the early ’90s to the careful, everyday work of a low income housing co-op—has been a study in this principle. Again and again, I’ve seen how marginalized people, even when hemmed in by systems of domination, can reclaim power by choosing to wield it in collaboration rather than competition.

In ACT UP, I learned that solidarity isn’t a warm, fuzzy feeling. It’s not a chant around a campfire or a photo-op. It’s the day-in, day-out labor of being in relationship across difference. It’s showing up for each other, even when it’s inconvenient. When ACT UP meetings prioritized the voices of white, gay men whose needs felt most urgent, it was those of us on the margins—Black and Brown folks, women, trans people, drug users—who reminded the room that the AIDS crisis was never just one crisis. Our survival demanded a broader, deeper, more inclusive fight. We weren’t just advocating for medication access—we were demanding recognition of everyone’s full humanity.

That’s the first hard truth about power-with: you don’t have to be in charge to be powerful.

But here’s the second, even harder one: If we build power on the backs of those already most oppressed, it’s not solidarity—it’s a reenactment of harm.

Too often in movements, urgency becomes an excuse to replicate hierarchy. We default to the loudest voice, the most charismatic speaker, the person with institutional backing. And if we’re not vigilant, we recreate the very systems we claim to oppose. White supremacy, cisnormativity, ableism, anti-Blackness—they all sneak in through the back door when we mistake efficiency for justice.

That’s why I believe in deliberate ways of practicing power-with. Here are a few of the strategies I use:

• Self Reflection - to challenge my own bias and to be accountable about how I use my power.
  
  

• Ensure everyone speaks – not just the most confident or seasoned organizers.
  
  

• Prioritize people over process – because care is more important than control.
  
  

• Practice transparency – so decisions aren’t made in back rooms.
  
  

• Embrace principled disagreement – because conflict can be generative, in fact conflict is necessary for growth.

These practices aren’t fancy pants. They’re not always fast. But they can be revolutionary.

And when we get them right—when we really share power, not just pretend to—we unlock something more potent than any policy change. We become the kind of people who can hold each other through the storms, and there will always be storms. Who can say, “I’ve got you,” and mean it. Who can build movements not just for liberation, but liberation built on love and care.

Power with is slow. It’s awkward. It’s full of growing pains. But it can also be magic.

We are not powerless. We are superheroes in street clothes—learning every day how to lift each other up, without pushing anyone down.

We just need to remember to put on our capes.