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It Wasn’t Real Until It Happened to Them: Florida’s Latest Lesson on Fascism


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There is a particular kind of shock we’re seeing across America today: people who never thought fascism would touch their lives are suddenly waking up. It isn’t because state violence is new—it’s because it has finally come close enough that privilege no longer provides insulation.


For Black, Indigenous, immigrant, and queer communities, this isn’t a revelation. It’s a cycle as old as this country itself. And in Florida, it’s a cycle on overdrive.


Florida as Ground Zero


Florida has long been a political laboratory for policies that later spread across the nation. From voter suppression tactics to “Stand Your Ground” laws, this state has tested how much authoritarianism people will tolerate before exporting it nationwide. Today, under the combined weight of anti-immigrant crackdowns, mass book bans, anti-trans legislation, and escalating police surveillance, Florida stands as the proving ground for fascism in the U.S.


As Angela Davis has said: “In a racist society, it is not enough to be non-racist, we must be anti-racist.” Her words echo especially loudly here, where being neutral is no longer possible.



When Privilege Meets State Violence


Recently in Hendry County, a 55-year-old white, professional, single mother of two was violently arrested despite breaking no laws. Sitting in her vehicle, she was acting as a legal observer while four Latino men were detained by officers in an unmarked area. When she asked in Spanish if they were okay or needed help, officers pulled her from her car, threw her to the ground, and assaulted her. She was left bruised and injured, with documentation from an ER physician, before being falsely charged with “resisting arrest.”


The woman has video evidence and recordings proving she did not commit a crime, nor resist. Her case is ongoing.


For many, this incident is shocking. But for Black and brown Floridians, this kind of abuse has long been a grim reality. The difference is that when it happens to someone who looks like she does—middle-class, white, professional—the system’s violence suddenly seems like news.



Police Brutality Isn’t Suddenly Real Because It Happened to Someone You Know


Data confirms what Florida communities have been saying all along. Black people in Florida are more likely to be killed by police than white people. Latinx immigrants are targeted by both state troopers and federal agencies like ICE—often through coordinated raids. Indigenous lands are threatened by state expansion projects and detention centers. LGBTQIA+ Floridians face laws that criminalize healthcare, education, and even visibility.


Yet mainstream outrage tends to spike only when white, middle-class individuals are caught up in the same violence.


As writer Keeanga-Yamahtta Taylor reminds us: “There has been no moment in American history where Black people have not been subject to state violence. The question is not whether it happens—it’s whether white America cares.”



Selective Outrage Blocks Structural Change


The cycle of selective outrage is not just frustrating—it’s dangerous. When fascist policies are piloted in Florida, they are often normalized here before spreading outward. Book bans targeting Black and queer authors in Florida schools are already inspiring similar moves in other states. The criminalization of immigrants in Florida’s fields and streets sets a precedent for national policy. Anti-trans laws tested here are used as templates for copycat legislation across the country.


As Dean Spade reminds us: “When resistance is framed as charity rather than solidarity, we miss the point. Solidarity is about recognizing that our struggles are connected.”



The Stakes in Florida Are the Stakes for the Nation


Fascism isn’t on its way—it’s here. And Florida is where its boundaries are tested. The militarized policing, the raids, the book bans, the attacks on reproductive and queer rights—all of it is a rehearsal for what could come nationwide.


It should not take the harm of a white, middle-class professional to validate the systemic violence that Black, Indigenous, immigrant, and queer Floridians have been naming for generations. Outrage must not be conditional on privilege.


If Florida is ground zero, then Florida must also be the front line of resistance. That requires listening to those who have always known this truth—and standing in solidarity, not just when fascism touches “us,” but when it has been crushing “them” all along. is a particular kind of shock we’re seeing across America today: people who never thought fascism would touch their lives are suddenly waking up. It isn’t because state violence is new—it’s because it has finally come close enough that privilege no longer provides insulation.


For Black, Indigenous, immigrant, and queer communities, this isn’t a revelation. It’s a cycle as old as this country itself. And in Florida, it’s a cycle on overdrive.



Florida as Ground Zero


Florida has long been a political laboratory for policies that later spread across the nation. From voter suppression tactics to “Stand Your Ground” laws, this state has tested how much authoritarianism people will tolerate before exporting it nationwide. Today, under the combined weight of anti-immigrant crackdowns, mass book bans, anti-trans legislation, and escalating police surveillance, Florida stands as the proving ground for fascism in the U.S.


As Angela Davis has said: “In a racist society, it is not enough to be non-racist, we must be anti-racist.” Her words echo especially loudly here, where being neutral is no longer possible.



Police Brutality Isn’t Suddenly Real Because It Happened to Someone You Know


Data confirms what Florida communities have been saying all along. Black people in Florida are more likely to be killed by police than white people. Latinx immigrants are targeted by both state troopers and federal agencies like ICE—often through coordinated raids. Indigenous lands are threatened by state expansion projects and detention centers. LGBTQIA+ Floridians face laws that criminalize healthcare, education, and even visibility.


Yet mainstream outrage tends to spike only when white, middle-class individuals are caught up in the same violence.


As writer Keeanga-Yamahtta Taylor reminds us: “There has been no moment in American history where Black people have not been subject to state violence. The question is not whether it happens—it’s whether white America cares.”



Privilege and the Late Realization


In Florida, this disconnect is glaring. While Black and brown Floridians have endured police brutality and racial profiling for decades, white residents are often shocked when the same systems ensnare them. This is not a sign of things “getting worse”—it’s a sign that what has always been tolerated when inflicted on marginalized groups is now expanding its reach.


Audre Lorde warned us long ago: “Your silence will not protect you.” In Florida, silence in the face of racist, xenophobic, and homophobic policies has only emboldened lawmakers to push further.



Selective Outrage Blocks Structural Change


The cycle of selective outrage is not just frustrating—it’s dangerous. When fascist policies are piloted in Florida, they are often normalized here before spreading outward. Book bans targeting Black and queer authors in Florida schools are already inspiring similar moves in other states. The criminalization of immigrants in Florida’s fields and streets sets a precedent for national policy. Anti-trans laws tested here are used as templates for copycat legislation across the country.


As Dean Spade reminds us: “When resistance is framed as charity rather than solidarity, we miss the point. Solidarity is about recognizing that our struggles are connected.”



The Stakes in Florida Are the Stakes for the Nation


Fascism isn’t on its way—it’s here. And Florida is where its boundaries are tested. The militarized policing, the raids, the book bans, the attacks on reproductive and queer rights—all of it is a rehearsal for what could come nationwide.


It should not take the harm of a white, middle-class professional to validate the systemic violence that Black, Indigenous, immigrant, and queer Floridians have been naming for generations. Outrage must not be conditional on privilege.


If Florida is ground zero, then Florida must also be the front line of resistance. That requires listening to those who have always known this truth—and standing in solidarity, not just when fascism touches “us,” but when it has been crushing “them” all along.



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