How Poets in the Black Arts Movement Echo the Black Panther Party's 10-Point Vision

The Black Panther Party and the Black Arts Movement were somewhat aligned during the Black liberation movement but have several different values and ideals than the other. In the Black Panther Party, they excluded women from being involved or even providing input for important legislations like the “10-Point Program.” In the Black Arts Movement, women expressed their ignorance and stood up for black women’s rights in more ways than one. 

The Black Panthers state that self-determination and the proper education of black identity and history is integral to their values. This part in their program reminded me a lot of Sonia Sanchez’ “i am a blk/wooOOOOMAN” and specifically where she redefines royalty through blackness: “for i will be called QUEEN & walk/move in blk/queenly/ways. and the world shaken by my blkness will channnnNNGGGEEE colors. and be reborn blk. again.” This part in her poem stood out to me not only because of its unique characterization of black women specifically, but also the radical tone that also speaks to the voice of the Black Panther Party.

One of the other integral parts of the Black Panther Party is their call for economic justice for Black people and an end to capitalist systems that exploit them. When they say, “We Want Full Employment…” and “We Want An End To The Robbery By The Capitalists…,” they’re not just talking about jobs. They’re calling out a system that has historically used Black labor when it’s convenient and discarded Black people when it’s not. This connects really clearly to June Jordan’s “Poem About My Rights,” where she exposes how systems of power constantly violate and control her body and identity, showing that oppression isn’t just social but also economic. Similarly, Amiri Baraka in “Black Art” pushes back against the idea that art can exist separate from struggle. He argues that Black art should be functional, powerful, and tied directly to liberation: “we want poems that kill.” That line feels intense, but it reflects the same urgency as the Panthers’ demands. Both are rejecting passivity and calling for real, material change. In both the poetry and the 10-Point Program, there’s this shared idea that survival and dignity require dismantling the systems that profit off Black oppression.

The Panthers’ emphasis on liberation and collective struggle also shows up strongly in Black Arts Movement poetry, especially in Nikki Giovanni’s “Ego Tripping.” When the Panthers demand “Land, Bread, Housing… Justice and Peace” and advocate for freedom for prisoners and fair trials, they’re pushing for a complete restructuring of society to actually support Black life. Giovanni approaches this from a different angle by reclaiming Black history and identity in an almost mythic way. Lines like “I was born in the congo” and her constant references to ancient civilizations and power reframe Blackness as something historically dominant and inherently valuable. It’s almost like she’s reminding readers that the current oppression Black people face is not natural or deserved. It is a disruption of a much longer history of strength and achievement. That idea directly supports the Panthers’ argument. If Black people have always had power, then the lack of justice in the present is something that needs to be corrected. Her poem builds pride and collective identity, which is necessary for the kind of large-scale liberation the Panthers are fighting for.

Finally, the connection between Black liberation ideology and resistance, especially the acceptance of violence as self-defense, is really clear when looking at the Panthers alongside Etheridge Knight’s “For Malcolm, A Year After.” The Panthers’ calls to end police brutality, refuse military service, and defend themselves “by whatever means necessary” reflect the influence of Malcolm X and a belief that nonviolence isn’t always enough. Knight’s poem captures that same energy, honoring Malcolm while also showing how his legacy lives on through continued resistance. There’s a sense that anger isn’t something to suppress. It’s something to channel. The poem turns grief into motivation, much like the Panthers turn oppression into action. In this way, poetry itself becomes a kind of weapon, not in a literal sense, but as a tool for awakening, organizing, and resisting. Both the Panthers and Black Arts poets are rejecting the idea that change will come peacefully or gradually. Instead, they’re insisting that liberation requires confrontation, whether that’s through protest, self-defense, or powerful, unapologetic expression.