By: Roy Douglas Malonson
When news broke that the United States had taken decisive action in Venezuela and removed the country’s sitting president, many Americans were still trying to understand what happened. Was it legal? Who approved it? How could a foreign leader be taken without a vote from the people? Around the world, questions poured in. But in Black America and especially in Texas—there was less confusion and more recognition.
This kind of power move felt familiar. Black Texans have lived through decades of decisions made without their consent, often wrapped in law, policy, or “public interest.” What the world is now witnessing in Venezuela reflects a pattern Black communities in Houston, Dallas, and across the state have experienced firsthand.
In Houston, entire Black neighborhoods were reshaped without residents having a say. The construction of Interstate 45 tore through historically Black communities like Independence Heights and parts of Fifth Ward, displacing families and erasing generational wealth. Homeowners weren’t asked. The plans were already drawn. The explanation came later.
Redlining followed the same formula. For decades, Black families in Houston were denied loans, insurance, and investment based solely on where they lived. Maps were drawn. Risk was assigned. Futures were limited. It wasn’t loud. It didn’t look like force. But the impact was devastating—and long-lasting.
Gerrymandering in Texas made sure political power stayed out of Black hands even when population numbers said otherwise. Voting districts were sliced and stretched so Black and Latino communities were diluted, their influence weakened by design. No ballots were taken away, but the outcome was controlled before Election Day arrived. The process was legal. The result was exclusion.
Houston residents know this story well. In 2021, the state of Texas took control of Houston Independent School District, removing local authority from one of the most diverse school districts in the nation. Parents, teachers, and voters were sidelined. The justification was performance. The result was state power overriding community voice. No citywide vote. No referendum. Just action.
Black America also remembers how policing and federal authority have operated in Texas. From drug task forces
in the 1980s and 1990s that disproportionately targeted Black neighborhoods, to modern surveillance and “high-crime” designations that follow the same communities year after year, authority has rarely needed permission. It shows up. It enforces. It explains afterward.
This is why what happened in Venezuela resonates so deeply. The removal of a president without a vote isn’t shocking to people who’ve seen elected officials sidelined, school boards dissolved, and communities overruled in the name of order. The scale is global. The logic is local.
In Houston, zoning laws—often described as nonexistent—have still been used to cluster polluting industries near Black neighborhoods. Cancer clusters in places like Kashmere Gardens didn’t happen by accident. Decisions were made. Communities were informed later. The harm was already done.
The world is now debating whether Venezuela represents a dangerous new moment in international affairs. For Black Texans, it feels like a continuation of an old story. Power doesn’t always need tanks. Sometimes it uses maps. Sometimes laws. Sometimes courts. Sometimes “temporary” takeovers that become permanent realities.
Black America understands that democracy isn’t just about voting—it’s about whether your vote actually matters when power is exercised. Venezuela didn’t get a vote when its leadership was removed. Black communities in Texas know what it means to watch decisions unfold after the fact, with no meaningful way to stop them.
This doesn’t mean every situation is identical. It means the pattern is recognizable. When authority acts first and explains later, when consent is treated as optional, when control is framed as necessity— Black America has been there before. The world is just now asking the questions Black communities have asked for generations: Who decides? Who benefits? Who gets left out?
What happened in Venezuela isn’t new. It’s just happening somewhere else.
And Black America knows exactly what it looks like.
