Workers at PushBlack Say Unionizing Exposed Deep Mismanagement and Retaliation

Workers at PushBlack, one of the most recognizable Black-led nonprofit media organizations in the country, are speaking out after months of layoff and alleged retaliation during a unionizing campaign,, and what they describe as a growing gap between the organization’s public mission and its internal labor practices.

In a recent interview with UnionBase, Darren and Zain, organizers with PushBlack Workers United (PBWU), described how deteriorating working conditions, censorship, and repeated management failures pushed staff to unionize and how leadership responded after the union gained traction.

PushBlack, which claims more than one million subscribers and has sent hundreds of millions of political and civic engagement messages over the years, has long branded itself as an organization committed to Black liberation. According to workers, the internal reality tells a different story.

“We Formed Because Everything Was Going Wrong”

Zain joined PushBlack right out of college as a criminal justice writer, drawn to what appeared to be a workplace grounded in abolitionist values and Black liberation. Darren came to the organization with a background in labor and housing organizing and years of experience working in media strategy.

Both described believing deeply in PushBlack’s mission until internal instability and mismanagement made it impossible to reconcile the organization’s values with its practices.

By early 2025, staff were facing serious financial uncertainty. Leadership acknowledged major mistakes in fundraising strategy, including reliance on a single philanthropic funding source tied to a nonpartisan get out the vote campaign. When that funding ended, workers say management quickly turned to layoffs while disregarding alternatives proposed by staff.

According to Darren, workers presented detailed revenue ideas, emergency fundraising plans, and even temporary salary reductions to help stabilize the organization. None were pursued.

Instead, staff were told that layoffs were “unavoidable”. After leadership was repeatedly given ways by workers to avoid them.

“It became clear that no matter what we contributed, leadership had already decided that workers outside of management would pay the price,” Darren said.

Those conditions led to extensive conversations among workers about power, agency, and accountability. In the spring of 2025, staff formed PushBlack Workers United and organized with a CWA local.

Recognition Without Respect

Management formally recognized the union, but workers say that recognition was quickly followed by hostility and retaliation.

Darren and Zain described a noticeable shift in management behavior after unionization. Workers who openly supported the union were allegedly targeted or reprimanded, and leadership promoted a narrative that blamed the union for the organization’s ongoing problems.

“It felt very hostile,” Zain said. “There was a sudden divide between staff who supported the union and staff who did not. Management pushed the idea that the union was responsible for everything going wrong, when in reality we formed because everything was already going wrong.”

Workers also described disputes over union eligibility and disciplinary actions against union supporters that they say are still under arbitration.

Censorship and the Loss of the Justice Program

Beyond labor issues, workers raised concerns about editorial censorship and content suppression.

According to Darren and Zain, staff were explicitly prohibited from covering certain topics, including the genocide in Palestine, despite PushBlack’s stated commitment to confronting anti-Black violence globally. Content proposals and revenue generating ideas were frequently blocked by leadership. PBWU says these tensions escalated with the dismantling of PushBlack’s “Justice Program”, which workers described as one of the organization’s most impactful and financially successful initiatives.

Led by Zain and another colleague, the Justice Program centered on abolitionist advocacy and incisive reporting that generated millions of views and national attention. The work of this program pressured politicians on both sides, and documented developments of abuse in policing, labor exploitation, and media censorship. External partners frequently described it as one of PushBlack’s clearest expressions of values and their defining product.

Today, that program no longer exists.

“They eliminated the very work that made the contradictions visible,” Zain said. “PushBlack was never going to be able to sustain the Justice Program while treating workers this way.”

Voluntary Layoffs and Then More Layoffs

In an effort to keep PushBlack operational, several workers accepted voluntary separation packages in a difficult economic climate. According to Darren, those departures significantly extended the organization’s financial runway to approximately 16 months, which is longer than many nonprofits hope for on their best day. 

Despite this, leadership proceeded with another round of layoffs in late 2025, including workers who had previously been identified as core staff and had not been offered voluntary exits.

Zain, who helped lead the Justice Program, was among those laid off. This is after initially being labelled as an “essential employee” and 

contributing to the worker’s unionization efforts.

Both organizers said the decision was especially painful given assurances from a newly hired CEO, who had told workers he wanted to collaborate with the union to rebuild morale and develop a sustainable future.

“That collaboration never happened,” Darren said. “We were promised one thing and given another.”

Filing an Unfair Labor Practice

PushBlack Workers United has since filed an unfair labor practice charge alleging unlawful retaliation and anti union conduct. If successful, the case could result in reinstatement and back pay for affected workers.

Despite the ongoing conflict, both organizers emphasized the importance of collective action.

“This union has shown me that collective action works,” Darren said. “This fight is not over.”

Zain closed with a message directed to Black journalists and media workers across the industry.

“You are not disposable,” they said. “Your work matters, and no organization gets to decide your worth.”

How to Support

Workers are encouraging supporters to:

• Follow @wearePBWU on Instagram for updates
  

• Contact PushBlack leadership and board members and express your concern about how workers are being treated
  

• Speak publicly in support of unionized workers and Black journalists
  

  UnionBase will continue reporting on PushBlack Workers United and their efforts to hold leadership accountable while fighting for dignity, transparency, and worker power

From Mars to the Oscars: What One Union Leader Sees Coming for AI and Work

Some careers do not just cross industries. They connect worlds that rarely speak to each other. Jillian Arnold has spent her professional life doing exactly that, working on NASA missions on one side and operating at the highest levels of live television on the other, from the Grammys and VMAs to the Oscars.

In a recent conversation on UnionBase, Jillian shared the unlikely path that took her from a post-graduate freelancing grind, ramen and eggs included, to a cold call that changed everything. NASA’s Jet Propulsion Laboratory was looking for camera operators. She thought it was a prank and hung up. It was not. Less than a year after finishing her graduate program, Jillian found herself choosing between attending Cannes or working inside Mission Control. She chose Mission Control, and that decision shaped the direction of her career.

Additionally, she was building a parallel career in Hollywood. Over time, she discovered that she thrived in the pressure of live television more than in long-form feature production. She became, as she puts it, the artist formerly known as the tape operator, setting up server-based recording workflows, capturing multiple camera feeds and line cuts, and delivering them to post-production in real time.

Today, Jillian serves as president of IATSE Local 695, which represents sound, video, and projection workers, and she plays a key role in negotiating AI-related contract language. During the strikes across Hollywood in 2024, she helped develop protections designed to address the rapid introduction and worker concerns with generative AI into production workflows. One of the biggest challenges, she explained, was that there was no existing playbook. Committees had to start from scratch, study agreements from other unions, gather proposals from across locals, and organize them into core issue areas like compensation, jurisdiction, education, and worker protections.

Equally important was the process itself. Jillian emphasized creating ways for members to be heard, including online discussion threads that allowed people to participate even if they were uncomfortable speaking up in large meetings. Negotiating AI was not only a technical challenge, but an emotional one. The livelihoods of many workers in Hollywood were being experimented with. This required a careful and diligent perspective for workers to be ensured their due. At the height of AI hype, with constant headlines and viral demos, union leadership had to address reasonable and real fear coupled with uncertainty. Her approach focused on listening, asking detailed questions about real workplace use cases, worker impacts, and building a growing data set of how AI is actually being used on productions.

Her view of AI is pragmatic. She believes it should be treated as a tool, not a replacement for creative labor. In many cases, she argues, generative systems are not designed for professionals, but for bypassing the years of training it takes to master a craft. Studios that assume AI is always more efficient may be mistaken at best. Jillian described situations where prompt-based workflows took days to achieve what a skilled worker could accomplish in hours.

At the same time, she does not advocate resisting change. The entertainment industry has always been shaped by technical evolution, from sound added to picture to color, tape, digital workflows, and streaming. AI is another step in that lineage. Workers will adapt, but Jillian is clear that adaptation must come with protections, training, and respect for legacy knowledge. She is especially focused on ensuring that workers nearing retirement are not pushed out and that their experience is passed on.

Jillian closed the conversation with a simple idea that applies far beyond Hollywood. She describes herself as a “pauser”. Not someone who rushes to adopt every new tool, and not someone who wants it all to disappear. A pauser takes a moment to think before using AI and considers the downstream consequences. In a time when rapid adoption is treated as inevitable, that pause may be one of the most powerful tools workers and organizers have when figuring out their approach to tech changes and displacement protections. 

From Mars landings to live television to the bargaining table, Jillian Arnold’s career shows that the people behind the scenes are not just supporting the story. They are shaping what comes next.