Most black folks I know are dues paying union members.

They would have it no other way.

Even if we buy the hype that the American workplace has gotten better for the black man and woman, too many of us are reminded of all those years our ancestors toiled in the soil without receiving a penny for their labor.

By the way, can somebody tell me where’s the 40 acres and a mule that they’ve been promising us?

Although some cringe at attempts to compare the president of the Transport Workers Union, Roger Toussaint, to the Reverend Martin Luther King Jr., the connection makes all sorts of sense to me and others who have spent a night this week in a tent outside the prison where Mr. Toussaint is being held for calling a transit strike back in December.

Most people tend to forget that in the days leading up to his assassination, King was in Memphis, Tenn., to offer support for striking black sanitation workers involved in a contentious labor dispute.

Frustrated by poor working conditions and meager pay, these men walked off of their jobs and refused to return to work despite a federal court ruling ordering them to do so.

“It was our position that this was not just a sanitation strike, but was an assault on our human dignity. It was a civil rights issue,” a labor leader who was chiefly responsible for spearheading the 1968 Memphis sanitation strike, Jesse Epps, told me this week.

In fact, it was Mr. Epps who coined the phrase “I Am a Man,” which later became the slogan for the strike. Dozens of African American workers painted those words across placards that they wore as they engaged in daily marches. King joined them, urging the men to challenge the court injunction that sought to deem their strike illegal in the first place.

At the end of the day, the city of Memphis settled the strike and the men returned to work.

It is in that same tradition that Mr. Toussaint sought to challenge the Taylor Law, which prohibits strikes by public employees. Quite frankly, the law makes no sense. Although they should be employed only as a last option, strikes have historically been successful in pushing for equity in the workplace. It is the only leverage that workers have to force their employers to refrain from outright exploitation.

For African American workers, who have long been denied access, the right to organize and protest has been critical. This week, African Americans – led by the Reverend Al Sharpton – demonstrated this best when they descended on Foley Square to stand with Mr. Toussaint.

“There’s never been a strike that was not inconvenient,” Rev. Sharpton, responding to the critics who blame Mr. Toussaint for sending millions of commuters scrambling for alternative ways to get to work and school, said. “If we had not boycotted the bus and walked back in Montgomery, we would still be on the back of the bus.”

Even after the television news crews packed up and headed home, Rev. Sharpton and a dedicated group of activists remained.

One transit worker cashed in his vacation time to camp outside the building where Mr. Toussaint was being held. Another passer-by couldn’t stay overnight, but made her way through the crowd to deliver a message to Rev. Sharpton.

“I think it’s great that you are doing this,” she told the 51-year-old civil rights leader. “I can’t stay, but I just wanted you know that I think Mr. Toussaint is a stand-up guy.”

One aide to Rev. Sharpton, Cynthia Davis, is no novice at camping outside prisons. When her boss was locked up for 90 days in 2001 for protesting American military bombings on the Puerto Rican island of Vieques, Ms. Davis set up a tent outside the Brooklyn Detention Center for 50 days and kept vigil.

“This is not just about the TWU, it’s about unions in general,” Ms. Davis said. “As black people, unions are what we know,” she added.

Which brings me back to Mr. Toussaint.

The unjust jail sentence handed down by Judge Theodore Jones now places Mr. Toussaint in the same tradition of black labor leaders like Philip Randolph, Bayard Rustin, and King, who understood that jail is often the price that one receives for championing the rights of workers and people of color.

“Free Roger now,” the crowd demanded, their voices rising and falling amid the darkness.” Free Toussaint. Let him go.”

And in the midst of the excitement and demands, I couldn’t help but wonder if I should throw in my two cents. Since we’re talking about organized labor, would this be an inappropriate time to revisit that conversation about 40 acres and a mule?