The worst part about fighting for justice is the feeling that you’re screaming into a void.
This Sunday (11/29/20) marks six months since the new uprising for racial justice began in Washington DC — Six months that I’ve been in the streets, putting my body in harm’s way to take a stand for Black lives. For all exploited lives.
In that time, I have seen a lot. I’ve learned and grown, and I’ve become part of a real community. That community, united around police abolition and the desperate need to resist fascism, has endured so much for so little in…
Powerful as it is, this photograph should break your hearts.
Inspiring as Black heroine-radicals have always been, you should know that a Black fist in the air — from age zero and onward — is an image of fierce political resolve.
It is a threat to a global system. It’s a demand and a prayer that our Black power be louder than American ignorance. It is a statement the likes of which, in spite of brutal state-sanctioned violence, Black children like this young revolutionary should not have to display to you. Not anymore. Not after 400 years.
So why are…
Last month, thousands of Trump fanatics came to DC to rally for their dejected leader. Three activists were stabbed by Trump supporters. The country didn’t bat an eye.
On December 12th, Proud Boys, conspiracy theorists, and thousands more conservative sore-losers returned to Washington to defend the president’s lies about election fraud. Most folks that watch the news know this happened, and they know that violence broke out once again. But what they don’t know — what they can’t know, unless they walked the streets downtown — is that the nation’s capital became a warzone that night. A real battleground. With…
These are America’s crossroads. If you are anxious about next week, this is why.
The country’s path will not be decided in a single day or a single night, perhaps it will not be clear for weeks. Even in the event that the “decent” Americans are holding their breath for, advocates for justice and Trumpian fascists alike will, in vastly different ways, confront America with the consequences of its original sins.
I am a modern Black revolutionary fighting for the unprecedented recognition and protection of Black lives.
Through five months of protest in the nation’s capital, shouting name after new…
Generally, I’m not inclined to sympathize with deadly white gun-toting vigilantes.
Rittenhouse and the growing bastion of Trump-style fascists aside, the prospect of a 48-year-old white soldier ally, with an unspecified military background and a big-ass Black Power fist tattooed on his neck, raises A LOT of questions for me. As an active Black radical in this year’s burgeoning revolution, the first question probably is, “if you’re not an infiltrator, what the fuck made you want to do this?”
The second might be, “now, which one of his Black friends okayed that ink?” The fist has…
Show of hands: Who else is surprised at themselves for not picturing the president’s predicament sooner? Who was caught believing that the rules of engagement would apply between Nature and today’s white American royalty?
For some reason, I thought so.
I guess I thought he was just too rich. Too protected. Too venal and too corrupt for irony to reach him.
But how are we surprised that the leader of the “free” world — where you have an inalienable right to breathe without a mask, but not without the weight of white supremacy on your Black neck — how are…
When Jacob Blake was shot seven times in the back last month, I was resting. Recovering from three months of protest.
I was with my friend — another self-described Black revolutionary — when we heard about it.
We were quiet at first. Not an awkward quiet. But an aching, mournful quiet. Like the shared solemnity of a funeral, coupled with the angst of watching a loved one go to war.
We looked down at the weed we were rolling and tacitly agreed we needed more.
Our day of rest was over.
Kenosha erupted in the days that followed, and we…
I write this as I await the decision to indict Breonna Taylor’s murderers. I already know that Attorney General Daniel Cameron will not. And that means that this city, Washington DC, will erupt in solidarity with Louisville tonight.
I know it could get scary for some. I know that my comrades, allies, and I are likely to endure a lot. I know that, as we press on, the risks to our safety and freedom grow continuously. I know that the country is watching, and much of it is fearful of what we will do.
I’m sorry for…
And I do not expect them to be the last...
I cannot pretend to imagine the pain of losing a mother or father. But I have been the ‘rock’ for others through this tragedy, and that has its own costs.
Both my parents have so far survived the danger of the Trump’s recklessness. However, some that I know have not been so lucky.
My best-friend, who I often call my brother, and whose mother offered me refuge when it felt like the world turned its back on me, is locked in a COVID ward and fighting for her life.
Last Sunday, I got in trouble again.
The last three and a half months have found me in a lot of that.
From seizing barricades at the riot line to heated and mishandled arguments with former friends.
From standing my ground beneath the fierce downdraft of a military helicopter to holding the line against walls of officers and jets of pepper spray.
From shouting my Black rage through clouds of tear gas to crowding restaurants and shuttering white diners with words they still refuse to hear.
On the front lines of DC’s ongoing fight for justice, I am trouble…