2016
2016 from New Orleans, Louisiana, USA.
This year has felt jolting, like a rickety wooden roller-coaster with rushing moments of beauty, community, laughter, and love, punctured by long opposing segments as I move through a society designed to divide, fear, oppress.
From ranks of riot-gear police violently attacking peaceful protesters, hours of conversations with people separated by iron chain link and dressed in orange uniforms trapped in local and federal prisons for migrating, for poverty. I’ve gotten a preview of the hate politics that soon will envelope the whole country working in the Louisiana state-capital trying to undo any victories won by communities in our cities. I am scared about what is to come from a new President and his chosen cabinet, willing to divide and dehumanize to win power. A President that portrays all Muslims as terrorists, all undocumented immigrants as rapists, job stealers. All those trapped by this country’s racist, anti-poor criminal injustice system as never deserving of dignity. A President that will destroy the Earth for a few more dollars and will bomb the Middle East to death in support of the interests of the military-industrial complex. I am scared that half of voters supported these visions, and most of the other half quickly sought to normalize it and has refused to stand up for principles which should never be thought of as bargaining chips.
I am scared. But I also remain hopeful. Because in the blur of these stormy clouds and real violence, I witnessed the deepest love. Because moments of deep pain and hurt are born out of the strongest love we have for each other. This election, mass incarceration, the murder of Black, Brown, indigenous peoples, should never be needed to ignite social movements and committed organizing against the structural injustice of our system. But sometimes it is what society needs to realize just how bound each one of our liberation and freedom is to each and every other person’s.
This year, thousands of families were torn apart by our deportation, criminalization, and incarceration machines. But some were also held together by community’s deep belief and commitment to fight by all means necessary against these powerful forces. This year, Indigenous peoples and their allies resistance halted hundreds of years of exploitation and theft of their lands. This year, I continuously rediscovered the strength and grounding power of my family and of communities committed to continuing to fight, dance, cook, explores paint, laugh.
In 2017 — I will remember that whenever you find tragedy and injustice, you will also find the most true forms of resistance and inspiration. We must continue to fight. Fight to be heard, to love, to be free.
This year has felt jolting, like a rickety wooden roller-coaster with rushing moments of beauty, community, laughter, and love, punctured by long opposing segments as I move through a society designed to divide, fear, oppress.
From ranks of riot-gear police violently attacking peaceful protesters, hours of conversations with people separated by iron chain link and dressed in orange uniforms trapped in local and federal prisons for migrating, for poverty. I’ve gotten a preview of the hate politics that soon will envelope the whole country working in the Louisiana state-capital trying to undo any victories won by communities in our cities. I am scared about what is to come from a new President and his chosen cabinet, willing to divide and dehumanize to win power. A President that portrays all Muslims as terrorists, all undocumented immigrants as rapists, job stealers. All those trapped by this country’s racist, anti-poor criminal injustice system as never deserving of dignity. A President that will destroy the Earth for a few more dollars and will bomb the Middle East to death in support of the interests of the military-industrial complex. I am scared that half of voters supported these visions, and most of the other half quickly sought to normalize it and has refused to stand up for principles which should never be thought of as bargaining chips.
I am scared. But I also remain hopeful. Because in the blur of these stormy clouds and real violence, I witnessed the deepest love. Because moments of deep pain and hurt are born out of the strongest love we have for each other. This election, mass incarceration, the murder of Black, Brown, indigenous peoples, should never be needed to ignite social movements and committed organizing against the structural injustice of our system. But sometimes it is what society needs to realize just how bound each one of our liberation and freedom is to each and every other person’s.
This year, thousands of families were torn apart by our deportation, criminalization, and incarceration machines. But some were also held together by community’s deep belief and commitment to fight by all means necessary against these powerful forces. This year, Indigenous peoples and their allies resistance halted hundreds of years of exploitation and theft of their lands. This year, I continuously rediscovered the strength and grounding power of my family and of communities committed to continuing to fight, dance, cook, explores paint, laugh.
In 2017 — I will remember that whenever you find tragedy and injustice, you will also find the most true forms of resistance and inspiration. We must continue to fight. Fight to be heard, to love, to be free.
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