Citizens in Puerto Rico laid shoes at the San Juan capitol to represent lost loved ones not counted in the official government death toll. The number is estimated to be 4,645, the official US government number is 64.
They’ve Always Been Watching Us: From COINTELPRO and Martin Luther King, Jr to the NSA’s surveillance program, the US Government has been keeping a close watch on the American Left for a long time.
If you think this is sad and crazy, go look up other BLM activists who’ve died in the last 5 years or so. You’ll notice that quite a few of them have something in common. I’ll wait.
I am going to print this out and plaster it everywhere I go
my heart just broke
Not gonna lie; I’m on the verge of tears right now. Because this is what I see every night when I come into work. I work at a Jewish-run elder care non-profit. Even in the memory care unit, we’re seeing a rise in the residents’ anxiety levels, to the point where they’ve had to stop turning on the TV news stations (and these residents still love the news). Multiple residents are direct survivors of the Shoah; some barely escaped, and almost all of them lost family members in death camps. One resident was one of the children saved by the Kindertransport. Many other residents tell me stories of when they were kids, how their neighborhoods were destroyed and relocated and of the siblings and parents they no longer have. One newer resident was finally starting to settle in when Charlottesville happened. Even though we immediately changed the channel, she was shaken. She was inconsolable for hours. When I left for the night, she was still crying and refused to leave her room. Even now, weeks after the direct event, she still is wary to come to programs, fearing that if she is away from her room too long that her possessions and place will be stolen from her like they were in 1938. Even with dementia, even with Alzheimers, these residents remember what happened. They cannot forget their lost loved ones. They cannot forget the things stolen from them. They cannot forget, period. Because this fight against Neo-Nazis isn’t just a theoretical thing. These groups know that people are forgetting about Shoah; they take great strength knowing that people from that generation are dying. When they regard WWII as a “dark cloud” hanging over the heads of this generation, it is not with a solemn regard, with they knowledge that we must not forget lest we repeat our mistakes. These White supremacists, these White Neo-Nazis, see Shoah remembrance as something they will gladly eradicate. When people gladly throw out the Nazi salute, chant the 14 words, or march under the banner of “hail victory,” they are two things and two things only – Nazi apologists and Nazi supporters. Shoah survivors are not gone. They are still here. We need to stop ignoring that this normalization of Nazis marching in the street harms real people. It’s not just ideas. It’s not just “free speech”. We cannot forget. We cannot forget. We cannot forget.
I’m takin back my body. U dun played wit it, longgg, enuf. Yeah I see ya hemmin n hawwin. But I neva said you ass cud have it in na firs place now did I? You was weak. I was convenient. And nah hea we r. You was lookin fa powa, and you found it, in, dis, hea, flesh. I was yo science project, voodoo doll, And playground all in fuckin one. Yeah! Ya hid ya secrets in me! Even tricked me inta thinkin they was mines ta keep. I can’t go ten seconds witout yo lies searin thru my skin. Hmph! When did my body become yo ashtray? N why am I jus now feelin da fuckin burn? I’m takin back my body. Gon dust it off, take it to da cleanas, open do’s fa it, hol it close when we watchin scary pictures, sava tha kiss good night, n spin aroun’ like onna dem white bitches In ah old powda face movie. Happy! Happy cuz sumbody dun gaves huh sumn beautiful. You hea dat? Fo da firs’ time eva! I’m gon gi myself sumn beautiful. I’m gon gi myself? Me!
What About My Body
not anutha poem not anutha movie Zenobia corpse laid up in da French Quartas like a runned ova possum Milani head was ripped off huh body like a ole track left out on Christopha Street n I still, can’t sleep on my back where my national holiday? where my creation story? no tea! no shade! I get it, evry 5 seconds a black binary woman is beaten well evry 2.5 seconds, a “black” non-binary femme or person is beaten, then killed. I’m done advocatin I’m through, empathizin she ain’t no mo tiyad ah gettin huh ass whooped den me not anutha pamphlet not anutha intervention fuck tha dumb shit! quiet as it’s kept evry time I’ve eva been raped, there was a binary black woman eitha eggin na shit on, or joinin in onna got-dam fun why don’t my screams warrant da police? why don’t my psychosis warrant a savior? I wanna fuckin know! I wanna, fuckin, know! I said I wanna fuckin know! What about my body?
Reacquainted With Life
wade through rocks punch fist through earth reach for the moon as if it were a life preserver climb out one limb at a time spit out worms gnaw mold from fingertips wipe eyes of tears and dirt massage throat allow fatigue clinch torso awaken voice then find pride in where I lay wounded, but alive
KOKUMỌ is an African-American transgender woman and product of Chicago’s South Side. While growing up, the only messaging she received in regards to her identity was that it would lead to either death or institutionalization. Therefore, upon reaching the age of opportunity she was behooved to give herself a name that spoke of life. After an extensive search and emotional journey she discovered KOKUMỌ. KOKUMỌ means, “This one will not die” in Yoruba, a West African language.
alder-knight 
