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Noting that "this is not the first, not the second, but the third life that was taken" by police in the area, one local candidate declared that "this is no longer an accident or a tragedy. It is a choice."
WARNING: The following article contains graphic content that some people may find disturbing…
Protesters have taken to the streets in Madison, Wisconsin since Wednesday afternoon to decry violence by law enforcement, especially against people of color, since police fatally shot a man, whom they said had a knife, while attempting to arrest him in an intersection.
"Madison Police Department officers typically don't wear body cameras," The Cap Times reported, and MPD Chief John Patterson said there are no bodycam videos of the shooting. However, bystander footage swiftly spread online, spurring alarm and outrage.
The footage shows four officers trying to wrestle a Black man—identified by residents and multiple elected officials as Corey Ruiz—to the ground. At least one officer shouts "taser," and three gunshots can be heard when Ruiz is already on the ground.
Patterson said during a Wednesday press conference that an officer deployed a taser, but was "unsuccessful," and an officer injured by the knife "fired his weapon" at the intersection of South Baldwin and Williamson, or "Willy," around 1:30 pm Central time.
The police chief did not name any of the officers—who were placed on administrative leave after the killing—and did not confirm Ruiz's identity, only describing him as a man in his 30s. However, he said that "I want to take a moment to honestly and sincerely offer my heartfelt sympathies to his family for this loss."
Patterson also acknowledged that the deadly shooting "occurred in a neighborhood that has experienced a lot of trauma in the past." As Madison-based Isthmus detailed, "Tony Robinson was shot and killed by Madison police officer Matt Kenny in 2015 a block and a half away; Paulie Heenan was fatally shot by a police officer in 2012, on nearby South Baldwin Street."
Noting that "this is not the first, not the second, but the third life that was taken" by police in the past couple of decades, Juliana Bennett, a democratic socialist running to represent District 76 in the Wisconsin State Assembly, said that "this is no longer an accident or a tragedy. It is a choice."
In addition to community members, people around the world who have seen the various videos of the shooting—that "looks like a gang execution" by police, according to one critic—are demanding the arrest of the officer who fired the shots on Wednesday.
"Madison police killed Corey Ruiz, shooting him three times in the head at point-blank range after tasing him, while he was constrained on the ground," said the Party for Socialism and Liberation on social media. "Despite MPD's attempts to distort the truth, the people of Madison immediately took to the streets to demand transparency and justice."
"Corey Ruiz's life matters, and he should be alive today! The police and ICE are the biggest threats to public safety!" the party continued, referring to US Immigration and Customs Enforcement, which has also fatally shot several people nationwide this year. "The cops who carried out this execution in broad daylight should be jailed! End all racist police terror!"
As The Cap Times detailed:
Protesters who first gathered on Williamson Street chanted, "Arrest that cop." They later marched to the Capitol, where they took over the area where the Wisconsin Chamber Orchestra typically performs during the free weekly summer series Concerts on the Square.
Joe Loehnis, CEO of the Wisconsin Chamber Orchestra, announced the orchestra would stand in solidarity with Madison's Black community and canceled the concert Wednesday as hundreds of people listened to protesters while waiting for the event to start. There are currently no plans to reschedule.
The concert series takes place on the lawn of the Wisconsin State Capitol. Protesters outside the building chanted, "Black Lives Matter!"
Later Wednesday, mourners gathered at the intersection—where candles and flowers were laid on the ground—and came together in song.
The memorial remained in the road as of Thursday morning, according to footage shared on social media by local press.
Among the politicians who have weighed in are Democratic Gov. Tony Evers, who said after being briefed on the shooting that "there must be transparency and accountability in any investigation moving forward."
"We will continue to keep the loved ones and family of the individual who was killed in our hearts and prayers. His life mattered," Evers added. "As folks exercise their First Amendment rights tonight and in the days ahead, we urge them to do so peacefully and respectfully."
Evers declined to seek a third term this cycle. The Democratic primary is next month. Multiple candidates running to replace him also spoke out on Wednesday. Mandela Barnes said he was "deeply disturbed and pained by the video footage," and called for an "independent and transparent" investigation.
A similarly "horrified" David Crowley said that "while the details are still emerging and a full accounting of what happened is still needed, these reports are painfully reminiscent of the tragedies we have witnessed in Kenosha, Minneapolis, and far too many communities across our country."
Candidate Joel Brennan noted that "this neighborhood carries a deep pain and a history of all too recent similar violence," and demanded a probe by the Wisconsin Department of Justice to provide the community with "a full, transparent, and independent accounting of what happened."
At the site of the shooting, another gubernatorial hopeful, Francesca Hong, faced calls from the crowd to condemn the shooting as "murder." She said into a bullhorn, "This state-sanctioned violence was an execution."
State Rep. Shelia Stubbs (D-78) said that "I am deeply saddened and disturbed to hear of the death of Corey Ruiz after he was fatally shot by a member of the Madison Police Department. This never should have happened. Mr. Ruiz should still be alive. My heart and my prayers go out to Mr. Ruiz's family, friends, and loved ones in their time of unimaginable grief. Madison has been profoundly shaken by this tragic incident."
"My thoughts are also with our community members who witnessed and were traumatized by this shocking and distressing event, especially the brave individuals who recorded footage with their phone cameras," she continued. "This is a grave example of the need for body-worn cameras. If Madison Police Department had body cameras, we wouldn't need to look to civilian footage for answers."
After pointing to her record of pushing for racial justice and "more community-based approaches to our justice system," Stubbs stressed that in the wake of this latest shooting, "it is critical that community members are kept informed and receive updates in a timely manner. There must be a thorough, impartial investigation into the circumstances that resulted in a man unnecessarily losing his life."
Madison's Democratic mayor, Satya Rhodes-Conway, said she was "angered and saddened by what happened," adding that "it's an absolute tragedy when a member of our community is killed by anyone, but especially by the police. I understand the anger, grief, and fear people are feeling—because I am feeling that too."
"The State Department of Criminal Investigation will be conducting an independent investigation, and the officers involved have been put on administrative leave until the investigation is concluded," according to the mayor. "The Madison Police Department is cooperating fully and is not in charge of the investigation."
Ruiz's family has retained civil rights and personal injury attorney Ben Crump, who has secured settlements for relatives of George Floyd and Breonna Taylor.
"The video gives us a clear picture of what happened. Corey Ruiz was tased, taken to the ground, and then he was shot multiple times at close range, including in his face," Crump said in a statement. "This case has to be examined for excessive force. It happened in broad daylight, in front of dozens of witnesses. The family deserves the truth, and the public deserves accountability."
This article has been updated with comment from Ben Crump and to correct the timeline for the three men killed.
"They wanted her bound, broken, and paraded as an example, but instead, she slipped their grip and lived out her life in exile, surrounded by people who honored her struggle and her survival," said one admirer.
Assata Shakur, a Black revolutionary who inspired generations of activists to struggle for a better world, passed away on Thursday in Havana, Cuba, where she had lived in exile from the US for over four decades.
Cuba's Ministry of Foreign Affairs announced her death on Friday, saying it was caused by a combination of “health conditions and advanced age." She was reportedly 78 years old.
"At approximately 1:15 pm on September 25, my mother, Assata Shakur, took her last earthly breath," her daughter Kakuya Shakur wrote on Facebook on Friday. "Words cannot describe the depth of loss that I am feeling at this time. I want to thank you for your loving prayers that continue to anchor me in the strength that I need in this moment. My spirit is overflowing in unison with all of you who are grieving with me at this time."
Shakur, who was born Joanne Deborah Byron and was also known as Joanne Deborah Chesimard, spent the first three years of her life in Queens, New York before moving to Wilmington, North Carolina. She then returned to Queens for third grade.
"Assata’s unwavering commitment to the liberation of her people continues to inspire generations."
"I spent my early childhood in the racist segregated South," she recalled in a 1998 letter to Pope John Paul II. "I later moved to the northern part of the country, where I realized that Black people were equally victimized by racism and oppression."
Shakur became active in the anti-Vietnam War, student, and Black liberation movements while attending Borough of Manhattan Community College and the City College of New York. After graduation, she joined first the Black Panther Party and then the Black Liberation Army (BLA).
"I have been a political activist most of my life, and although the US government has done everything in its power to criminalize me, I am not a criminal, nor have I ever been one," she wrote in 2013.
In 1973, she and two other BLA activists were stopped at the New Jersey Turnpike by two state troopers. By the end of the encounter, both Shakur's friend Zayd Malik Shakur and trooper Werner Foerster were shot dead. In 1977, Shakur was convicted of Foerster's murder in a trial she described as a "legal lynching." Throughout her life, she maintained her innocence.
"I was shot once with my arms held up in the air and then once again from the back," she wrote of the shootout.
She was sentenced to life in prison plus 33 years, but didn't long remain behind bars.
"In 1979, fearing that I would be murdered in prison, and knowing that I would never receive any justice, I was liberated from prison, aided by committed comrades who understood the depths of the injustices in my case and who were also extremely fearful for my life," she wrote.
In 1984, she claimed asylum in Cuba. Throughout her life, she also remained staunchly committed to the cause of liberation for all oppressed peoples.
"I have advocated and I still advocate revolutionary changes in the structure and in the principles that govern the United States," she wrote to John Paul II. "I advocate self-determination for my people and for all oppressed inside the United States. I advocate an end to capitalist exploitation, the abolition of racist policies, the eradication of sexism, and the elimination of political repression. If that is a crime, then I am totally guilty."
During her exile, her writings, including her 1987 autobiography, gained a wide audience and brought her story and voice to younger activists.
"It is our duty to fight for our freedom," she wrote in one of the book's most famous passages. "It is our duty to win. We must love each other and support each other. We have nothing to lose but our chains.”
She was also influential in the world of music and hip-hop, serving as godmother to Tupac Shakur and inspiring songs by Public Enemy and Common, among others.
The US government did not give up its pursuit of her. In 2013, under President Barack Obama, the Federal Bureau of Investigation named her the first woman on its "Most Wanted Terrorist" list. The FBI and the state of New Jersey also doubled the reward for information leading to her capture. That reward will now never be claimed.
"She died free!" one of her admirers, who uses the handle The Cake Lady, wrote on social media on Friday. "The US government, after decades of pursuit, never got the satisfaction of putting her in a cage. They wanted her bound, broken, and paraded as an example, but instead, she slipped their grip and lived out her life in exile, surrounded by people who honored her struggle and her survival."
News of her passing inspired tributes from social justice and anti-imperialist leaders and organizations, including former Ohio state Sen. Nina Turner and Rep. Ayanna Pressley (D-Mass.)
"We honor the life of comrade Assata Shakur, a revolutionary who inspires and pushes all of us in the struggle for a better world," wrote anti-war group CodePink on social media.
Community organizer Tanisha Long posted: "Assata Shakur joins the ancestors a free woman. She did not die bound by the carceral system and she did not pass away living in a land that never respected or accepted her. Assata taught us that liberation can not be bargained for, it must be taken."
The Revolutionary Blackout Network wrote, "Thank you for fighting to liberate us all, comrade."
The New York-based People's Forum said: "We honor Assata’s life and legacy as a tireless champion of the people and as a symbol of hope and resistance for millions around the world in urgent fight against racism, police brutality, US imperialism, and white supremacy. Assata’s unwavering commitment to the liberation of her people continues to inspire generations."
The Democratic Socialists of America vowed to "honor her legacy by recognizing our duty to fight for our freedom, to win, to love, and protect one another because we have nothing to lose but our chains."
Black Lives Matter organizer Malkia Amala Cyril lamented to The Associated Press that Shakur died during a global rise of authoritarianism.
“The world in this era needs the kind of courage and radical love she practiced if we are going to survive it,” Cyril said.
Several tributes featured Shakur's own words.
"I believe in living," she wrote in a poem at the beginning of her autobiography.
"I believe in birth. I believe in the sweat of love and in the fire of truth. And i believe that a lost ship, steered by tired, seasick sailors, can still be guided home to port."
Hard-fought victories in terms of racial justice in the U.S. are always met with a vicious backlash that makes progress a circular motion where we end up, it seems, where we began.
We keep running in circles when it comes to addressing racial justice in the U.S. This means that with every advance we almost come back to the same place and must fight the battles all over again. It doesn't mean that progress has not been made, but the progress retrogresses due to the immediate backlash that charges any advance to rectify past racial injustices as an affront to white people. At best there is an ebb and flow when it comes to rectifying the racial harms and damages of the past.
Race history and the many initiatives to rectify past wrongs is more of a circle than a linear line. It may be an expanding circle considering advances, but for every victory won there is a vicious throw back. It is almost like the 1993 movie Groundhog Day where morning after morning we awaken to history repeating itself, and where victories of racial justice are swept away by the courts or a change in the body politic. The struggle continues, and in many cases, we must begin again.
Every racial justice victory in the United States came about because of the Civil War and the various modes of resistance employed by victims of racial injustices. Mass protests and resistance has generally forced those in power to seek easy answers to placate the anger of the victims of racial injustice. But every attempt to satisfy and pacify the various protests is met with vociferous protests that erase hard fought victories. Just a few examples over four centuries in U.S. history serve as evidence. At each juncture of political protest those in power have historically responded with various initiatives designed to calm the uprisings and unrest. However, any advance is quickly eradicated under the guise of reverse discrimination.
If the United States is ever going to create a society of real growth and opportunity, it needs to stop chasing its tail.
After the Civil War, one man, one vote was militarily imposed resulting in the elections of Black men to numerous political offices in the South. With those advances came the passage of the 13th Amendment in 1865 abolishing slavery. The Civil Rights Act of 1866 granted citizenship to people born in the U.S. This served as a response to the 1857 Supreme Court Dred Scott decision that ruled Blacks were not citizens. The 14th Amendment passed in 1868 addressed and attempted to rectify state laws that abridged the rights of Black people. In 1870 the 15th Amendment was adopted that attempted to grant the right to vote to Black men (It should be noted that it wasn't until 1920 that women had the right to vote). In 1871 another Civil Rights Act was passed, also known as the Klu Klux Klan Act, which was a response to the growing terrorism used by whites against Blacks and advances in civil rights. These acts of terror were designed to take away the vote, enforce racial codes, and re-impose restrictions on Black people that had been granted post-Civil War. The backlash turned back the clock on the numerous advances that sought to correct the racial injustices of the past.
In 1865 Abraham Lincoln was assassinated, and Andrew Johnson became President. Andrew Johnson was a Southerner who worked to turn back the numerous advances made in racial justice. Under his administration amnesty was granted to Confederates. Confiscated lands (plantations) were returned to those who rebelled against the Union. The last remaining Union troops were withdrawn from the South in the Compromise of 1877 resulting in the reestablishment of pre-Civil War policies that completed the circle of restoring white Southern rule, reinstating the Black Codes, and allowing states to make policies that re-created de facto enslavement. The circle turned 360 degrees from voting rights, citizenship, anti-terrorism, social rectification, and attempts at inclusion to making it virtually impossible for Blacks to vote, live and work, or engage in the routines of life without fear and intimidation. Reconstruction, a response to racial injustices and calls to the nation to be inclusive and equitable, was short lived—from 1865-1877—and in that short time it ushered in amendments and civil rights acts. However, it was attacked from the beginning, sabotaged, and died because of white backlash. Most of the steps forward were spurned within 12 short years, and all the advances undone. The circle of racial justice took Blacks from winning to having to fight all over again.
In response to the racial justice organizing in the 20th century and the social unrest through demonstrations, sit-ins, and mass marches, the Civil Rights Act of 1964 was passed. This act prohibited discrimination in labor and attempted to end segregation in public facilities, public schools, and federally funded programs (keep in mind that 10 years prior, in 1954, the Supreme Court had already ruled segregation in public schools unconstitutional and ordered schools to desegregate). In 1965 the Voting Rights Act was passed to challenge the many schemes employed by states to abridge the ability of Blacks to vote. It also required Southern states to seek permission to substantively change voting practices. However in 2013, the Supreme Court in Shelby County v. Holder gutted these protections arguing that they were "based on 40-year-old facts having no logical relationship to the present day." Hence voting protections enacted in 1965 were gutted effectively rendering the act a relic of the past. This is an example of the ebb, or the circular motion, of the nature of racial rectification in the U.S.
In the 21st century white resistance to the freedoms of Blacks to move and live within the society coupled with continued fears of whites towards Black people resulted in "Stand Your Ground" laws. These were boilerplate legislation written by the American Legislative Exchange Council and offered to state legislators which produced glaring and frightening consequences for Black people. Black people were shot for ringing the wrong door bell, or for being in the wrong neighborhood. But all of this played into a larger scheme to erode equal rights and turn back the clock on racial rectification.
The reaction to racial justice is relentless and comes whenever strides are made to make the nation more inclusive. The Black Lives Matter movement emerged, trying to hold people and society accountable. The movement was spurred on by the killings of Trayvon Martin and Ahmaud Arbery by vigilantes. George Floyd, Breonna Taylor, Sandra Bland, and Philando Castile were examples of police killings. In the streets voices chanted, "Defund the police," and bodies blocked expressways and intersections. Political leaders and bodies across the country entertained discussions on the matter. Corporate America responded along with other entities employing "Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion" (DEI) measures. DEI became part of the discussion in the economic, political, and educational arena. The corporate world responded to the various outcries of disadvantaged groups that included racial and the LGBTQIA community and sought ways to demonstrate their desire to include and sell to these groups. Among those employing DEI initiatives were Amazon, Meta (FaceBook), McDonald's, Walmart, Ford, Lowe's, John Deere, American Airlines, Boeing, Jack Daniel's (Brown-Forman), Caterpillar, Harley-Davidson, Molson Coors, Nissan, Polaris, Toyota, and Anheuser-Busch.
The criticisms however grew louder as the "Turn Back the Clock" and Make America Great Again activists homed in on "wokeness" and began to attack those corporations for their support of racial justice and gay rights. The 2023 Supreme Court decision on college admissions, which struck down affirmative action programs declaring that race cannot be a factor in college admissions, was used to advance charges of reverse discrimination and of lowering standards. Then with the election of President Donald Trump the attacks on DEI found greater energy and corporations demonstrated lesser courage. Each of the corporations mentioned have since rolled back or eliminated their Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion programs. This is another example of a 360-degree turn in the struggle for racial justice and inclusion within the society, culture, and workplace.
Blacks have been historically wronged and remain disadvantaged. We continue to lag behind our white counterparts in terms of education, economics, and wealth. If progress is linear then we could surmise that at some point Blacks would catch up to whites. Instead, in most categories, the gaps and disparities have grown wider. The only way to explain this phenomenon is that we are engaged in a circle of gaining and then losing. The circle may grow larger signifying the progress being made, but the hard-fought victories in terms of racial justice are always met with a vicious backlash that makes progress a circular motion where we end up, it seems, where we began.
If the United States is ever going to create a society of real growth and opportunity, it needs to stop chasing its tail. It needs to change its belief that correcting past wrongs is somehow to penalize someone else. The irony is that those who complain about reverse discrimination are the ones who have been the beneficiaries of a system of discrimination. A strong society must come to terms with its history; tell the stories of the good, the bad, and the ugly; and muster the courage to create and maintain policies, programs, and systems that correct the sins of the past.
By pitting Black and Brown communities against each other, shadow actors promote the false notion that democracy and equality are in competition with each other, rather than shared objectives.
In this polarized moment in America, where disinformation fuels division and mistrust, the stakes for our communities could not be higher. Systemic inequalities continue to affect Black and Brown populations disproportionately, yet harmful narratives often pit our growing communities against one another, diverting attention from shared struggles.
The need for unity is not new, but today it is especially urgent. Politicians and pundits have long exploited tensions between Black and Brown communities, often framing them as competitors in a zero-sum game for resources, jobs, and political influence. During the 2024 election cycle, it became nearly impossible to turn on the television or scroll through social media without encountering rampant information fraud. Led by the far right and bolstered by political allies, shadow actors, and extremist groups, this movement gained national momentum with the “birther” conspiracy targeting former U.S. President Barack Obama. That was only the beginning.
Over time, the lies grew more bizarre and targeted—accusing Haitian immigrants of eating pets—or even infiltrating weather reports, with claims that the government was creating hurricanes to target Republican voters. These lies were not only absurd but also devastatingly effective in fostering a culture of division, racism, and violent rhetoric that harmed marginalized communities across the country.
In response to the ongoing threat of information fraud and a lack of information education, our organizations have called on Black and Brown communities to embrace intersectionality and cross-racial solidarity as tools to combat deception.
Black and Brown communities are particularly vulnerable to targeted information fraud campaigns, especially on social media. Despite being factually unfounded and blatantly racist, these tactics have shown their effectiveness. Recent polls indicate that extremist ideologies gained traction among Black and Latino voters. By pitting these groups against each other, shadow actors promote the false notion that democracy and equality are in competition with each other, rather than shared objectives.
The high stakes for failing to unite are as much political as they are cultural. Both Black and Latino communities are growing forces in American politics, with immense potential to shape elections, policy, and public discourse. In recent years, we have seen how both groups mobilize to demand justice—from the Black Lives Matter movement to advocacy for comprehensive immigration reform. Yet without solidarity, the potential for meaningful change is significantly diminished.
Consider the fight for voting rights. Restrictions on voting access disproportionately impact both Black Americans and Latinos, yet efforts to combat these injustices often occur in silos. Similarly, debates over resources for schools, affordable housing, or healthcare too often devolve into blame games rather than coordinated demands for systemic reform. The far-right has skillfully exploited these fissures, promoting narratives that suggest Black and Brown communities are at odds over issues like affirmative action, policing, or economic opportunities.
Now, in a post-election United States, we know building stronger coalitions requires a commitment to equity, truth, and intentional dialogue. We must create spaces to address historic grievances, foster mutual understanding, and work toward collective goals.
To get there, we need to understand that the media also plays a critical role. Too often, stories about Black and Latino communities focus on conflict rather than collaboration. These skewed narratives reinforce stereotypes and undermine efforts at solidarity. Highlighting shared struggles and successes instead of conflicts can help bridge divides and foster unity.
Solidarity does not come easy. Centuries of systemic oppression and cultural erasure have left deep scars that cannot be healed overnight. But solidarity does not require erasing differences; it requires acknowledging them and finding common ground in the pursuit of justice.
In response to the ongoing threat of information fraud and a lack of information education, our organizations have called on Black and Brown communities to embrace intersectionality and cross-racial solidarity as tools to combat deception.
Solidarity, collaboration, and diversity are at the heart of every successful social justice movement. Like a New Orleans gumbo or a Mexican pozole, collaborative efforts are stronger and more innovative than the sum of their parts. By rallying around a shared message that rejects deception at its source, we can safeguard both the integrity of our democracy and the future of our country.
It's okay for us to grieve in this moment. Let’s lend a shoulder, a hand, a smile, a tissue. And then let’s organize like never before.
I’m going to be honest with you all about my feelings. What voting has shown us is that no matter how hard we fight, we are in a losing battle. It has shown us that our bodies and lives aren’t important. It has shown us that freedom seems to be a mirage in a hot street that upon further inspection, is not water that can fuel our fight.
This grief feels different. This anxiety-inducing, depression-producing feeling has me terrified of the future. Walking through the airport in Orlando recently, I felt like I was being encapsulated by a crowd of people who abhor my existence. It reminds me of the anxiety I felt on a layover there after the shooting at Pulse. Even as I write this, I tremble as I remember being in Room 107 in Texas while the community identified the body of Tracy Single. It feels like isolation and despair and embarrassment. It feels like fear.
I am here to acknowledge though, that even in the face of fear, we can change things. Even in the face of fear, we can accomplish the impossible. As I say that, I think, “How, Ian? How can I do that in the face of the next four years of more hateful policies, bans, and rights being taken and potentially decades of lasting effects after?”
In the words of MLK, “Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that.” And that’s not this “kumbayah” type of love that doesn’t see people willingly placing oppression on us; it is more love for those who look, love, and identify with us. It is creating more unity and more resources. They were never coming to save us! We have always needed to be the ones to save ourselves.
As we move along through these next couple of months before the inauguration, know that our community is here to every Black, queer individual, as thought partners, resource sharers, and possibility strategists. Because despite the hopelessness we collectively feel right now, I’m reminded of the ACTUP activists, and the Black Lives Matter movement, and the Bayard Rustins, the words of Langston Hughes, the thoughts of Kimberle Crenshaw, the strategy of Dr. Charles Law, the advocacy of Monica Roberts, the campaign of Kamala Harris and you continuing to show up despite moments of grief.
I invite you to hear the words of Langston Hughes’ poem Harlem, “What happens to a dream deferred?"
"Does it dry up
like a raisin in the sun?
Or fester like a sore—
And then run?
Does it stink like rotten meat?
Or crust and sugar over—
like a syrupy sweet?
Maybe it just sags
like a heavy load.
Or does it explode?”
I urge us in our grief not to allow our dream to be deferred, to sit by the wayside, to deny us the hope to see it fulfilled.
If not for us, for Trans teens not able to seek care. If not for us, for people who can have children who cannot make a choice on their own bodies. If not for us, for same-sex families in fear they will lose their rights. If not for us, for our future.
We are and have always been who we’ve been waiting for. Your presence on this Earth is hope personified.
Given his influence on the white liberal establishment, can Coates be marginalized like any other American who dares speak the truth about Israel, let alone at this particular moment in history?
The United States is the single most powerful supporter of the Israeli settler colony.
The U.S. government heavily arms and gives political cover to Israel, and considers the people at the mercy of its aggression as America's enemies. And president after president, Republican and Democrat, has enabled Israel to commit war crimes, crimes against humanity, and even genocide with total impunity.
The current genocide Israel is committing in Palestine is legally and morally placed at the doorstep of the U.S.
Therefore, what happens in the U.S.—especially when the political mainstream begins to wake up and see Zionism for the apocalyptic genocidal fanaticism that it is—matters for world peace.
For generations, liberal Zionists have infiltrated the ranks of American liberal imperialists with terror visited upon the world. West and Mishra saw through Coates clearly; now, so has he.
Zionists—whether Israeli or American, Christian or Jewish—do not like the prospects of that awakening.
As the racist and colonial nature of Israel's regime became more widely recognized, the experiences between Palestinians and the African American community also became more prominently linked, especially in the wake of the Black Lives Matter movement.
Over the last year, several outlets—from The New York Times to Politico, Vox, and others—published articles examining the history of Black and Palestinian solidarity.
Indeed, these discussions emerged in full force after 7 October 2023 as several leading African American public figures and intellectuals made clear their stance on Israel—even making headlines on "how Gaza has shaken Black politics."
When U.S. Ambassador to the United NationsLinda Thomas-Greenfield raises her hand and vetoes one Security Council resolution after another to stop the Israeli murderous machinery; when we see U.S. Secretary of Defence Lloyd J Austin III in the news pledging his mighty military will protect Israel against attempts to stop its rampage; when the irredeemably corrupt New York City Mayor Eric Adams delivers nauseating "stand with Israel" speeches, something deep in the history of African American experience cries foul.
And when Congresswoman Cori Bush of Missouri avows: "Aipac [American Israel Public Affairs Committee], I'm coming to tear your kingdom down!" she invokes an entirely different legacy of solidarity with Palestinians in African American history, as Israel systematically unleashes its savageries against Palestinians and other Arab nations like Lebanon.
Towering figures like Malcolm X, James Baldwin, Angela Davis, Alice Walker, and Cornel West have been bold, precise, and hard-hitting when it comes to condemning the criminal atrocities of the U.S. and Israel in cahoots together.
It was not too long ago when the heat on Ta-Nehisi Coates, a prominent African-American literary and critical voice, got so bad he ran out of the kitchen.
Back in 2017, he deleted his Twitter account with millions of followers and went into occultation following a scathing critique levelled against him by the unflinching moral conscience of Cornel West, a distinguished scholar and activist who called him "the neoliberal face of the Black freedom struggle."
Coates soon left his main outlet, The Atlantic, a major Zionist operation run by former Israeli prison guard Jeffrey Goldberg, that was grooming him as a feather in their Israeli hat. For years, he would oblige.
Coates published his 2008 hymn for Israel, " The Negro Sings of Zionism," which he followed with "The Case for Reparations" in 2014. The essay, which sparked criticism among Palestine advocates, made him a darling of American Zionists.
Coates presented Israel as the model for reparations and thought African Americans ought to do the same as the Israeli state did with Germans.
For a decade now, that bit of Zionist newspeak he embraced under the condition he now calls " default Zionism" has haunted his conscience. Rightly so: Today, when he appears for public interviews, he repeatedly says: "I am ashamed!"
He should be.
Had he not heard of Edward Said when he was entrapped in that "default Zionism"? Any answer he might give to that simple question would be even more incriminating.
The most damning assessment of Coates, however, was not by West, who said in 2017 that Coates "reaps the benefits of the neoliberal establishment that rewards silences on issues such as Wall Street greed or Israeli occupation of Palestinian lands and people."
In his characteristically patient and precise prose, the eminent Indian public intellectual Pankaj Mishra published a major review of Coates' 2017 book on the Obama era, We Were Eight Years in Power, in the London Review of Books.
Mishra detailed and dissected Coates' deeply white-identified career, which banked on his Black identity to drive guilt-ridden white America to celebrate him—just as Barack and Michelle Obama had done. This was a fact that West had also intuited and laid bare to him.
Mishra picked up on Coates' own sense of wonder in himself, "Why do white people like what I write?" and analysed with surgical precision:
[Coates] also visibly struggles with the question, "Why do white people like what I write?'' This is a fraught issue for the very few writers from formerly colonized countries or historically disadvantaged minorities in the West who are embraced by "legacy" periodicals, and then tasked with representing their people—or country, religion, race, and even continent (as in The New York Times's praise for Salman Rushdie: "A continent finding its voice"). Relations between the anointed "representative" writer and those who are denied this privilege by white gatekeepers are notoriously prickly. Coates, a self-made writer, is particularly vulnerable to the charge that he is popular among white liberals since he assuages their guilt about racism.
This was published in February 2018, just a few months after West had, with the stroke of a few bold and brilliant paragraphs, forced Coates into early withdrawal from the public to lick his wounds.
It did him good and well.
His new book, The Message, is his deliverance from error, as it were, his version of al-Ghazali's classic al-Munkidh min al-Dalal/Deliverance from Darkness, published nearly 1,000 years ago.
Imagine that! A young African American writer publishes a book that reminds me, a Muslim, of the autobiographical masterpiece of a towering Muslim philosopher mystic. This should mean more to him than any Pulitzer or Booker.
But Coates' visit to Palestine for just 10 days is reminiscent of another even closer Muslim to his home and habitat when Malcolm X visited Gaza in September 1964.
On this occasion, he wrote: "The ever-scheming European imperialists wisely placed Israel where she could geographically divide the Arab world, infiltrate and sow the seed of dissension among African leaders, and also divide the Africans against the Asians."
Bearing witness to Palestinian suffering and Zionist thuggeries, Coates has a giant pair of shoes to fill if he continues on this path.
The long essay Coates wrote on his visit to Palestine, which is included in his book, marks his deliverance from Zionist prose.
For generations, liberal Zionists have infiltrated the ranks of American liberal imperialists with terror visited upon the world. West and Mishra saw through Coates clearly; now, so has he.
Immediately after the publication of Coates' latest book, the pro-Israel hasbara machinery, of course, went berserk and unleashed its furies, the racist nature of which managed to surprise even Coates himself.
Other liberal Zionists like Ezra Klein of The New York Times tried to undermine his arguments by asking him why he did not consult with rabid Zionists in Israel when he was there, and of course, setting the usual propaganda trap, "What about Hamas?"
As defined and determined by well-endowed and ideologically committed outlets like the Times, The Wall Street Journal, and The Atlantic, the U.S. media is a well-oiled propaganda machinery of hasbara-informed pro-Israel newspeak.
The gap between the liberating truth Coates now sees and speaks and the ugly propaganda Zionists continue to keep dominant in American political culture is now widening apace.
Previously, when others like Coates suddenly found a conscience, the mainstream press just turned a deaf ear and pretended it did not happen. Perhaps one recent example is New York Congressman
Jamaal Bowman, whose changed position on Israel not only cost him his reelection campaign but has largely relegated him to obscurity.
Given his influence on the white liberal establishment and their understanding of race and diversity in this country, can Coates be marginalized like any other American who dares speak the truth about Israel, let alone at this particular moment in history?
The gap between the liberating truth Coates now sees and speaks and the ugly propaganda Zionists continue to keep dominant in American political culture is now widening apace.
More than half a century after the Civil Rights movement—when the world thought racism had been dealt with—Americans gave Donald Trump to the world right after Obama lent his Black identity to career opportunist liberal imperialism of the worst kind.
The stockpile of bombs the Israelis are dropping on Palestinians, Lebanese, Syrians, Yemenis, and others remains Obama's legacy in the Middle East.
As I write, Americans are almost evenly split on the upcoming presidential election, poised to vote for either a Mussolini wannabe rank charlatan fascist or a Genocide Joe replacement who, like a parrot or a broken record, can only repeat AIPAC talking points.
Between a genocidal administration with the blood of tens of thousands of Palestinians and Lebanese on its hands and a fascist wannabe, the future of the U.S. and all its global warmongering, particularly its Israeli garrison state, is now being determined.
The significance of what Coates has written weighs far less for Palestinians who have equally if not more eloquent voices to speak on their behalf.
But for Americans, Coates' corrective message may both inspire and signal a broader cultural shift in which this country may be liberated from the curse of Zionism.
As the nation reflects on how Ferguson changed the world, I’m asking that you think about what we have to do in the next 10 years to ensure that we’re moving closer to a world where uprisings like that one aren’t necessary.
On August 9, 2014, I was at the United Nations, attending the Convention on Eliminating Racial Discrimination, or UN CERD, as part of a delegation of Black organizers and activists who were testifying to the conditions of Black people in the United States organized by the U.S. Human Rights Network. I cried for the greater part of that day, sitting with the weight of the injustices and murders of Black people.
There was a chill in the air and not a dry eye in the room at the UN CERD as Trayvon Martin’s mom, Sybrina Fulton, testified about the murder of her son. I remember the testimony of Jordan Davis’ father, Ron Davis, about the murder of his son and the silence that fell as he broke into tears. Both of their sons were murdered by state-sanctioned violence—by the state emboldening police, or even neighborhood watch volunteers, to take Black lives with impunity. I can still hear the testimonies of Black feminist organizations like Black Women’s Blueprint and activists from Chicago who spoke about police violence and murders of Black women and men. I spoke and testified about housing insecurities and violence against LGBTQI+ people. For us, all of those stories were connected and shared—they were all about Black lives not being valued and Black folks needing to build people power in order to stop it.
While at U.N. CERD, an African diplomat asked, “What is happening in Ferguson?” This was the first time I had heard of Ferguson, Missouri. I quickly researched all I could about Ferguson and what was happening. As a parent, I immediately felt another profound loss of another child, Mike. The murder of Mike Brown Jr. felt as intimate, as close, and as violating as that of Trayvon Martin, Jordan Davis, Aiyanna Jones, and the many others taken by state-sanctioned violence before August 9.
Our work continues as we navigate the rapidly growing rise and threat of fascism, a complex electoral landscape, an ever-worsening climate crisis, and the continued murder of Black people by the police, such as the killing of Sonya Massey
It was all overwhelming. It was clear that, as a people, we had lost too much. In our time of deepest need, the state responded by further declaring war against its people with tanks, tear gas, and militarized occupation. We were outraged. We knew that we had to take action; we didn’t know what to do, but we knew we needed to be there with those brave freedom fighters in Ferguson. A few comrades and I left the U.N. CERD meeting and headed straight to Ferguson.
Upon arriving in Ferguson, we learned about Mike through the memories his people shared of him. He was beloved by the community, and more than that, he represented so many of us, and we all shared so many similarities with him—Mike’s life was not abstract; it was real, tangible, and familiar. Mike Brown Jr. looked like many in our families and neighborhoods. Mike Brown Jr. looked like my nephew and other young men in my own life. It is a psychological terror when faces and bodies so much like your own are hunted down and killed. We still grieve and mourn Mike, and his memory continues to fuel our fight for power and liberation.
As revolutionaries, our role is not only to grieve and mourn but to honor our people—present, past, and those who will come after us—by acting to create the society we deserve. For months, Mike Brown Jr. was honored through the sustained action and rebellion in the streets of Ferguson and actions around the globe. Uttering his name invited millions to say the names of Black people killed by police, and that reverberation ignited a new conversation about racialized violence. Each day, each hour, there was resistance against police murders and state-sanctioned violence and an assertion that Black people deserve to live without the fear and threat of police terror. The days were consumed with marches, rallies, escalations, and time in community, and the nights were long and filled with strategy meetings, event prep, and far less rest than our bodies needed. But even when those protests ended, the work did not. Mike Brown Jr. and the Ferguson Uprisings woke something up in us, inspiring a new era of the Black liberation movement that has sustained for a decade and counting. Our lives, my life, changed forever.
At the Movement 4 Black Lives (M4BL), we are fighting for a fundamentally different world, one where he and all of us would be safe, protected, and given the best conditions to thrive and determine our own outcomes.
Since the Ferguson Rebellion, M4BL has remained committed to advancing abolition, anti-capitalism, and Black Queer Feminism. We organize and advance our vision in local communities and nationally. Our strategies range from advancing policy and electoral shifts to building our own institutions and alternatives to oppressive systems. We are proud of the organizing of our member organizations in Ferguson and St. Louis, who have been vital in the resistance and power building, such as Action St. Louis and the Organization for Black Struggle.
In our 10 years of building social movement power within Black communities, we are proud of our interventions to create policy and legislative change through the Vision 4 Black Lives, Breathe Act, and People’s Response Act that all emphasize divesting from the carceral state and instead investing in alternatives that support and nourish Black lives and communities. We are excited to report about the dozens of campaigns that have won and advanced local wins, ranging from removing police officers from schools to creating housing, changing educational policies, creating safety pods and alternatives to policing, advancing reproductive justice, and engaging communities in environmental and climate change preparedness.
Our work continues as we navigate the rapidly growing rise and threat of fascism, a complex electoral landscape, an ever-worsening climate crisis, and the continued murder of Black people by the police, such as the killing of Sonya Massey. We are clear about our need to build more power to position ourselves to create the world we need and deserve. Now and forever, we honor Mike Brown Jr. in our organizing work and all those who have been taken from us. Today, as the nation reflects on how Ferguson changed the world, I’m asking that you think about what we have to do in the next 10 years to ensure that we’re moving closer to a world where uprisings like the one that rattled the foundation of our nation aren’t necessary. We are still feeling the impact of what happened 10 years ago across all aspects of society: culturally, politically, socially, and economically. And we are less than 80 days away from a presidential election where the freedom to engage in our democracy is literally on the ballot.
We know that much of what is being promised in Project 2025 is a direct response to the transformational change that came out of the Ferguson Uprising. So, I’m asking that you keep that front of mind as you consider the change you want to see in the next four years. I’m asking that you don’t overlook the communities in Ferguson who never asked for their city to be thrust into the spotlight but acted quickly to demand change and accountability from their local police and from the system of policing at large. Please remember Mike’s family, loved ones, and the organizers on the ground who carry on liberatory work in ways that can only be described as revolutionary and rooted in a deep love for their people. Today, consider your personal responsibility in changing our world over the next 10 years.
We began seeding M4BL during the Uprising because we knew there were necessary things we could do together that we could not do apart. And we still believe that. Join us in building people's power to make liberation more than a freedom dream; let’s make it a reality.
"This video is sickening," the Illinois Legislative Black Caucus Senate chair said of the newly released body camera footage. "Justice demands answers and accountability."
Campaigners and political leaders across the United States responded with outrage and fresh calls for justice after the Monday release of body camera footage from the deadly police shooting of Sonya Massey, an unarmed 36-year-old Black woman from Springfield, Illinois.
"Sonya Massey, a beloved mother, friend, daughter, and young Black woman, should be alive today," U.S. President Joe Biden said in a statement. "Sonya's death at the hands of a responding officer reminds us that all too often Black Americans face fears for their safety in ways many of the rest of us do not."
"Sonya's family deserves justice," added Biden, who on Sunday exited this year's presidential race and endorsed his vice president, Kamala Harris, for the Democratic nomination. "Congress must pass the George Floyd Justice in Policing Act now. Our fundamental commitment to justice is at stake."
Massey called 911 just before 1:00 am CT on July 6 to report a "prowler" near her Springfield home,
according to WCIA and the Illinois State Police (ISP), which conducted an investigation after being contacted by Sangamon County Sheriff Jack Campbell.
Two deputies from the Sangamon County Sheriff's Office were dispatched in response to Massey's call. ISP posted a total of over 34 minutes of bodycam footage from both deputies on YouTube. The video shows a deputy shooting Massey, who had been holding a pot of water they asked her to take off the stove. Before releasing the footage, authorities blurred her body.
The bodycam footage can be viewed here on the ISP YouTube page.
Black Lives Matter Springfield warned in a Sunday statement that "the footage will be distressing. It will be infuriating, heartbreaking, and may trigger trauma responses. It may also spur hateful comments or actions online or elsewhere by those who do not share our outrage about this senseless murder."
The group encouraged the Black community "to take care of themselves during this time" and said that it "will continue to stand for justice through peaceful protest and community action for Sonya Massey and all the Black women and men who have been murdered by police before her."
Sangamon County State's Attorney John Milhiser announced last week that one deputy, 30-year-old Sean Grayson, was charged with three counts of first-degree murder, aggravated battery with a firearm, and official misconduct. Campbell said that Grayson has been fired and "our office will continue to cooperate fully with the criminal proceedings as this case moves forward."
Grayson, who is white, "has pleaded not guilty" and "is being held in the Sangamon County Jail without bond," The Associated Press reported. "If convicted, he faces prison sentences of 45 years to life for murder, six to 30 years for battery and two to five years for misconduct. His lawyer, Daniel Fultz, declined comment on Monday."
The other deputy who was on the scene has not been publicly identified.
During a Monday press conference, attorney Ben Crump said the bodycam footage would "shock the conscience of America like the pictures of Emmett Till after he was lynched" and Massey's father, James Wilburn, called for passing the George Floyd Justice in Policing Act—which includes various policies intended to reduce law enforcement misconduct and increase accountability.
Advocates have been sharing updates and expressing condolences on social media with the hashtag #StandWithSonya.
"Color of Change mourns Sonya Massey and we send our heartfelt condolences to the Massey family," said Kyle Bibby, the group's interim chief of campaigns and programs, in a Monday statement. "The video released today is gut-wrenching and once again shows that Black people in this country cannot escape police violence, even in their own homes. It is also a stark reminder of the urgent need to address police brutality and misconduct."
"The actions of Sean Grayson are disgraceful and inhumane, and reflect a blatant disregard for the safety and well-being of the community. His actions are an alarming reminder of how police so often disregard Black lives," Bibby continued. "It is crucial that the authorities take swift and decisive action in holding those responsible for Sonya Massey's death accountable, and work towards rebuilding trust and ensuring the safety and dignity of all individuals in our communities."
"Today, we weep for Sonya Massey and ask, How much more suffering is necessary before we see real change?" he added. "As we enter election season, our community members should ensure their voices are heard so they can demand reforms that increase police accountability and prevent violence like that perpetrated against Sonya Massey from ever happening again."
Since Grayson was charged, political leaders across the state have commented on the case. In a Wednesday statement that remains pinned to the top of Illinois Gov. JB Pritzker's profile on X, formerly Twitter, the Democrat welcomed the charges and called for building "a system of justice in this country that truly protects all of its citizens."
"My heart breaks for Sonya's children, for her family and friends, and for all who knew and loved her, and I am enraged that another innocent Black woman had her life taken from her at the hands of a police officer," Pritzker also said.
The comments kept mounting after the release of the video. U.S. Sen. Dick Durbin (D-Ill.) said Monday that "the body camera footage released today is disturbing and unconscionable. My thoughts continue to be with Sonya Massey's children, family, and loved ones as they relive these horrible moments."
Some who weighed in highlighted aspects of Illinois state law, including bodycam requirements and rules for investigations.
"The body camera footage is horrific, and I offer my deepest sympathy to Sonya Massey's family as they relive a moment no family should experience," said Illinois Attorney General Kwame Raoul. "As the community reacts to the release of the footage, I urge calm as this matter works its way through the criminal justice system."
"In Illinois we have made sure that the law mandates independent investigations after officer-involved shootings," he added. "In this matter it appears that the investigation by the Illinois State Police and the subsequent referral to the Sangamon County state's attorney's office have complied with the letter and spirit of the law by providing the appropriate transparency and moving toward accountability."
State Sen. Robert Peters, Senate chair of the Illinois Legislative Black Caucus, said Monday that "this video is sickening. It is despicable and disgusting to see such brutal violence toward an innocent Black woman. How did this person ever become a law enforcement officer?"
"This is why we fought for increased transparency. This is why we fought for body camera requirements. This is why we fought to end cash bail to keep dangerous people detained," he continued. "But arresting and detaining the perpetrator isn't the end. Justice demands answers and accountability."
The mobilized tend to stay mobilized, they tend to mobilize others, and their actions may reframe what the elections are about.
Recent protests at U.S. universities have seized global attention. And now, with summer in full swing, a new protest wave is becoming visible on the horizon at the Republican and Democratic conventions in Milwaukee and Chicago. If those and other expected protests are as large as they’re anticipated to be, how will they affect the elections in November?
Among the many reasons activists organize protests is their desire to focus attention on a cause. Election seasons present opportunities for doing just that. Many people who otherwise do not tune in to policy debates begin to pay particular attention when the Oval Office is at stake.
At the same time, mainstream politicians and campaigns can be wary of election year street protests. Politicians, of course, generally want to avoid becoming the target of protests. More importantly, political operatives dislike volatility. They worry that protests will backfire and their candidate will be blamed for any disturbances of the peace.
Empirical research suggests that those relying on support from aggrieved groups may find it helpful to emphasize nonviolence, but that discouraging protest, in general, may be counterproductive.
Political operatives also employ a “dollars or votes” calculus that tells them not to let energy be wasted on things presumed not to deliver campaign donations or Election Day votes. For these reasons and others, the major parties sometimes pressure the officers of nonprofit organizations, unions, and activists to demobilize protest movements in election years.
Yet while it turns out that street protests do tend to influence elections, they more often do so in unexpected ways.
A 2021 study by John Holbein, Kei Kawashima-Ginsberg, and Tova Wang examined Black Lives Matter, climate, and gun control protests, as well as protests for and against former U.S. President Donald Trump from 2017 to 2020. Their national study found that counties with more frequent and larger protests tended to see significantly increased registration and turnout among young voters, voters of color, and Democrats.
Taking a longer view, Daniel Gillion and Sarah Soule studied congressional elections over four decades from the 1960s to the 1990s. They concluded that liberal protests tended to benefit left-of-center candidates and that conservative protests tended to benefit right-of-center candidates. A protest on their respective side sometimes led to as much as 6% more votes for a candidate, or 6% less for an opponent, depending on the race.
Why might this be? One answer seems to be that protests impact those motivated to vote and those turned off from politics around election time. Street protests spill over into the polling place. Voting is a relatively low-cost activity compared to joining protests.
Another, perhaps more powerful, effect of street protests has to do with how they change the way people think about what’s at stake. Social scientists have long understood that human beings navigate our world by excluding excess information and by focusing on what really matters. By drawing attention to particular issues, protests can prompt large numbers of people to reconsider what the elections mean to them.
A study of Black civil rights movement protests of the 1960s shows how this kind of election year reframing can work. Omar Wasow found that nonviolent civil rights protests produced marked gains at the polls for liberal candidates, who benefited because people began to pay more attention than they would have otherwise to the question of equality. This was in part because nonviolent protesters were more likely to be portrayed sympathetically in the media. On the other hand, violent protests, which were likely to be described as “riots,” prompted people to think more in terms of a social order frame, benefiting conservative candidates.
This brings us to what might be the most unexpected insight about protests and elections. The protest waves of recent generations are often described as the acts of the alienated. Our own research shows that this is true, but only to a certain extent: Those who organize mass street protests are usually critical of the establishment and wary of being taken advantage of. This means people generally do not instigate protests in order to produce particular election results.
Nonetheless, protests impact elections. The mobilized tend to stay mobilized, they tend to mobilize others, and their actions may reframe what the elections are about. Indeed, longstanding research shows us that the kind of alienation expressed in protest more often leads not to disengagement, but to greater immediate and long-term political involvement.
This is an election year in which protests will continue to occur. At best, the major political parties may be able to influence what protesters do. Empirical research suggests that those relying on support from aggrieved groups may find it helpful to emphasize nonviolence, but that discouraging protest, in general, may be counterproductive. The protests of the excluded and alienated will count on and beyond Election Day.
After all, in this contentious moment, the relative momentum of movements is likely to matter not only in voter turnout but also in the potentially tumultuous events that may follow November 5.
On Juneteenth's call to justice and the U.S. Supreme Court's role in the eternal quest for Black liberation.
Juneteenth resonates as a symbol of freedom and resilience, encapsulating the enduring struggle against oppression and the relentless pursuit of equality. It’s a day of remembrance, celebration, and reflection on the journey from bondage to liberation. Beyond its cultural significance, Juneteenth challenges the United States to confront its history of racial injustice and commit to building a future where every citizen enjoys true freedom and equality under the law. Juneteenth is a verb.
In the annals of American history, the Supreme Court played a pivotal yet contradictory role in the quest for Black liberation. As we reflect on our Juneteenth journey, it is evident that the Court has been both a catalyst for progress and an obstacle to justice.
From the infamous Dred Scott decision of 1857, which denied citizenship to African Americans, to the landmark Brown v. Board of Education ruling in 1954, which dismantled the legal basis for racial segregation, the Court's decisions have swung like a pendulum, shaping the contours of racial justice in America.
The Supreme Court's rulings have occasionally propelled the nation toward equality. The Brown decision 70 years ago, declaring state laws establishing separate public schools for Black and white students to be unconstitutional, ignited the Civil Rights Movement. This was a moment when the Court stood on the right side of history, challenging entrenched systems of racial oppression and setting a precedent for future advances in civil rights.
As we look to the future, let us draw inspiration from the resilience and courage of those who have fought for justice before us—those who fought for freedom from bondage.
However, the path to Black liberation is not linear, and the Court has often regressed, reinforcing racial hierarchies and undermining progress. The 2013 Shelby County v. Holder decision, which invalidated key provisions of the Voting Rights Act of 1965, serves as a stark reminder. By weakening federal oversight of voting laws, the Court opened the door to a new era of voter suppression, disproportionately affecting Black communities.
This duality underscores a broader truth: legal victories, while crucial, are insufficient on their own. They must be accompanied by sustained activism and grassroots mobilization to ensure that the principles of justice are translated into lived realities. The Court's decisions, influenced by the prevailing political and social climates, highlight the importance of a vigilant and engaged citizenry.
Recent Supreme Court rulings on affirmative action vividly highlight the Court's profound limitations placed on Black liberation, spanning both public and private sectors, with innovations from Black women entrepreneurs poised for continued suppression. Amid decisions that perpetuate systemic inequalities, we confront entrenched patterns of injustice and demand an unwavering judiciary committed to equality and justice for all.
In the context of ongoing struggles against systemic racism and for Black lives, the Supreme Court's role remains pivotal. Advocating for a judiciary that reflects the diverse experiences and needs of the American populace is imperative. This necessitates championing justices who possess not only legal acumen but also a steadfast commitment to social justice.
The conversation about the Court's role in Black liberation must extend beyond the judiciary itself. It requires a holistic approach that includes legislative and policy reforms, educational initiatives, democracy and economic policies aimed at dismantling the structural barriers that perpetuate racial inequities.
It is through the collective efforts of individuals, communities, and public institutions that we can hope to achieve a more just and equitable society.
As we look to the future, let us draw inspiration from the resilience and courage of those who have fought for justice before us—those who fought for freedom from bondage. Juneteenth was not freely given—it was won.
The journey toward Black liberation is far from over, and the Supreme Court, while a powerful institution, is but one arena to reform in this ongoing struggle. It is through the collective efforts of individuals, communities, and public institutions that we can hope to achieve a more just and equitable society.
On this Juneteenth, our task is to remain vigilant, to hold our leaders accountable, and to continue the fight for a society where justice is not merely an ideal, but a reality for all.