i haven't written in over a year in this space, and i think i do that sometimes when life is tumultuous. when the ground won't stop shaking, it's hard to find the time and space to reflect on where you are and what's going on. there is a worldwide rise in fascism and authoritarianism, so much destruction of our land, environment, disappearing of people becoming normalized, militarization of police and guard on our own people, it's hard to even name all of the atrocities -- and all of them pale in compare to the genocide in Gaza and systematic, livestreamed decimation of Palestinian life. and yet, Palestine will be free, and we will all be free from oppression, insha'Allah someday.
i have also been weighing my words in the realization that speech is no longer free. i left teaching in april of this year, at the exact right time, because it wouldn't have been long until i was fired for my beliefs, in an increasingly repressive regime nationally that is looking to close the dept of education and defund schools. my white privilege has saved me from tougher consequences and sanctions in my activism, and it is the reason that i must risk even more, because i can, and if i don't, i will be someone who sat passively on the wrong side of history. i will not be quiet, and i will keep fighting. i know what i'm fighting against, and this year i have been challenged to keep thinking more deeply about who and what i'm fighting for.
it has been a humbling year, as i have become a student again. a student of abolition, a student of transformative justice. i was never an expert in anything, but being in a place where i am no longer convincing folks that more police and more funding for police is not the way... i am challenged every single day with deepening my commitment to abolition, with developing systems that care for and hold people, see their humanity and their genius.
i am learning a lot from so many teachers, and feel exhilarated by all that i do not know, and the rooms that i keep finding myself in. i am deeply holding grief right next to joy, and trying to slow down and walk with purpose, not run myself ragged the way i am famous for. i deserve rest, joy and softness, too, and i have rarely found it in my life alone, but with my family, there is slow-cooked food, there is laughter, there is silly, there is lazy, and there is love. i preach rest and don't practice, and i feel like i've blogged about this many times before, but the irony is done.
i claim for myself and all of my community the softness and rest we deserve. a break from the violence, a blanket of softness and care over us. the time we need to care for ourselves, the ability to not rush, to raise our children with intention. i was blessed this weekend to see glimpses of this beloved community at Alkebu-Lan Village in Detroit, where i held space for a learning institute that gathered justice-impacted folks from all over the country. it was a powerful example of what people can build in community, and cultivate over generations of teaching liberation, African values and principles, providing gathering spaces, martial arts, drum and dance, youth development activities and so much more to the community.
my point is that we need to continue building our hyperlocal focus -- stay connected or get connected to your community. find out what's happening, who's doing the work. i feel no need to start a non-profit or a new organization, my role is to uplift, support and highlight folks doing the work, make connections, see how my work can propel or shine a light on. and in the process, i've been reconnecting to the past and to beautiful folks who i love, and whose mission is in alighment with mine, and that is beautiful. we need the positive energy to sustain the work.
the sweet baby 3 year old has emerged from his sleep cocoon, so the corner i'm scrawling notes in, like gloria anzaldua taught me, has been flooded with light. see you next year, dear readers. i have a new zine out, and new work projects that are pretty incredible, too!
