"There’s no point to a guy yelling, “Hey sexy baby” at me out of the passenger window of a car as it speeds past. Even if I was into creepy misogynists and wanted to give him my number, I couldn’t. The car didn’t even slow down. But that’s okay, because he wasn’t actually hitting on me. The point wasn’t to proposition me or chat me up. The only point was to remind me, and all women, that our bodies are his to stare at, assess, comment on, even touch. “Hey sexy baby” is the first part of a sentence that finishes, “this is your daily message from the patriarchy, reminding you that your body is public property”."

My First Name Ain’t Baby: ‘Hey Baby’ and Street Harassment (via official-mens-frights-activist)

(via shabaash)

I have been trying to catalog a single book for an hour. I can’t concentrate.

near my desk someone was talking about the settlers “god bless those jews,” he said, “they don’t do anything but the arabs try to hurt them.”

"the leftists don’t understand," he said.

"we give and give and they just want more," he said.

how do you exist.

"an other gaza"

in chaos one man collects

his daughter into a plastic bag

   oh my god the bag is leaking

one kisses a cave was baby boy face just this

morning braids unplaiting phosphorous

wordless exhaust smoke shock

 

what is it that remains of us now

then what is recyclable in us

 

men’s beards carry their lineage

refracted memory drones

drummed ears echo frequency

children call for siblings reborn

skulls fracture eyes the color purple

here the steeliest doctors weep

 

the sea waves shelled boys

sirens post explosions

 

all is shrapnel and hunger

none is safe all are waiting

between wall and wait and sea

and wall there is no day

what are we

flares rain metal escalation

 

descent upon heads ladders of spine collapse

night eats sleep the people hold fasts

 

children of lightening no rain

sewage into water skin flamed to ash

the women’s faces track lifelines

grief upon grief astronomical

dust was people last night

tunnel is the people now

 

raising horizon in coffins

there is no recovery

                                                                                        

she says they light the night with bombs

she says that’s not the sun at all

she says this is a crime against my heart

she says nothing

   touch me

she says listen

 

we are shelter and target

we are stars exploded

 

the people run into themselves for refuge

they catch up to their ghosts

between devastate and displace

what is destroyed again is everything

what is created is a hole

an other

 

 

                           suheir hammad

(via thatonesuheirhammad)

"Any non-white country that regularly committed the atrocities the French committed month after month, year after year, would, as a matter of simple reflex, have become a pariah. Why did France escape censure? The answer must be that whether by indifference or diplomatic discretion, the media and institutions of all western countries practise racism as a matter of course when it concerns the wretched of the earth."

Peter Lennon in The Guardian. Call to arms

Peter Lennon on David Macey’s biography of Frantz Fanon, Algeria’s hero

Book (Amazon)

(Source: protoslacker)

"

A schoolteacher “somewhere in Algeria” set his pupils, aged between 10 and 14, the essay topic “What would you do it you were invisible?” They all said that they would steal arms and kill the French soldiers.

The children of Algeria dreamed of violence, and two of Fanon’s young patients in Blida acted out those dreams. Our prosperous societies do not have nightmarish dreams of massacres in Sétif or Philippeville or torture in their schools. Algeria had been having those nightmares for over a century.

"

David Macey quoted in an article by Bhakti Shringarpure in The Guardian. Fanon documentary confronts fallacies about anti-colonial philosopher

Swedish filmmaker taps into the primary violence of the coloniser rather than the colonised

(via protoslacker)

Amy Koita – Diarabi (69 plays)

cesaire:

drivethatclock:

Diarabi  Amy Koita

pyotra

If it sounds like I’m preaching, please remember that I’m usually addressing myself.

I also think of my youngest brother, who only made it out of infancy due to extensive, intensive neo-natal care. I still remember the days when we were uncertain whether he would live! There have been some ugly repeats of that as his asthma returned him multiple times to the pediatric intensive care unit. This is the same brother smiling in the picture of us at a picnic; he is 15 but towers over me.

I myself was in neonatal intensive care for some time after my birth; my other brother as well. He’s 22 now.

There are so many ways to cut a life short - Israel has exercised all of them, is exercising all of them - breathlessly!, and we stand right behind them, refilling the ammunition, patting them on the back.

یخرب بیتنا

Almost two years ago now I was present for the burial of an infant; I watched the father of a family I had grown to care for deeply lower his newborn son into the ground. Every time I see the picture of the baby Shaymaa, who was first miraculously born although her mother died, and then herself died when the Israeli bombing of the main power plant in Gaza cut off power to her incubator, I think of that family and that child and that day…I don’t think there is any arithmetic capable of making that level of loss legible. I only know that it is terrible, and that we in the U.S. are responsible.

It’s not at all irrelevant here to note that the first family I am referring to here is Iraqi; that other children of theirs died in their first years due to lack of appropriate medical care and the interventions of curfews which made emergency trips to doctors impossible, and that watching them bury this first child born in the U.S. was also to be reminded of the children they had lost in Iraq, and the role the U.S. played in that, regardless of the immediate causes. When it comes to Shaymaa and to all the others stolen from Gaza on a daily, nightly, hourly basis, our role is even clearer, even more direct (if that’s possible). 

I’m not reaching whatever it is I meant to say because it is something ultimately incomprehensible. It’s not sadness, not even rage describes it anymore, I don’t think - it is a flying out of the skin, we must act, we must act, we must act.

oh so sorry your social media accounts are being ‘bombarded’ with news of gaza.

let us consider that word for a moment.

I’m a little confused / feeling awkward. My friend put me in touch with a volunteer organization because I asked her advice on how to organize a call-in at Columbia (given the active members/leadership of the SJP appear to be away). The person wrote a seemingly enthusiastic/warm welcome, but then asked me to write a little bit about my “Palestine work.” …I feel like, I want to join because I want to do more, and I wouldn’t describe anything I’ve done in my life so far as “Palestine work.” I didn’t know that in order to volunteer in an ad-hoc way (i.e. not applying for an internship or a volunteer position), you needed to provide a resume of your past volunteering experience…isn’t that part of the point, to expand your base?

At the same time I know there is a difference between being seriously committed to doing more and just thinking oh, hey, this issue is big right now, I’ll join up. But I thought that was the point of my friend (who is pretty established as young activists go) vouching for me (which she did of her own accord).

I’ll respond with something, it’s just going to take me some time to go back and reframe things that I think of as just…stuff as “Palestine work.”

I’m so opposed to this professionalization of activism though. I understand some people need to be on duty full time but the rest of us can’t be and you need us, too. We all need to be involved.

"…over the past two years, there have been virtually no rockets coming out of Gaza, and Israel continued to siege Gaza and blockade Gaza. And that siege is a form of slow death. People are saying we can either die quickly now, or we die slowly through the siege and the blockade. If I’m a father and I cannot get a life-saving medicine for my kid because of that siege, how am I going to feel? What am I going to do? There were no rockets before 2001; Israel continued to occupy Gaza. There were no rockets in the ’90s and the ’80s; Israel continued to occupy Gaza and kill Palestinians."

What Do Gazans Endure? A Palestinian Student Who Lost 2 Brothers, 4 Cousins Tells His Story (via azspot)

The Palestinian Student is Amer Shurrab (spelled a variety of ways online, it seems, I’ve actually seen him use different spellings but not sure which ones are for privacy’s sake), a classmate of mine from MIddlebury, and I really recommend that everyone watch his segment on Democracy Now.

(via shrinkrants)

I am basically just posting this for archival purposes. I just started learning to play the ukulele (~two weeks ago), and it occurred to me that it would be fun to actually record where I was at the beginning so I can notice improvements (I typically do not notice improvements even when they are obvious, without some point of reference). If others want to listen and don’t find the clunky strumming unbearable, that’s nice, too.

Or to laugh at me, I guess. That’s also an option.

slowartday:

Roger Hiorns, Seizure, 2008

Rather than present a sculpture inside an architectural space, he’s turned every surface of the architectural space into sculpture. Mixing installation art and chemistry, he’s taken an entire abandoned apartment near London’s Elephant & Castle and transformed it into a gemstone. Covering the inside with blue copper sulphate crystals, he’s created an other-worldly, mineralized, glinting mirror of an everyday apartment. Jewels literally glowing from the ceiling and lining the floors… (via)

(via zoranealethirston)