Bob Marley was never able to forge true brotherhood with Black Americans. Decades later, his granddaughter’s generation is fighting to change that.
On May 31, shortly after the explosive beginnings of global unrest following the police murder of George Floyd, 24-year-old Zuri Marley uploaded a video to Instagram. In the clip, her grandfather, Bob Marley, is 28 years old. His iconic dreadlocks are only down to his shoulders as he sings the first lines of a song from the 1973 album Burnin’: “This morning I woke up in a curfew/O God, I was a prisoner, too — yeah!/Could not recognize the faces standing over me/They were all dressed in uniforms of brutality.”
As a 25-year-old, queer Jamaican American navigating my feelings about my own city facing curfew in reaction to the protests, the clip and the timeliness of the lyrics struck me. It took me back to driving home with my mother in Cleveland, Ohio, when I was 12 years old. A trembling black woman approached my mother’s car, begging for a ride to get away from her abusive partner. I turned to my mother, expecting that she would help, but instead she pulled away without a glance in the woman’s direction. …
This election, an increasing number of millennials and Gen Zers are tired of the political rat race and want more
The November 3 US presidential election approaches against the backdrop of a year that has upended many of our illusions of safety. The COVID-19 pandemic has left millions of Americans jobless, stricken with the virus, and struggling to share resources the government is failing to provide. Over 220,000 people are dead. May and the following months saw rubber bullets, wooden pellets, pepper spray, and tear gas fly, as local police departments and the National Guard inflicted brutality on protesters all around the country, and world. …
On August 31, 2017, Jamaican authorities found the body of 35 year old man in his home in Kingston who had suffered numerous stab wounds and his body had begun to decompose after numerous days. His name was Dexter Pottinger and he was the 2016 “Face of Pride” for the Jamaican Forum for Gays, All-Sexuals and Gays.
At the time, J-FLAG had bestowed the honor onto him for his “his courage, sense of self, drive, relationship with his family and friends, and pride in being Jamaican and in being a gay man.” …
Over the past year and a half, I’ve made it a habit to apply to residencies as regularly as I can. I started freelance writing in 2017 and had a big learning curve in terms of knowing what opportunities I could apply to, how to find residencies, understanding the application materials needed, and just how to hit that sweet spot before sending in my application.
It took months of applying and getting rejections until… BOOM! In August of 2019, I got my first acceptance to a journalism fellowship. Then a few weeks later, I got another email — news of my first acceptance into a writing residency. Since doing my residency at Sangam House in November 2019, I have applied to dozens of other residencies and fellowships. …
Black Panther smashed records at the box office its opening weekend, demonstrating that audiences are interested in films that better represent themselves and the world around them — even if that world is filled with superheroes and armor-clad rhinos. As a piece of art, it is stunning on its own, but perhaps one of the most poignant parts of the film is its exploration of various modes of blackness and masculinity seldom portrayed in mainstream films.
The central conflict is between two characters in pursuit of black liberation (or a “home” for black people to live freely) through two modes: one of tradition versus one of radicalism. T’Challa, played by Chadwick Boseman, is the Black Panther and the hero of the film. He is the rightful heir to the throne of his homeland, the technological utopia of Wakanda, untainted by a history of colonization from the West, and strives to keep his people safe, prosperous and peaceful. The anti-hero, Erik Killmonger, played by Michael B. Jordan, was orphaned in Oakland, California (a not-so-subtle nod to the birthplace of The Black Panther Party which was founded there in 1966), his father killed by his uncle. After the tragedy, Erik’s life is fueled by both revenge and the pursuit of a “fairytale” land with the “most beautiful sunset” of which he believes he is the rightful heir. …
A stream of black smoke rose above a building three blocks ahead. People of all ages and backgrounds surrounded me. It was May 1, 2018 and thousands were gathered in the streets of Paris. Union members carried signs and shouted into microphones. The black bloc surged faithfully ahead. Glass from the windows of a nearby McDonald’s crunched beneath boots and sneakers.
“There’s the tear gas,” an American shouted.
I heard screams as canisters shot down from the sky, streaming gray gas as they hit the streets or people. The crowd pulled out their scarves and masks. Coughing fits began. I spat into my bandana as a hot feeling spread through my throat. Suddenly I was taken back to the images of Ferguson- milk being poured into the eyes of protesters and street kids lobbing back canisters of tear gas at police — that I’d been so viscerally affected by in 2014. …
Just as America’s horrors led Baldwin to flee decades before, I waded through my own fear as a gay, black man coming of age in an America burning once again.
James Baldwin met Eugene Worth, a black member of the Young People’s Socialist League, in December 1943, shortly after moving to Greenwich Village. The two were best friends and black Socialists who dreamed of a better world. They battled landlords, worked jobs, were fired, and lived hungrily. …
During times of political and social duress, the Black community has always taken care of itself. But the coronavirus pandemic and the resulting economic fallout are only the beginnings of a collapse of the order. Even in the chaos and the calls for a return to “normal,” we must recognize that this country’s base mode of operation fails to address the structural needs of the Black Americans.
This reality is why Black communities must define medical obstacles without relying on institutions entrenched in systemic racism and address their needs through grassroots activism.
As of April 7, Black people made up 70% of coronavirus-related deaths in Chicago despite only being 30% of the city’s population. Roughly half of the city’s cases are Black people. …
On the afternoon of June 7th last summer, officers from the Columbus Division of Police arrived at Heyl Avenue on the Ohio capitol’s east side after being alerted to gunfire. After hearing what he also thought were gunshots, Jonathan Robinson, a 25-year-old black man who lived in the neighborhood with his wife and two young children, decided to retreat to his home.
When police arrived, they demanded that the family exit their home in order for them to investigate.
Seeing an officer speaking aggressively with his wife outside, Robinson stepped in to defend her. Officer Anthony Johnson — known locally as the “ dancing cop,” following a viral video of him dancing with local children — was holding a shotgun. When Robinson approached, Johnson, who is mixed race, pushed him, then punched him in the neck. Robinson was arrested and charged with obstruction of police business and disorderly conduct. …
‘Revolutionary Suicide,’ the title of Huey Newton’s memoir, speaks to what can happen when activists lose themselves in the struggle
On February 8, 2016, MarShawn McCarrel texted his mother, “Hey Mom. I love you.” Later that day, he took his own life on the steps of the Ohio Statehouse in Columbus.
He was 23 years old.
McCarrel was a well-known artist and activist in the capital city and beyond. He performed spoken word throughout the city, founded multiple community activist groups, and worked heavily with statewide organization Ohio Student Association. Yet, he also struggled, fighting to find his place as a Black man in the U.S. while also working to topple its oppressive institutions. Ultimately, he succumbed to that struggle. “My demons won today. …
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