#George Floyd rebellion

[megbits]

Starting a new series over at Unsettling. Excerpts from the first post:

The protests after George Floyd are often characterized as rebellions. While they helped popularize calls for abolitionism and forms of restorative justice—ideas that have restoration, repair, and healing at their center—it hasn’t seemed, at least not to me, that these two concepts are paired together very often. We don’t talk about rebellion as related to repair. Did efforts for reparations get a boost, post-rebellion? Yes. Do we yet talk easily about rebellion as a call for repair or for reparations? Not so much. I’m curious about this, and if there is a greater connection between acts of rebellion, which act as a kind of rupture, and the opening up of possibilities for true repair. This flies in the face of how rebellion and protest are often read; popular narratives often see them as nonsensical, attention-seeking enactments of additional harm. My own experience tells me they’re much more than that.

While protests happened worldwide after Floyd’s death, it was here in Seattle that a very particular kind, the Capitol Hill Organized Protest (or CHOP, and at times also known as either the Capitol Hill Occupied Protest or the Capitol Hill Autonomous Zone) took place, with calls to defund police—calls that took on a new urgency for many experiencing the impacts of police violence for the first time, as tear gas seeped into local residences. The latter fact is probably why the CHOP holds a more prominent place in popular memory than some other important Seattle occupations—both the Daybreak Star Indian Cultural Center and El Centro de la Raza are longstanding community hubs that were won using the tactic of occupation. These are direct actions that didn’t simply flash and fizzle, but very clearly won actual physical territory, and they’re worth learning more about. Though it’s possible that the effects of the CHOP are still playing out in ways that aren’t so easy to see, as most of us who were involved in Occupy are likely to argue is true for that movement.

But all these examples raise another set of questions: why is occupation so often the tactic of rebellion these days? What is gained by it? And when is it likely to be actually effective, and when is it more likely to fail? Do occupations—which are inherently place-based, necessitating the physical maintenance of a specific location—offer us any better opportunity for place-based healing? Do they increase or lessen the possibility for rebellion to turn to repair?

Sign up for the list at Unsettling to read future posts about my experience in various actions that hold space, and reflect on what has been gained (or not) by many other such actions in a wide array of social movements in recent times. We'll of course do a little breakdown of the notion of 'occupation' as well given that most of us live on occupied land or unceded territory.

#direct action #rebellion #george floyd #reparations #occupy #social movements

[chaddavisphotography]

Signs against a fist in George Floyd Square in South Minneapolis.

#Art #George Floyd #Gerorge Floyd Square #Memorial #Minneapolis #Protest #Rebellion

[opencommunion]

The Stop Cop City movement has sought to prevent the expropriation of part of the Welaunee Forest for the development of an 85-acre police mega training center: a model town to prepare the state’s repressive arms for the urban warfare that will ensue when the contradictions of their exploitation and extraction become uncontainable, as they did in 2020 after the APD murdered Rayshard Brooks.  That murder, and all those that came before, were the lodestars of the Black-led movement during the George Floyd uprisings; their demands were no less than the dismantlement of the entire carceral system. Unable to effectively manage or quell the popular street movements, the Atlanta Police Foundation set out to consolidate and expand their capabilities for surveillance, repression, imprisonment, armed violence, and forced disappearance. One result is Cop City, which has been racked by militant sabotage, land occupation, arson, and popular mobilizations, in an attempt to end the construction and return Atlanta to its people.  As the Atlanta Police Foundation was unable to contain the 2020 Black rebellion, so too have they been unable to quell the resistance against Cop City. The press reports that the project is hemorrhaging money and is mired in delays and difficulties. For their part, the city, the state, and the federal government, have in turn employed every tool in their power to destroy the movement. Last week, the Georgia State Senate passed a bill to effectively criminalize bail funds in the state; RICO charges have been contorted to target networks of support and care that surround the fighters; and last January, APD assassinated the comrade Tortuguita in cold blood while they rested in their tent in the forest. It is clear that Stop Cop City represents one of the conjunctural spear tips for expanding the existing systems of counterinsurgency that span Africa, Asia, and the Arab world.  Today the system’s belly rests atop Gaza, whose rumblings shake the earth upon which we walk. Through its Georgia International Law Enforcement Exchange (GILEE) program, the APD has sent hundreds of police to train with the Zionist occupation forces. And in October 2023, after Tufan al-Aqsa, the Atlanta Police Department engaged in hostage training inside abandoned hotels, putatively intended to “defeat Hamas,” in an advancement of tactics for the targeting of Black people. With every such expansion, the ability of counterinsurgency doctrines to counteract people’s liberation struggles grows. The purpose of counterinsurgency is to marshal state and para-state power into political, social, economic, psychological, and military warfare to overwhelm both militants and the popular cradle—the people—who support them. Its aim is to render us hopeless; to isolate and dispossess us and to break our will to resist it by any and all means necessary. This will continue apace, unless we fight to end it. Stop Cop City remains undeterred: on Friday, an APD cop car was burnt overnight in response to the police operation on February 8; yesterday, two trucks and trailers loaded with lumber were burnt to the ground. An anonymous statement claiming credit for the former, stated: “We wish to dispel any notion that people will take this latest wave of repression lying down, or that arresting alleged arsonists will deter future arsons.”  As the U.S. government and Zionist entity set their sights on the Palestinian people sheltering in Rafah, as they continue their relentless genocide of our people in Khan Younis, Jabalia, Shuja’iyya, and Gaza City, the Stop Cop City movement has clearly articulated its solidarity with the Palestinian struggle. They have done so with consistency and discipline, and we have heard them. Our vision of freedom in this life and the next requires us to confront and challenge the entangled forces of oppression in Palestine and in Turtle Island, and to identify the sites of tension upon which these systems distill their forces. This week, as with the last three years, the forest defenders have presented us one such crucible.

(11 Feb 24)

National Lawyers Guild, Stop All Cop Cities: Lessons For a National Struggle (video, 1 hr 45 min)

#turtle island #palestine #colonialism #imperialism #library #action

[crimethinc]

Why does the fight against Cop City matter?

During the George Floyd rebellion of 2020, for the first time, it became possible to speak of police abolition as a viable proposal about how to break the cycle of violence that poverty and police militarization impose on our communities. Yet every effort to “defund the police” via institutional means reached a dead end. Under Joe Biden, the Democratic Party has doubled down on unconditional support for police. If there is any hope of limiting the continuous expansion of police infrastructure and state violence, grassroots movements and direct action will have to show the way.

On one side, we see some of the wealthiest and most institutionally powerful figures in the state of Georgia. On the other side, a network of activists and their friends. We must not leave them to fight alone.

https://crimethinc.com/CityintheForest

#StopCopCity

#DefendtheAtlantaforest

[lucyrcrover]

It was around the George Floyd uprising and calls for police abolition that I began to look into anarchism. Institutions that had been a negative force in my life, but which I was tacitly taught to accept, were coming into question

I set this context of a powerful insurgency up because for me, I think anarchism was the startlingly beautiful realization that I did have power. It was a sense of optimism that had been totally missing from my life as someone who'd seen the effects of the war on drugs and homophobic/sexist persecution.

I was reading Benjamin S Case's "Street Rebellion," and he quotes an activist at a riot who spoke thus:

"I know you think that's fear in your chest right now, but it's not - you've just never felt freedom before," and I think that moment alone encapsulates a lot.

#anarchism #punk #anarchist #socialism #anarchopunk #anarchocommunism #riot grrrl #punk rock #anarchy

[sharpened--edges]

On May 30th, 2020, thousands of people descended on downtown Chicago for a raucous daytime march. The gathering was part of a nationwide crescendo of rebellion that began in Minneapolis five days prior in response to the police murder of George Floyd. After being cooped up for months amid the uncertainty of the Covid pandemic, fearful of everyone as a potential carrier of disease, we had been set free by the images of Minneapolis’s Third Precinct aflame. Hitting the streets that day was something akin to a religious experience. From the onset it was clear that the crowd would not follow the shopworn “peaceful” Black Lives Matter protest script. I watched with glee as teenagers scurried through the crowd graffitiing every conceivable surface with anti-cop slogans like ACAB and Fuck 12, alongside their own confrontational reappropriation of “Black Lives Matter,” a long stalled out movement which many of them were too young to have participated in. An American flag was summarily lowered and burned, and after some spirited debate involving sentimental locals, the Chicago flag was similarly put to the torch. Chicago Police cars were attacked, their windows smashed with the skateboards preferred by many young people, or whatever else people could get their hands on. Multiple CPD cars were set on fire. The cops themselves were outmaneuvered by a massive crowd swarming a sprawling downtown grid, and formed defensive lines unprotected from behind, wantonly swinging clubs and deploying pepper spray with no clear purpose save perhaps their proximity to particularly valuable sites of potential looting. […] By the standards of the summer of 2020, this was not a particularly remarkable turn of events. Cops were outflanked and overrun in cities across the United States all summer. They were confounded by the ferocity of the riots, the abuse rained down on them by even the so-called peaceful protesters, and perhaps most shockingly, the people whom they ordinarily harass and intimidate with impunity defending themselves—and even going on the attack. Perhaps some cops were surprised by the realization that tens of millions of Americans hate their guts and want them to quit their jobs or else just die. If they were honest with themselves, though, they’d admit this was all a long time coming. The biggest surprise of the George Floyd Rebellion is how long it took to arrive.

Jarrod Shanahan, “Every Fire Needs a Little Bit of Help,” Endnotes, 2022.

#jarrod shanahan

[saywhat-politics]

Writing for CNN on Sunday, Dale cited 23 lies.

Trump is known for hyperbole and exaggerations, but in the part of his speech about crime in New York City, Trump claimed, "killings are taking place at a number like nobody's ever seen, right in Manhattan." Dale explained, "it isn't even close."

In 2022, by this time, there were 43. In 1990 there were 379. In total in 2022, there were 438 homicides, and in 1990 there were 2,252, CNN cited.

Trump is still desperately trying to win his attacks on the late George Floyd, who was murdered by police officers in Minneapolis in 2020, leading to a summer of protests and outrage around the country.

According to Trump, he almost sent the National Guard into Seattle. Then he pivoted to claim he saved Minneapolis.

"The thing is, we’re not supposed to do that," Trump told the audience. "Because it’s up to the governor, the Democrat governor. They never want any help. They don’t mind – it’s almost like they don’t mind to have their cities and states destroyed. There’s something wrong with these people.”

Dale called this an outright "reversal of reality." Gov. Tim Walz deployed the Minnesota National Guard, not Trump. Trump wouldn't have been legally able to deploy a state guard, only a national guard to "suppress civil disorder, insurrection, or rebellion," according to the Insurrection Act of 1807.

Then Trump claimed he passed and signed an executive order. Executive orders aren't passed, just signed, which is why they're called "executive" orders. Trump claimed that it made a mandatory minimum of 10 years in jail for anyone who destroys a monument or statue.

Trump then fact-checked himself: "it’s not ’10’ but it turns into three months.”

#cpac #former president #donald trump

[edwordsmyth]

3 years after the George Floyd rebellion and lo and behold, Minnesota is the one US state whose budget now includes a comprehensive suite of socioeconomic reforms benefitting the majority of people. As if we needed another reminder, once again: RIOTS WORK.

[weepingwidar]

Dianna Settles (Vietnamese-American, 1989) - Hi-Lo Cinémathèque during the George Floyd Rebellion (sites of affection and encounter become a series of sentimental interruptions into the urban continuum, oases dispersed across the metropolis, barricades that are erected against the advancing enemy, waiting for the chance to trigger an offensive against our gradual loss of a world disfigured by economy) (2022)

#dianna settles

[dontmeantobepoliticalbut]

BY BREE NEWSOME BASS

BLACK COPS DON’T MAKE POLICING ANY LESS ANTI-BLACK

The idea that we can resolve racism by integrating a fundamentally anti-Black institution in the U.S. is the most absurd notion of all

This article is part of Abolition for the People, a series brought to you by a partnership between Kaepernick Publishing and LEVEL, a Medium publication for and about the lives of Black and Brown men. The series, which comprises 30 essays and conversations over four weeks, points to the crucial conclusion that policing and prisons are not solutions for the issues and people the state deems social problems — and calls for a future that puts justice and the needs of the community first.

Amid recent growing calls for defunding police this summer, a set of billboards appeared in Dallas, Atlanta, and New York City. Each had the words “No Police, No Peace” printed in large, bold letters next to an image of a Black police officer. Funded by a conservative right-wing think tank, the billboards captured all the hallmarks of modern pro-policing propaganda. The jarring choice of language, a deliberate corruption of the protest chant “no justice, no peace,” follows a pattern we see frequently from proponents of the police state. Any word or phrase made popular by the modern movement is quickly co-opted and repurposed until it’s rendered virtually meaningless. But perhaps the most insidious aspect of modern pro-police propaganda is reflected in the choice to make the officer on the billboard the face of a Black man.

This is in keeping with a narrative pro-police advocates seek to push on a regular basis in mass media — that policing can’t be racist when there are Black officers on the force, and that the police force itself is an integral part of Black communities. When Freddie Gray died in police custody, police defenders quickly pointed out that three of the officers involved were Black, implying that racism couldn’t be a factor in a case where the offending officers were the same race as the victim.

When I scaled the flagpole at South Carolina’s capital in 2015 and lowered the Confederate flag, many noted that it was a Black officer who was tasked with raising the flag to the top of its pole again. When an incident of brutality brings a city to its brink, Black police chiefs are paraded to podiums and cameras to serve as the face of the United States’ racist police state and to symbolically restore a sense of order. One of the most frequent recommendations from police reformists is to recruit and promote more Black officers. This is based on an argument that the primary problem with policing centers on a “breakdown of trust” between police forces and communities they have terrorized for decades; the solution, then, is to “restore trust” between the two parties by recruiting officers who resemble the communities they police. Images of police officers dancing or playing basketball with Black children in economically deprived neighborhoods are often published as local news items to help drive this narrative home. The idea gained traction in the aftermath of numerous urban rebellions in the 1960s and has seen a resurgence in the wake of the 2014 Ferguson uprising.

When protests broke out in Atlanta this past summer in response to the killings of George Floyd, Breonna Taylor, and Ahmaud Arbery, the city’s Black mayor, Keisha Lance Bottoms, held a press conference flanked by some of Atlanta’s most famous and wealthy Black residents. Together they pleaded for protestors to go home and leave property alone. Soon after, Rayshard Brooks was killed by white police officers in Atlanta. The moment exposed a class divide that exists in cities all over the nation: A chasm between the image of Black affluence promoted by Black politicians and the Black petite bourgeoisie (middle class) and the lived realities of the majority of Black residents in those cities, many of whom still face disproportionate unemployment, displacement by rapid gentrification, and policies that cater to white corporate interests. If the solution to racism were simply a matter of a few select Black people gaining entry to anti-Black institutions, we would see different outcomes than what we’re witnessing now. But the idea that we can resolve racism by integrating what is perhaps the most fundamentally anti-Black institution in the U.S. — its policing and prison industry — is the most absurd notion of all.

Part of the reason why calls to defund police have sent such shock waves through the nation, prompting placement of pro-police billboards and pushback from figures of the Black establishment, is because it cuts right to the heart of how structural racism operates in the United States. At a time when the Black elite would prefer to measure progress by their own tokenized positions of power and symbolic gestures like murals, the push to defund police would require direct confrontation with how the white supremacist system has been organized since the end of chattel slavery — when the prisons replaced plantations as the primary tool of racial control. Actions that may have been widely seen as adequate responses to injustice just a couple of decades ago now ring hollow to many observers who see that Black people continue to be killed by a system that remains largely unchanged.

Police forces represent some of the oldest white fraternal organizations in the United States. The rules of who is empowered to police and who is subject to policing are fundamental to the organization of the racial caste system. Even in the earliest days of integrating police forces, Black officers were often told they couldn’t arrest white people. The integration of police forces does nothing to alter their basic function as the primary enforcers of structural racism on a daily basis, and the presence of Black officers only serves as an attempt to mask this fact.

Police forces in America began as slave patrols, and their primary function has always been to act in service of the white ownership class and its capitalist production. In one century, that meant policing and controlling enslaved Black people, with the purview to use violence against free Black people as well; in another, it involved cracking down on organized labor, for the benefit of white capitalists. Receiving a badge and joining the force has been an entryway to white manhood for many European immigrants — providing them a sense of citizenship and superiority when they would have traditionally been part of the peasantry rather than the white owner class.

That spirit of white fraternity remains deeply entrenched in the culture of policing and its unions today, regardless of this new wave of Black police chiefs and media spokespeople. Police forces became unionized around the same time various other public employees sought collective bargaining rights — however, under capitalism, their role as maintainers of race-property relations remains the same. The most fundamental rule of race established under chattel slavery was that Black people were the equivalent of white property (if not counted as less than property). This relationship between race and property is most overt during periods of open rebellion against the police state, where officers are deployed to use lethal force in the interest of protecting inanimate property. We see swifter and harsher punishments handed out to those who vandalize police cars than to police who assault and kill Black people. (This is a major reason why the press conference in Atlanta with T.I. and Killer Mike struck people as classist and out of touch with the majority Black experience.)

This same pattern extends throughout the carceral state. Roughly a quarter of all bailiffs, correctional officers, and jailers are Black, yet there’s no indication that diversifying the staff of a racist institution results in less violence and death for those who are held within it. That’s because the institution continues to operate as designed. It is not “broken,” as reformists are fond of saying. The fallacy is in believing the function of police and prisons is to mete out punishment and justice in an equitable manner and not to first and foremost serve as a means of maintaining the race, gender, and class hierarchy of an oppressive society.

Believing that the system is “broken” rather than functioning exactly as intended requires a certain adherence to white supremacist and anti-Black beliefs. One has to ignore the rampant amount of violence, fraud, and theft being committed by some of the most powerful figures in society with little to no legal consequence while massive amounts of resources are devoted to the hyper-policing of the poor for infractions as minor as trespassing, shoplifting, and turnstile jumping at subway stations.

The Trump era has provided some of the starkest examples of this dynamic. The most powerful person in the nation and his associates have been able to break the law and violate the Constitution — including documented crimes against humanity — in full view of the public while he proclaims himself the upholder of law and order. Wealthy celebrities involved in the college admissions bribery scandal have gotten away with a slap on the wrist for orchestrating a multimillion-dollar scheme while a dozen NYPD officers surrounded a Black teenager, guns drawn, for the “crime” of failing to pay $2.75 for a subway ride.

The propaganda that depicts this type of policing as being essential to public safety and order is fundamentally classist and anti-Black. It traces its roots to the Black Codes that were passed immediately after the Civil War to control the movements of newly freed Black people. It relies on the racist assumption that Black people would run amok and pose a threat to the larger society if not kept under the constant surveillance of a police force that has authority to kill them if deemed necessary, and with virtual impunity. That’s why we are inundated with a narrative that depicts the police officer who regularly patrols predominantly Black communities as being an essential part of maintaining order in society.

One of the primary talking points against calls to defund and abolish police is that Black communities would have no way to maintain peace and order, and that a state of chaos would ensue. In wealthier neighborhoods, if an officer is present at all, they’re most likely positioned by a gate at the top of the neighborhood to monitor who enters. Meanwhile, the officer assigned to the predominantly Black community is there to keep a watchful eye on the residents themselves, and to ensure they are contained in their designated place within the larger city or town.

The current political divide on this issue falls exactly along these lines, separating those who think the system is simply in need of reform and those who correctly define the problem as the system itself. The reality is that Black people fall on both sides of this divide, which is why we find so many Black officers in uniform arguing for a reformist agenda even as every reform they propose is vociferously opposed by the powerful, majority-white police unions and most of the rank and file. Reformists remain committed to preserving the existing system even though the idea of reforming it to be the opposite of what it was designed to be is an unproven theory that’s no more realistic than the idea of abolishing police altogether.

The most pressing question remains: Why are we seeking to integrate and reform modern manifestations of the slave patrols and plantations in the first place? In Mississippi and Louisiana, state penitentiaries are converted plantations. What is a reformed plantation — and what is its purpose?

We must remember that many of these so-called “reforms” are not new. For as long as the plantation and chattel slavery systems existed, there also existed Black slaveowners, Black overseers, and Black slave catchers who participated in and profited from the daily operations of white supremacy. The presence of these few Black people in elevated positions of power did nothing to change the material conditions of the millions of enslaved people back then. And it makes no greater amount of sense to believe they indicate a shift in material conditions for Black people now.

#us politics #news #op eds #medium #level #Abolition for the People #Bree Newsome Bass #2020 #end systemic racism #institutional racism #racism #racists #criminal justice reform #criminal justice system #defund the police #abolish the police #slavery didn’t get abolished it just got modernised #american slavery #american civil war #black codes #stop police brutality #police brutality #2020 protests

[cosmicanger]

By The Anarchothoughtism Collective

There’s a lot wrong with this little rustbelt city. It’s hard to love, almost painful. Yet people here try to do it anyway, often to our own detriment. We critique this city scathingly, but we love Milwaukee too. Black Milwaukeeans work hard to carve out a cultural niche. It’s a city that’s been shit on so much that it’s developed an inferiority complex; it demands recognition, for better or worse. I joke that living here would be funny - if it wasn’t our lives. Oftentimes it is funny, in a sad, nihilistic, and absurdist way. You have to laugh to keep from crying.

The structural issues of Milwaukee are deeply enmeshed, feeding into each other and compounding the struggles its Black underclass must face. The city’s cultural undercurrent is marked by distinct apathy, conservatism, and complacency. Individualist and bourgeois aspirations are rife. Small pockets of resistance bubble up, only to be extinguished by petit-bourgeois endeavors such as the non-profit industrial complex (NPIC), “activist” grifters, or the business class. This allows for highly fascistic elements to develop without resistance. The 2016 Sherman Park uprising is a prime example of such an “extinguishing”.

Milwaukee is known as the worst place for Black people to live, the most segregated city in the United States, and as “Harvard for pimps”. Black people have been locked out of homeownership, with only 25.2% of Black Milwaukeeans actually owning homes. A culture around stolen vehicles (we call them “stolies”) holds fast. “Kia Boys” and “Kia Girls” drive throughout the city recklessly, giving MPD (Milwaukee Police Department) a run for their money. To be fair, most people in Milwaukee drive recklessly. Lives are ended or altered by gun violence. You can’t trust tap water because of the lead pipes. Out-of-state slumlords own too much property, resulting in poorly-kept homes, leading to excessive electrical fires and evictions. The homeless remain mostly unseen, systemically pushed into surrounding forests. Milwaukee Police Department takes up more than half of the city budget, their pensions are bankrupting the city. As a result, libraries will close, fire stations and ambulances will operate at reduced capacities. In two to three years, a youth prison will be built here. Conditions feel overwhelmingly grim.

Following the Murder of Syville Smith by MPD in 2016, Sherman Park erupted in flames and the uprising that ensued lasted for 3 days. Rioters looted and burned down a BP gas station. This was not senseless or random; Black community members had been frequently profiled by owners of this particular BP station, and frequently had Milwaukee Police Department (MPD) called on them. A month before the murder of Smith, an employee fired a gun in the air to intimidate a group of teenagers standing in front of the store, claiming that he feared for his life. As rioting progressed, rocks were hurled at local law enforcement, a bank was set ablaze, and a local liquor store was looted. The city of Milwaukee was transfixed, yet what followed in the wake of that moment seemed a dizzying blur: over 2-3 years, conversations shifted abruptly from police brutality, racism, and state violence to entrepreneurship. Almost as quickly as it happened, outside investors swooped in to develop what is now known as Sherman Phoenix, a collection of 30 Black-owned businesses housed within the former BMO Harris bank that was burned down during the riots.

Before this shift, Sherman Park resident and youth mentor/activist Vaun Mayes was framed by both MPD and federal agents for the attempted firebombing of the District 7 police station at the height of the riots. Though the case against him remains ambiguous in its resolution, Mayes’ case and eventual release from state custody garnered him an abundance of local media attention, alongside undue credit as a reliable community activist. Soon after that ordeal, Mayes began dubbing himself “Milwaukee’s Malcolm X”, though his politics were moderate and inconsistent. His influence would later play a role in stunting Milwaukee’s 2020 protests.

The officer who killed Sylville Smith was acquitted of the murder; however, he was discharged from MPD and spent time in prison for a series of sexual assaults. In 2020 Smith’s family was awarded a $4 million settlement from the City of Milwaukee. Over the past 10 years, Milwaukee has spent $40 million on police misconduct settlements. This is not justice, it never will be. Justice cannot exist for Black folx within this system, our own hands must forge a new path.

Non-profits: The Worst Jobs We’ve Ever Worked (CW: Rape, Sexual Assault)

Milwaukee non-profits are closely linked with MPD. More often than not, they aid in advancing the carceral state through partnerships and broad coalitional work. One member of our collective was introduced to the NPIC when they were 16 years old by members of the ACLU Wisconsin when the latter visited their high school classes to speak with students about their civil rights and electoralism. By the time our comrade hit 19, they had dropped out of college and had their first real experience working in the NPIC through an AmeriCorps program. They were paid $17,000/year and received additional food stamp benefits. For how little was paid, it could be argued that work involving social services and the NPIC is a twisted type of exploitation that normalizes the commoditization of marginalized peoples’ experiences even as it normalizes the extraction of their labor and their harassment/abuse within NPIC structures.

During their stint with this organization, our comrade worked directly with women involved in street-based prostitution. In this supposed “harm reduction-based” approach, our comrade was often forced to work directly with police to maintain the symbiotic relationship their employer held with district attorneys, the House of Correction (a county jail that falls under the Division of Adult Institutions but operates somewhat independently from them), and law enforcement organizations (LEOs) writ large. This placed our comrade and other workers in the impossible position of offering little material or social supports to trafficking victims in exchange for tracking them and discussing their cases regularly with police and community members that viewed the presence of trafficked women as a “blight.”

Our comrade remembers their time with this organization as one of the most traumatic periods of their life. As they worked to provide compassionate and appropriate care to victims of sexual violence, sometimes in emergencies, they were simultaneously experiencing violence within their org that overlapped the violence they were expected to help combat in the streets. Gender-based harassment from supervisors and assault at the hands of a co-worker some months into the job, coupled with the daily trauma absorption of the job, eventually took its toll; our comrade’s mental health declined, as did their performance, and they were let go. They recall there was relief in that moment and remained unemployed for a few months while seeking therapy to heal.

Another comrade never even made it that far. As a transplant, this comrade with years of nonprofit experience working with youth and other marginalized communities, decided to volunteer with various organizations to gain both a better map of the city and to better understand where they could apply their passion effectively. Despite becoming a dues-paying member of at least 2 supposedly radical orgs, the only jobs they were being told about were ones that would exacerbate pre-existing health problems. Through 2 different periods of homelessness, this comrade still managed to show up and organize or lend support wherever they believed good community work was being done. Eventually, our comrade’s persistence and organizing chops developed, and the local NPIC began sniffing around.

Our comrade began being flattered and specifically invited to “brainstorming sessions,” a quirky Milwaukee euphemism that essentially serves 3 functions for nonprofits: the first is crowdsourcing language and popular-if-inconsistent definitions of social problems; the second, to pull in and start cultivating so-called leadership skills in individuals who may be able to be exploited by nonprofits through low-pay positions or as uncompensated volunteers; the third function being pure extraction, wherein community members are invited to rough out projects or initiatives that grassroots formations seldom can bankroll, but pose no financial risk to NPIC orgs that regularly receive millions from the state to water down and scale up.

Catching onto the grift, however, is not always a guarantee that one’s boundaries around labor would be respected. When our comrade began politely declining invitations to these brainstorming sessions, they were eventually lured into applying for part-time positions with the same organizations that would allow them to keep their health benefits while earning an income, which made our comrade eagerly apply to all. Experience notwithstanding, our comrade found that the fishing expeditions of the brainstorming sessions were not yet done with them: though it took the better part of a year, during which our comrade filled out multiple applications, underwent numerous background checks, weirdly intensive demands for outlines of programming they had not yet been hired to facilitate, and oddly probing interviews with the occasional direct questions about their anarchist leanings, our comrade realized that these nonprofits had no intention of hiring them so much as simply extracting their labor - as well as intimate personal information - under the guise of community building. Some years after the compliments stopped, our comrade simply withdrew from the NPIC and organizing publicly, preferring to work only with those who respected their boundaries. For a disabled person who could not leave their home much, severing ties to the NPIC represented an end to the social life they badly needed for their well-being.

Abolish the NPIC, Abolish the Celebrity/Career Activist and Black Misleadership Class

NPIC culture demands much from marginalized workers while offering very little in return. Non-profits market themselves as more “just” or “equitable” workplaces for marginalized peoples, but often, they just offer the same capitalistic shit gilded in the rhetoric of false radicalism. In this way, the NPIC exploits the desires of those who wish to build a better world and change the material conditions of oppression knowing they never will be able - or inclined - to address oppression at its roots. Non-profits that portray themselves as “radical” or “revolutionary” are actively lying. The NPIC is an apparatus of an imperialistic, white supremacist, ableist, capitalistic state. It serves to redirect radical energies into neoliberal, ineffectual organizing methods. Its function is to maintain the status quo; those who disrupt or refuse to sell out are pushed out.

One of the worst byproducts of the NPIC and social media culture is the production of the “celebrity activist” or “career activist”. What we're describing is nothing new - sellouts have existed across generations. It’s become more complicated, nuanced, and insidious with the appropriation of radical aesthetics and language. When we think of this type of sellout, elements of George Jackson’s criticism against Bill Cosby and Black capitalism are applicable nearly 50 years later. “Black capitalism, black against itself. The silliest contradiction in a long train of spineless mindless contradictions…We can never learn to trust as long as we have them. They are as much a part of repression, more even than the real live, rat-informer-pig” (George Jackson, Soledad Brother, p. 237). The Black celebrity/career activists are rooted in the ideology of Black Capitalism, tainted by entrepreneurial (bourgeois) aspiration, and opportunism. Their politics are shallow and unprincipled. Coming out of the George Floyd Rebellion, one of the most prominent and glaring examples of this is Patrisse Cullors and the mishandling of donations made to the BLM (Black Lives Matter) Foundation. Despite being a “trained Marxist”, Patrisse accepted deals with Cadillac and owned several million-dollar homes while chapters of BLM struggled to organize on the ground. Patrisse profited in one of the most direct ways possible from the deaths and oppression of Black people. How many more Patrisse Cullors types do you need to see?

During protests against the police killing of Alvin Cole in Wauwatosa, Jay-Z’s Team Roc took the opportunity to generate positive press for the brand, posting bail and covering legal fees for those arrested, including Alvin Cole’s family. The celebrity also took out a full-page ad in the Milwaukee Journal Sentinel calling for Alvin Cole’s murderer, Joseph Mensah, to be prosecuted. Additionally, Tamika Mallory made an appearance, offering a performative press conference. While support from celebrities like Jay-Z may appear beneficial on a surface level, the ultra-wealthy do not and will never sustain social movements or revolutionary activity: Jay-Z has repeatedly shown his allegiance to capital, and his support aims to co-opt the energy of mass movements and encourage the Black masses to buy into myths of Black Capitalism.

In Elite Capture by Olufemi O. Taiwo, the author references the work of Frantz Fanon, Jared A. Ball, and Franklin Frazier to elaborate on myths of the “Black Economy” and Black buying power. In describing African middle classes in post-colonial Algeria, Fanon postulated that this middle class would “capture, dilute and ultimately subvert the energy of anti-imperialist struggle.” Taiwo notes that Fanon’s prediction came to be, “The national independence movements supplanted formal colonial rule only to run headfirst into neocolonialism: a condition in which those young nations’ new ruling elite were either sharply constrained by or actively colluding with the corporations and governments of the former colonial powers - and the international system they dominated.”

Taiwo goes on to analyze Franklin Frazier’s Black Bourgeoisie and the idea of escaping racial strife through a separate Black economy, citing Booker T. Washington’s National Negro Business League. “The combined net worth of all 115 attendees at the inaugural National Negro Business League did not amount to even $1 million. By the time Fraizer wrote his book, more than six decades later, all eleven Black-owned banks in the nation combined did not represent the amount of capital held in the average local bank in smaller white cities.” Drawing from Ball, Taiwo concludes that investing in the idea of a Black economy is politically naive, a fruitless endeavor that would need to be birthed of our current political and economic reality of white supremacy and racial capitalism. He notes that myths of Black buying power and financial literacy only serve to place the onus on the poor instead of on the exploitative nature of capitalism. We see the myth persist to this day through endeavors such as Killer Mike’s Greenwood “Bank”. “The possibility of an insulated Black economy is the myth, while the immediate interests of a few well-positioned Black Folk provide the true impetus.”

For petty bourgeoise aspirationals and the ultra-wealthy, the NPIC provides the perfect platform for the co-optation of our mass movements. Protests become photo opportunities; elements of resistance and revolution are appropriated to market an individual's brand or NGO to philanthropists, funders, and sponsors. Brand recognition is key. Locally, we’ve witnessed executive directors and NGO boards claim police abolition, only to turn around and hire ex-police officers to perform union busting on their behalf. We’ve seen blatant misogynists and homophobes win the title of “Activist of the Year” throughout a near-endless stream of self-congratulatory awards ceremonies. Milwaukee suffers an ongoing plague of micro-celebrity activists, bolstered by an NPIC culture that actively blocks opportunities for effective, revolutionary organizing. Our point is simplistic, the conclusion feels trite, but it’s a message Milwaukeeans need to hear. If any real work is to get done, the NPIC and career/celebrity activism need to be abandoned or eventually destroyed.

(A mural that recognizes “leaders” involved in Milwaukee’s 2020 protest movement…the mural depicts Frank Nitty, Sam Alford, Khalil Coleman, Jeremiah Thomas, Elle Halo, Tommy Franecki, Markasa Tucker, and Vaun Mayes.)

*Note: Some non-profits do excellent work, and are well respected within the communities in which they operate. The non-profit legal structure can be used as a tool that allows grassroots and anarchist formations to operate more freely. However, within a $2 trillion industry employing 10% of the United States population, we find the types of non-profits mentioned above represent a microcosm within a majority. Members of our collective understand the benefits and contradictions of being involved in the NPIC as we have worked within the field and received services from the NPIC. This is not a judgment of those involved within the NPIC structure, it is a call to think critically about the structure.

How Milwaukee Got a Youth Prison: Past to Present (CW: Sexual abuse, Child abuse)

Milwaukee’s NPIC is deeply connected to the carceral justice system and policing, and many violence prevention programs and non-profits are incentivized to work with the police to receive funding from the city. Unsurprisingly, local non-profits ushered in a new youth prison in Milwaukee. To explain how this all came to fruition, we’ll need to lay some ground and talk about the Lincoln Hills and Copper Lakes crises that occurred over the course of a decade. Tracking everything that occurred at these facilities could amount to a separate book on its own, so we'll only be tackling a tiny fraction of events in this section.

According to the Milwaukee Journal Sentinel, the problems began in 2010-2011 under Republican Governor Jim Doyle’s administration. The number of youth prisoners had steadily decreased over the years and in 2011, inmate populations dropped to half of what they were in 2004. For the Doyle Administration, it financially did not make sense to continue running three separate facilities (Lincoln Hills located in northern Wisconsin, Ethan Allen School in southeastern Wisconsin, and Southern Oaks Girls School in southeastern Wisconsin): Lincoln Hills operated at a much lower cost than the other two facilities and state law mandated that a juvenile facility must remain open in northern Wisconsin. This law did not apply to southeastern parts of the state, where most of Wisconsin’s Black and incarcerated population stemmed from. By January 2011, Republican Governor Scott Walker was instated; he moved quickly to close Ethan Allen School and Southern Oaks Girls School, consolidating 100 prisoners into Lincoln Hills and doubling the prison population. Lincoln Hills was extremely short-staffed, the sparse population of northern Wisconsin being to blame. The Milwaukee Journal Sentinel stated, “...juvenile justice experts around the nation were recommending smaller, more localized facilities, Wisconsin went in the opposite direction, consolidating operations in a remote setting.”

In February 2012, Racine County Circuit Judge Richard Kreul sent a memo to Scott Walker detailing a case of abuse. ”The memo Kreul sent to Walker described an incident in which an inmate from Racine was forced to perform oral sex on his roommate and then beaten unconscious. Workers learned of the assault at 4 p.m. They didn’t get the victim medical treatment for three hours.” [Milwaukee Journal Sentinel]. In 2014, when Milwaukee-based Public Defender Robin Dorman learned that one of her clients was not receiving medical treatment or being sent to classes, she quickly learned that her client was not alone. Upon discovering additional allegations of abuse and neglect, Dorman sent a memo to Milwaukee County Chief Deputy District Attorney Kent Lovern, who forwarded it to the Department of Corrections. By January 2015, a criminal probe was launched to investigate Lincoln Hills. What the investigations would unveil was deeply disturbing.

Most of the youth held in the facility were Black children from Milwaukee, though the facility was located in Irma, WI - 215 miles away from Milwaukee (a 3.5-hour drive). Horrendous abuse and corruption plagued these facilities, ranging from physical child abuse to suicide, and sexual abuse and harassment of minors. The Milwaukee Journal Sentinel details the conditions inside the facilities, describing a teen who had his foot crushed by a prison guard. “Inside his room, Evans screamed and held up his foot so the staff could see the bleeding. The Milwaukee teen had lost parts of two small toes, but it would take prison officials nearly two hours to take him to a hospital 15 miles away.” Another incident involved a psychologist commenting on a teen girl's breasts, stating that they looked "rode hard and put away wet." The investigation also revealed that the prison’s lead trainer taught staff to pin inmates by putting their knees on inmates' backs - a technique that could cause suffocation and death. This trainer did not contact nurses when inmates were injured. There were 4 incidents where inmates had broken bones. By December 2015, the facility was raided by 50 state agents and the investigation was turned over to the FBI. Over a dozen staff members quit, were fired, or retired. A $25 Million settlement was reached for those who stayed at the facilities.

In 2018, Governor Walker announced a plan to dissolve Lincoln Hills into 5 smaller prisons spread out across the state. In April 2022, Democratic Governor Tony Evers signed a law that would bring a prison to Milwaukee. By January 2023, Milwaukee Common Council approved the zoning for a new youth prison to be built on the predominantly Black northwest side of Milwaukee. The Facility will not be operational until 2026. The decision was made to put the youth prison in a district that completely lacks an alderperson at the time of this writing (the previous alderwoman, Chantia Lewis, was removed from office after pleading guilty to embezzling $20,000 in campaign funds). Residents were taken off guard by the development of the prison and a majority opposed it, citing the potential decrease in property values as their primary concern. Many non-profit leaders spoke out in support of the facility's relocation to Milwaukee’s northwest side, however, framing it as a way to bring the youth inmates from Lincoln Hills “home”. Sharlen Moore, co-founder of the non-profit Urban Underground and youth justice advocate stated, “We have to figure something out. We have to put them somewhere.” Representatives from the non-profit Ex-incarcerated People Organizing (EXPO) echoed Sharlen’s sentiment. There are currently 69 youths that remain at the Lincoln Hills and Copper Lakes facilities. Alternatives to prisons exist, we’re dealing with people, not objects to shuffle around or “put somewhere.”

George Floyd Rebellion of 2020: A Clusterfuck

During the George Floyd Rebellion, the lack of solid organizing and security culture in Milwaukee led to Black misleadership and celebrity/career activists seizing control and altering the trajectory of a radical movement into neoliberalism along a counter-revolutionary line. The People’s Revolution (TPR) was formed in the early days of the George Floyd Rebellion and was initially spearheaded by Frank Nitty, Vaun Mayes, and Khalil Coleman. These “leaders” quickly proved dysfunctional, as accusations of homophobia and misogyny bubbled to the forefront almost immediately. Throughout 2020, we talked with individuals involved in TPR’s protests and though accounts varied from person to person, what we picked up on overall was that TPR’s leadership fostered an environment that made protests feel unsafe for Black women and queer individuals. On June 12, 2020, TPR leadership was called out in a Facebook live stream regarding accusations of misogynistic and derogatory language used toward queer protestors. While Vaun Mayes showed up to the live stream for “accountability”, Frank Nitty and Khalil Coleman did not. There were repeated attempts to reach out to Frank and Khalil, which seemed to be met with hostility. The presence of misogyny and homophobia are major red flags for any group claiming to be revolutionary. The Facebook Live stream did not provide the accountability process needed to change course. In an ideal world Frank, Vaun, and Khalil would have stepped down from their leadership positions within TPR and undergone a serious accountability process that involved their removal from movement and protest work, if only until genuine efforts towards transformation had occurred.

The effects of misogyny and what we’ll call “weak link politics” have been touched on repeatedly in writings such as Why Misogynists Make Great Informants, by Courtney Desiree Morris, and Basic Politics of Movement Security by J. Sakai and Mandy Hiscocks. As Morris succinctly points out, “There are serious consequences for choosing ignorance. Misogyny and homophobia are central to the reproduction of violence in radical activist communities. Scratch a misogynist and you’ll find a homophobe. Scratch a little deeper and you might find the makings of a future informant (or someone who just destabilizes movements like informants do).” In Basic Politics of Movement Security, Sakai details the story of an FBI informant known as “Tom” who played a role in destabilizing the Black Panthers. Tom got in with the Black Panthers by appealing to patriarchal values. Sakai recounts Tom being called out by a group of local women on suspicion of being an informant, “Oh, its politics that’s so hard for me to learn, ‘cause I had no education… I wanna learn, I’m sorry, give me another chance.” Tom rebuffed in a way that is somewhat similar to the accountability dodging Mayes did during the live stream referenced above. “I am ignorant to a lot of shit, you know? …as far as being a straight male versus y’all community (the LGBTQ+ community), there's a lot of shit I don’t understand… I don’t primarily deal with y’all community.”

We don’t draw this comparison to accuse Vaun or the former TPR leadership of being outright informants. Practically speaking, there’s no way for anyone to know unless evidence explicitly demonstrates otherwise. The point is not to badjacket or drum up needless suspicion. However, we draw the comparison to accentuate that an individual's politics, actions, and consistency should be examined with a discerning, critical eye. Trust and access should not be easily given to those who consistently show up with weak link politics. Sakai states, “...Security is not about being macho vigilantes or being super suspicious… Security is about good politics. That's why it's so difficult. And it requires good politics from the movement as a whole. This is demanded of us… Bad politics covered for agents…it’s that bad politics - like opportunism, patriarchy, sexism, and class privilege - rips up the fabric of our terrain, the area of our radical culture, and weaves it instead into that terrain all their old oppressor politics, their values.”

[Defaced mural of Frank Nitty with the words “misogynistic coon” and “sexist” spray painted across it.]

TPR slowly unraveled throughout the rebellion. Despite appointing themselves revolutionaries, TPR operated in multitudes of obvious contradictions. They frequently partnered with local elected officials and pushed electoralism, lobbying, and reform as a method of “revolution”. State representatives such as David Bowen and Jonathan Brostoff publicly aligned themselves with TPR, and attended marches consistently. “They use their resources to help as many people as possible and to push the system to be accountable, especially to Black and Brown people,” said David Bowen to Milwaukee Magazine in September 2020. The excess media attention around the George Floyd Rebellion provided the perfect stage for stooges to bolster their platforms and appeal to potential voters. While electoralism and aligning oneself with the state may seem like a clear pitfall to an experienced organizer or theorist aligned with revolutionary/liberatory movements, it bears explaining to those less familiar. Aligning oneself with politicians, elements of the state, or electoralism is explicitly counter-revolutionary:

“It isn’t revolutionary or materialist to disconnect things. To disconnect revolutionary consciousness from revolutionizing activity, to build consciousness with political agitation and educational issue-making alone is idealistic rather than materialist. The effect has been reformism rather than revolution. When any election is held it will fortify rather than destroy the credibility of power brokers. When we participate in this election to win, instead of disrupt, we’re lending to its credibility, and destroying our own.” (George Jackson, Blood In My Eye, Pg. 26)

TPR’s leadership brought forth a movement of cooptation, empty symbolism, and misdirection. It is no surprise that Vaun Mayes has recently aligned himself with MPD post-rebellion, advocating for increased police surveillance through ShotSpotter technology. According to Sheperd Express, ShotSpotter is an acoustics-based technology that locates potential gunshots via impulsive sound. The contract with ShotSpotter has cost the City of Milwaukee $3.7 million over the past 13 years. “I’d like my ComForce team to get access to ShotSpotter because when we hear shootings in our neighborhoods, it is sometimes difficult to find the location...We are here to help the police and protect the residents, and we are expanding…I think we are setting a standard on how true collaboration and unity is supposed to look. We want to work with the police,” said Mayes, referring to Community Task Force (ComForce), a non-profit he helms which regularly partners with MPD.

[Photo of Frank Nitty next to a billboard advertisement of himself promoting voting, despite not being registered to vote himself.]

From a security culture standpoint, TPR’s practices were negligent and put protestors at risk. TPR’s marches often lacked street medics, leadership constantly live-streamed their whereabouts, and TPR provided little to no recourse, such as bail funds or free legal representation, for those arrested. Leadership also folded in with the likes of fascist groups such as the Bugaloo Boys, posing as street medics for TPR. The effects of this negligence culminated when the rebellion reached Wauwatosa and Kenosha. According to The Daily Montanan, Wauwatosa Police Department (WPD) managed to create a list of over 200 protestors, and a good portion of that list included members of TPR, as well as people who marched in solidarity with them. The list was created by Dominick Ratkowski, a crime analyst for WPD, and was utilized as early as mid-July 2020. The list was circulated amongst MPD, KPD (Kenosha Police Department), and the FBI office in Milwaukee. Up to 12 agencies received the list. Members of TPR were mailed tickets as high as $1300. The Daily Montanan reads, “On Aug. 28, Gibson (Milwaukee DA Investigator) asked for any lists or photographs of protesters to share with Kenosha. On Sept. 15 the list, which had been shared by Ratkowski, was sent to Kenosha PD Detective Pablo Torres, who worked for the department’s Special Investigations Unit at the time. ‘Here is an updated list of the subjects identified as members or associates of The People’s Revolution,’ Gibson’s email reads.” The screenshot below does not prove that Coleman or TPR leadership was feeding members' information to law enforcement agencies; it is mere conjecture, but we cannot dismiss it as a possibility.

[This post was made on September 1, 2020]

Regardless of whether the intent was malicious or not, a lack of security practices essentially had the same effect as an informant or wrecker: TPR members and leadership had been arrested at several points during the rebellion, and during any of these arrests, police could have confiscated their cellphones to collect intelligence on members and associates. This is why maintaining anonymity is key - never bring a cell phone to a protest, and never record yourself or others engaging in protest activity. Your identity should be your most protected asset. Cover tattoos, piercings, or other identifying features and always wear plain, unbranded clothing. Consider utilizing a pseudonym during protests. Always remember your cell phone and other pieces of technology can act as a cop, and avoid the potentiality of surveillance as much as possible.

Our advice for those participating in protests and riots is to return to analog styles of communication (written notes, utilizing walkie-talkies, communicating face-to-face, implementing coded language, etc). Detailed in episode 8 of the Alphabet Boys podcast, an FBI program known as “Social Media Exploitation” was utilized during the George Floyd Rebellion. This program allowed the FBI and local law enforcement agencies to mine social media accounts and create files on individuals without probable cause. The host of Alphabet Boys, Trevor Aaronson, goes on to detail the story of a woman charged with a crime for throwing her bike down near a police officer. She was captured on a police body camera and identified by law enforcement through social media posts, specifically by matching photos of her biking gear with her attire in the video. Police were able to attain a warrant to search her home and she was charged with attempted aggravated assault of a police officer, a second-degree felony. Police reforms, such as body cameras, are weaponized against those who dare to resist the state. If there is a will to charge you with a crime, there is a way. People should always keep in mind that their social media presence is likely being monitored and should try to practice good digital hygiene. Intentional mass arrests are an outdated tactic of the ‘60s and ‘70s; in the present day, arrests should be avoided if possible - you do not want to be logged into any state system as it makes it easier for law enforcement to target and track you for an indeterminate length of time.

Ultimately, TPR’s influence managed to assimilate many young people into their organization, placing youth directly in harm's way. This disillusioned, traumatized, and embittered many young people. Tyrone Randall, a participant in TPR’s protests, was pinned by police, left on the ground, and struck by a car. Tyrone was left with broken ribs, a broken pelvis and thousands of dollars in medical debt. TPR’s failures fostered an environment that made many reluctant to return to grassroots organizing as a whole. Former members and youth of TPR were quickly assimilated into the NPIC once the organization grew stagnant.

Post-George Floyd Rebellion: Where are these niggas?

Post-rebellion TPR quickly dissolved, and few of the former leadership remain active. In April 2022, Khalil Coleman was found guilty in the first degree for a robbery that took place in Kentucky in February of 2021. Coleman attempted to rob a trap house with the coerced aid of a minor and was later sentenced to 10 years in prison. Coleman maintains that he is innocent via Facebook posts, and he has been soliciting support for his appeal through an online petition.

Around August 2020, Frank Nitty led a March from Milwaukee to Washington D.C. In the immediate aftermath of this commemorative journey, several scandals began to surround Nitty. Rumors of Nitty stealing and mishandling donations circulated on social media, which led to some accusing him of using the funds to take white women on dates. Additionally, a Facebook group of “sister-wives,” boasting nearly 200 members at one point, formed around Nitty. All jokes aside, around November 2020, Nitty was accused of sexually assaulting four separate women. He was arrested and held in jail for a short period before his bail was posted, and charges were never brought against him. After 17 months, prosecutors decided that there was not enough evidence against Nitty between the four women who accused him and dropped the charges completely. Based on Nitty’s history of misogyny, we believe the women who accused him. Nitty’s whereabouts and current activity remain unclear, as he has seemingly disappeared from Milwaukee altogether.

Vaun Mayes remains active in Milwaukee’s non-profit and organizing scene: He currently remains a leader of ComForce, engaging in ambulance chasing. Vaun has continuously aligned himself with the police, local politicians and even noted transphobe/huckster Dr. Umar Johnson.

Conclusion: Wrapping this shit up

2020 demonstrated that Milwaukee is not politically prepared to resist the rising tide of fascism. It is a frightening position to be in considering that the RNC (Republican National Convention) is coming to Milwaukee summer of 2024. The fascism Black people in Milwaukee have had to face has primarily been institutionalized, moderated through politicians, policing, prisons and racist state/city policy. The city has rarely had to face off directly against fascist demonstrators. There is no dedicated Black Bloc or anti-fascist presence prepared to push back against the fascists that will come to gather in Milwaukee summer of 2024. The city is seeking to import nearly 4,500 officers to Milwaukee for the convention. Frankly, we wouldn’t recommend an outright counter-demonstration against the 2024 RNC. Marginalized people should stay home the day the RNC comes to town. Those interested in preparation should get street medic training, and learn how to treat gunshot wounds. Black communities situated directly near the RNC should prepare their neighborhood or block in community self-defense tactics. Prepare for violence but do not seek it out.

Strategically there are stronger opportunities for resisting. The youth prison coming to Milwaukee’s northwest side should be resisted, and the youths that remain captive in Lincoln Hills should not be abandoned in cages of the state. A non-carceral solution is desperately needed. We're not sure what the exact solution looks like for Milwaukee, but answers have already been conceptualized in writings such as Instead of Prisons by the Prison Research Education Action Project. The text details an experiment done in Massachusetts in 1972 to decarcerate the state’s juvenile prison system. The majority of youths returned home on parole, some were sent to a local university to work with a student advocate for a month. The text continues, “The administrative system was decentralized, with seven regional offices set up to make all decisions about individual youth placements and needs. Almost all services for the juveniles were contracted from private agencies, resulting in the creation of a wide range of community programs.” It advocates cutting ties with the criminal justice system, including instances of parole and probation, releasing prisoners to community-controlled support and peer groups on a case-by-case basis instead. The writers advocate that instead of serving the rest of their sentences, former prisoners should be involved in restoration processes. The strategies mentioned above are intermediary steps towards prison abolition. The authors note:

“We caution strongly that all interim as well as long-range strategies be considered only after conferring with knowledgeable prisoner and ex-prisoner groups. Interim policies crucially affect the lives of prisoners still inside the system and many ex-prisoners on the streets. What seems a paltry and therefore unacceptable change to those outside the wall, might be a highly significant and desirable change for those who are caged or under control in the streets. If there are differences in strategies between prisoners who have experienced the day to day reality of prisons and prison changers who have not, take the time to hammer out differences and reach agreement. Strategies and tactics that are not in unity weaken the total movement toward systems change.”

People interested in building a truly revolutionary movement should study the principles and histories of anarchism, the Anarkata turn, Black radicals, and anti-state communism within groups. White organizers need to step back and follow the lead of Black radicals or get out of the way. Deprioritize the visibility of individual organizers and the mindset of individualized leadership or hierarchies. The aim should be an anonymous and autonomous mass movement of free association that centers issues of the most oppressed, the most marginalized, the problems of the lumpen/lumpen-proletariat (Black, QTGNC folks, those living with disabilities, the poor, the houseless, etc…). The organizing methodology outlined in Move Like Mycorrhizae from Afrofuturist Abolitionists of America, demonstrates best practices. Organizing in this way provides a layer of security and protection from opportunists, clout chasers, and potential informants or state agents.

We can’t tell you what to study, what to do, or how to organize. We can only suggest that anyone who reads this zine study past and present liberation movements of colonized people, both within and outside of the United States. Learn where others have failed or succeeded. If the conditions are right, repeat what has proven successful and try not to repeat mistakes. It's the principle of Sankofa; meaning “go back and fetch it” - take what is useful, leave behind what is not. Studying, organizing, and remaining principled in the liberation struggle is a lifelong commitment. We’ll never stop learning; movements will change, tactics will change. New theories and organizing methodologies will need to be established from the foundation of what previous Black radicals left behind. Studying and organizing alongside BARs (Black Anarchic Radicals) and the Anarkata turn guided us to our current political trajectory. We don’t believe in authoritarian methodologies, cults of personality, or that Black people need a “leader” to effectively organize and win. There will be no vanguard to lead the masses to revolution, nor is it the role of the political theorist.

Frantz Fanon stated,

“To educate the masses politically does not mean, cannot mean, making a political speech. What it means is to try, relentlessly and passionately, to teach the masses that everything depends on them; that if we stagnate it is their responsibility, and that if we go forward it is due to them too, that there is no such thing as a demiurge, that there is no famous man who will take responsibility for everything, but that the demiurge is the people themselves and the magic hands are finally only the hands of the people.”

As the tide of fascism rises, as climate change accelerates, as technocratic corporations advance, as living conditions under capitalism worsen - political and state repression will become more visceral. We saw it in 2020, with state agents snatching protestors off the streets in unmarked vehicles. We saw it in Kenosha when local law enforcement stood in league with fascist armed militias. We’re seeing it in motion with the development of Cop City in Atlanta, a project with international implications to further militarize the police, preparing them for urban warfare with citizens. If there is any time to gain urgency, to connect and organize within your community, it’s now. The politics of capitalism, of fascism, is ultimately a politic of slow death and suffering for the many in exchange for short-term gain and excess for a few. We hope to see the end of this fetid, vile system in this lifetime or the next.

#black theory #theory #npic #nonprofit #long reads #article #must read #share

[religion-is-a-mental-illness]

By: David Decosimo

Published: Sep 28, 2023

The debacle that is Boston University’s Center for Antiracist Research is about far more than its founder, Ibram X. Kendi. It is about a university, caught up in cultural hysteria, subordinating itself to ideology.

After suddenly laying off over half his employees last week and with his center producing almost nothing since its founding, Mr. Kendi is now facing an investigation and harsh criticism from numerous colleagues complaining of financial mismanagement, dysfunctional leadership, and failure to honor obligations attached to its millions in grant money.

Such an outcome was entirely predictable. In June 2020, the university hired Mr. Kendi, created and endowed his center, and canceled all “classes, meetings, and events” for a quasi-religious “Day of Collective Engagement” on “Racism and Antiracism, Our Realities and Our Roles,” during which Mr. Kendi and his colleagues were treated as sages.

They denounced voter-identification laws as “an expressly antiblack form of state violence,” claimed Ronald Reagan flooded “black communities with crack cocaine,” and declared that every black person was “literally George Floyd.” One speaker said that decades ago “literal uprising and rebellion in the streets” forced the creation of black-studies programs in universities nationwide, and now was the time to revolutionize the “whole institution” and make antiracism central to every discipline and a requirement for all faculty hiring.

That summer many BU departments published Kendi-ist “antiracist” statements limiting academic freedom and subordinating inquiry to his ideology. With their dean’s oversight and approval, the School of Theatre passed a plan to audit all syllabi, courses and policies to ensure conformity with “an anti-oppression and anti-racist lens” and discussed placing monitors in each class to report violations of antiracist ideology. The sociology department publicly announced that “white supremacy and racism” were “pervasive and woven into . . . our own . . . department.” In the English department’s playwriting program, all syllabi would have to “assign 50% diverse-identifying and marginalized writers,” and any “material or scholarship . . . from a White or Eurocentric lineage” could be taught only “through an actively anti-racist lens.” They even published hiring quotas based on race: “We commit to . . . hiring at least 50% BIPOC”—an acronym for black, indigenous or people of color—“artists by 2023.”

I had recently earned tenure and was serving as a member of BU’s Faculty Council and as chairman of its Academic Freedom Committee. By fall 2020, I was hearing from faculty—all progressives—who were disturbed by what was unfolding in their departments on campus but terrified to speak up. They had seen colleagues face major professional damage for falsely being denounced as racist. I tried to help, but the Academic Freedom Committee had no real power. We could only ask the senior administration to act. It did nothing.

Activist faculty weren’t the only ones transforming BU into an officially Kendi-ist institution. The push was coming from the university’s highest levels. In spring 2020, the Faculty Council had approved a major strategic plan for the university over the next decade. All that remained was a board of trustees vote. Suddenly, a revised plan was presented: Being an “antiracist” institution, with specific reference to Mr. Kendi, was proposed as one of the university’s five main aims.

At a September 2020 Zoom meeting, and with explicit reference to Mr. Kendi’s hire, BU President Robert Brown announced several university wide “antiracist” initiatives, including a task force to examine and expunge racism from BU. A dean claimed the administration would examine not only policies and practices but even ideas—and not only for racism but for whatever might “facilitate racism.”

I pointed out in the meeting that “any notion of ‘antiracism’ presupposes a definition of ‘racism.’ Beyond civil-rights law and common sense, what counts as ‘racism’ is essentially contested and reflective of competing ethical and political views.” I said it sounded as if the university was officially endorsing Mr. Kendi’s views. I asked if his notion of “racism” would guide the BU task force, and I noted that his view that every disparate outcome is caused by and constitutes racism is controversial and rejected by conservatives such as the economist Glenn Loury and progressives such as the Black Marxist Adolph Reed Jr. and my former teacher Cornel West.

Mr. Brown didn’t answer me directly. Immediately, several deans came after me in the chat. I was clearly uninformed and confused; now wasn’t the time for “intellectual debate.” They implied I might not actually oppose racism.

I wrote a letter to BU’s president that afternoon, stressing that beyond the problems with Mr. Kendi’s vision, the more fundamental issue concerned betraying the university’s research and teaching mission by making any ideology institutional orthodoxy. Nothing changed. Even now, BU is insisting it will “absolutely not” step back from its commitment to Mr. Kendi’s antiracism.

Mr. Kendi deserves some blame for the scandal, but the real culprit is institutional and cultural. It’s still unfolding and is far bigger than BU. In 2020, countless universities behaved as BU did. And to this day at universities everywhere, activist faculty and administrators are still quietly working to institutionalize Mr. Kendi’s vision. They have made embracing “diversity, equity and inclusion” a criterion for hiring and tenure, have rewritten disciplinary standards to privilege antiracist ideology, and are discerning ways to circumvent the Supreme Court’s affirmative-action ruling.

Most of those now attacking Mr. Kendi at BU don’t object to his vision. They embrace it. They don’t oppose its establishment in universities. That’s their goal. Their anger isn’t with his ideology’s intellectual and ethical poverty but with his personal failure to use the money and power given to him to institutionalize their vision across American universities, politics and culture.

Whether driven by moral hysteria, cynical careerism or fear of being labeled racist, this violation of scholarly ideals and liberal principles betrays the norms necessary for intellectual life and human flourishing. It courts disaster, at this moment especially, that universities can’t afford.

Mr. Decosimo is an associate professor of theology and ethics at Boston University.

[ Via: https://archive.today/mNXV6 ]

[ Note: this is a longer version of an earlier Tweet thread. ]

==

#David Decosimo #Ibram X. Kendi #Boston University #academic corruption #moral hysteria #corruption of education #ideological capture #ideological corruption #antiracism #antiracism as religion #neoracism #woke #wokeness #wokeness as religion #wokeism #cult of woke #religion is a mental illness #kendi is a racist

[crimethinc]

When we made this poster celebrating the George Floyd Rebellion, there was a lot of concern about how the arson of this partly-constructed housing development would impact people in Minneapolis.

https://crimethinc.com/posters/a-new-world

Here's a photograph of the development, which was completed despite the fire.

Meanwhile, the Third Precinct—pictured here—remains a burnt-out husk.

A tremendous amount of work remains ahead of us to build a new world free of police, white supremacy, and capitalism in the ashes of the old.

But let's not be afraid of transformative change, even when it's messy.

[sophie-e-b]

Emma Dabiri is an Irish writer, academic and broadcaster - and an expert on race.  Born to a Nigerian dad and an Irish mum, Emma experienced extremely different environments growing up: first in a predominantly black area of America and then moving to Southern Ireland where she found herself in the opposite - a very white and racist society.  

She remembered how a bookshop in Dublin was her sanctuary and saviour as a child.  It turned out it was a radical bookshop - and we agreed that books can provide a quiet rebellion when you're growing up.

Emma has two little boys and currently lives in Margate where she takes advantage of regular sea swimming.  

She has written two books 'Don't Touch My Hair' and 'What White People Should Do Next', with her third book just about to be published when we chatted.  Emma's writing looks at the concept of race and how the concept of black and white has been constructed in fairly recent history, plus she sometimes shares her own experiences of racism. 

We also talked about the Black Lives Matter campaign and assessed how much has changed since the death of George Floyd.

Listen now: http://smarturl.it/spinningplates

[jurabooks]

Today’s book of the day is The George Floyd Uprising.

In the summer of 2020, America experienced one of the biggest uprisings in half a century. After George Floyd’s murder at the hands of Minneapolis police, angry crowds took to the streets night after night, fighting the police, looting, and eventually burning down the Third Precinct. The revolt soon spread to cities large and small across the country, where rioters set police cars on fire, sacked luxury shopping districts, and forced the president into hiding in a bunker beneath the White House. Throughout the summer and into the fall, localized rebellions continued to erupt in Atlanta, Chicago, Kenosha, Louisville, Philadelphia, and elsewhere.

Written during the riots, The George Floyd Uprising is a compendium of the most radical writing to come out of that long, hot summer. These incendiary dispatches—from those on the front lines of the struggle—examine the new horizons opened by the revolt, as well as the social, tactical, and strategic obstacles it confronted. This practical, inspiring collection offers a toolbox for all those actively seeking to expand and intensify revolts in the future, and it is essential reading for everyone interested in toppling the state, racism, and capitalism.

https://www.instagram.com/p/C5H4YyALAmV/?igsh=MWk2YXFtb3pyYmRqNQ==

[englishindubellay]

ecg 2

MAJOR SOCIAL MOVEMENTS IN THE US SINCE 2016

Selon certaines études, il n'y a jamais eu autant de manifestations que sous la présidence du président Trump, ce qui n'est pas surprenant (to come as no surprise) car c'est un personnage qui divise (divisive).

According to some studies, there have never been as many street protests than under President Trump's presidency, which comes as no surprise for he is a divisive character.

Au fait, comment définiriez-vous le Trumpisme ? By the way, how would you define Trumpism ? « Policies that advocate a rejection of the current political establisment and the vigorous pursuit of American national interests » ?

Le mouvement des droits civiques aux USA fut très vivace (active) jusqu'à l'assassinat de son dirigeant dont vous connaissez tous le nom : M. L. K.

The Civil Rights Movement in the US was extremely active until the assassination of its leader whose name you are all familiar with : Martin Luther King. (1929-1968)

Contrairement (contrary to) à une croyance populaire, le mouvement Black Lives Matter n'a pas commencé avec l'assassinat de George Floyd par Derek Chauvin, un policier blanc, mais avec l'acquittement de George Zimmerman, un vigile (security guard) qui avait abattu Trayvon Martin, un adolescent afro-américain.

Contrary to popular belief, the Black Lives Matter movement did not start with George Floyd's murder by Derek Chauvin, a white police-officer, but with the acquittal of George Zimmerman, a security guard, who had shot dead Trayvon Martin, an African-American teenager.

Après l'assassinat de ce garçon, le président Obama a dit : « Si j'avais un fils, il ressemblerait exactement à Trayvon. »

After this boy's assassination, President Obama declared : « If I had a son, he would look exactly like Trayvon. »

Il semblerait (would appear) que les réseaux sociaux (media) jouent un rôle prépondérant (to be instrumental in) dans l'organisation de manifestations de masse. C'est ce qu'on appelle des mouvement sociaux viraux.

It would appear social media are instrumental in the organisation of mass protests. That is what has come to be called viral social movements.

Tout ce dont vous avez besoin, c'est d'un hashtag, d'un Insta, d' un logo simple et un slogan accrocheur. All you need is a hashtag, an Instagram account, a plain logo and a catch-phrase.

Les conflits culturels (culture wars) mettent en lumière (to shed light on) la polarisation qui existe aux States sur des sujets comme l'avortement, l'immigration, les droits LGBTQ, la réglementation des armes à feu. Culture wars shed light on the polarisation existing in the States on issues like abortion, immigration, LGBTQ rights and gun control.

Saviez-vous que le mouvement MeToo avait été fondé en 2006 et était devenu viral (to go viral) en octobre 2017 après les révélations au sujet de Harvey Weinstein. La marche à Los Angeles en novembre 2017 réunissait des centaines de milliers de manistestant.e.s. Were you aware the MeToo movement had been founded in 2006 and had gone viral in October 2017 after the revelations about Harvey Weinstein (a former film producer and convicted sex offender). The Los Angeles march in November 2017 brought together hundreds of thousands of protesters.

La lassitude de manifester (protest fatique) et la profusion des causes expliquent peut-être (may) pourquoi la Marche des Femmes de 2020 a attiré bien moins de manifestants.

Protest fatigue and the profusion of causes may explain why the 2020 March for Women gathered way fewer protesters.

Cependant des mouvements plus radicaux comme Extinction Rebellion organisent des blocus, des occupations ou même des arrestations afin d'être entendus. However more radical movements like Extinction Rebellion hold blockades, occupations and arrests in order to be heard.

Bien que 4 Américains sur 10 disent qu'ils ne suivent pas la politique, une chose est sûre : la polarisation de la vie politique aux Etats-unis est une réalité avec des Américains qui parfois ont peu en commun et se méprisent. Est-ce la fin du « One nation under God » ? ou l'illustration de « e pluribus unum » ? Cela reste à voir. (to be decided upon).

Although 4 in 10 Americans declare they do not follow politics, one thing is sure : the polarisation of the US political life is a reality with Americans who sometimes have little in common and despise each other. Is it the end of « One nation under God » or the illustration of « e pluribus unum ». This remains to be decided upon.