While many cheered the NFL’s move to (finally) punish Rice’s vicious behavior, too many media outlets immediately fell into a tired pattern of victim blaming.
Writer Beverly Gooden had heard enough. “I was watching the responses to the TMZ on my timeline, and I noticed a trend. People were asking ‘why did she marry him?’ and ‘why didn’t she leave him,’” Gooden told Mic. “When I saw those tweets, my first reaction was shame. The same shame that I felt back when I was in a violent marriage. It’s a sort of guilt that would make me crawl into a shell and remain silent. But today, for a reason I can’t explain, I’d had enough. I knew I had an answer to everyone’s question of why victims of violence stay. I can’t speak for Janay Rice, I can only speak for me.”
To uproot antiblackness would be to uproot modern society… but I’m sleep…
Columbia student will carry her mattress until her rapist exits school
September 2, 2014
While most students at Columbia University will spend the first day of classes carrying backpacks and books, Emma Sulkowicz will start her semester on Tuesday with a far heavier burden. The senior plans on carrying an extra-long, twin-size mattress across the quad and through each New York City building – to every class, every day – until the man she says raped her moves off campus.
“I was raped in my own bed,” Sulkowicz told me the other day, as she was gearing up to head back to school in this, the year American colleges are finally, supposedly, ready to do something about sexual assault. “I could have taken my pillow, but I want people to see how it weighs down a person to be ignored by the school administration and harassed by police.”
Sulkowicz is one of three women who made complaints to Columbia against the same fellow senior, who was found “not responsible” in all three cases. She also filed a police report, but Sulkowicz was treated abysmally – by the cops, and by a Columbia disciplinary panel so uneducated about the scourge of campus violence that one panelist asked how it was possible to be anally raped without lubrication.
So Sulkowicz joined a federal complaint in April over Columbia’s mishandling of sexual misconduct cases, and she will will hoist that mattress on her shoulders as part savvy activism, part performance art. “The administration can end the piece, by expelling him,” she says, “or he can, by leaving campus.”
As painful as I know the constant reminder of attending school with her rapist must be, I’m glad she won’t be the only one forced to remember. I hope the rapist drops out immediately…or better yet, I hope he faces the justice he deserves.Where is the rapist’s information? why is his identity being withheld?
"From 2006 to 2012, a white police officer killed a black person at least twice a week in this country." - MHP
I am fearful. For the moment you are conceived, I can no longer protect you. For the moment your budding body begins to push against the confines of my belly, you are under attack. For the moment you come out kicking and screaming, drawing your first breath, you are at war. For no reason other than the greatest gift I can give you: my Blackness.
Baby, the world you will fill does not want you. Though it needs your strength, your tenacity, your softness, your kindness, your voice, it does not want you. And this stirs up a tumultuous, turbulent wind within my soul. For I already dream about the warmth of your smile and the grace in your touch. For I already dream about the possibilities twinkling in your eye.
But I know they will try to strip you of your right to be. Where you push, they will push harder. Where you enter, they will promptly show you the exit. Where you speak, they will silence you. But you must push, you must enter, and you must speak. You must be.
Still, I am fearful. For there, on the concrete, lay the lifeless body of Michael Brown – slain in broad daylight under the heat of the summer sun. And baby, I am fearful. For I know the same sun will shine on you.
My heart beats heavily for his mother. I encourage her as she summons the strength she must now show in this hour of vulnerability and transforms into the beacon of light she must be in the darkness of this space. But yet, I am fearful, for I know her tears may very well become my own.
I wish I could take this moment to reminisce on a time when Black motherhood was easy, and I wish that I could find reassurance in the stories of my foremothers. But I cannot, because the overarching darkness imposed by this world threatens to take you away from me. It always has.
Black mothers have known and continue to know the weight of birthing life into these conditions. We knew it in 1662, when law dictated the very chains of our enslavement to be inheritable. We are reminded of it when our daughters and our sons are stripped down because of the midnight blacks, chocolate browns, caramels, and high yellows we have given them. And I am reminded of it, dread at knowing it when I muse about the beauty of brown masterfully coating your limbs.
Even now, I fret about how best to prepare you to cope with the weight of this world without nullifying the virtue of your station in life. For you will know community, brotherhood, and love; but forces outside of your control threaten to nullify your very existence. Your teachers will see a man in the little body you inhabit, and law enforcement will see you as a menace, a risk.
And nothing can protect you from this, not even your mommy, though I will try, as I try now to preserve my hopefulness in this continuum of hopelessness.
But still, how do I prevent the very real dangers surrounding you from crushing and overwhelming the sanctity of your childhood? I believe there is a God, and I believe in the power of his wonders, the strength in his protection. But to see your forefathers and brothers butchered, annihilated by the very forces sworn to protect them, it leaves me anxious. And I am anxious for I know myself to not be strong enough to lose you, even now.
Am I to present these perils to you up-front and repetitively? Am I to be harsh, or gentle? Am I to tell you to take the submissive, but safe route by maintaining an almost nauseating degree of respect for law enforcement? Or am I to encourage you to assert your rights firmly? Or am I to pretend, dream that you will know this world differently than I do now?
I am nineteen, and ideally, you are years away from me. I promise that I will better grasp how to tackle this dilemma by the time you arrive. But now, still, I worry; and still, I am fearful. For the joy of the bond we will share will always be overshadowed by the gnawing truth that I have birthed you into a world in which you are out of place. I yearn for you, but yet I am discouraged, intimidated.
But still, I know that I will learn how to aid you in developing into the man you desire to be, have been called to be. Even now, I know that you are being fashioned into a purpose, destined for greatness in your own right, and even now, I know that you are loved.
And still, even now, I know that I must give you a chance, even when the rest of the world will not.
Krislyn Domingue is a rising sophomore, Sociology & Anthropology and Comparative Women’s Studies double major at Spelman College in Atlanta, Georgia. She enjoys reading, writing, and sipping Chai Tea. Email: firstname.lastname@example.org; Twitter: @krislynsd
Read my original post on For Harriet.
A 24-year-old man has died after being shot by police during an encounter in the Florence neighborhood of South Los Angeles, officials said Tuesday.
The incident began at 8:12 p.m. when officers responded to a report of a shooting at the intersection of West 65th Street and South Broadway, said Lt. Ellis Imaizumi of the Los Angeles Police Department.
Eight minutes later, at 8:20 p.m., the officers stopped a man who was walking in the 200 block of 65th, authorities said.
“A struggle ensued” and police opened fire, according to a statement from the Police Department.
The man was transported to a hospital where he underwent surgery, according to Officer Sara Faden, spokeswoman for the LAPD. He later succumbed to his injuries. No officers were hurt in the incident.
It is unknown if the suspect has any gang affiliations, police said.
A woman who said she was the deceased man’s mother identified him as Ezell Ford.
Tritobia Ford said her son was lying on the ground and complying with the officers’ commands when he was shot.
Yet another one…It’s always a “struggle.” And why bring it up if it’s unknown. They know exactly what they’re insinuating. Be fearful of black people and not the police… This is insanity.
THIS WAS LAST NIGHT
”The state is currently spending five times more for the education for a white child than it is fitting to educate a colored child. That means better textbooks for that child than for that child. I say that’s a shame, but my opponent says today is not the day for whites and coloreds to go to the same college. To share the same campus. To walk into the same classroom. Well, would you kindly tell me when that day is gonna come? Is it going to come tomorrow? Is it going to come next week? In a hundred years? Never? No, the time for justice, the time for freedom, and the time for equality is always, is always right now!”
The conviction in her voice still gives me chills. Jurnee is such a phenomenal actress. It’s sad we don’t get to see more of her gift…
Jurnee is easily one of the greatest actresses in the industry.She is brilliant and the message is still relevant
I got goosebumps just reading the words. I loved her i this movie. She is a fabulous actress!
August 11, 1973: The Birth of Hip-Hop
On this day in 1973, DJ Kool Herc dropped a new sound that changed history. While DJ’ing at his sister’s back-to-school party, Herc tried something new on the turntable: he extended an instrumental beat (scratching the track) to let people dance longer (break dancing) and began MC’ing (rapping) during the extended breakdancing. And so DJ Kool Herc set hip-hop on its dynamic evolution towards the expressive art form it is today.
Kid Fury Tweets About the St. Louis Protests