We did have footage. But whether it was a photo of a Congolese man staring at the severed foot & hand of his 5 y/o daughter or Dr.s sharing CT scans of bullets in the heads of Palestinian kids, neither awareness nor compassion nor reason has ever halted the colonizer’s violence.
RIP Ka, rap's greatest minimalist, Brownsville's finest, inimitably dedicated himself to his city & craft. The master of quiet rage, writing zen koans with unremitting soul & passion. Pain, grief & wisdom in every bar. An artist as pure & real as anyone who ever spit cold facts.
“I recognised her by her roller skate. I approached it and found her lying on the ground, taking her last breaths." says Hussam Abu Ajwa, father of Tala, a 10-year-old girl murdered by the Israeli military in Gaza this week.
On Tuesday, Israeli forces slaughtered 10-year-old Tala Abu Ajwa while roller skating with friends outside her home in Gaza City. 🧵
Tulane plays a direct role in imperialist violence globally, partnering with imperialist spy agencies to advance U.S. hegemony.
The curriculum of counterinsurgency.
The settler university exists to reproduce the global white Civilizational project.
ABOLISH THE UNIVERSITY™️!
Read.
"I came to search for the remains of my son, who had gone ahead to the dawn prayer. Someone gave me a bag of 23 kilograms and said, 'This is your son; bury him.' As I carried him, I remembered a day when I was coming back with him from the market, carrying a heavy bag. He, in complete filial piety, asked to carry it for me. He went to his mother happily, boasting of his manhood, singing in front of his siblings, and teasing them that he carried all this weight alone for his father. His siblings embraced him, and his mother prayed for his long life and goodness. Now, once again, you precede me with the bag to the house, my son. But how do I convince them that you are the one inside it? That your laughter, which used to fill the house, your thin arms that you used to use to spar with your siblings, your head that used to rest on your grandmother’s lap, and your feet that tirelessly searched for water—all have become one in this bag. When your mother asks me in a bitter Gazan tone, 'Do you know if there is any electricity, Abu Saleh? Where will I store all this?'—all the goodness we give to the neighbors—how will I tell her, my son, that what’s in this bag is not suitable for charity, and that 23 kilograms of remains is our share of death this week?"