Stockholm anti-racist demonstration, 1994. Photo Credit Tidskriftsföreningen Offensiv, courtesy of WikiMedia Commons After the Stockholm Socialist Forum ends, we walk to a restaurant. I was in a panel talking about the presidential election in Chile, where my father is from, and the possibility of a win for left wing candidate Jeanette Jara . . .
Read More
Photo from Emergency Committee on the Transportation Crisis, DC Public Library, 1969. In October, U.S. National Park Service employees reinstalled a statue of Confederate military officer Albert Pike at the corner of Third and D Streets NW in Washington, DC’s Judiciary Square. Pike died in 1891 and Congress approved the statue’s initial . . .
Read More
At 11:30 a.m. on Tuesday November 25th, my husband Peter gets an alert that ICE is attempting a house raid nearby. We jump in the car. Several blocks from the address, we encounter Saint Paul police, flashers on, barring all roads. Saint Paul officially has a separation ordinance that prohibits police from . . .
Read MoreWhen the first ceasefire of the year was first announced, on January 19th, 2025, at around 10:00 a.m., celebrations broke out all over Gaza. For those who had remained steadfast in the north, the truce meant the killing had finally stopped, and those who had been displaced to the south were celebrating . . .
Read More
This piece is excerpted from Media, Culture, and Decolonization: Re-righting the Subaltern Histories of Ghana, to be published on 9th December 2025 by Rutgers University Press. Even though Ghana Television (GTV) began transmission in 1965, it wasn’t until 1985 that Ghanaians had access to color television. And it was not until 1989 . . .
Read More
l. to r. Frank Corcoran, US Marine Corps, Purple Heart in Vietnam; Mike Felker, US Navy Corpsman assigned to Marine Corps infantry in Vietnam; Art Sharon, US Air Force, Vietnam-era; Bill Ehrhart, US Marine Corps, Purple Heart in Vietnam; Gene Cleaver, US Marine Corps, Purple Heart in Vietnam. Photo courtesy of Mike Felker. . . .
Read More
My name is Sarah Mahmoud. I was born twenty-eight years ago in Jabalia, northern Gaza. My father was a teacher, and my mother a devoted homemaker, who held our family together with love and patience. I was the youngest of five sisters—Dalal, Hazar, Ghada, and two others. In those days, our home . . .
Read More
This piece first appeared on African Feminism. As people living at the intersection of multiple oppressions, legacies of slavery and colonialism, and neocolonial capture of our nations, we must remain extremely vigilant for erasure and appropriation of our voice and agency. African feminisms cannot exist in spaces where struggles of other colonized . . .
Read MoreJuly 26th was a day like many others in Gaza. I woke up at 8:00 a.m. to fetch four gallons of potable water from the truck that would come every day to the school where my family and I had been displaced. After completing that daily mission, I was already exhausted. I . . .
Read MoreIt’s 5:50 in the morning, just ten minutes before the university bus is supposed to arrive. I should be rushing to catch it and head to my classes in Gaza, just like I used to every day. But today, I’m trapped in a nightmare from which I can’t awake. The alarm ringing . . .
Read More