Activists Remember Ahmaud Arberry

Activists Remember Ahmaud Arberry

By Nadrat Siddique

Over the weekend, I did the "Run for Maud 5k," an event held both in person (in Atlanta, GA), and virtually. Being outside the ATL, I selected the virtual version. I'd just finished a grueling 10-hour work shift, plus four hours of responsibilities as a caregiver, and was on four hours of sleep. I wanted nothing better than to go home and crash. But, I just had to run for Maud.

We remember Ahmaud Arberry (May 8, 1994 - February 23, 2020)

Every murder of an innocent should shake us to the core. But, as a runner, this one particulularly grips my soul. Why? It was the murder of a young man in the prime of his life. (Ahmaud was just 25 when he was killed.)

He was engaged in my favorite activity in the whole world, running. Like me, running was his passion. In addition to running, he'd made his mark on the sports arena: He was a star football player at his high school.
On the day that Ahmaud was killed, he wasn't hurting anyone. He was just out for a jog, and made the "mistake" of stopping by a home which was under construction, likely to admire it.
The home, it seemed, was "on the wrong side of the railroad tracks."
White racists- three of them- chased him down in their gun-laden pickup trucks. One of them struck him with his truck before death. Another of them briefly fought the cornered young man, who tried at first to cross to the other side of the street to get away from the attackers, then realized he had no choice but to fight for his life.
Then, one or more of the White racist/terrorists opened fire on Ahmaud. He was hit three times, including in two different parts of the chest. He was still alive when the police arrived. They were very friendly with Ahmaud's assailants. It turned out that two of the three attackers had a "law enforcement" background.
Not surprisingly, the DA's office refused to issue any arrest warrants for two months, and only did so in response to massive protests, including by the New Black Panther Party, NAACP, and others.
This is terrorism directed at America's black population. It reminds me of the White Supremacist/Zionist terror directed against young Palestinian men in Gaza. They, too, can't walk or run down the streets in their own neighborhood without fear of assault, jailing, kidnapping, or death, by people who think they are more entitled to be there than anyone else.
The Run with Maud 5k is held every August to mark Ahmaud's birthday. It is organized by the Ahmaud Arberry Foundation, with proceeds going to create safe places for black boys to run. You can walk, run, or donate:
https://ahmaudarberyfoundation.org

The Ahmaud Arberry Foundation was set up by Wanda Cooper-Jones, Ahmaud's extremely courageous mother, who made it her aim to create safe spaces for Black boys to learn, to grow, and to run. May the Creator give her solace and strength as she celebrates her son's birthday knowing he will never return from another run.

#BlackLivesMatter #PalestinianLivesMatter #RunForMaud #FreePalestine

Bringing Aafia to the Women’s March

By Nadrat Siddique

January 18, 2020
Washington, DC

I attended the Women’s March today. The mass action originated in 2017 with Donald Trump’s election, and was in its fourth year. Although I live in the DC area, and as my friends and family know, I rarely say “no” to a protest or rally for justice, it was my first time participating.

I was not convinced, by any means, of either the agenda or the modus operandi of the very White, very liberal feminist organizers. My primary objective in participating was to keep the name of Dr. Aafia Siddiqui in the public eye. The Pakistani neuroscientist-turned political prisoner was now in her 14th year of imprisonment for a crime she clearly could not have committed, and after a few murmurings from the government of Pakistani President Imran Khan about “bringing our sister home” (the suggestion was to repatriate Aafia as part of a negotiation between Pakistan and the U.S.), she seemed once again forgotten by those in the seats of power on both sides of the Atlantic.

But, it was not just about Aafia. To me, Aafia is symbolic of the many Muslim women prisoners who are abused, neglected, forcibly de-hijabed, raped, tortured, shackled, or separated from their children—all away from public scrutiny. Such treatment is commonplace not only in prisons on the mainland U.S., but also in U.S. “Black sites,” in Israeli prisons (whose interrogators and security personnel are frequently U.S.-trained), and in the prisons of U.S.-sponsored or supported dictators like Salman bin Abulaziz (Saudi Arabia) and Bashir Al-Assad (Syria). A women’s march with no mention of the suffering of all of these women would reinforce the idea that this was a privileged White Women’s bitchin’ fest.

The Women’s March organizers were, well, organized. There was not only the March on Saturday, but workshops and other events all week to build for it. These included a panel discussion Monday night called “Why Women Lead on Climate.” Tuesday night saw a panel entitled “Reproductive Rights, Health, and Justice, and the 2020 Landscape.” Wednesday night’s event was billed “Solidarity and the Immigration Justice Movement.” On Thursday afternoon, a shifting of gears occurred, as activists headed to the White House for a “No War on Iran” protest, which included non-violent direct action (civil disobedience). That evening, the women settled in to make posters for the upcoming protest at a “poster-making party.” On Friday afternoon, march organizers held a press conference at Freedom Plaza, the starting point for the March the next day. That night, they held a networking session for youth activists. And on Sunday, the day after the March, a “Fourth Wave Drag Lunch” was held, where participants had an opportunity to meet the March leadership. It was organized to a T, as only women can organize.

The website had numerous options for endorsing, contributing, and getting text updates for the March itself. There was a major pumping of Women’s March merchandise, on the website, as well as in follow-up emails and texts sent to recipients who opted in to receive updates.

(Amusingly, when I attempted to sign up for text updates, the system asked how much I would like to contribute. I checked the box for “$0, unable to contribute at this time,” as I did not wish to donate to what I considered a privileged, predominantly White feminist march. The system would not allow me proceed unless I contributed! I relented and checked the box for a hefty $5. Viola! I was registered to receive updates from the March.)

The Women’s March website had a map delineating the precise march route. That morning, I ran the Martin Luther King Day 5k in Carderock. It was 26 degrees during the race, and there was light snow on the trail we ran. After the race, I was in dire need of de-thawing. As a result, I arrived a little late at the March. Despite my late arrival, I was able to locate the march with ease—thanks to the map issued by the organizers.

By the time I arrived near Freedom Plaza, the starting and ending point of the protest, light snow had changed to rain and freezing rain. Mere blocks away from the protest, I nearly turned tail and left. It seemed highly unlikely that they would persevere in freezing cold precipitation. And yet, there they were.

As I caught up to the March, I realized its scale. Although far less than the 200,000 of the original 2017 Women’s March, which arose in response to Trump’s election, the women (and their male allies) were in the tens of thousands. As an organizer, I know how hard it is to keep up the momentum of a movement or protest action, and I applauded them for their resilience.

The predominantly White women marchers carried signs like “Impeach the Rapist,” “Keep Abortion Legal,” “Trump/Pence Out Now,” “Cage the Con, Not the Kids,” “Rise Up for the Earth,” “Reproductive Justice for All,” and “Fight the Climate Crisis, Not Birth Control.” When they reached the White House, they sang and danced to the song "Un violador en tu camino" ("A Rapist in Your Path"), following the lead of the Chilean protest group Lastesis.

I walked with the marchers briefly, then took up a position on a park bench across from DAR Constitution Hall, near the Ellipse with my sign for Dr. Aafia. The sign, which I’d hastily penned the night before, read: “Pakistani Women say: FREE DR. AAFIA SIDDIQUI, U.S. political prisoner.” Thousands of marchers passed, clearly intrigued by my sign. I received numerous thumbs up, fist pumps, waves of sympathy, and nods of appreciation. As my sign was unusual, many wanted to photograph it. Some of the marchers had heard of Aafia’s case. Others were intensely curious about who she was, why and where she was in prison, and whether I was related to her. It was an overwhelming positive vibe from the marchers, and I was glad I was there.

A while later, I could see the last few contingents of the march approaching. As my hands were numb from cold, I rejoined the group and headed back towards Freedom Plaza. En route, I stopped and did a brief Facebook live presentation on Aafia, and why I was there. Very soon thereafter, my colleague from the Aafia Foundation, Mauri Saalakhan, who has advocated for Aafia from the onset of her travails, shared the video with over thirty Facebook groups. This resulted in 3,400 views and 229 shares. Alhamdulillah.

Analysis

In July 2019, three of the founding board members of the Women’s March, Tamika Mallory, Bob Bland, and Linda Sarsour were forced to resign, in the face of allegations of “anti-semitism” (Orwellian Doublespeak for anything which questions, or fails to toe the line of the Zionists, however remotely). One more, Carmen Perez, was the target of similar accusations, but remained on the board. She did, however, have to write numerous op-eds apologizing for the Women’s March’s failure to address anti-semitism in a timely fashion.

Ostensibly to increase diversity in the leadership of the Women’s March, a 17-member Board of Directors was brought in. Of these, three are Jewish (Ginna Green, Ginny Goldman, and Rabbi Tamara Cohen), one is transgender (Isa Noyola), and one is queer (Charlene Carruthers). There are two Muslim women (Palestinian-American Samia Assed; and San Francisco CAIR’s Zahra Billoo).

But, the March’s aim of inclusivity and increasing diversity evidently did not extend to the denizens of the host city. Black Lives Matter-DC was outright excluded from the planning and logistics of the March. (This resulted in the American Civil Liberties Union’s DC chapter boycotting the March in solidarity with BLM-DC.) In addition to ignoring BLM, the Women’s March leadership failed to reach out to other prominent Black activist groups in DC, like the National Black United Front (NBUF), the Pan-African Community Action (PACA), the Nation of Islam, the Clara Muhammad School, Masjid Al-Islam, or the All-African Peoples’ Revolutionary Party (A-APRP), in advance of the event.

The Women’s March states as its three major focus areas: immigration, climate, and reproductive justice. Given this, and the current leadership, it was not surprising that there was no voicing of key Muslim concerns: the ongoing incarceration of Muslim political prisoners; the government’s failure to close Guantanamo; the continued U.S. bombing of Syria and Iraq; and U.S. support for Israeli Apartheid. While privileged White women marched for the right to have an abortion, women in Iraq and Syria yearned for the right not to have a U.S. missile land in their living room; or to have drinking water clear of cholera, and soil free of depleted uranium.

Major concerns of the Black and Brown community, like police brutality, the school-to-prison pipeline, and mass incarceration, while marginally present in the Women’s March in previous years, seemed almost completely absent at the 2020 march. To hold a protest in a historically Black city—and yet neglect such key issues seemed to me a major shortcoming of the March.

Even the timing of the March, on Martin Luther King Day weekend, seemed to me an act of hubris. It meant that DC’s limited resources—subways, buses, cafes, porta-potties, and much else—would go to serve the Women’s March, instead of for MLK Day activities. The women in the pussy hats had learned imperial patriarchy well.

© 2020 Nadrat Siddique

Standing with Black Lives Matter-Columbia

So I finally made it to my first Black Lives Matter-Columbia vigil today, a few hours after completing the B&A Trail Marathon. The vigil is held at a very busy intersection at one of the entrances to Columbia Mall. It was an excellent turnout, with an entire shoulder on one side of the road filled with folk holding signs saying "Black Lives Matter," invoking the names of Philando Castille and other victims of police murders; decrying the school-to-prison pipeline; or calling for justice for all. There was a smaller but energetic group of activists on the other side of the road as well.

I stood with the larger group of activists in my shalwar kameez, seemingly the only Pakistani in attendance (unfortunate because the Columbia area has a very sizable Indo-Pak population).

Amazingly, the young white woman next to me, whom I'd met at a recent NAACP meeting, was also a marathoner. (She was preparing to run Boston in a little more than a week!) She told me she attends the vigil each month. I carried a sign saying "We stand with the family of Terrence Sterling; Stop Police Murders," which I'd hastily penned after running the 26.2 that morning.

Sterling was a 31-year old resident of Fort Washington (a DC outskirt). In 2016, he was riding his motorcycle--unarmed--when he was shot in the neck by police, who claimed he deliberately backed his motorcycle into a police cruiser. No criminal charges were brought against the officers involved.

Participants at the BLM-Columbia vigil were of all races and ethnicities, with a high degree of White participation. The Howard County NAACP chapter was there in force. Numerous candidates running in the upcoming local elections were also present. The vigil was entirely peaceful, with the greatest perturbation being the constant beeping of horns by passing motorists in support of the vigil.

It was a great day to stand up for justice.

Baltimore Marathon Blues

By Nadrat Siddique

 

So, I ran the Baltimore Marathon (26.2 miles) this morning. It was my third time running it. Although I've always considered myself a DC girl, I have grown to love Baltimore, and its people, and was aching to run the race, which I'd been unable to run since 2012. I was quite conflicted about running the race, and did not register until late last night, only a few hours before the event, something unheard off for most amateur athletes engaging in such a major undertaking.

 

The reason for my hesitation was the corporate sponsorship of the race. Among others, Under Armour had signed on to the event. The corporate giant, which now competes with Nike and has its headquarters in Baltimore, play a key role in the Greater Baltimore Committee (GBC), a conglomerate of corporate interests, which control Baltimore's economics with an iron hand. And- the Greater Baltimore Committee--Zionists who assisted in crushing April's Baltimore Uprising--are heavily complicit in the gentrification of Baltimore's Inner Harbor. They have succeeded in driving Baltimore's native Black population out of the area, grabbing up land, developing it, and selling it at prices completely out of reach for most Baltimore natives. A mere condo on Baltimore's newly gentrified Inner Harbor easily goes for $500,000 - $600,000.

 

I see commonality between the practices of the GBC, and those of the IDF (Israeli Defense Force) in Occupied Palestine. In the Palestinian case, settlements are built by Israeli settlers. These homes are then completely off limits for Palestinian habitation, a situation no less than Apartheid South Africa. And the original Palestinian inhabitants, whose land was seized to facilitate the influx of the Zionist settlers, are forced to relocate to Bantustans where they live under dismal, depraved conditions. As you might imagine, I was very troubled by the fact that my $130 registration fee, although meager in the larger scheme of things, might be seen even symbolically as a support of the White Supremacist design for Baltimore. On top of that, I was getting warning messages from some not-so-friendly quarters not to run the race.

 

I compromised and paid the registration fee, deciding to run to deliver my message "Black Lives Matter," contained on a black tee-shirt I'd acquired, hoping for an opportunity to offer solidarity from my Pakistani people to that important movement at some point.

 

I did not see anyone else at the Baltimore marathon representing the Black Lives Matter movement, either running or spectating. But I received kudos from many spectators, including Whites, who yelled out "Black lives matter," to which I responded, "Stop police brutality!" One Black man yelled out at me, "All lives matter!" I pumped my fist at him: "Black lives matter!" I crossed the finish line in 3 hrs 42 mins, a new record for me (also a Boston Marathon qualifying performance) for that distance. I attribute it to the love I have developed over the last few years for Baltimore, and to the Power of the Almighty.