Petition for Dr. Aafia Siddiqui

We, the undersigned, petition:

Donald J. Trump

Greg Abbott

Department of Justice

William Barr (Attorney General of the United States)

Eric S. Dreiband (Assistant U.S. Attorney General for Civil Rights Division, DOJ)

Ken Paxton (Attorney General of Texas)

Michael Carvajal (Director, Federal Bureau of Prisons)

Kathleen Hawk Sawyer (Director, Federal Bureau of Prisons)

Release or Home Confinement for Dr. Aafia Siddiqui from Coronavirus-Infected Prison

Dr. Aafia Siddiqui, a Pakistani neuroscientist, is serving an 86-year term at FMC Carswell. Carswell is a prison-cum-medical facility for female prisoners. Other than Seagoville Prison, which is also located in the Dallas-Fort Worth area and has 1,359 cases, Carswell has the largest COVID-19 outbreak of any U.S. prison. According to Bureau of Prisons own website, the number of reported cases there is 542. (Other sources place it even higher, at 571.) Carswell’s inmate population totals 1,357. That makes the current infection rate at the facility 40%. Three female prisoners, Andrea Circle Bear, Sandra Kincaid, and Teresa Ely, have died from the virus at the facility. Of these dead women, Circle Bear, a 34-year old Native American, was much younger than Dr. Siddiqui. So, the risk to Dr. Siddiqui is clearly grave.

According to the Appeal, a project of the Justice Collaborative, "There's no air conditioning; incarcerated women are confined to their cells; the commissary is closed indefinitely, so women are running out of basic hygiene products like soap and shampoo; the warden was nowhere to be found; women weren't getting necessary medical care; inedible meals arrived in brown sacks." The facility is also sorely lacking in cleaning supplies and PPE.

(Much of the information on conditions at Carswell originates with the Fort Worth Star-Telegram, a local news outlet in the area, with no political agenda. The paper has been reporting on the situation there since April. The reports were later picked up by the local NBC affiliate, Time Magazine, and Newsweek.)

The bottom line is that Dr. Siddiqui, an MIT and Brandeis graduate, with no prior record of violence, and who was likely turned in by a vindicative, abusive ex-husband, has a greater than 40% chance of contracting Coronavirus while in U.S. custody. She is already in very poor physical, as well as mental health, having been denied timely medical treatment from a gunshot wound when she was captured in Afghanistan. The torture she endured while in captivity in Pakistan and Afghanistan exacerbated her physical condition. The death of her baby, Sulaiman, in the course of her arrest, and the imprisonment of her other two children, Ahmad and Mariam, along with her (they were each separately released years later), added to her grave mental trauma. 

Not one person was killed or injured in connection with the charges for which Dr. Siddiqui was convicted. And she was convicted in New York District Court, on the basis of ambiguous and highly contradictory testimony, due largely to the climate of fear and Islamophobia which existed at the time. Upon her conviction, she called for her supporters to stay calm, and to refrain from violence. She has continued to maintain her innocence throughout her 17-years of captivity.

Her sister, Dr. Fowzia Siddiqui, a Pakistan-based physician who holds a degree from Harvard University, has long spearheaded a national campaign in Pakistan, calling for her release. In Pakistan, the broad masses of people believe Dr. Siddiqui to be innocent, and the prevailing view is one of disbelief that the U.S., which touts itself as a supporter of women's rights, has accorded torture, solitary confinement, and now (the prospect of) COVID-19 to this Pakistani woman neuroscientist.

Supporters from the Aafia Foundation and other groups hold annual rallies outside FMC Carswell calling for her release. Human rights advocates in London, Durban, New York, Boston, and other cities worldwide regularly march calling for Dr. Siddiqui's release.

Countries like China and Russia are often associated with the jailing of scientists. The U.S. need not join their ranks. Dr. Siddiqui's release on humanitarian grounds from a COVID-infected prison would open the door to improved U.S.-Pakistan relations.

Dr. Aafia Siddiqui, is neither a threat to public welfare, nor a flight risk. She has suffered enough. We ask that she be released to home confinement with supporters in Maryland; or, that she be repatriated to Pakistan, where her elderly mother and her children have long awaited her. As COVID-19 ravages Texas prisons, particularly Carswell, Dr. Siddiqui’s life may depend upon it.

Sign the petition here.

Weekend Killing Spree in Chicago: Fruit of a Genocidal Plan

Father's Day weekend brought tragedy to Chicago. One hundred four (104) people, including five children were shot. In response, many Muslim commentators took to social media, and imams to the pulpit to denounce the violence. "Stop killing each other!" was the most common admonishment. In my opinion, such statements reveal both lack of social consciousness, and a lack of awareness of U.S. history, and of the workings of the Prison Industry.

To me, the surge in killings seem the inevitable result of the CIA's dumping of guns and drugs into the Black community. Although I don't have proof, I think it's entirely possible, following the observed patterns under which COINTELPRO has operated in the past, that some or all of the killings are being instigated by the authorities, and/or the right wing, with the collusion of the authorities. When the right conditions are set up by the enemy, a segment of the population will engage in such behavior. What is telling is how and whether these murders are solved. In Baltimore, for example, spates of killings of Blacks (ostensibly Black on Black) occur. Are these murders solved? Rarely.

Why do they remain unsolved? Just as it is the job of the police to protect and serve the public, it is their job (along with that of the DA) to solve such crimes, and prosecute the killers. When it comes to the Black community, they clearly abdicate their responsibility in the former function (ie protecting and serving). However, we are naive enough to believe they fulfill the latter when it comes to the Black community (ie solving crimes and prosecuting the perpetrators).

If even one little White girl is kidnapped or killed, massive resources are expended to resolve the case. Not so in the case of Black children who are murdered. To have so many unsolved murders is highly suspicious and problematic. Black activists have even propounded the idea that some or all of these killings are committed, or at least instigated by police. I don't think it is overly far-fetched.

The prevailing White Supremacist line since the police murder of George Floyd and the subsequent tidal wave of righteous anger and protest seems to be: "Well, what about when they kill each other? Do Black lives matter then?" The intonation is that cops kill relatively few Blacks, and that Blacks are mindless and savage enough to engage in the senseless murder of their own. It seems an attempt to minimize, or even justify police killings. After all the sensationalizing of the "weekend of senseless killings" in Chicago, hopefully attention will remain on how--and how many of these murders were solved. If not, we should be demanding why.

--Nadrat Siddique

The Socio-Economics of Eid Sweets

Earlier, I stopped by Indus Food (Burtonsville location). It is my preferred spot for halal meat, spices, and naan. But today, I was there for mithai. (These are a class of very sweet Pakistani sweets. Their appearance, in many cases, is very similar to American fudge. However, the preparation is quite dissimilar, as mithai employs little to no butter, and is instead composed primarily of milk and sugar, with nuts and other ingredients added for flavor.)

There were few people in Indus Food, not nearly as many as I've seen there in previous years, so close to the Eid. Instead of the older "uncle" who frequently attends to the cash register, it was a young Muslim man. Similarly, Muslim youth were filling other positions in the store. Our faith teaches us to protect our elders, and I was glad to see this in action. But- there was NO fresh mithai!

I was looking specifically for Habshi Halwa, (these are chestnut brown-colored rectangles) and Kalakan (milky white rectangles, which especially look like fudge) for the Eid. But, aside from a big, open tray of gulab jaman and another of rasgolay, there was zero fresh mithai. Those two, and a frozen mithai sampler was all that was in the offing! And, as any authentic Pakistani knows, mithai doesn't freeze well.

Then it occurred to me that the dearth of Pakistani sweets was likely because the majority of it comes from Shaheen Sweets in New York. I truly pray for the poor and working class people in New York, including those associated with the manufacture of Pakistani sweets, that they may survive the pandemic. As we know, poverty accelerates Coronavirus, if for no other reason that underpaid workers are forced to live in close quarters, with large families sharing small facilities, and scarce time/space to maintain hygiene.

May Allah make it easier for all those compelled to work under difficult and dangerous conditions, and may He ease the burden of those struggling with limited/no income in these trying times.

Jamaat Al-Muslimeen Statement on the Death of Ahmaud Arbery

It is disgusting, and a travesty of justice that an innocent black jogger can be shot like an animal by White vigilantes, who chase him down without any provocation. We, of the Jamaat al-Muslimeen (Islamic Peoples' Movement) demand justice in this evident murder.

Thoughts on the Death of a Dear Friend/Co-Worker

This morning, I attended the funeral of a longtime co-worker and friend, Crystal Pierce. The Grace of God Ministries, the small church where it was held, sits on Baltimore's Millington Avenue (about 2.5 miles from where Freddie Gray was killed by police in 2015). It was filled to capacity.

Crystal was young, only a year older than me, but she had Stage 4 lung cancer. She would always see me running during my break at work, and encouraged me daily. "Damn, girl, you be tearing up that road," she'd say. And, "As much as you run, you do all the running for both of us!"

I gently encouraged her to take grape seed extract and resveratrol, both highly effective holistic treatments for lung damage due to smoking. "Hang up the cancer sticks, and come running with me," I would tell her. "I know you can do it; you have that natural athletic build!"

And I meant it. Crystal had played basketball in school, and retained her trim athletic body almost until the end. But, she never obliged me on the running.

She was feisty and didn't mince words, excellent traits for the shop steward she was at our work place. But, she was also very kind, caring, and helpful to anyone in her circle who needed it. When various co-workers were suspended or fired through no fault of their own, she would make sure they were okay, taking up collections for them, and reminding others to check on them.

At one point, I was in the process of leaving an abusive marriage, and my ex- was stalking me, even coming to my job, threatening to smash my car windshield. Crystal was very supportive, saying she would beat him up for me, if necessary, and offering to walk me to my car at the end of my work shift. (I was fearful of being intercepted on the way to my car for many weeks in the course of that breakup.) Thankfully I never had to take her up on her offer. But, when one is enduring such a trial, it is comforting to know you have a friend like Crystal looking out. I only wish I could have been there for her in her health challenges.

May you rest in peace, dear friend.

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

Jamaat Al-Muslimeen Statement on the Death of Robert Seth Hayes

Former Black Panther Party/ BLA member Robert Seth Hayes was released from prison in August 2018. He'd been held for 45-years for a crime he didn't commit. This was even though his prison sentence was 25-years, and he was a model inmate. On December 21, 2019, having experienced freedom for a little over a year, he passed away.

Although very healthy when he was captured, Seth struggled for years with untreated diabetes and Hepatitis C in prison, and evidently it caught up to him. (He was repeatedly denied medical treatment for both conditions by the prison administration).

Jamaat al-Muslimeen is deeply aggrieved by his passing away after such maltreatment. We offer condolences to his family, and condemn the U.S. for its longterm internment of BPP/BLA political prisoners like Seth on trumped up charges, as well as the government's refusal to acknowledge their political prisoner status.

--Nadrat Siddique

Letter on Tlaib and Omar Exclusion by Israel

To: Senator Ben Cardin; Senator Chris Van Hollen; Representative Ben Cardin

As a registered voter within the State of Maryland, I am deeply disturbed by Israel's selective exclusion of two members of the U.S. House of Representatives, Rashida Tlaib and Ilhan Omar, from its borders.

Israel is widely touted as being "Our Democratic Friend in the Middle East," but I cannot, for the life of me, fathom how such selective, and clearly racist exclusion of our esteemed Congresswomen can be reconciled with such a title.

It's high time that we re-examine the U.S. relationship with a state which clearly has a two-tiered system of justice, one for Muslims and Arabs, and one for its ostensible Jewish partisans. And, we might examine what benefits, really, the U.S. gets from the massive dole we give each year to Israel.

The exclusion of these two women of color, representatives of our democracy, is a clear indicator of Israel's modus operandi, and one can only imagine the civil liberties and other violations which Palestinians living under its control endure, if these two Congresswomen---far more empowered than that population--are accorded such treatment.

As a registered voter who regards Israel as a racist colonial-settler state, I deplore U.S. aid to that entity..

Sincerely,
Nadrat Siddique

Pakistani Woman Runs Boston Yet Again for Dr. Aafia Siddiqui - Letter to the Boston Globe

Almost immediately after running the 2019 Boston Marathon, I wrote to the Boston Globe expressing my concerns about political prisoner Dr. Aafia Siddiqui. I received the Globe's automated reply, stating the requirements—word limit, copyright (the letter could not have been published elsewhere), and writer identification—which had to be met for a letter to be considered for publication, along with the proclamation that a letter which didn’t appear in print within ten days had likely not been selected for publication. It didn't. I was disappointed that the Globe would not publish it, if only for the novelty of a crazy Pakistani woman running yet another 26.2 miles in the name of a political prisoner. I felt I had adhered to all of the publication criteria. But—I was not at all surprised, considering the paper's previous heavily slanted reporting on Aafia's case. My (unpublished) letter to the Globe read as follows:

April 16, 2019

Letters to the Editor

The Boston Globe

1 Exchange Place, Suite 201

Boston, MA 02109-2132

letter@globe.com

Dear editor,

In the field of 26,632 people running the Boston Marathon on Monday, I was one of very few (perhaps the only) Pakistani women to take on the daunting course. A time-qualified entrant, my current and penultimate marathon PRs are 3:41 (NCR Trail Marathon) and 3:42 (Baltimore Marathon), both set within the last five years. At age 50, I am pleased to say Boston 2019 was my 42nd marathon (my second time running it).

I ran Boston to call attention to the plight of Dr. Aafia Siddiqui, a Pakistani Muslim woman neuroscientist, degreed by the prestigious M.I.T.  Aafia once lived and studied in the beautiful city of Boston.

Today she is imprisoned in Texas, having first been kidnapped by authorities in Pakistan. This occurred during the period when “secret renditions” were common in Pakistan, then her place of residence. Aafia was tortured and likely raped in prison in Pakistan and Afghanistan. After that, she was brought to New York, and put on trial.

Previously very healthy and vibrant, the petite neuroscientist was wheeled into court in a wheelchair by her jailors. The court disallowed nearly all exculpatory evidence which could have helped her, but allowed highly conflicting and emotional (anti-Muslim) evidence to be presented.  Soon, Aafia was convicted and sent to FMC Carswell.

The unspeakable injustice being done to this woman is the reason I braved the pouring rain, and then the midday heat to run my second Boston Marathon. It was one of the most challenging of the 42 marathons I’ve run, and my finish time did not remotely approach either my PR, or my qualifying time. The only saving grace was that I did not resort to walking, not even on Heart Break Hill.

My reason for running made it all worthwhile. Aafia, or Behan Aafia (our sister Aafia), as we Pakistanis call her. In Pakistan, there is near universal sentiment that she is innocent and ought to be released.

My tee bore the words “Free Dr. Aafia Siddiqui, along with a picture of her cherubic face in hijab. It drew occasional questions from fellow marathoners, and I was happy to share her story as we tackled hill after hill.

In a period when women’s rights have finally and appropriately gained center stage, why is the violation of rights of this innocent Pakistani woman allowed to continue? She has already endured 16 years of unjust imprisonment. I urge women’s rights organizations and movements, politicians, humanitarians, and media to look into her case, and to call for her immediate release.

Nadrat Siddique

#FreeAafiaSiddiqui #FreeAllPoliticalPrisoners #BostonMarathon

Running While Muslim, Running for Aafia

By Nadrat Siddique

Special to the New Trend

It was Patriot’s Day Monday in Boston, and I ran through torrential rain from my hotel to the Boston Common two miles away. I was there to run my second Boston Marathon, calling attention to the case of a small, slight Pakistani Muslim woman neuroscientist, being held political prisoner by the United States. Her name is Dr. Aafia Siddiqui.

Boston is very odd as far as marathons go, for three reasons. For one, unlike nearly all other races, which are held on the weekend, Boston is held on a Monday. And that Monday is nowhere a holiday except in Boston.

Secondly, the race starts for most runners—depending on one’s assigned start time—around 10:30 or 11:00 a.m., very late by racing standards. Nearly all other races start around 7:00 or 8:00 a.m., with some starting as early as 6:00 a.m., both to avoid the heat of the day, and to minimize traffic blockages. The late start means that a majority of Boston Marathon runners do the bulk of their running in the afternoon heat, which raises the specter of serious health risk.

The third major oddity about Boston is that the course is one-way, as opposed to a loop, or multiple loops, like most marathons. On race morning, we runners gathered at the Boston Common to be bused to the tiny town of Hopkinton, approximately 26 miles west of the city.  Once there, in what seemed a no-man’s land, we were, at our assigned time, to run our way back to Boston. In between were a multitude of colleges, hills, and screaming fans. The fans lined every mile of the course, making the race extremely boisterous. It is decidedly not the place for an introvert. The runners were overwhelmingly White, as were most of the fans. There were, relatively speaking, a small number of Asian and light-skinned Latino runners.

The race was sponsored by the financial giant John Hancock. The founding father’s name was everywhere, proudly plastered on our marathon medals, mylar blankets (reflective blankets given to runners post-race to prevent hypothermia), and other marathon paraphernalia and memorabilia. There was no discussion of the fact that Hancock, like the other founding fathers, was a slave owner.

In the Boston Common, we runners went through a checkpoint, to get to the yellow school buses which would carry us to the race start. We were told precisely what type of bag (clear plastic) could be carried on the buses. Grateful to be out of the rain, we boarded the buses under the direction of volunteers. The twenty-six mile bus trip took close to an hour. It provided a welcome opportunity for runners to dry off.

Once in the very white Hopkinton, we went through an additional checkpoint to the starting area. Repeatedly, it was emphasized that only the clear plastic bags provided by the race organizers could be used for bag check (ie to allow runners to leave essential items needed after the race in a common but secured holding area). Automated announcements repeated ad naseum that unattended bags (along the course) would be confiscated by authorities and might be destroyed. A large number of metropolitan police, as well as some military police with submachines (the number of the latter had diminished significantly since the 2017 race, which I’d run) lined the course. Army snipers were positioned on rooftops in Hopkinton and at various points along the course.

Many of the athletes represented corporate teams. These names, e.g. Dana Farber, were pre-printed on runners’ singlets (sleeveless running shirts). As I ran, I heard the corporate names yelled out frequently by spectators, far more often than individual names. To me, this was yet another indicator of the stranglehold of corporate culture in the U.S. At many smaller races, spectators call out runner’s names (sometimes printed on the runners bibs) as they pass. Or, they call out the runners’ bib numbers, or other identifying nouns based on runners’ attire to encourage them. Not so at Boston. Unlike at previous races where I’ve worn the same shirt, nary a person yelled for me, “Go Aafia!”

Some runners ran in memory of a deceased family member, whose name they wore on their shirt. A few had country affiliation on their shirts. The most interesting were the visually impaired runners. According to statistics which I read later on the race website, these numbered 44, and required a guide companion. Each runner/ guide pair held opposite ends of what looked like a connecting plastic bag to keep them together, with the guide wearing a tee saying “Blind Runner.”

No other runners, as far as I could tell by observation and later research, ran for a political prisoner. And this year, like the last, there appeared to be few, if any other Pakistani women. As I said the last time I ran Boston, I could only run this race for Aafia. It pained me, as I ran past the turnoff to M.I.T., where Aafia had once studied, to think of this petite woman, beloved mother of three, and star scholar, suffering in a tiny Texas prison cell for a crime she clearly did not commit. But—what pained me the most was that Muslims, even those who knew her during her time in the U.S., and all Muslim organizations, except for Jamaat al-Muslimeen and the Aafia Foundation, were willfully silent on her suffering. And silence is still complicity.

By now, I have run two National (Washington DC) Marathons, a Chicago Marathon, and two Boston Marathons in Aafia’s name. (All told, I have run 42 marathons, but many of them have been for my own personal edification/ challenge, which I also view as important.) I am obviously not a professional athlete, or particularly fast. My best mile time is 7:18, run at the International 5K in Columbia, MD, where I represented Pakistan (unofficially).

I am not paid by anyone to run for Aafia or other political prisoners. I run for them because I believe it is a fundamental part of my faith, Islam, to stand up for the oppressed.

The Qur’an says in Surat-ul Balad, “And what is the Ascent? It is to free a slave.” I view it as my responsibility to fight for the freedom of the modern day slaves, the political prisoners, whose existence, while denied by the U.S. government, is an unfortunate reality under the system of White Supremacy and the congruous imperialist wars.

In that capacity, I traveled to the Black Hills (SD) and Plymouth (MA), to run for Leonard Peltier; to Salt Lake City (UT) and Hyannis (MA), and to run for Mumia Abu Jamal (Black Panther political prisoner); to Chicago to run for Aafia; to Wilmington to run for (then-) Bradley Manning (Wikileaks whistleblower turned political prisoner); and now again to Boston to run for Aafia. There is always a way to speak out when grave injustice is occurring, however one chooses to do it. And for me, it is through running.

#FreeAafiaSiddiqui #FreeAllPoliticalPrisoners #BostonMarathon2019 #RunningForJustice

© 2019 Nadrat Siddique

This article first appeared in New Trend, April 21, 2019