Malalai Joya spoke at CUNY’s Graduate center on October 4th about the impact that 12 years—some say more—of U.S. presence in Afghanistan has had in that country. Joya was joined by Sharmin Hossain, a student activist at CUNY,who is organizing to get CIA war-criminal David Petraeus out of the school where he is currently teaching a course.
![]() |
Malalai Joya was a member of the Afghan parliament. She singlehandedly challenged Afghan warlords backed by US political power. |
Many things can be said about the discussion and how both of
these issues are connected. The "War on Terror" has spawned a lot of
hate that allows for U.S. intervention and for the general public to support
CUNY's choice in inviting Petraeus to teach an honors class at the school. Joya
spoke of her experience in parliament, of the dangers of being a woman in
Afghanistan, and of the U.S. funding of warlords. She showed some pictures of
young girls (as young as 4) who had been raped and killed, their murderers
still free.
Joya also called for the need to allow the people from Afghanistan to liberate themselves. The U.S. cannot save someone else she said—and indeed "saving" the people of Afghanistan is not the goal of the military presence in that country. Like in many other places, the "War on Terror" and national security are only an excuse for the use drones, Guantanamo Bay, military intervention in the Middle East, FBI spying on Muslims in New York City, and many more violations of human rights. All of these issues can be tied to an even bigger problem of criminalization of people of color. We have the largest prison population in the world. This population is comprised mostly of African Americans and people who committed non-violent, drug-related crimes. CUNY, as Hossain pointed out, has been heavily policing its campus, and allowing Petraeus to teach a class only normalizes the militarization of our schools and of our streets.
Joya also called for the need to allow the people from Afghanistan to liberate themselves. The U.S. cannot save someone else she said—and indeed "saving" the people of Afghanistan is not the goal of the military presence in that country. Like in many other places, the "War on Terror" and national security are only an excuse for the use drones, Guantanamo Bay, military intervention in the Middle East, FBI spying on Muslims in New York City, and many more violations of human rights. All of these issues can be tied to an even bigger problem of criminalization of people of color. We have the largest prison population in the world. This population is comprised mostly of African Americans and people who committed non-violent, drug-related crimes. CUNY, as Hossain pointed out, has been heavily policing its campus, and allowing Petraeus to teach a class only normalizes the militarization of our schools and of our streets.
![]() |
Sharmin Hossain is a youth mentor and a student activist organizing to oust David Petraeus out of CUNY. |
In the midst of all these violations committed by the
American government, the public says nothing. There was an outcry over Trayvon
Martin's death, but except for the occasional
attention that George Zimmerman gets, that seems to have died down.
And so our hands feel tied. To continue fighting, and to
feel that our voices are actually heard is difficult in times when even small
victories are cut short—like Herman Wallace who was finally released so that he
may spend his final days with loved ones, and still he was re-indicted by a
county prosecutor (!).
Malalai Joya's meeting was intense despite the small
turnout. Although she was tired from days of no sleep after a long flight, she
was still available to speak, sign books, and spread her anger among those of
us who were present. This raises the question, how does someone like her find
the strength to keep fighting when there seem to be no victories? How do we, the
activists who everybody
hates, keep fighting when it seems like we're so few and so weak among so
many uncaring people?
Behold the answer:
"At the risk of seeming ridiculous, let me say that the
true revolutionary is guided by a great feeling of love." –Che Guevara
Wow. Saying that love is the answer is so cheesy. I wish I
had a better response but as a young revolutionary who is just learning the
ropes, love is the main thing that guides me. I noticed it today. My coworker told
me that it's Thanksgiving in Canada, and for some reason we both laughed. I
responded "Well, they have healthcare to be thankful for, but we have a
government who's taking a break just to get away with not giving people the
American version of healthcare". His reply was that he has a lot to be
thankful for. He said that at least he's not enslaved, in prison, or sick.
In that moment, after hearing his answer I realized that
although I'm grateful because I too am not in prison or sick, or arguably not
enslaved, I am not actually okay. And that is because someone somewhere is
hurting as a result of capitalism. The only way in which I can express my
gratitude for the things that I have is by standing in solidarity with those
who can’t fight back.
I guess solidarity is a synonym of love.
bell hooks tells us in All About Love that "“When
angels speak of love they tell us it is only by loving that we enter an earthly
paradise. They tell us paradise is our home and love our true destiny.”
The neoliberal ideology of "survival of the
fittest" leads people away from love and into a place of selfishness and,
essentially, a loss of their own humanity. That’s why our earth is far away
from being a paradise.
One time, when I was probably around 11 years old, I was
walking down a busy street in Santiago de los Caballeros, Dominican Republic
with my mother when we saw a Haitian man being dragged by the arm by several
men. He was sweaty, scared, and clearly trying to run away. If I recall
correctly, I believe that he was wearing no shoes and his chest was showing. I
asked my mother what was happening, and she replied nonchalantly "oh, he
probably tried to steal something". Then she added that those men were
probably going to beat him up. She said this as if it was
nothing! As if it meant nothing. And no one
in that busy street seemed to care either. This is what the system does to
people: it strips them of their humanity and of their ability to love. Because of the racism against Haitians and negritude tied to global anti-blackness which Dominicans are victims of as well--a racism that is a symptom of white supremacy, a racism that many Dominicans are fighting against--the Dominicans in that street viewed that man as less
than human.
Although my memory of that moment is faint, my emotions
aren't. I do recall feeling sad, and I do remember thinking of that man for
several days. But no adults were around to tell me that my confusion was
completely understandable because that man's rights were being violated. Children are too young to be deeply corrupted
by the underlying racist ideologies of the capitalism system. Adults aren’t always safe of this corruption.
In moments when we are unable to stand up for what's right,
our humanity is violated. And it is violated mainly because we are stripped
away from our power to love.
bell hooks explains this process very well in the following
excerpt from her book:
The growing
number of gated communities in our nation is but one example of the obsession
with safety. With guards at the gate, individuals still have bars and elaborate
internal security systems. Americans spend more than thirty billion dollars a
year on security...
Culturally we bear witness to this
madness every day. We can all tell endless stories of how it makes itself known
in everyday life. For example, an adult white male answers the door when a
young Asian male rings the bell. We live in a culture where without responding
to any gesture of aggression or hostility on the part of the stranger, who is
simply lost and trying to find the correct address, the white male shoots him,
believing he is protecting his life and his property. This is an everyday
example of madness. The person who is really the threat here is the home owner
who has been so well socialized by the thinking of white supremacy, of
capitalism, of patriarchy that he can no longer respond rationally.
White supremacy has taught him that
all people of color are threats irrespective of their behavior. Capitalism has
taught him that, at all costs, his property can and must be protected.
Patriarchy has taught him that his masculinity has to be proved by the
willingness to conquer fear through aggression; that it would be unmanly to ask
questions before taking action. Mass media then brings us the news of this in a
newspeak manner that sounds almost jocular and celebratory, as though no
tragedy has happened, as though the sacrifice of a young life was necessary to
uphold property values and white patriarchal honor. Viewers are encouraged feel
sympathy for the white male home owner who made a mistake. The fact that this
mistake led to the violent death of an innocent young man does not register;
the narrative is worded in a manner that encourages viewers to identify with
the one who made the mistake by doing what we are led to feel we might all do
to “protect our property at all costs from any sense of perceived threat.
" This is what the worship of death looks like.
Indeed, those of us willing to fight for a better future for
society are simply fighting for love. And love is within every human being. One
of the tasks of each activist is to pretty much wake the people up and unmask
the loving human being beneath each person.
If love guides us, then we'll never stop fighting. Just like
Malalai Joya keeps fighting. Just like Sharmin Hossain keeps fighting. Just like
Herman Wallace fought till the end.
I'll leave you with this very inspiring poem written by Herman Wallace:
"A Defined Voice
They removed my whisper from general population
To maximum security I gained a voice
They removed my voice from maximum security
To administrative segregation
My voice gave hope
They removed my voice from administrative segregation
To solitary confinement
My voice became vibration for unity
They removed my voice from solitary confinement
To the Supermax of Camp J
And now they wish to destroy me
The louder my voice the deeper they bury me
I SAID, THE LOUDER MY VOICE THE DEEPER THEY BURY ME!
Free all political prisoners, prisoners of war, prisoner of
consciousness."
May Herman Wallace rest in power. His voice indeed remains loud.
1 comments :
You gave many strong examples here. Especially your experience as a young child. It takes a lot of courage to love and even more to express it. A great shift needs to happen from ruling by fear to ruling with love in order to eradicate violence and inequality. At least we have the courage to do so. Keep writing and using your voice. That is your power.
Post a Comment