Dylan Brown (he/him/his) /
Rikers Public Memory Project & Critical Resistance /
USA /
As the summer of 2020 comes to a close, police violence against Black people continues to ravage the world. Yet, for as long as Black people have been in the United States, we have rebelled against a white supremacist, settler-colonial state that has sought to ensure our premature death through policy, policing, and imprisonment. As we live through a period of sustained uprising, we are witnessing an unsettling of racist systems, practices, and institutions that are accustomed to being above reproach, protected by the normalization of violence and the disposability of Black people.
In this historic moment, it is important to situate the summer 2020 uprisings within the historical lineage of Black freedom struggles in the Americas. For instance, this month we celebrate Black August, a time in which we honor Black freedom fighters, many of whom were killed by the state or were imprisoned for defending Black lives. Black August is a call for reflection, self-sacrifice, disciplined political practice, education, and action in service of Black liberation and revolutionary struggles everywhere across the African Diaspora. Black August was first celebrated in the 1970s in prisons across California and is tied to the life, work, and death of imprisoned radical intellectual George Jackson.
In Soledad Brother, a collection of Jackson’s letters from prison, he writes:
“After one concedes that racism is stamped unalterably into the present nature of Amerikan sociopolitical and economic life in general (the definition of fascism is: a police state wherein the political ascendancy is tied into and protects the interests of the upper class—characterized by militarism, racism, and imperialism), and concedes further that criminals and crime arise from material, economic, sociopolitical causes, we can then burn all of the criminology and penology libraries and direct our attention where it will do some good.”
Jackson’s writings are a mandate to build and sustain a revolution that rejects every component of our white supremacist world order. As we honor Jackson and the rich history of the Black radical tradition, I find myself reflecting on what it means to dedicate your life to the movement. More specifically, what does it mean to dedicate your life to opposing a state that is not afraid to use every weapon at its disposal to kill and silence you? How do you care for yourself and manage to keep organizing and resisting in the face of so much tragedy? How do you relentlessly work for freedom for decades on end without burning yourself out?
Jackson describes how one can “discover your humanity and your love in revolution.” This summer pushed me in every way imaginable. I was tired, angry, depressed, and at some times simply a mess. Nearly every week, I found myself bombarded by new instances of Black death. However, by engaging in meaningful work and forging new connections with organizers, cultural workers, and creatives at both Critical Resistance and the Rikers Public Memory Project, I found that I was able to re-discover my own love of revolutionary work. I feel grateful to have been able to work with both of these organizations this summer, and I will continue to support and be involved in their work.