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CommentaryNewsU.S.

The Black Vote is Not Safe

by Mariah Yonique Strawder & Julia Elizabeth Perry 06/26/2026
written by Mariah Yonique Strawder & Julia Elizabeth Perry

They are trying to take us back to before 1965 – Tennessee State Representative Justin Jones

On April 18th, the Supreme Court of the United States (SCOTUS) took us back to before 1965. In a 6-3 ruling in the case of Louisiana v. Callais, the court struck down Louisiana’s second majority-Black congressional district, holding that race-conscious redistricting under Section 2 of the Voting Rights Act of 1965 is unconstitutional.

The now voided Section 2 of the Voting Rights Act of 1965 stated: 

“No voting qualification or prerequisite to voting or standard, practice, or procedure shall be imposed or applied by any State or political subdivision in a manner which results in a denial or abridgment of the right of any citizen of the United States to vote on account of race or color, or in contravention…” 

This section, along with the entirety of the Voting Rights Act of 1965, gave Black and minority communities increased representation in Congress and eliminated barriers to the ballot. After the Act passed, the number of Black members in Congress increased from 6 in the 90th Congress (1967-1969) and 24 in the 101st Congress (1989-1991). As of now, the Congressional Black Caucus sits at over 60 members. Not only did it increase representation, but it also outlawed poll taxes and literacy tests, two barriers preventing Black communities from making it to the ballot. By 1966, the percentage of Black voters who registered soared. From 5% to 32% in Mississippi, 11% to 51% in Alabama, and from 27% to 72% in Tennessee. The VRA was essential in providing Black voters the representation they needed to see change in their communities.

These implications of Louisiana v. Callais are not limited to Louisiana. The ruling gives more states the authority to eliminate majority-minority districts across the United States. Southern states such as Tennessee have passed a new map, wiping out the only majority-Black district in the state. Soon, Southern states like Alabama, Georgia, Mississippi, South Carolina, and others will follow suit, creating new maps, and intensifying their efforts to dilute majority-minority communities’ voices. These new maps could wipe out over 30% of the Congressional Black Caucus, diminishing the number of members from 64 to around 30.

The Supreme Court’s decision in striking this section down was the majority’s belief that Louisiana’s prior map already had one majority Black district and that the creation of a new district was not required under the VRA, stating that the “map is an unconstitutional gerrymander”. In Justice Clarence Thomas’ concurring opinion, he wrote that the court “should never have interpreted §2 of the Voting Rights Act of 1965 to effectively give racial groups ‘an entitlement to roughly proportional representation.’”

Among the judges who dissented were Justices Ketanji Brown Jackson, Sonia Sotomayor, and Elena Kagan. Justice Kagan authored the dissenting opinion stating that, “The Voting Rights Act, is—or, now more accurately, was—‘one of the most consequential, efficacious, and amply justified exercises of federal legislative power in our Nation’s history.’ It was born of the literal blood of Union soldiers and civil rights marchers. It ushered in awe-inspiring change, bringing this Nation closer to fulfilling the ideals of democracy and racial equality.”

The decision to strike down Section 2 of the Voting Rights Act of 1965 brings us to an era of disenfranchisement and oppression. This decision will raise the bar for racial discrimination in voting maps, making it easier to redraw districts in ways that dilute Black political power across the South. The ruling will also result in fewer opportunities for people to elect representatives who reflect their beliefs and values. 

In response to the SCOTUS’ decision to reshape Black political power, over 90 civil rights, voting rights, faith, labor, and community organizations like the National Association for the Advancement of Colored People (NAACP), came together on May 16th for a National Day of Action called All Roads Lead to the South. Advocates gathered to protest and march through Selma, Alabama, beginning at the historic Tabernacle Baptist Church and crossing through the Edmund Pettus Bridge.

This All Roads Lead to the South Movement is coming 60 years after Bloody Sunday. Bloody Sunday occurred on March 7th, 1965 when about 600 civil rights marchers tried to peacefully walk from Selma to Montgomery to demand voting rights. The marchers were violently confronted by law enforcement at the Edmund Pettus Bridge which resulted in brutal attacks on the peaceful protestors. Following this incident, the Voting Rights Act of 1965 was passed. 

This SCOTUS decision is a wake-up call to Black Americans and minorities across the United States. It is time to rise up, organize, and mobilize our communities. The fight for freedom never ended; it is just now beginning. 

Image sourced from blklivesmatter via Instagram.

06/26/2026 0 comments
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CommentaryCultureU.S.

Curls in the Cubicle: The Legacy of The C.R.O.W.N. Act & What’s Left to be Done

by Julia Elizabeth Perry 05/15/2026
written by Julia Elizabeth Perry

Professional, neat, groomed, elegant, put-together, official, dignified. Unprofessional, messy, dirty, undone, ghetto, ratchet, ugly. Think of what hairstyles and patterns come to mind when you hear the first group of words, and what comes to mind when you hear the second. There are both implicit and explicit biases associated with how non-Black people perceive Black hair. Sometimes, these biases even come from within our own community.  The first step to breaking them down is acknowledging their prevalence.

For many of us, hair discrimination starts early, before we can even understand the meaning or reason for the discomfort that we feel. A shared experience among many Black girls and women is being petted like dogs by teachers, friends, or even strangers, some of whom give the illusion of respect by first asking, “Can I touch your hair?” For others, it’s the rhetoric used when their hair is described, such as “poofy, fluffy, exotic, crazy, wild” or comparisons of our hair to animals, like a lion’s mane, or the coat of poodles. In both instances, Black people are dehumanized, embarrassed, and disrespected.

The “Creating a Respectful and Open World for Natural Hair” (C.R.O.W.N.) Act is a campaign created in 2019, intended to protect people of color from discrimination in professional and academic settings based on hairstyle or hair texture. While many studies have examined how racialized names are discriminated against on job applications, hair is yet another marker of race that people unjustly use to judge the intelligence and competence of predominantly Black people. Men and women fall victim to hair-based discrimination. Partnering with Dove and LinkedIn, the C.R.O.W.N. Act campaign found that Black women with curlier hair patterns are two times more likely to experience microaggressions in the workplace than Black women with straighter hair, and over 20% of Black women have experienced being sent home from work because of their hairstyle. These statistics attest even further to how, in addition to racial identity, hair in particular plays a significant role in respectability politics. This legislation not only protects Black students and professionals from discrimination but also establishes a baseline of belonging and combats the concept that hairstyle is representative of one’s intellectual or professional capacity. 

While The C.R.O.W.N. Act is a great step in eliminating the discrimination that Black people face regarding their hair, it is only as powerful as people are willing to act in accordance with it. It does well at preventing explicit discrimination by banning employers from using hair as a reason to not hire someone or to send them home. However, there is more work to be done on the individual and interpersonal level to break down implicit biases and eliminate them as a reason that people may face trouble in professional spaces. Furthermore, as of 2026, only 27 states have signed The C.R.O.W.N. Act into law. For progress to continue, The C.R.O.W.N. Act must be signed into law and acted upon in all 50 states. Additionally, while The C.R.O.W.N. Act works to dismantle the systems and practices upholding hair-based discrimination, individuals must do the work to break down their own biases in order to truly advance in the fight against discrimination.

Within Black communities, there have been divisive conversations over what qualities make “good hair” vs what makes “bad hair,” a conversation that is closely tied to colorism, sexism, heteronormativity, classism, and internalized racism. Those determining whether hair is “good” or “bad” ascribe  “goodness” to proximity to straightness/looseness of curls, length, and even color, with long, loose hair being “good”, while tightly coiled shorter hair is deemed “bad.” This rhetoric only further contributes to the idea that features that are closer in proximity to European traits are better than those of African descent, a centuries-long idea that is still upheld. When young Black children, and most often Black girls, hear their hair described using “bad” or “good,” it not only impacts their confidence but also the attitude they carry toward doing their hair. Ultimately, hair is a feature that is meant to be experimented with in whatever way yields the most confidence for the beholder. If, from a young age, Black girls are taught that their natural hair is bad, unmanageable, and wild, the attitude they have towards doing their hair often becomes negative, and they believe their hair to be a burden, a problem to be solved. 

There are constant reminders, whether it be through experience or social media, that people still believe they’re entitled to comment on the hair of Black people. While the C.R.O.W.N. Act provides legal protection from discrimination in office and school spaces, Black people are continually policed outside of those contexts regarding hair. A recent example of a Black woman who faced criticism for wearing her natural hair is Coco Gauff, one of the most skilled tennis players in the world, at just 22 years old. Gauff was shown in a Miu Miu photoshoot wearing her natural hair in a ponytail, showcasing her coils without slicking them down. Many criticized her hair, saying it looked “undone,” “messy,” or “unprofessional.” In a TikTok video responding to the backlash she faced after the photoshoot, Gauff explained that the concept for the photoshoot was an everyday look, leading her to do her everyday hair and makeup. “I’m not gonna apologize for the way that my hair looked because there are other girls who have the exact same hair as me and I just wanted them to feel represented that your hair is literally fine the way it is. My hair was good enough for a high fashion brand like Miu Miu to promote one of their newest launches. So if my 4c hair is good enough for that, yours is good enough for you to do whatever you want to do.” She continues by emphasizing that however you want to wear your hair, natural or not, is perfectly fine and up to your own discretion, “If you want to straighten your hair, permanently straighten your hair, perm your hair. If you want to wear your hair Afro, wear your hair afro. If you want to wear braids, wear braids. If you want to wear cornrows, wear cornrows. If you want to slick back your hair to the Gods, slick it back; if you don’t and you just wanna put it in a bun, put it in the bun.” In encouraging Black people, and specifically, Black girls, to wear their hair whatever way they like it, Gauff exemplifies the message of The C.R.O.W.N. Act, which is to have complete freedom over your hairstyle, without interruption from others.

Another phenomenon that Black people often fall victim to is the over-politicization of Black hair. While many aspects of Black identity have been politicized, Black people should also be allowed to exist and thrive in spaces without being a topic of politics. Many of the hairstyles that Black people continue to wear do have historical significance and connections to efforts of resistance and powerful social movements. However, Black hair is not inherently political. Just as any other features on Black bodies are not political objects for debate, Black hair also does not exist as a topic for non-Black people and communities to weigh in on. It is an aspect of identity and a method of personal expression. Black beauty can exist without being tied to a political message or an act of protest, just as other races use aspects of their appearance to express themselves both in and out of cultural contexts. 

Just as Brown v The Board of Education ruled that schools couldn’t discriminate against students on the basis of race, The C.R.O.W.N. Act makes an important step toward eliminating racial discrimination. However, the progress cannot end there. Government action is significant, but individuals also must work to break down their own biases, and ensure that they are practicing the missions of The C.R.O.W.N. Act in their interpersonal and professional relationships.

05/15/2026 0 comments
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CommentaryNewsU.S.

Use of Force, the Long American Tradition

by Bahji Steele & Orisha Lamon 04/13/2026
written by Bahji Steele & Orisha Lamon

In only 7 months under the Trump administration, over 200,000 people have been deported by ICE. Hundreds of people get arrested, deported, and separated from their families every day under this administration, and thousands more are placed in detention centers. The late January greenlighting of ICE raids in sanctuary cities and the increasingly violent stealth tactics are leaving many immigrants in this country fearful. Fear of ICE has already taken a toll on industries heavily reliant on immigrant labor like hospitality, agriculture, and construction. 

ICE violence feels all too familiar for the Afrikan American community. Since 2020, police brutality has been a headline in all news stories, but this was never new to Black Americans. Growing up Black means hearing seemingly countless stories of peers being brutalized and killed. And each name echoed through the media, each father, mother, and child that gets killed leaves a scar on the heart of communities who just want to exist and feel safe. 

This physical and psychological violence is all rooted in the American worship of the use of force. Law enforcement is protected by the shield of this phrase. Claiming that innocent persons pose imminent danger to others, utilizing deadly force, and reframing the narratives later for self-preservation. And when applied to those without the protection of citizenship, we have seen unorthodox and inhumane tactics. 

The Afrikan population falls disproportionately through the cracks when it concerns the use of force. Use of violence and force after all is intrinsic to our being. To be sought and to be brutalized is simply a globally accepted facet of Blackness. With 20% of those held in ICE detention facilities being Afrikan, despite being 7% of the “non-citizen” population, the enhanced policing and monitoring of violence still is informed by an anti-Black project that has socialized enforcers of force to attack and criminalize on a racialized basis. 

Whether it is ICE or the police precincts besieging communities across the United States, policing entities are one and the same in their use of force. They serve to preserve a hierarchical system that benefits state agents through subjugation, driven by an intrinsic connection to globalized anti-Blackness and violence against those challenging such hegemony.

The ideological alignment with forceful and peaceful expression has also presented itself through the passivity of movements that require escalatory modes of action. In movements that are to be labeled as peaceful therein lies a harsh reality that the entities being protested are not, and violence is intrinsic to their existence. Amerikkka’s inception has a basis of force through justice and freedom as a justification of violence against Indigenous peoples of the Americas and Afrika. The use of force is now a pillar in how we are made to be passive in the face of state and structural violence as it actively harms and kills, through slow and rapid machinery. 

The militarized use of force from extensions of federal deployments, police, and immigration enforcement are at a height of violence and criminalization that those made victim of its inception must be fought, humanized, and organized for. In rejecting displays of passivity, we may find ourselves deepening our work in prioritizing the lives to be lived for those incarcerated. Rather than remembrance, we work toward a material emphasis on care and collectivist practices for the futures we imagine. The work done in firstly interrogating why communities in the imperial core are so served on bases of racialization and class, and how we develop material solidarity within and on a global level, starts with the community patrols, mutual aid, and social organization that is intrinsic to a transformative struggle. There is power within grassroots organizational capacities and escalatory capacities seeking to educate and actively contribute toward building a world that will value humanity. 

When violence is exacerbated through means of militarized control and capture such as the white militias of immigration enforcement, the extraction and sanctioning of the Caribbean, the obvious coups in South America (most recently Venezuela) to fuel a chase for geopolitical power, alongside the instigated warfare in West Asia and across the Global South in an attempt to preserve democracy, it creates networks spreading these colonial forces thin. Within a racial capitalist regime—one in which class and constructions of race are wagered, one in which there are entities and aristocrats that are aligned with this aforementioned cannibalistic system of wealth and control—these colonial networks will soon perish and find themselves pumping out of a dead carcass.

04/13/2026 0 comments
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CommentaryNewsU.S.

Recounting the Flames: A Year Since the Los Angeles County Wildfires

by Mariah Yonique Strawder 01/15/2026
written by Mariah Yonique Strawder

On January 7th, 2025, wildfires broke out across Los Angeles County, devastating the Altadena, Pasadena, and Pacific Palisades areas. On social media, I saw “Pray for California” spread rapidly. My timeline was full of videos of people who were evacuating their homes, salvaging what they could, and families sobbing as they watched their homes be engulfed in flames and fall to ashes.

The Palisades Fire in Pacific Palisades started around 10:30 a.m. on January 7th. The Eaton Fire in Altadena began on the same date later in the evening around 6:00 p.m. The Palisades fire covered over 23,448 acres while the Eaton fire covered 14,021 acres. A rough estimate of 100,000 people were forced to evacuate, 16,000 structures were destroyed, the number of lives lost is up to an estimate of 31, and fires were active for about 24 days. According to the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration’s February 2025 report, the Los Angeles January 2025 wildfires were the result of climate change, a record-level dry fall season in 2024, and Santa Ana winds from a near-hurricane event. With the help of firefighters from around California, Mexico, and Canada as well as incarcerated youth and adults from Los Angeles County jails and prisons, the fires were announced to be contained on January 31st. 

I asked Eloheem Mahone, Altadena Native, 2nd year UCLA Student, and member of Kappa Alpha Psi Fraternity, Incorporated, Upsilon Chapter, about his and his family’s experience with the Eaton Fire, and what rebuilding has been like.

“My family’s roots in Altadena go way back,” Mahone says. His father is from Los Angeles and his mother is from Long Beach. His dad moved to Altadena while in high school. Later on, his parents would buy their own home in the area and begin building their family. 

When the Eaton Fires broke out, Mahone was at UCLA, in his dorm, lying in bed, waking up from a nap. “I had missed more calls than I had ever seen before. My phone was flooded with messages from people asking if my house was okay or saying sorry. My heart dropped to my stomach as I read messages from my family members who were in our home as it burned down. My first reaction was to go home. My college friends and I went to Altadena to help fight the fire. We couldn’t lose both of the homes my family grew up in. My next-door neighbor was a retired firefighter and did everything in his power to help our neighborhood. He told us that our house was one of the first in the neighborhood to catch fire, and by the time he had retrieved all his equipment, it was too late.”

When asked about the aftermath of the Eaton Fires, Mahone says: “Rebuilding has been rough. My family currently stays in a trailer in my grandparents’ backyard. I give a lot of credit to my mom, dad, and sister. They spent a lot of time doing research and outreach to survive as our resources were so limited. Then and now, my sister works nonstop trying to find resources for sustainable and affordable living.” Mahone also highlighted the work of his friend and UCLA Alum, Fayola Obasi, who used her sorority, Delta Sigma Theta Sorority, Incorporated, Pi Chapter, to start a GoFundMe, raising over $30,000, to support his family. A year later, Mahone says that he is lucky. After putting the tragedy into perspective, he remains grateful for his support system and most importantly, his family still being here. 

In tracking the 2025 LA fire recovery efforts, FEMA has helped about 35,093 people and distributed about $163.4 million in aid. Angelenos have also been vocal in critiquing Los Angeles Mayor Karen Bass’s efforts in the Palisades fire recovery. LA Times writes that since the fires the mayor “Bass has been announcing recovery strategies with great fanfare, only for them to get bogged down in the details or abandoned altogether.” This has left many Angelenos feeling unconfident in the Mayor’s leadership.

It is also important to highlight that the Los Angeles fires affected two distinct communities. The Palisades Fires set the Pacific Palisades ablaze, home to business executives and Hollywood movie stars. The Eaton Fires ravaged the east side communities of Pasadena and Sierra Madre, reducing much of the Altadena community to ash. Altadena, a diverse middle-class neighborhood known for being a Black enclave since the 1950s, is home to many Black legends such as athlete Jackie Robinson, writer Octavia E. Butler, actor Sidney Poitier, and activist Seaborn B. Carr. 

In October 2025, I visited California’s African American Museum in Exposition Park. I got to experience Ode to Dena: Black Artistic Legacies of Altadena, an exhibit that traces Altadena’s artistic history in light of the Eaton Fires. This CAAM exhibit is curated by Dominique Clayton, independent curator and founder of Dominique Gallery, in collaboration with Larry Earl, Kenturah Davis, Arianne Edmonds, Dylan Joner, and V. Joy Simmons, MD. The Exhibit highlights the Altadena community over the decades. It features over 20 Black artists who live in or have family ties to the neighborhood. It captures treasured moments like birthday celebrations, moments in the kitchen, and family pool time. While the exhibit stems from pain and loss, it is a beautiful reminder of Los Angeles’s cultural history.

In Harvard Kennedy’s School of Public Policy Student Policy Review on Racial Disparity in Disaster Response in the United States, Matt Plaus writes that “natural disasters strike Americans indiscriminately; unfortunately, relief does not reach them the same way”. From Hurricane Katrina in New Orleans, Louisiana (2005), to Flint, Michigan’s decade-long water crisis (which the Environmental Protection Agency’s 2016 emergency order for was lifted in May 2025), and Hurricane Melissa in Jamaica (2025), racial disparities in disaster response have resulted in Black Americans suffering from worse impacts, slower recovery efforts, less aid, and greater health risk. In the aftermath of destruction, Black communities also become increasingly vulnerable to exploitation and displacement. 

As Altadena residents began to recover, A UCLA study done by the UCLA Ralph J. Bunche Center for African American Studies, the UCLA Center for Neighborhood Knowledge and the UCLA Latino Policy and Politics Institute found that “48% of Black households experiencing damage or destruction” faced disporportionate burdens of damage in the aftermath of the Los Angeles fires “compared to 37% for non-Black households”. The study also found that predatory insurance companies targeted families with “57%” of them being Black homeowners from Black Altadena, over the age of 65, and facing barriers to recovery. 

The Los Angeles wildfires were most certainly a chaotic way to start the beginning of 2025. The impacts of the Eaton and Palisades fires were devastating and recovery will take years. Homes, possessions, businesses, families, friends, and pets were lost. The trauma is immeasurable. For Black communities, the loss is one of many. There is still so much work that needs to be done. We as a community must hold our elected officials accountable and continue working together to ensure the victims of the Los Angeles fire regain stability. Going into 2026, let us prioritize electing leaders who are committed to the safety and well-being of Black communities.

01/15/2026 0 comments
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CommentaryOpiniontechnologyU.S.World

The Consumption of Humanity

by Nicole Crawford 06/02/2025
written by Nicole Crawford

2 december 2024 – 9:49

under capitalism, we are always looking to revolutionize and further consume people, as commodities, within our relationships. always thinking that we should run away from security and stability, thinking that settling into a place, planting roots, is unrealistic and unattainable, impractical. we are trained to consistently seek the next thing, to become inherently unsatisfied and unsatisfactory. 

we are never fully present in love because we are conditioned to assume its end and replacement, we are always predicting loss, that our experiences of one another can only be temporary. we have no incentive to choose one another in this world, to stay, to build and grow, because we expect to be left behind, to be replaced, to lose one another. 

we do not stay within discomfort, we do not transcend it, because the capitalist within us tells us to start anew at all times, this voice, behaving as a parasite to our truest needs in community, tells us that longevity, accountability and commitment to each other and ourselves, to community and restoration, to repair and love, to honor, is temporary and therefore nonexistent. 

the only long term thing we can imagine and believe in (to imagine and believe are incredibly different acts of faith), is our perpetual suffering, inevitable collapse, and misery.

as the masses, we are strangers to love, to a home that is not easily destroyed, to places to which we can return and rest. this existence is a disease. to believe that goodness can only survive outside of where we currently are, that love can only be cultivated, nurtured, and flourish in far away gardens, with flowers foreign to our own soil, is torment. we become a problem to which there is no solution. we begin to find our resolve in lovelessness.

we begin to develop our faith in a certainty that we are anything but chosen, everything outside of the bounds of worthiness, anything but capable of this distant love. 

many of us cannot imagine being known within our misery and despair. we cannot imagine being intentionally held, called by our names, honored as sacred. we have nothing to give but our truth, our rawest, most undeniable forms which cannot be exchanged on the market. we cannot imagine why people would desire to keep us with nothing to sell. we can only understand absence and abandonment. we justify and accept our insignificance and replacement, marking ourselves inevitably disregarded. within the belly of the beast, we look for answers and this is the only plausible reality. 

in the absence of our ancestors, we believe lies. 

06/02/2025 0 comments
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Black HistoryNewsPolitical EducationU.S.

A Politics of Performance

by Nadine Melanesia Black 05/16/2025
written by Nadine Melanesia Black

The Constitution promises to protect fundamental rights and liberties for all citizens within Amerikkka, however this has continuously failed for Afrikans in Amerikkka. There are endless false promises of freedom of speech, freedom to protest, and the freedom to just exist within a country we and our ancestors have been forced to assimilate into. The government, especially the branch in charge of interpreting the Constitution, is a tool to continue to protect the privileges that come alongside being a white citizen in the United States. Being white in Amerikkka, or at least being perceived as white, opens the door to a wide array of benefits within society. Through the government’s eyes, whiteness must be protected no matter what. Ruling against whiteness and instead for those who are supposed to be disadvantaged takes away power from those in charge.

In the case of Plessy v. Ferguson, the Supreme Court decided to rule to uphold the constitutionality of racial segregation laws as long as they were “separate but equal” accommodations. This ruling is a prime example of how the Supreme Court has worked to uphold whiteness and keep it away from the grasps of those who are deemed “not worthy” of the advantages of being white. Even with separate “equal” accommodations, the fact that Afrikan people need to be separated from their white counterparts shows how precious it is to keep distinct separation between the two.

Another example is within United States v. Cruikshank, with the Court showing their favoritism for protecting whiteness by jumping through loopholes. The Court did not want white militiamen to go to jail for murdering Afrikans who were attempting to protest. The white men had done exactly what the government had wanted, wanting to shut up outspoken Afrikans who went against the status quo. The Supreme Court ruled that the 14th Amendment only applied to state action and not the action of private individuals, creating a way for those who murdered the Afrikans to get away with it. This was simply because these Afrikans protesting posed a huge threat to the typical social order of Amerikkka, therefore there was no reason to prosecute those individuals who committed this heinous crime.

Brandenburg v. Ohio continued to perpetuate hatred towards Afrikans by allowing a KKK leader to walk away from an Ohio court who had found him guilty of spewing hate speech. The Supreme Court ruled that his freedom of speech was violated by Ohio’s criminal syndicalism law since his speech did not incite a clear and present danger. It’s unfathomable to believe that speech from a KKK leader that calls for the removal of Afrikans from Amerikkka as if they were a parasite does not constitute speech that is a clear danger.

It is through the study of our legislative histories that we begin to undo the political amnesia that often gives us hope in surviving and reforming our political sphere. In reflections on these cases and many others, we are forced to begin challenging ourselves and the empire that suffocates us to radically change and therefore be destroyed.

05/16/2025 0 comments
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CommentaryNewsPolitical EducationU.S.World

“This Country is Broken”

by Hanae Noirbent 03/11/2025
written by Hanae Noirbent

“This country is broken.” 

No. 

This country is functioning according to its design. Founded upon the labor of the enslaved and the displacement of the Indigenous, this land we call united was fractured from its very conception. The current administration is not a mistake in the history of this nation but rather a product of it. And yet, amidst the knowledge that the citizenship we hold dear is a stolen identity or one that has been given to us by force, we still find ourselves dreaming, wishing the fires erupting with vigor, the red lines drawing blood in the concrete of our cities, were all mere accidents.

We cannot avoid the truth of what this country was built upon nor the values which anchored its inception. Acknowledging those histories will bring us to our crossroads, where the climate crisis culminates to a state of emergency, where censorship becomes law, and where our bodies continue to be properties of a state willing to break them to meet its ends. But as I said, we are at a crossroads. We are at a pivotal moment where yesterday cannot be reversed but perhaps tomorrow could open new expectations. Ultimately, it is our inaction which will cost us our future. So then, where to begin? 

Let us begin right here, on this first page. Established in 1968, NOMMO was the first ethnic newsmagazine established on a public university campus. Its principles were anchored in an era where the rights of Afrikan peoples were virtually non-existent and in this critical moment, we find a specter of that movement reemerging. In that time when NOMMO was the space for our people to create with radical optimism and hope for the tomorrow, we persevered. And today, upon these pages, we ask you to do the same. Not to glance at news cycles without batting an eye but rather to sit in the discomfort and engage in our voice. Not to believe the work we have done is over but rather to understand that collective liberation is more than simply occupying spaces. We must interact with our environment, and question it to always keep the dynamism of change at the forefront. 

We invite you to keep engaging with us as we question our environment and our roles, as we extricate ourselves from our positions of complacency and admit to our agency. We invite you to find strength in yourself, to pick up your tools of creation and express who you are as change comes from within. We invite you to rest as well, and to know that the fight lives on and we will welcome you to join us when you are ready. 

There is no land of the brave or the free. But there are the people whose search for bravery and freedom inspire a vision that acknowledges our shared generational traumas and projects them into a commemorative work. We cannot change our past, but if we reclaim the principles justifying it we can alter the course of not only the next four years, but the next four hundred. So that the children of our children will know the Earth and their ancestor’s beauty and why they should protect it. 

03/11/2025 0 comments
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CommentaryHealthLifestyleNewsPolitical EducationU.S.World

Afrikan Agarianism – Subcultures 

by Bahji Steele 03/10/2025
written by Bahji Steele

For over 400 years, our hands tilled the soil, not by choice but forced through our captivity in chains. Promises of reparations crumbled, leaving us landless in a country we built. It’s no wonder that when you hear “Afrikan Amerikkkan” and “farmer” in the same sentence, optimism feels out of reach. This is especially true in hyper-developed cities like Los Angeles, where many of our ancestors fled after emancipation, seeking freedom beyond the fields that once enslaved them. Denied our 40 acres, shut out from land ownership, and systematically displaced, we’ve been pushed further from the idea of cultivating our own ecological balance. But what if we reclaimed it? What if the soil was always ours to begin with? 

Tucked between two weathered apartment buildings, just off the roar of the 91 freeway and Rosecrans, lies Compton Community Garden—a hidden oasis of renewal and resistance. Here, in the heart of a so-called food desert, life blooms. Temu, a Compton native and horticulturist who helped bring CCG to life, poses a powerful question: “Compton has the most ideal weather for organic gardening, yet we’re still considered a food desert? How did we get here? Is this by accident? We have the chance to change the narrative—to restore balance, heal ourselves, feed ourselves, employ ourselves, and build collective wealth.” A garden may seem simple, but in a world designed to keep us disconnected from the land, it’s nothing short of revolutionary. It’s a space to nourish bodies, reclaim community, and cultivate a future rooted in self-sufficiency.

“For our ancestors, farming was not a symbol of oppression, but rather a symbol of resistance and freedom. Every time we plant a seed, we are committing an act of sovereignty.” 

These words from Leah Penniman, author of Farming While Black, reframe farming as a means of liberation. As each seed is planted, so is the possibility of a new reality—one where food justice, sustainability, and collective power take root in Compton and beyond.

03/10/2025 0 comments
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