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Political Education

CommentaryOpinionPolitical Education

closed mouths don’t get fed

by Nicole Crawford 05/16/2025
written by Nicole Crawford

11 april 2025 – journal entry

i have found myself often reflecting on how we are out of practice in advocating for ourselves and our needs. we are taught to neglect our rights to survival and revolution, our rights to struggle and healing, our rights to change. in the eyes of the colonizer we are incapable of deciding for ourselves, with courage, that we are indeed worthy of liberation and further opening our mouths to protest our oppression.

i have been reflecting on the power of the tongue, and how our inability to speak with certainty, without shame, in naming the violations injected into our skin, our bodies and our minds, has made us incapable of struggle, incapable of being decent lovers, friends, and comrades. i do not believe that we have understood the gravity of practice in our attempts to speak into existence the structures that will replace this cursed world. we are unfamiliar with boundaries and standards and with the righteous anger that allows us to transmute grief and disdain into action.

we consider ourselves to be individuals in this plight, and we are left disconnected, unprepared for what is required of us. when i neglect to speak up for myself i am practicing a denial of your rights. as your lover, your friend and comrade, i am ill-equipped in requiring the world to soften before you. i am unwilling and unconsenting to changing your reality, to fighting for and with you.

i become unreliable, a co-conspirator against your peace and the possibility of our future generations demanding justice and dismantling the systems that have burned us all. when we neglect to speak up for ourselves, we prepare to see harm and justify our complicity. we are irresponsible and apathetic in the face of love and tragedy. we are positioned against collective healing.

our capacity to resist requires meaningful, grueling, and nauseating repetition.

we are tasked with identifying clearly where we have been wronged by empire, and one another, so that we are capable of vomiting up the guilt of having sinned and the shame of conviction that plagues the consciously oppressed.

closed mouths don’t get fed, nor can they recognize their transgressions, their aspirations. we are required to practice ripping ourselves from the belly of the beast, we must be uncomfortable and tired at times, resistant always. a nuisance always.

theory without practice is miseducation. we must practice seriously. we must purge out the insecurity of silence. this is the only way that we keep one another safe. i cannot trust myself if i cannot speak life into your wounds, if i refuse to condemn your oppressor, and admit when i too have conspired against the oppressed.

neglecting my tongue, i am useless in struggle.

05/16/2025 0 comments
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OpinionPolitical Educationtechnology

On Media Literacy and Misinformation

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

With an increase in people getting their news from biased sources through Instagram, X (formerly known as Twitter), TikTok, YouTube, or podcasts, there has been a dangerous wave of misinformation throughout the country. 

Relying on social media platforms as one’s main source of information makes us fall victim to dangerous echo chambers and biased media. Social media is inherently designed to continuously push content that it believes the user would want to engage with. When we only engage with content that satiates our agitations within the world without understanding the context and accountable actors that contribute to our dissatisfactions, we are no longer useful to our communities. Social media pushes us to see the worst within ourselves and to further look to scapegoat tokens of the oppressive empire and entertaining characters as opposed to forming a deep analysis of how every institution, political actor, and community member contributes to the state of our current world, including us. Social media pushes massive amounts of content to individuals in very short spans of time, designed to make people addicted to the dopamine rush they get from scrolling through potentially 15 minutes in just 5-10 minutes. We are intentionally being made ill and reliant in the face of our digital escapes.

Social media has also made it increasingly harder to get younger generations to turn to legitimate and factual news sources for information. The reality that it is incredibly easy to just turn to TikTok or X for quick “facts” from random accounts is ruining people’s media literacy. Hardly do individuals fact check information, especially if it aligns with what their previously held beliefs are, validated by social media posts. These platforms are specifically created to distract audiences through pushes of biased, shallow, and often falsified information. 

Social media also makes it incredibly easy for individuals to become isolated within their own echo chambers, constantly intaking political information from people online. This gives the illusion of communicating with people, leaving no incentive for some to engage in real-life community building.

Our inability to withstand the gruesome and often prolonged task of having researched and learned independently the realities of the world in which we live makes us ill-equipped to combat misinformation and form sustainable solutions to our transgressions. Furthermore, the internalization of instantly available and gratifying information leaves us vulnerable to manipulation by the empire. Through this lens, we understand how media literacy is imperative in navigating the terrains of ideological warfare and political competence. We are responsible for challenging ourselves to become more willing to take time in the slowness of learning through this world, we are accountable to truth and to the time it takes to uncover it.

05/16/2025 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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NewsPoetryPolitical Education

Reflections on Poetry and Resistance

by Samantha Talbot & Orisha Lamon 05/16/2025
written by Samantha Talbot & Orisha Lamon

Harlem – Langston Hughes

What happens to a dream deferred?

      Does it dry up
      like a raisin in the sun?
      Or fester like a sore—
      And then run?
      Does it stink like rotten meat?
      Or crust and sugar over—
      like a syrupy sweet?

      Maybe it just sags
      like a heavy load.

      Or does it explode?

Harlem by Langston Hughes is an extremely well-known poem, one often taught by English teachers during Black History Month to illustrate the resilience of Afrikans in Amerikkka in a way that is palatable to a non-Afrikan audience. Despite its simplicity, this poem has stuck with me throughout highschool and into college as one of my favorite poems. 

Hughes opens the poem with the poignant question, “What happens to a dream deferred?”, and though the answer is never explicitly stated, it is clear what he believes the answer to be. It does not “dry up,” “fester,” “stink,” “crust and sugar over,” “sag,” or any other images of decay that Hughes presents us with. These descriptions call back to plantation life, with the planting of sugar cane, the untreated wounds of the slaves, and the “heavy load” that slaves were forced to bear both physically and mentally. Organic matter may suffer from decay, just as our own bodies will eventually, but dreams are not bound by time and impermanent flesh. Dreams are carried throughout generations, written down, spoken aloud, and carried in the soul rather than the body. Thus, when Hughes ends his poem with the question, “Or does it explode?”, we know the answer.

The last line of Harlem is often dismissed as referring to riots. Though it is a valid interpretation, it can easily fall under the assumption that Afrikans are inherently violent. They will “explode” in anger and irrationality in the face of the perpetuated oppression they have dealt with. However, an explosion can be read in ways beyond acts of violence, such as “the rapid growth of a population and the breakdown of a misconception, as when someone or something “explodes” a cultural myth, fantasy, or deeply held assumption,” as is expressed by professor Scott Chanceller at the College of William & Mary. It can be an explosion of culture, arts, and expression like the Harlem Renaissance. It can be an explosion in that it reverberates across ethnic divides and impacts other marginalized communities. 

One of my favorite aspects of Harlem is that it is so much bigger than Harlem. There were references to the Great Migration in Harlem in the original drafts of the poem, but I believe they were omitted because Hughes realized the universality of his statement. Afrikans everywhere have experienced “a dream deferred,” and many currently have dreams that are being deferred. In America, it seems that all of the promises that this flawed country has purported to us have been deferred since the beginning of the Afrikan American population. But therein lies the beauty of Harlem, a message that has resonated and will continue to resonate with Afrikans and speak to their resilience. 

If We Must Die – Claude McKay

If we must die, let it not be like hogs

Hunted and penned in an inglorious spot,

While round us bark the mad and hungry dogs,

Making their mock at our accursed lot.

If we must die, O let us nobly die,

So that our precious blood may not be shed

In vain; Then even the monsters we defy

Shall be constrained to honor us though dead!

O kinsmen! We must meet the common foe!

Though far outnumbered let us show us brave,

And for their thousand blows deal one death-blow!

What though before us lies the open grave?

Like men we’ll face the murderous, cowardly pack,

Pressed to the wall, dying, but fighting back!

Red Summer, 1919 was a time of bloodshed and white supremacist vigilante violence against Afrikan Americans across the United States. This era of anti-black (Afrikan) violence was scattered across the United States orchestrated by white hatred with the movement of Afrikan Americans across the Mid and Northeast United States looking for jobs within white dominated industries. As resentment rose, so did the self-victimization of whites as a rationalization for starting these terror attacks on working class and poor Black communities in their proximity. Structured as a Shakeperean sonnet, McKay’s words of resistance and militancy linger amongst the many movements for liberation. In facing suppression, besiegement, and death, the struggle against and defeating the common foe of subjugation is a struggle that is glorious and noble.  This poems’ popularity is not one that is historic and timelined. These words ring loud with the Afrikan people facing genocide in Congo and Sudan, those facing the blockades in Haiti, Cuba, and neocolonialism throughout the Carribean and Afrikan continent, within the walls of penitentiaries and militarization in the imperial core, with the people of Palestine, with Refaat Alareer’s, prose on death and life, we will remain to honor the struggles of those before us and continue to their struggle til we defeat the common foe. 

If I Must Die – Refaat Alareer

If I must die,

you must live

to tell my story

to sell my things

to buy a piece of cloth

and some strings,

(make it white with a long tail)

so that a child, somewhere in Gaza

while looking heaven in the eye

awaiting his dad who left in a blaze–

and bid no one farewell

not even to his flesh

not even to himself–

sees the kite, my kite you made, flying up above

and thinks for a moment an angel is there

bringing back love

If I must die

let it bring hope

let it be a tale

05/16/2025 0 comments
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OpinionPolitical Education

The Theater of Political Pessimism

by Xavier Adams 05/16/2025
written by Xavier Adams

While reflecting on the upcoming 1956 election, W.E.B. Du Bois pinned the following:

“In 1956, I shall not go to the polls. I have not registered. I believe that democracy has so far disappeared in the United States that no ‘two evils’ exist. There is but one evil party with two names, and it will be elected despite all I can do or say.”

The repudiation of the primary channel for political change coupled with the lack of a definitive alternative path: Du Bois’s message amounts to an image of pessimism that Afrikans acquainted with the American political theater are disposed to. Opposed to the hopeful optimist who would readily subscribe to the offered channel of political change, Du Bois takes on the role of a man who, having fatalistically resigned from their post of a prominent activist, waning in their permeating despair, offers nothing but a paralyzing pessimism in the linear path of material progress. This scene of pessimism feels even more familiar when considering the recent refusal of the Black left to vote, similarly rejecting the ‘lesser of two evils’ argument. 

This scene of paralyzing pessimism is undoubtedly what is conjured in one’s mind when one hears a pessimistic style of politics, with its merit invariably stamped out and run into the ground. This style of pessimism has no seat in the political theater for the hopeful optimist who demands a definitive course of action. However, is this unquestioned conception of pessimism warranted? 

Towards the end of the article, Du Bois reaffirms that:

“Stop yelling about a democracy we do not have. Democracy is dead in the United States.”

Without endorsing some of Du Bois’s remarks–to speak of democracy disappearing without it existing in the first place is comical–the role Du Bois plays under a different gaze in the political theater seems promising. No longer does the audience boo at the perceived despair, or walk out on his fatalistic resignation. The audience, as the set designers, have substituted a paralyzing pessimism for a critical pessimism, one that, driven by an intense dissatisfaction, retains a critical outlook necessary to challenge the prevailing structures of power. 

But promising for what? A new consciousness necessary for Afrikan progress. While the hopeful optimist remains fastened to their faith in the existing order of things, convinced that all that is needed is a mere change of moral scenery for political leaders, this critical pessimism, underpinned by a wave of intense dissatisfaction, gives rise to a new subjectivity, a new consciousness necessary for Afrikan liberation. Rejecting the hopeful optimist’s faith, the critical pessimist comes to recognize the power dynamics that drive history, priming one to fundamentally challenge the existing order and the primary channel for political change. 

Source:

Du Bois, W.E.B. “I Won’t Vote.” The Nation, 1956. 

05/16/2025 0 comments
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CultureGender and SexualityPolitical Education

The Afrikan and Anti-Femininity

by Samantha Talbot 03/11/2025
written by Samantha Talbot

“How to dress in a way that embraces your femininity…”

“Ways to play into your traditional roles…”

“How to attract a man using feminine allure…”

The internet constantly spews rhetoric about what it means to truly be feminine, with self-proclaimed “femininity coaches” on TikTok and YouTube benevolently guiding young girls towards a future with a “masculine” husband and a life of softness, docility, compliance, and ultimately, silence. These often white cis-gendered women somehow hold the unspoken rules of what can or cannot be feminine. Bantu knots, cornrows, locs, any hairstyle that stands out, is too loud, and is not the natural state of a white woman’s hair, is not feminine. Thus, many Afrikan femininity coaches who have been shaped by standards of beauty that oppose their very culture are never seen without a silk press. Modesty is feminine, and so are simple, solid-colored dresses that fall below the knees, light jewelry, and dainty earrings. And one must never be vulgar or have an attitude; many femininity coaches will take this moment in their videos to act out a caricature awfully similar to the Sapphire trope–exaggerated head and hip movements, one eyebrow always quirked up, and an overall emphasis on sass. In setting up these rules of femininity, Afrikan women do not simply fall into the category non-feminine, but anti-feminine. They are the antithesis of these ideals that our eurocentric society purports that all women should aspire to. Afrikan women are then a monolith of “otherness”—they are sapphires, jezebels, caricatures of beings pretending to be women.

This is not to say that Afrikan women wanting to present in a feminine way is inherently bad and contributes to systems of oppression; it is saying that maintaining of an extremely narrow view of femininity and judging those who do not fit into that ideal is harmful and continues to place power in the hands of the oppressor. Thus, it is important to recognize femininity as something variable and largely self-defined. The modesty and elegance associated with “traditional” femininity are just as valid as the Afrikan feminine ideals set by the Ghetto Fabulous movement of the late 90s to early 00s, which is just as valid as feminine ideals brought by Afrikan women from their home country, which is just as valid as any way in which Afrikan women choose to visually present themselves. Divestment from and decentering of binarism of gender identities and categorizations gives us the freedom to be free within our humanity and honor our ancestral roots. This is the key to reconstructing “femininity” in a way that will be sustainable and helpful in crafting a revolutionary, liberated future. Afrikan women should not be seen as enemies to femininity as they have been portrayed time and time again since slavery to the modern day. We are free to express what we believe makes us feminine and embrace those parts of our culture that have been deemed otherwise. 

03/11/2025 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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CulturePoetryPolitical Education

Untitled Poem – Akouavi Abok

by Akouavi Abok 03/10/2025
written by Akouavi Abok

My nose 

My eyes 

My lips 

I look…

Covered in imperfections 

But only I can find the perfection 

Created in God’s image 

I find a way to judge 

Created to fit God’s perception 

I search for an answer 

Only to arrive at a misconception 

Who am I 

A tapestry woven with threads 

Of joy, sorrow, and everything in between 

In the mirror I gaze 

A stranger in my own skin 

My hands 

My legs 

My body 

Lost in a bewildering maze 

Within this struggle of lies 

A glimmer so faint 

For I have committed a sin

For I have used my hands to paint 

An image unlike me

03/10/2025 0 comments
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