Fourth in a series I of comics about protesting safety tips I made with @this.is.ysabel . This one is about the dangers of police surveillance and how to avoid it if possible. Keep being safe when you go out. Don’t get snatched!
Jules of Nature

Discoholic 🪩
trying on a metaphor

@theartofmadeline
No title available

Love Begins

roma★
No title available
Game of Thrones Daily
Monterey Bay Aquarium

izzy's playlists!
TVSTRANGERTHINGS
i don't do bad sauce passes
Show & Tell
$LAYYYTER
Misplaced Lens Cap
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
h
Alisa U Zemlji Chuda
styofa doing anything

seen from Portugal
seen from Türkiye
seen from Türkiye

seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from Ukraine
seen from Portugal

seen from United States
seen from Brazil

seen from United States

seen from Switzerland
seen from United States
seen from Philippines

seen from France

seen from Italy
seen from Germany

seen from United Kingdom

seen from Malaysia

seen from United Kingdom
seen from United States
@balo7
Fourth in a series I of comics about protesting safety tips I made with @this.is.ysabel . This one is about the dangers of police surveillance and how to avoid it if possible. Keep being safe when you go out. Don’t get snatched!
Follow @mengwe on Instagram
At This Time...
Sitting here paralyzed for days, trying to figure out what more I can do. Quarantined, distracted from grading these final papers by the fires in my feed, knowing that donating to activist organizations and RT’ing, on top of crying, shaking and cursing, is not nearly enough. Plus, just about anything I say/do on the socials feels like a f*cking performance. All of it — except the anger and the stream of information that continues to reassert the utter disdain that this country’s White supremacy (not just Tr*mp, but the whole friggin’ establishment) has for Black and Brown people, here and throughout the world. The insidiousness.
Even wallowing in my own exhaustion — jobless, hope on a tattered string, watching the powers that be f*ck the populace over in every way imaginable… All of it feels self-pitying, when I can recognize my privilege and be struck by the existential sorrow that, even before this week’s events, or the racial disparity of the pandemic’s victims, surrounds most Black American lives. When I hear my Black and Brown friends and colleagues express their own exhaustion, as so many have over the past five days, it has the weight not just of the moment, or a political term, but of history. Personal, familial, written in volumes, reaffirmed constantly — and running contrary to America’s dip-shit self-mythologizing.
And yet… Despite this horror-show past, with white supremacy’s attempts to subjugate them for generations, Black America’s ability to move society forward has been beyond fucking remarkable. The creation of culture, the strength of moral character, the depth of communal compassion. It is no overstatement that the moral and creative compass of not just Black excellence but of the African-American community I’ve known, has been among primary lodestars of my life in this country. And while I do not expect all other folks to feel the same way I do, I most certainly judge those who feel contrary — or those who dismiss the notion that, if anyone’s ever made this hard land great in the past, it’s been Black Americans.
And that in the struggle to understand the fullness of this account, you will find pretty much all contemporary crises. It’s incredible that, in 2020, a majority of people still don’t comprehend the connections between systemic white privilege and Black death in the headlines, between colonization culture and the overwhelming inequality rampant in American society, between the contemporary malaise of the Western imagination and the whitewashing of the media. For a person who does not simply work in/with culture founded on the Black experience, but gets their very lifeblood form it, this is a hard fucking pill to swallow. The big “YOU don’t get it!”
So, when thinking about WTF else I can do, as a writer who deeply supports Black American communities in the struggle against white supremacy, I thought it worthwhile to reiterate some of this historical record’s personal and social importance. Having just spent a semester teaching NYU sophomores about how we got here — while re-reading classic texts by LeRoi Jones and Ralph Ellison and Isabel Wilkerson, Nikole Hannah Jones’s massive new one, and discussing the contemporary settings of these ideas with DeForrest Brown Jr. and Angel Bat Dawid — what I believe should be our collective mission is fresh and clear in my mind.
This is where music comes in. It’s especially important that anyone who listens to contemporary music in the 21st century, also participates in reappraising these whitewashed texts, restoring Blackness back to the center of this culture. Not only to acknowledge the proper origins of the forms and ideas that are so important to it — and thus, acknowledge the people who developed these forms and ideas — but act accordingly in times of crisis, requiring us to use our white privilege to support pro-Black and anti-colonialist positions in a way that could actually lead to structural change. To “see something, say something” when companies belligerently monetize the (Black) people’s culture and do not recompense the community, or when cops act like overseers that treat Black lives as wanton boys do flies.
Because… Here’s the thing: blues and jazz are the basis of all great new music of the last 100 years — paving the way for the post-modern Black electronic music (hip-hop, house and techno and electro) which is the core of pretty much all popular sounds of the 21st century. And the Black experience is the DNA of these musics — meaning, in the clearest terms, that we don’t get to have this music without the burden that preceded it. This is at the core of the accusation that “loving Black culture more than Black people.” You do NOT get to do one without the other, and still call it “love.”
Unlike European art, that original Black music is not the product of some art-school- and conservatory-learned experiments. Or of commissions from a royal court. Or of direct updates on thousand-year folk forms. Oral traditional and molecular memory aside, Black American music’s past was almost completely — genocidally, is also a word — wiped away in the Middle Passage. So when it came to fruition in the years during and after Reconstruction, it did so as a personal Black expression of what to do and how to live in this new, foreign here-and-now, far from “home.” This music is, simultaneously, a lament and celebration, complaint and utopia, art and evidence, personal diary and modernist work. Nothing like that had been conceived before, and it was so revolutionary that almost no one’s been able to build a next-level to it since.
It was also the first musical art-form original to the United States. Now imagine: the engine of this art-form’s motivation was a desire to express oneself within a society that did not want to hear any of what you had to say. A society that, in many cases, did not regard you as fully human. And yet think of how Black music expresses the full spectrum of humane truths and emotions. Actually, fuck it, don’t read me telling you about it. Go listen to the Wesley Morris episode of the 1619 Project podcast, who does a far better job than I of narrating Black American music’s wonders. This is why remaining on the sidelines, or providing only cursory support to the uprising, does not sit well.
It is crucial that people around the world know this history when they hear a variation of these musics being described as “global phenomena” or “universal,” or divided into “genres.” Such terms might seem neutral, or even complementary to its creators; but at their core, they move to dilute the role that the Black experience played in its birth. And distancing the music from the people who made it (and why), mitigates the music’s values. What was once specific becomes conditional — out goes the particularity of its expressions (feelings, words, citations), and in come market-democratizing generalities, like capitalization and trends, elements that tend to be elevated by whoever controls mass communication. This is how a local culture becomes a global genre, and how some people who make “techno” or “jazz” music in [insert European city here] can’t comprehend why “neutrality” towards George Floyd’s death is a betrayal of their creative work.
But… They will do as they will do. And, as I said before, we will judge them - because it is on these very decisions and proclamations that the intention of the art-work (a crucial aspect in the value of the art-work — its contemporary “aura” some might say), that artists and their audiences are judged. And when I mis-step, my Black friends and colleagues will also judge me, and the humility and self-reflection with which I handle this will say volumes about what my cultural intentions are. Because for the rest of us, there never has been nor will continue to be a disconnection between the culture we have sworn allegiance to, and the need to change society’s norms, to speak about the need for social justice, and to continually reassert that #BlackLivesMatter and #BrownLivesMatter.
And that if you continue to engage with the words and ideas that I hope to continue putting out into the world, this is their starting point. That music — for all its glory and hope and joy and wrenching feeling and fuck-you energy and let’s-love energy and all that — is neither the beginning nor the end. It is one narrative of history’s arc. That chapters of this history are being written all the time, some quietly and some in push-notifications, and that what’s going on outside our windows at this moment, is a major scene of the permanent record. To be quiet is to be complicit. I choose not to be complicit. I hope that you make that choice as well.
black music for black rage
Probably the best portrait of myself out there in the world. I wish I were this good-looking all the time in real life😜 Photo by @eribonphotography
Everything is cool with the world #smallchops #palmwine
One night like that at Afropolitan Vibes....shot by Aderemi Adegbite.
Flexing with my Fitbit Flex...on an Usain Bolt tip...hehehe #trupprRUN
Yesterday at the #trupprRUN 5km race...I was happy-go-kuckying....Hehehe....photo by @iamlinguini
I'm just here like "why always always me?"...I just dey deceive myself for my mind sha....Looool...Photo by @iamblawz way before he became a celebrity photographer
I have sweet memories of buying these for 50k from the mallam in my primary school. Do you posh people know about #kokoro?
Used books and "new" old magazines I copped a few days ago...this is how you keep deceiving the people that you are some sort of intellectual and hope they don't find out you are an olodo:carry a big Afro and big books!
First Throwback Thursday <cringes> At one of (pool) the parties IK Osakioduwa used to throw when he was still known as Wild Child..won an invite on the radio...( I was a Rhythm F.M stan back then) #TBT
View from the pedestrian bridge at Ikeja Along...I was actually waiting for the trains just so I could take a photo #cityscape #megacityblues #Gidiopolis #yellowbuses #traffic #danfos
View from cc hub Yaba...last year on that #hustlediaries tip.....#traffic #cityscape #cchub #Gidiopolis #Yaba