#eric garner

[fatphobiabusters]

This man murdered his wife and tried to get away with the murder by blaming her for having a fat body type. He and his attorneys tried to claim that she died because she was fat and not because she was strangled, which is exactly what the attorneys of the police officer who murdered Eric Garner argued. I've also seen people who've murdered their spouse and tried to claim their spouse's death was due to their diabetes, eating "junk food," and other fatphobic, diet culture nonsense.

We live in a world where people truly believe it's impossible to murder a fat person. Per that police officer's lawyer, "He died from being morbidly ob*se. He was a ticking time bomb that resisted arrest. If he was put in a bear hug, it would have been the same outcome."

Fat activist Aubrey Gordon explained why this type of fatphobia is especially abhorrent:

"When you are making it acceptable and natural for someone to die at someone else's hands, I don't know a greater measure of dehumanization than that. They know on some level, no one's coming to defend fat people. That's how you get away with that argument. It's often the straw that breaks the camel's back in terms of folk's ability or willingness to empathize with someone."

If you claim to be progressive but still don't give a shit about fatphobia even after reading this, you were never for equality from the beginning.

-Mod Worthy

[blondebrainpowered]

[whenweallvote]

Ten years ago today, Eric Garner was killed by an NYPD officer who put him in a prohibited chokehold while arresting him.

Mr. Garner’s final words, “I can’t breathe,” became a rallying cry for the Black Lives Matter movement.

We honor his life and send love to his wife, Esaw. 🙏🏾

[democracyunderground]

[black-fist-order]

Keedron Bryant - I JUST WANNA LIVE [Official Music Video]

[petervintonjr]

"Intersectionality asks us to examine the places where we are marginalized but it also demands that we examine how and why those of us who are marginalized can in turn exercise marginalization over others. It demands that we do better by one another so that we can be more powerful together."

At the five-year mark of the start of this project, and also at the start of Pride Month, I can think of no-one more appropriate to talk about than organizer, author, and activist Alicia Garza, one of the original coiners of the phrase Black Lives Matter.

Born in 1981 Oakland, Garza grew up hyper-aware of social injustice issues and became actively involved in activism at the age of twelve, beginning with promotion of improved sex education and better access to birth control. She graduated from University of California San Diego (UCSD) in 2002 with a degree in anthropology and sociology; in her final year at that institution she founded the first Women of Color Conference. She would later become a member --and eventually serve on the board of directors of-- the Oakland-based School of Liberation and Unity (SOUL).

On July 13, 2013, after the heartbreaking acquittal of Trayvon Martin's murderer, Garza took to Facebook and posted an essay titled A Love Letter to Black People. In it she opines: "I continue to be surprised at how little Black lives matter... stop giving up on Black life." She added, "Black people. I love you. I love us. Our lives matter." A mutual friend, Opal Tometi, reshared the essay with the hashtag #blacklivesmatter, and the phrase quickly grew into a national call to action, arguably becoming the most well-known civil rights refrain since Black Power. Instances of the hashtag spiked in the aftermath of the killing of Michael Brown in Ferguson, Missouri, again after Eric Garner's murder in New York, and of course in the wake of George Floyd's death. Garza, along with cofounders Tometi and Patrisse Cullors, formally launched the Black Lives Matter Movement, with its stated aim of addressing violence towards Black Americans --particularly by law enforcement-- and pushing back against the inherent, embedded racism that lies at the core of such issues as generational poverty and mass incarceration.

Today Garza is a director for the National Domestic Workers Alliance (NDWA), an advocacy organization for the rights and working conditions of domestic housekeepers. She has written countless articles for many magazines and periodicals on the subjects of queer activism and social justice, and is the author of The Purpose of Power: How We Come Together When We Fall Apart (October 2020, One World publishing). In 2016 she was included in Fortune magazine's prestigious "50 of the Most Influential World Leaders" list. Among the many awards Garza has received for her work include the Local Hero award from the San Francisco Bay Guardian, and the Harvey Milk Democratic Club's Bayard Rustin Community Activist Award (which she has in fact now won twice).

[fuckyeahmarxismleninism]

NEVER FORGET: 10 years ago today, the NYPD murdered brother Eric Garner in cold blood on Staten Island. Like George Floyd, he said #ICantBreathe.

[sharpened--edges]

Readers [of The 2015 Baltimore Uprising: A Teen Epistolary] cannot miss that in most of the faces included in the book’s tweeted photographs, the eyes have been redacted (as have key identifying features of the Twitter accounts). This was a provision on the part of the publishers to preserve anonymity, and to be seen to be doing so, given the number of tweets that feature or promote law-breaking activity. It is common to the visual culture of radical political media today, but the sheer accumulation here of redacted eyes on black faces makes for unsettling viewing, for in the historical and contemporary conditions of anti-blackness, vision is a highly racialized capacity. Freddie Gray was first pursued because he returned a police officer’s gaze. He transgressed an informal code of domination and subservience in law enforcement and the prison system that dates back through the ‘reckless eyeballing’ of the Jim Crow period, when whites took black looks to be a ready prompt for lynching, to chattel slavery, where ‘eye service’ was a punishable act, deemed reckless and as such a sign of potential revolt. Does Baltimore Uprising unwittingly repeat this violent prohibition of black capacity to look? Redacting eyes is certainly a different aesthetic procedure to that of a more prominent image associated with the moment of Black Lives Matter, where black eyes were instead accentuated. In December 2014, following the grand jury’s failure to indict the police officer responsible for strangling Eric Garner, the Millions March in New York City was fronted by eight large placards that assembled together a breath-taking image of Garner’s eyes, magnified to reach across the width of the march. Returning the gaze of a police-murdered black man, and at such scale and collectivity, is a powerful political move, but I venture that the effect of redaction in Baltimore Uprising is no less political. It works in a different way, though, with a different critical sensibility. Whereas the defiant return of the gaze conveys an emerging public protagonism against racial violence, facial redaction wards off the self-assuring feeling that protagonism has been achieved, even amidst uprising.

Nicholas Thoburn, “Twitter, Book, Riot: Post-Digital Publishing Against Race,” Theory, Culture & Society 37.3 (2020), pp. 112–3.