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This article is part of Abolition for the People, a series brought to you by a partnership between Kaepernick Publishing and LEVEL, a Medium publication for and about the lives of Black and Brown men. The series, which comprises 30 essays and conversations over four weeks, points to the crucial conclusion that policing and prisons are not solutions for the issues and people the state deems social problems — and calls for a future that puts justice and the needs of the community first.
I was 16 years old, stopped at a red light, the first time I saw sirens flashing in my rearview mirror. …
This article is part of Abolition for the People, a series brought to you by a partnership between Kaepernick Publishing and LEVEL, a Medium publication for and about the lives of Black and Brown men. The series, which comprises 30 essays and conversations over four weeks, points to the crucial conclusion that policing and prisons are not solutions for the issues and people the state deems social problems — and calls for a future that puts justice and the needs of the community first.
Around 1968, a “gutty little ragtag outfit” linked up on the streets of Los Angeles. This group “traded expertise” with friendly Marines and began studying guerrilla warfare. Its members soon obtained weapons just like the ones U.S. infantry soldiers carried in Vietnam. And the group’s leader came up with a snappy name, to signal his desire to rule the city’s streets: “Special Weapons Attack Team.” …
This article is part of Abolition for the People, a series brought to you by a partnership between Kaepernick Publishing and LEVEL, a Medium publication for and about the lives of Black and Brown men. The series, which comprises 30 essays and conversations over four weeks, points to the crucial conclusion that policing and prisons are not solutions for the issues and people the state deems social problems — and calls for a future that puts justice and the needs of the community first.
While it is well known that policing in the united states was originally developed and later honed to control Black and Indigenous people’s lives — our movement, labor, speech, ownership, family, and more — most are unaware that disabled people (and those labeled disabled) have always been primary among the carceral machine’s intended targets. In fact, there is evidence disabled people have the most frequent and catastrophic encounters with carceral systems, and ableism has long been central to the nation’s economic, political, legal, and social anatomy. Indeed, no social justice issue, including abolition, can be properly addressed without intentionally centering disability and ableism — and no social justice movement can be successful without disability justice at its heart. …
This article is part of Abolition for the People, a series brought to you by a partnership between Kaepernick Publishing and LEVEL, a Medium publication for and about the lives of Black and Brown men. The series, which comprises 30 essays and conversations over four weeks, points to the crucial conclusion that policing and prisons are not solutions for the issues and people the state deems social problems — and calls for a future that puts justice and the needs of the community first.
In the wake of the state-sanctioned lynchings of Breonna Taylor and George Floyd, the United States has been forced to grapple with not only the devastation of police terrorism but also the institutions that constitute, enhance, and expand the carceral state. In response, uprisings demanding the defunding of the police have spread across the country with no signs of stopping. Those who have been terrorized by law enforcement, those who have had enough of their very existence being criminalized, and those who have dedicated their lives to the cause of liberation by any means necessary are demanding the abolition of the carceral state — the institutions, structures, and practices of anti-Black state-sanctioned violence that violates the fundamental humanity of Black and Indigenous people and people of color. …
This article is part of Abolition for the People, a series brought to you by a partnership between Kaepernick Publishing and LEVEL, a Medium publication for and about the lives of Black and Brown men. The series, which comprises 30 essays and conversations over four weeks, points to the crucial conclusion that policing and prisons are not solutions for the issues and people the state deems social problems — and calls for a future that puts justice and the needs of the community first.
Movements against racist police violence and against entrenched racial injustices in this country’s jails and prisons can claim a history that is almost as old as the institutions themselves. Precisely because opposition and protests calling for reform have played such a central role in shaping structures of policing and punishment, the notion of reform has superseded other paths toward change. Ironically, many efforts to change these repressive structures — to reform them — have instead provided the glue that has guaranteed their continued presence and acceptance. …
This article is part of Abolition for the People, a series brought to you by a partnership between Kaepernick Publishing and LEVEL, a Medium publication for and about the lives of Black and Brown men. The series, which comprises 30 essays and conversations over four weeks, points to the crucial conclusion that policing and prisons are not solutions for the issues and people the state deems social problems — and calls for a future that puts justice and the needs of the community first.
In October 1976, Ebony magazine published a story about the popularity among Black users of citizen band (CB) radio, a voice communication technology that allowed for two-way exchanges over distance. CB radio served as a means of community organizing and entertainment, with the establishment of social clubs, the invention of vocabularies, and the use of channels almost exclusively by Black enthusiasts. The article named Redd Foxx (handle: “Redbird”) and Muhammad Ali (handle: “Big Bopper”) among some of the more famous users of this technology yet also noted that “Blacks have been into CBs for years; it’s nothing new.” …
This article is part of Abolition for the People, a series brought to you by a partnership between Kaepernick Publishing and LEVEL, a Medium publication for and about the lives of Black and Brown men. The series, which comprises 30 essays and conversations over four weeks, points to the crucial conclusion that policing and prisons are not solutions for the issues and people the state deems social problems — and calls for a future that puts justice and the needs of the community first.
It’s morning. I just got off the phone with Gwen Woods, the mother of Mario Woods, who was executed by San Francisco police officers on December 2, 2015. I am terrified. I am confused. I am absolutely thankful. I am more prepared to fight. Before our conversation, I read everything I could about both her and Mario. I watched, on silent, as Gwen Woods’ child walked away from officers before being filled with 21 bullets. I heard but didn’t fully understand when Colin Kaepernick told me, “Mario is why I did what I did. His mother, Mama Woods, is why I do what I do. …
The ongoing scourge of police terrorism has reinvigorated an important national conversation about policing and incarceration — their history, purpose, and practice. While some have called for reforms, like stricter use-of-force policies and enhanced body cam protocols for officers, others have demanded more sweeping change.
“Abolition for the People,” a project produced by Kaepernick Publishing in partnership with LEVEL, seeks to end that debate once and for all. …
Andy Slavitt—who was Medicare, Medicaid, and ACA head for President Obama—has had enough when it comes to irresponsible negligence around Covid-19. “Note to team with the nuclear codes: Maybe get a second password,” he writes. “This is what happens when an administration throws out everything they inherited. By the way, this is the stuff the deep state does. It’s called expertise. It’s called preventing stupid people from ourselves.”
I had always known I was different — I guess I never knew how different. But walking into a dance studio made it clear to me.
Today, I am a professional ballet dancer, originally from Birmingham, Alabama. When I was two days old, a progressive, creative, and open-minded all-White family adopted me. I had an incredible childhood.
My dad is a medical social worker and clinical psychologist. While I was growing up, he primarily worked with people living with HIV and AIDS. I was exposed to much of that pain, and recognized and appreciated the value of life early on. My dad instilled in me the importance of living life to its fullest with passion. …
