Troy Davis
I was in Europe when the state of Georgia murdered Troy Davis. From there the barbarity of this act is evident and universally condemned. My friend Alice Kim captured my reaction to this horrific legal lynching.
From Alice Kim, Dancing the Dialectic, September 22, 2011. For Troy
I feel numb. I feel defeated. I don’t want to read any more stories or news reports or even any more calls to action. Then I feel ashamed. I want to be strong. I want to know what the right thing to say is at this moment for this moment.
“There is nothing to say,” Ronnie Kitchen said when we talked on the phone this morning. Ronnie was the twentieth death row prisoner to be exonerated from Illinois’ death row. We’ve known each other for fourteen
A note from my partner-in-life
Bernardine Dohrn
Up from the musty subways, two blocks down Broadway, the controlled chaos of Occupy Wall Street leaps into view, part happening (musicians drumming, piles of clothing, an efficient and tasty food service, a library, the medical unit) part street fair (homemade postering, people browsing, the brilliant Beehive Collective art posters, bustling tables of conversation) and part BugHouse Square/Union Square (debates, engaging passers-by, speakers, daily democratic meetings). Liberty Plaza, formerly Zuccotti Park, is long (going East/West) and narrow (up and downtown).
Occupy Wall Street is entering its 4th week. It’s fresh, a break, visceral bolts of lightning. Pointing fingers at the fat cats, it challenges the gouging 1%. It unites the 99. It (so far) has no program, no demands. It occupies the park at the foot of the stone and glass citadels. Located just two blocks East of the World Trade Center abyss, and blocks West from the Tombs (the massive gulag that cages the poor and people of color, Occupy Wall Street is multiplying, replicable. The titans roost high above all of our cities. This occupation is decentralizing
