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lb_leeStill working through that big stack of zines from Jimmy Dunson and Rebel Hearts Press, and we're down to the last thing: a paper back anthology of essays entitled Building Power While The Lights Are Out: Disasters, Mutual Aid, and Dual Power. It's really making my brain buzz with ideas! I'm only midway through, but so far my favorites are "Mutual Aid and Anti-Racist Organizing in Rural Appalachia" by Rural Organizing and Resilience, "Love My People: Following in the Footprints of the Panthers" by Suncere Ali Shakur, and "Survival Programs: Then And Now" by Malik Rahim (an old guy in his seventies who was part of the Black Panthers in the '70s). Like the other stuff from Rebel Hearts, it looks to be a paper-only release.
I just want to quote a few paragraphs from Shakur here, because... how could I NOT love this book? He cut his teeth on mutual aid in the wake of Hurricane Katrina, where black men were getting murdered as looters by vigilantes, cops, and others. It was not a safe time and place, and he describes the following events:
I just want to quote a few paragraphs from Shakur here, because... how could I NOT love this book? He cut his teeth on mutual aid in the wake of Hurricane Katrina, where black men were getting murdered as looters by vigilantes, cops, and others. It was not a safe time and place, and he describes the following events:
"I started a breakaway grassroots relief project called H.O.P.E. [...] We gutted homes and provided roofing, painting, and eventually, total home repair. We had food and cleaning supplies, new pots and pans, diapers. You name it, we provided it. [...]
"On one occasion, another coordinator and I drove up on a house that had the biggest confederate flag you ever wanted to see, you could have used it to sail to England and back. We looked at each other like, who is going to knock on this cat's door? So we flipped a coin and I lost. I jumped out of Harriet [his truck] [and] walked over to the door and knocked on it. A short, very well-built white cat comes out the door. He looked like a life-size action figure. I told him who I was and what I was doing in the neighborhood. He grabs me, and pulls me close to him, and starts crying on me. He gave me this big bear hug, and with a raspy voice said, 'Thank you so much, brother. I ain't going to lie to you: I was involved with some people who did not think too much of your kind, but they left me here by myself, and you are the first person to come back and offer me any help. Friend, my name is Mike, and if you need anything at all, if anyone fucks with you while you back here, you come get me.' As I am writing this my eyes fill up with water, because that was the last thing I expected from him and he turned out to be about as genuine a friend as you could get. Mike was the type of person, if you did him one favor, he would go out his way to do you three." (66-67)
Later, he joined up with Occupy Sandy and continued doing good work there:
"I knew a project up the street where it was sad they had a lot of gang activity. These cats, I heard they would shoot out every night. We rolled up in the project. I jumped out and told one of the brothers that I did not have a lift and we had all this ice tea for the hood. He said, 'I got you, big man. You come here to hook up people in the hood. Hold on.' He made a phone call and like twelve young men just came out from nowhere. They jumped in the truck and handed out all twenty-two pallets by forming a chain and working like that for over two hours non-stop. Everybody in the project had ten cases of tea, some better. [...] While these awesome young folks were helping me out, I called out to the first young man to help me, 'What is your name, good brother?' and he replied, 'No. 1 Gangster Killa.' I replied, 'Brother, thank you and your friends so much.' That moment, he was more than a gangster, he was a care provider." (68-69)
"On one occasion, another coordinator and I drove up on a house that had the biggest confederate flag you ever wanted to see, you could have used it to sail to England and back. We looked at each other like, who is going to knock on this cat's door? So we flipped a coin and I lost. I jumped out of Harriet [his truck] [and] walked over to the door and knocked on it. A short, very well-built white cat comes out the door. He looked like a life-size action figure. I told him who I was and what I was doing in the neighborhood. He grabs me, and pulls me close to him, and starts crying on me. He gave me this big bear hug, and with a raspy voice said, 'Thank you so much, brother. I ain't going to lie to you: I was involved with some people who did not think too much of your kind, but they left me here by myself, and you are the first person to come back and offer me any help. Friend, my name is Mike, and if you need anything at all, if anyone fucks with you while you back here, you come get me.' As I am writing this my eyes fill up with water, because that was the last thing I expected from him and he turned out to be about as genuine a friend as you could get. Mike was the type of person, if you did him one favor, he would go out his way to do you three." (66-67)
Later, he joined up with Occupy Sandy and continued doing good work there:
"I knew a project up the street where it was sad they had a lot of gang activity. These cats, I heard they would shoot out every night. We rolled up in the project. I jumped out and told one of the brothers that I did not have a lift and we had all this ice tea for the hood. He said, 'I got you, big man. You come here to hook up people in the hood. Hold on.' He made a phone call and like twelve young men just came out from nowhere. They jumped in the truck and handed out all twenty-two pallets by forming a chain and working like that for over two hours non-stop. Everybody in the project had ten cases of tea, some better. [...] While these awesome young folks were helping me out, I called out to the first young man to help me, 'What is your name, good brother?' and he replied, 'No. 1 Gangster Killa.' I replied, 'Brother, thank you and your friends so much.' That moment, he was more than a gangster, he was a care provider." (68-69)
