Gaza, Cop City, and Maleta

The international struggle is tied to Tennessee.

It’s been a difficult time to write. My regularly scheduled seasonal depression hit hard last month, and everything else going on in the world adds an extra layer of despair and bleakness.

Organizing for Palestine is one of the only things that helps. Over the last few months, I’ve joined a coalition of strong, smart, dedicated people to fight for an end to US support for Israel’s genocide in Gaza. Some of the organizers in our Palestinian Solidarity Network are also active members of the Chattanooga DSA chapter, which is starting to feel more like a political home for me.

A child painting the Palestine flag at the Chattanooga Coolidge Park rally.

Since October, we’ve held a Chattanooga rally for a ceasefire that was well-attended by the local Islamic community, as well as grassroots political organizations like Semillas, CALEB, and Concerned Citizens for Justice. We also protested outside Tennessee Rep. Chuck Fleishmann’s office after he voted to censure Rashida Tlaib.

Some Palestinian speakers addressed the crowd at these events, describing the grief and dissonance of losing beloved family members in the war abroad while their own country cheered on the violence. Other speakers got up to talk about the reasons for their own solidarity with Palestine, explaining what it means for Tennessee residents when the US supports and funds Zionist killing.

Palestinian-American speaker Sarah E. at the Chattanooga Coolidge Park rally.

Although the war is geographically far off, it hits home when you understand that the IDF has been sharing urban warfare tactics with US police for years. Here in the Southeastern US, we’re now witnessing a campaign by the Atlanta police force to build Copy City: a massive facility that would train police throughout Georgia to use this level of brutal military force against civilians.

Over the last year, the people of Atlanta have organized to resist Cop City through a diversity of tactics, including voting referendums and direct action. We do this because we know it doesn’t end with one facility in one city. Just a few months ago, Nashville broke ground on Maleta, which appears to be a copycat training institution for Tennessee police. Other cities are always watching our struggle to determine what they can get away with.

Rally at Chuck Fleischmann’s office (photo from CBS News)

Earlier this week, Philadelphia city council voted to ban citizens from wearing ski masks. The vote passed overwhelmingly, despite outcry from Black community organizations and the ACLU. I barely had time to process this news and its implications before I learned that Atlanta would introduce a similar law, except this time, they extended the ban to any type of face covering, including cloth masks and hoodies.

In both Philly and Atlanta, politicians touted the ban on face coverings as an anti-crime measure, but in these majority Black cities, it feels more reminiscent of stop-and-frisk laws. The rule will make it easier for police to harass and incriminate Black and brown men for just existing in public, without addressing the root issues of systemic racism and poverty that actually contribute to higher crime rates. In Atlanta, the ban will also make it easier for police to identify and target Cop City protestors, which makes this a frightening piece of legislation.

When we say Palestine will be free, it means Cop City will never be built. It means Maleta will never be built. It means no one will be harassed by police for wearing a hood, or killed, like Tortuguita, for peacefully protesting. It means no one will be attacked with white phosphorous or carpet bombed simply because they live in an occupied territory. In Tennessee and Georgia, we resist the genocidal war in Gaza, among many reasons, because we know that unspeakable violence will come home to roost if we don’t.

Photo by Olivia Ross of the Chattanooga Times Free Press.

It’s so disheartening to read the responses I’ve gotten from calling and writing letters about Gaza to my elected officials. Personally, I’ve lost a lot of faith in politicians. It’s not like I had much faith to begin with for someone like Marsha Blackburn, but knowing that Bernie Sanders still hasn’t called for a ceasefire after a death toll of 6,000 Palestinian children makes me feel like my heart is turning black.

Sara Innamorato, a Pennsylvania rep whose campaign I had supported through small donations, publicly distanced herself from the DSA over their pro-Palestine statement in October. And then there’s John Fetterman, who has been an absolute embarrassment, wearing the Israeli flag as a cape while he openly mocks and ridicules his Palestinian and anti-Zionist Jewish constituents.

I don’t see how anyone could vote for these so-called progressives again, much less Joe Biden, who has alienated his entire base of young and Arab voters. His plan seems to be “well, I’m still not Trump.” Let’s see how that goes for him.

I know that some politicians have taken a stand and called for a ceasefire, including Rashida Tlaib, Cori Bush, and Summer Lee. I know it’s important to keep going, even if you’re in the vast minority, even if it feels hopeless.

So I’m mostly just pausing to make a note here of how deeply and utterly hopeless I’m feeling right now, and how many people I will never look at the same way after witnessing their bloodthirsty fervor for the mass killing of Palestinians. I don’t think I’ll ever forget what it’s been like to live through this moment.

These are dark times, but there is nothing else to do but keep going, so I will. Love and solidarity to everyone else feeling this.

---

Labor Intensive Recommendations

• Javelin by Sufjan Stevens — I’ve always leaned on his music for heavy feelings, this newest album is the ultimate gut punch knowing how much grief is behind it.

• Doppelganger by Naomi Klein — This book makes me feel like I’m not alone in the funhouse mirror of the internet.

• Killers of the Flower Moon — One of the best movies I’ve seen in a while. Pairs really well with watching a modern settler-colonial horror unfold in real time.

• Hemlock — I feel lucky to have attended the perfect house show where I heard Carolina’s music, along with my friend Lynne’s (treespots) and my sibling’s band (Samcha and the Welcome Committee.) Live music is so special, musicians are so special.