Peace & Riot | Issue No. 1

is the place for our community to stay informed, inspired, and connected. Each issue contains powerful features and deep dives with voices of Environmental Justice and social justice leaders as well as community members.

CONTRIBUTORS

Krystal Allen, K. Allen Consulting

Rania Batrice, Batrice & Associates

KB Brookins, Author, Poet, and Artist

Bishop Marcia Dinkins, Black Appalachian Coalition

Frankie Orona, Society of Native Nations

Lorena Quiroz, The Immigrant Alliance for Justice and Equity

PEACE & RIOT ZINE TEAM

Shilpi Chhotray

Mari Johnson

Michael McKenzie

Mindy Ramaker

Alexis Young CREATIVE DIRECTION

Mindy Ramaker

DESIGN

Lewi Yonas

LETTER FROM PEACE & RIOT

BLAC IN APPALACHIA W. BISHOP MARCIA DINKINS

MICHAEL MCKENZIE

el-Hajj Malik el-Shabazz, better known as Malcolm X, said, “If you’re not careful, the newspapers will have you hating the people who are being oppressed and loving the people who are doing the oppressing.” For me, Malcolm X’s quote was undoubtedly an inspiration for a digital magazine that counters the narratives of mainstream media.

For our team, the art of counter-narratives is about a passion and a love for justice, both socially and environmentally. With unapologetic love and passion, our digital magazine aspires to sew a communications thread across the Gulf South, Appalachia, and the Global South. We believe that if we connect and uplift voices across regions, we nurture democracy in a way that makes our ancestors like Malcolm X proud. We hope you enjoy this issue!

Peace, Michael McKenzie

SWEET HOME SELMA W. KRYSTAL ALLEN

PALESTINIAN LAND, HERITAGE, AND IDENTITY

W. RANIA BATRICE

BARE MINIMUM OR: TO-DO LIST FOR WHITE AMERICA

SPIRITUAL ACTIVISM AND COLLECTIVE POWER

W. FRANKIE ORONA

DON’T FORGET ABOUT JACKSON

LORENA QUIROZ

FROM GROCERY GARDEN TO FRAGILE FOOD DESERT: A STORY ABOUT NEWVILLE, ALABAMA

MARI JOHNSON

COBALT MINING IN CRISIS IN CONGO

MCKENZIE

& RIOT PICKS

MICHAEL MCKENZIE

SHILPI CHHOTRAY

ALEXIS YOUNG

MICHAEL

BLAC IN APPALACHIA

WITH BISHOP MARCIA DINKINS BLACK APPALACHIAN COALITION

WORDS: Michael McKenzie , Executive Director, Counterstream Media

Bishop Marcia Dinkins is the Founder of Black Appalachian Coalition (BLAC). Her motivation to form BLAC was driven by the need to represent Black Appalachians in a decolonized way. In Appalachia and the Ohio River Valley, African Americans face a range of Environmental Justice issues that stem from historical and ongoing challenges related to political, economic, and environmental injustices. The region’s coal mining and petrochemical industries have had a significant impact on Black communities in Appalachia. Additionally, according to the EPA, The Chemours Louisville Works plant in Kentucky is the nation’s largest emitter of the climate super-pollutant hydrofluorocarbon-23 (HFC-23), which is 12,400 times more potent than carbon dioxide as a greenhouse gas.

Here are some key environmental justice issues faced by African Americans in Appalachia:

1. Coal Mining and Environmental Degradation:

African American communities in Appalachia have been disproportionately affected by the environmental degradation caused by coal mining activities. Mining operations have led to deforestation, water pollution, air pollution, and land destruction, impacting the health and well-being of residents.

2. Health Impacts:

The proximity of African American communities to coal mines and petrochemical hazards such as Rubbertown in Louisville has resulted in increased health risks due to exposure to pollutants such as coal dust, heavy metals, and toxic chemicals. Respiratory illnesses, cardiovascular diseases, and other health issues are prevalent among residents living near mining sites.

3. Economic Disparities:

African American communities in Appalachia often face economic disparities exacerbated by the decline of the coal industry. Job losses in mining have led to unemployment and poverty in these communities, limiting access to healthcare, education, and other essential services.

4. Lack of Representation:

Historically, Black voices and perspectives have been marginalized in decision-making processes related to environmental policies and regulations in Appalachia. This lack of representation hinders efforts to address the specific environmental concerns of African American communities.

5. Limited Access to Resources:

Black communities in rural Appalachia may experience limited access to resources such as clean water, healthcare facilities, and educational opportunities.

These disparities contribute to a cycle of environmental injustice that disproportionately affects African Americans.

I sat down with Bishop Marcia Dinkins to discuss the BLAC Appalachia Coalition, policy paradoxes, and the power of narrative.

Why does Black Appalachia Coalition exist?

To amplify the voices of Black people along the Ohio River Valley for racial equity and for just equity. To shift the story, [we] must be in the story. Another part of our mission is to articulate us [Black people]. And to remind people that our roots run deep.

“ “

I realized that for policies to change, we must begin to articulate ourselves. But do we know the language? I remember saying to my professor thank you for giving me a double-edged sword, but both sides of the blades are dull.

What groups are part of the BLAC Appalachia collective?

The collective is comprised of various groups that we partner with in the Ohio River Valley region. The strength of BLAC is that we’re able to connect and create a tapestry and a thread that we’re braiding together the humanity of Black people across the Ohio River Valley to not only elevate their stories, but to tackle the issues [in environmental racism]. And that’s where our strength is because we believe that he who holds the story is the one who holds the power. And I believe our relationships within the collective is about shifting that power. We are becoming the power brokers because we are owning the story and telling the story the way that it needs to be told.

What is the BLAC Policy Summit?

The Black Policy Summit exists to teach us to train us, to transform our way of thinking, to understand the language of policy. It will be held at Simmons College in Louisville, Kentucky on July 19–21, 2024. This is our third BLAC Policy Summit.

Why did you feel a BLAC Policy Summit was needed?

The BLAC Policy Summit started with a struggle that I was having. I had taken a [doctoral] class … where we were studying from the book “Policy Paradox.” And I just got angry to a point where it brought me to tears because what I realized is there are so many things that has been done to us [Black People] that we do not know about. When I took the Policy Paradox course, it made me realize that we really don’t know policy. We don’t know the policy language. We don’t know how policies are formed. We don’t know how policies have been used against us.

And so, I realized that for policies to change, we must begin to articulate ourselves. But do we know the language? I remember saying to my professor thank you for giving me a double-edged sword, but both sides of the blades are dull. [It was a double-edge sword] because it [the Policy Paradox] doesn’t do anything for Black people and doesn’t do anything for brown people. Instead, policies were consistently repurposing a white supremacist story.

This experience made me think about how I engage and how build my people up. They always talk about our pain. They highlight our wounds, but they never talk about our wellness. They never talk about our resistance.

The theme of this year’s BLAC Policy Summit is: Black Healing, Justice, Convergence and Resurgence. The convergence speaks to the bodies of water. We have the smaller bodies of water that then converge with a tributary to become a bigger part of water, which then makes it stronger. It means that we are reconstituting ourselves and we’re coming up. And then the resurgence is because we have done those things, healed and gotten the justice in the ways that we needed, in the way that we see the power linking together by us converging together — then we become this resurgence.

We understand that to do this work we have to heal for change and we must use healing as a form of our own justice. We have to use healing as a form of our own justice transformation and liberation. And then justice is about defining it on our own terms, a definition around justice but that really wasn’t a definition around justice and so it’s always left us out. And you know the reason why we adopted this theme is because we understand that healing, justice, convergence, and resurgence means a rebirth. This rebirthing of who we are and what it is we’re going to do.

SWEET HOME

SELMA

WITH KRYSTAL ALLEN, K. ALLEN CONSULTING

WORDS:

Michael McKenzie , Executive Director, Counterstream Media

Krystal Allen is a New Orleans resident and native of Selma, Alabama. As the founder of K. Allen Consulting, Krystal and her firm are passionate about Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion (DEI). Despite the staunch attacks and restrictions on DEI at the federal and state level, Krystal and her K. Allen Consulting are undeterred. I got the sense that Krystal’s resilience was a testament to her Selma upbringing. As Krystal reflects on helping her parents become homeowners for the first time, one can sense Krystal’s passion for housing justice.

What was it like growing up in Selma, Alabama? remember being surrounded by a lot of rich community, not in terms of material resources but in terms of plenty of like outlets and conduits to develop a healthy sense of a racial pride. I do reflect on my family not having financial means, and grew up in a lot of financial poverty and sleeping in jackets and double pants because we didn’t have heat in the house. But I was wealthy and the people around me instilled character and values. They taught me how to think. Who I am is a hundred percent because of how I was raised growing up in a small, but historic town like Selma.

There was clarity of my Black identity and a sense of social consciousness. I had permission even at a young age to question things that didn’t make sense to me and things that felt unjust whether it was from the Black church setting or social and extracurricular spaces. I was taught who were graduates of Tuskegee University.

What is the approach and origin of K. Allen Consulting?

K. Allen Consulting is a New Orleans based education and management consulting firm and we provide a variety of capacity building to organizations and individual leaders across many different disciplines and

“ “

I do reflect on my family not having financial means, and grew up in a lot of financial poverty and sleeping in jackets and double pants because we didn’t have heat in the house. But I was wealthy and the people around me instilled character and values.

industry backgrounds. Those supports look like trainings, coaching, strategic planning, auditing, and development of other customized tools such as frameworks to strengthen, deepen organizational overall effectiveness. We help organizations center principles that will help them live out their mission and vision.

We center our work around inclusion and justice and equity for the stakeholders that we serve. The work is super important to me as a founder because the firm was birthed out of a very traumatic workplace experience that I had as a Black woman in educational leadership. This was an experience of racial injustice.

With the attacks on Diversity Equity & Inclusion Initiatives, particularly in the Gulf South, how has K. Allen Consulting adjusted considering these attacks against Critical Race Theory or DEI?

Interestingly, one would think with the media coverage of political attacks on DEI would cripple our ability to do the work — but it’s been quite opposite. Because Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion are under attack we want to make sure we’re on the right side of history. And so it’s been really fascinating for us to see an expansion of who our clients are to restaurants and bars doing DEI trainings from a customer service standpoint and an HR standpoint. We have also been supporting early childhood centers especially around linguistic diversity and how they serve families of multi linguistic learners. I’m going to be honest with you, it feels even greater because we’re doing it with people who really want to do it. Like they’re not being forced to implement DEI. And as a matter of fact, because they’re doing it in the midst of scrutiny is another sign that they really want the training.

You recently purchased a home for your

parents in Selma who never owned a home?

So, you know, being able to save enough money to purchase my family a home was special, especially knowing how hard my parents have worked their whole lives. My parents have been in jobs that just don’t pay well so they’ve had this aspiration for a long time but could not afford [a home]. They weren’t necessarily eligible for pre-approval because of their income thresholds. And so it felt like such an honor for me. I’ve always provided financial relief for my parents since having a job, like even at 16 years old. But being in this aspect of social entrepreneurship and being able to dream big and go after something so audacious was a great feeling. It was also powerful because it was the first time the property was owned by Black people. Being able to change the narrative of possibility and the symbolism behind purchasing my parents a home was huge.

And think the other piece of it that I think about is the fact that not only is it about the physical space, but also the security for them physically, emotionally, and mentally. But there are so many people like them that work so incredibly hard every day, multiple jobs, and still can’t afford the housing that they deserve. And my parents were in a situation where they had a landlord who wasn’t doing right by them.

I think the housing justice is so real. It’s real because home ownership is not always because of a lack of information and awareness of how [to purchase a home] as opposed to the economic disparities and injustices that keep people from being able to access home ownership. So, I think on one hand [home ownership] is awareness and on the other hand, it’s the means and the resources to purchase a home that should be at the core of equitable solutions.

The Edmund Pettus Bridge, now a National Historic Landmark, was the site of the brutal Bloody Sunday beatings of civil rights marchers during the first march for voting rights. The events mobilized the passage of the Voting Rights Act, which was signed into law on August 6, 1965.

Over 500 activists marched from Brown Chapel to the Edmund Pettus Bridge, demanding Black Americans’ right to vote in 1965. Courtesy of Library of Congress. Photographer Peter Pettus.

PALESTINIAN LAND, HERITAGE, & IDENTITY

WITH

RANIA BATRICE, BATRICE & ASSOCIATES

WORDS:

Shilpi Chhotray , Co-Founder, Counterstream Media

As the daughter of Palestinian immigrants, Rania Batrice has blazed a life path as a voice for the silenced including the topics of gun violence, climate change, immigration, and women’s rights. Rania’s work in social justice includes collaborating with organizations including Our Revolution, the Arab American Institute, March for Our Lives, StudentsMarch.org, Sunrise Movement, and the Freedom Project.

First and foremost, how are you doing right now?

It’s such a simple question but feels so impossible right now. I’ve spent the majority of my life working in some of the most complicated spaces. I’ve seen the very best in humanity. And I’ve also seen the worst. But I don’t know how to exist in this world. I don’t know how to process this level of depravity and inhumanity.

the genocide with our tax dollars. It’s imperative we use our voice and positions of privilege accordingly. When it comes to climate justice, can you tell us about the important interconnection with Indigenous rights, land rights, and the fight against climate colonialism?

Stop talking about us. And start talking TO us. “ “

Right now my existence, my ability to keep going is completely wrapped up in doing everything I can to help end the suffering. The short answer is I’m not okay. And I know I’m not alone.

It’s difficult to imagine how we are still here, the level of cruelty is unfathomable. For Palestinians living in the diaspora, there’s this additional emotional labor that goes into proving to Western leaders that your people deserve to live like everyone else. Where in historic Palestine is your family from?

My family is large and spread out. But part of my family originated in Kafr Bir’im.

[Kafr Bir’im was a village that was ethnically cleansed by Zionist troops during the 1948 Nakba, or ‘catastrophe,’ to create the state of Israel. More than 700,000 Palestinians were violently removed from their land.]

You’ve been an important voice against Israel’s horrific genocide in Gaza and violent settler occupation in the West Bank. How does your background in human rights and climate justice influence how you show up for your community?

Palestinians have cared for our land, our olive trees, and our animals — it’s our home, similar to most Indigenous communities around the world. Colonization has brought destruction and the decimation of land and water and life. The colonizers burn down our olive trees. They destroy our land. They strip our natural resources and our land. They murder the stewards of the land. This occupation, this genocide is massacering our people and our land. It’s continued climate injustice playing out in front of our eyes and being excused by far too many governments around the world.

Exactly — the destructive links between oppression and environmental injustice experienced by Palestinians are a product of Israel’s ongoing military occupation and settler colonialism. Can you tell us what the meaning of ‘land’ is to indigenous Palestinians?

I was honored to have some time with Rania where she reflected on the ongoing genocide in Gaza and its deeply entrenched connections to Environmental Justice, Palestinian identity, and cultural heritage.

I often get asked why I do the work I do — climate justice, gun violence prevention, fighting against domestic violence and human trafficking, reparations, health disparity and inequity, everything. And the answer is, because I’m Palestinian. All of my work, everything I care so deeply about intersects directly with justice and equity. What is happening in Gaza and the West Bank—and is being funded, facilitated and excused by the US government — is sickening and depraved and racist as hell. There’s no scenario in which I wouldn’t be involved in doing everything in my power to help stop this genocide and this suffering.

Absolutely, I tell people this all the time, if you think this isn’t your lane, think again. Our government is actively complicit in funding and weaponizing

I think what a lot of people do not understand is that this is not just Palestinian land. It’s our history, our memories, and the creation of our families. The generations long before me loved and cared for this land, and developed our culture. When I go back and put my hands in what’s left of my grandfather’s soil, it’s spiritual. It’s part of us. It is not just land — it is our home.

You’ve painted an incredibly powerful picture that’s deeply ingrained in Indigenous resistance. The olive tree comes to mind as an universal symbol for Palestinian rootedness. I read that the demolition of Palestinian trees dates back to the declaration of the state of Israel itself. What does the olive tree symbolize to you?

I think not just Palestinians but also many Arabs know how important our olive trees are to us. It is a vital resource and engrained in our history and culture. It’s a source of pride and a source of income. So of course this is one more thing colonizers try to either destroy or co-opt. It’s the cornerstone of colonization and white

supremacy to strip Indigenous people of their history, whether by demolishing our universities and records and land, or claiming these things as their own. Food itself is central to our families – gathering together around so many beautiful dishes made with love. It’s who we are, and one more thing colonization attempts to destroy.

This also relates to what you said earlier about how love and care for the land developed the culture. The Lakota phrase “Mní wičhóni” (“Water is life”) has been top of mind since 96% of Gaza’s water is unfit for human consumption. A study conducted by the UN late last year estimated that Gazans are living on only three liters of water a day. For appreciation, the average American uses more than 1,130 liters of water a day. Can you tell us about the historic Water Apartheid across occupied Palestine?

What is so sad is that the land of Palestine has water, it is not a situation of lack of resources but an intentional controlling of those resources. Put another way, apartheid. To deny humans water, which they need to survive, is to enact their demise. As the Lakota say, “water IS life,” and this occupation is attempting to eradicate life. It not only impacts water, but also their food as farmers have struggled to water their crops for so many years. This is not new — the Israeli government has been carrying out this ecocide for decades. The occupation controls the water and infrastructure to build systems to bring in water which requires Israeli Permits that they purposely do not give to Palestinians. After 1967, the Israeli military declared control of all water systems in Gaza and the West Bank. Since then, the water issue has only become worse. Regularly the IOF (Israel Occupation Forces) will shoot Palestinians water tanks. Destroying the already so limited amounts of water they have — and this was happening long before this most recent invasion.

Thank you for breaking this down so clearly — the state sponsored systematic violence of people and environment cannot be seen in silos. When it comes to water, some climate justice advocates are turning their attention to The Gaza Marine, a gas field with major development potential for natural gas located 20 miles off the Gaza coast. Due to Israel’s 16-year blockade, Israel controls Palestine’s energy consumption. What is your reaction to resource extraction for Western interests being the real reason for the genocide in Gaza?

There is no question the resources in Arab nations are highly sought after by the Western world. We’ve seen many wars over oil and other resources, so I understand the urge to make this about natural gas. But the reality is, the dehumanization of Palestinian people began even before 1948. The B.S. narrative about “a land without a people for a people without a land” was only the beginning of the falsehoods far too many in the West adopted as an attempt to excuse themselves for their sins and harms. I would not say this is the “real reason for the genocide in Gaza.”

Since the Nakba in 1948, it’s been clear that ethnic cleansing and an eradication of my people has been the goal. And with billions of dollars of unchecked funding and arms transfers, the Israeli government has been allowed to carry this out since first occupying our land and continuing today. While the genocide we’re witnessing is on a massive scale, the abuse, occupation, apartheid, dehumanization, and massacres are not new — not in Gaza and not in the West Bank or the rest of the country. This is a sad reality in many countries. The difference now is everyone has a smartphone and can see what’s happening in real time.

I’m glad you mentioned this. There’s no escaping what’s happening, we’re literally seeing the genocide unfold on our tiny devices. I am personally in touch with Gazans daily through the power of social media. Even still, the propaganda war peddled by dangerous Western imperialist rhetoric continues to be used to justify the violence and murder of Palestinians. What is your personal experience with the information warfare campaign that is a tactical mission to dehumanize Palestinians?

Dehumanization is also commonplace within white supremacy. The demonization of people, especially people of color, is a tactic as old as time. The dehumanization of Palestinian people is no different than that of Indigenous people or Black people or brown people of all backgrounds. The truly infuriating part is when people in leadership and power take that propaganda and amplify, use it as a justification for starving babies to death, and then claim some kind of moral high ground. know when the history books are written, the blood on these enablers’ hands will be clear.

Their complicity in demolishing our planet and our people will be obvious. But how many people will be murdered and forever traumatized in the meantime?

This is incredibly important. I don’t understand how they don’t seem to have the capacity to imagine that people’s lived experiences look differently from the stereotypes imposed on Muslims and Arabs. As a platform dedicated exclusively to Media for Environmental Justice, we know how important it is to create spaces for historically excluded narratives to tell their stories. In the context of Palestinians who continue to be censored and excluded from telling their own stories, what is your message to our community?

First I have to say thank you for so intentionally creating this space. The silencing of Palestinian people has been an intentional and decades-long effort. I’ve personally lost opportunities and clients and more, simply for daring to be openly Palestinian. And haven’t experienced the worst of it. And while I absolutely appreciate and welcome the intersectional allyship that is our movement for liberation, do not appreciate the number of non-Palestinian voices being platformed to talk about the lived experience of being Palestinian. How many Palestinian voices are regularly platformed in the mainstream media? How many Palestinian people are invited to openly and honestly talk about what it’s like to be them, without repercussions? What kind of stories are told about us that serve to further dehumanize rather than elevate the beauty of our people and our culture? I would ask anyone out there who is truly interested in liberation and a just peace to ask themselves these questions and act accordingly. Stop talking about us. And start talking TO us.

Centering the Palestinian narrative needs to be the norm, not the exception. It’s also why there’s an urgent call for books, courses, and lectures which encourage a decolonized approach to understanding the Palestinian identity. What books or films do you recommend we check out?

There are so many to choose from. Some films I recommend are “5 Broken Cameras” by Emad Burnat & Guy Davidi, “Disturbing The Peace” by Stephen Apkon, “1948: Creation & Catastrophe” by Andy Trimlett & Ahlam Muhtaseb, “The Present” by Farah Nabulsi, “Farha” by Darin Sallam, and “Gaza Fights For Freedom” by Abby Martin. There are many great filmmakers who have shown the occupation in a meaningful way. And for books, I recommend one that really touches on what we talked about today is “Power And Water In The Middle East” by Mark Zeitoun, “Occupied Voices” by Wendy Pearlman, and “Troubled Waters” by Mary Annaïse Heglar.

This is a fantastic list, thank you so much. It’s imperative we continue educating ourselves and continue to act. How can our community be an ally to an end to the genocide in Gaza and Palestinian liberation?

Right now it is very important to have conversations with anyone, speak about what is going on, and make sure people’s focus is on what is happening. Make noise, use voice, call your reps, protest if you can, or offer support to those who are. think what is most important is to keep your eyes on what is happening, do not allow the very intentional distractions take you off course or overwhelm you from what is needed right now. We’re trying to stop a genocide. Please don’t “turn the page.” Please don’t stop using your voice or whatever is in your power to raise awareness and make those in power understand that this is an issue that you care deeply about. And if you can, please donate to a reputable organization providing services and care on the ground.

I know many of us who care deeply about justice and liberation for all people are at an absolute loss on how to cope. How are you finding solace in this excruciating time of profound grief and sadness?

The truth is I’m not. There are moments of reprieve, when I can look at something and find it beautiful. But it’s always immediately followed by such deep sadness and pain and guilt. realize that I cannot control these emotions. And frankly I don’t think I should. For me, I’m allowing myself to feel every bit of it and trying it to drive my pursuit of justice and equity for all people, including my people.

Editor’s note: This interview has been edited for purposes of length and clarity. It was conducted April 24, 2024.

A father and his children sit on an abundant harvest of watermelons. Photograph by Munir Alawi.

Arab Women’s Union of Ramallah. Group at work in the Ramallah work rooms of the A.W.U.R. in 1934. Photographer Unknown. Library of Congress.

Palestinian mother cradling her child, in the late 1920s. She wears traditional Palestinian garments. Photo by Khalil Raad.

Unless otherwise noted, these images were discovered through The British Mandate Jerusalemites (BMJ) Photo Library on Facebook, which was created by Mona Hajjar Halaby, a PalestinianAmerican living in California. Mona’s collection of over 20,000 photos includes images from private collections of friends and acquaintances as well as photos inherited from relatives, including her uncle who left Palestine on May 14, 1948, the day before the Nakba officially began.

Mona hopes “to record for posterity’s sake that there was a vibrant society in Palestine in urban Jerusalem” and “share with the world the fact that there was an intellectual, artistic, creative community in urban Palestine” at a time when 70% of Palestinians lived in villages, farming the land. She hopes the photos “break down the otherness” Westerners often feel towards Palestinians and show a shared humanity.

A young girl dressed in traditional Palestinian clothing picking olives. Photographer Unknown.

OR

BARE TO-DO LIST FOR WHITE AMERICA MINIMUM

POEM BY KB BROOKINS

Clean up after yourself. Pick up that book chile, you still got a good back. Seek therapy. Don’t kill the creative in you. Don’t kill Black people. Get a job — one that doesn’t make you the dictator. Take back 400 years of overcontested leadership. Give thanks to the futures you’ve stolen. Give back what your people call inheritance. Wash your hands; cut the grass; don’t kill Asian women. Don’t have what you call bad days.

Don’t think that — due to fear planted in the roots of your kin — you can’t get rid of yourself today. Get a job — one that doesn’t require blood from me. I’m low on iron & desire to tell you once again. Quit playing. There’s a puddle of blood you’ve shoved into a corner. There’s a mop and my people wringed into a bucket of waste. I’ll wait.

KB Brookins is a Black, queer, and trans writer, cultural worker, and visual artist from Texas.

This poem originally appeared in Drunk Monkeys Magazine.

SPIRITUAL ACTIVISM & COLLECTIVE POWER

WITH FRANKIE ORONA, SOCIETY OF NATIVE NATIONS

WORDS: Alexis Young , Environmental Journalist, Counterstream Media

Frontline communities, overwhelmed by the petrochemical industry’s presence, have survived decades of toxic emissions and contaminated natural resources. Community members’ health, economies, and environments are sacrificed for industry profits. Environmental leader Frankie Orona (Che-u cha-wat ha-tako) — the Executive Director of the Society of Native Nations and member of the Borrado, Tongva, and Chumash tribes — advocates for healing and community restoration that centers Indigenous and decolonized ways of being.

I sat down with Frankie to chat about overcoming tactical divides against collective power and some of the guiding principles in Indigenous environmental protection.

You know, environmentalism and activism are a part of our culture. It’s part of our spirituality, long before those words even existed. “ “

You spoke on the Global Plastics Treaty. Can you explain why the Society of Native Nations supports it? Can you discuss the spiritual connections behind the ethos of this work?

For me, being involved in the Global Plastics Treaty, I feel like I’m obligated, I feel responsible, and I feel a need to be in these spaces as much as possible because our communities have been left out of these discussions for so long. They weren’t made for us to be there, be present, and take up space.

And I’m there to create some uncomfortability.

I’m there to remind them of the people in the communities that they’re leaving out of these conversations, that they dehumanize us because they’re not addressing our issues at the frontline and fenceline communities, in our Indigenous communities, that are disproportionately impacted. Right?

And I say it all the time when I’m there, “I’m here to remind you of those disproportionately impacted communities, the Indigenous and Black and Brown communities that have been dealing with these issues for generations.”

And for me, I always tell everybody when we do this, and when I’m asked about my involvement, I always say, “You know, environmentalism and activism are a part of our culture. It’s part of our spirituality, long before those words even existed.”

Because we’re taught by our elders and through traditional lifeways, you leave a place better than the way that we found it. We moved around and made sure we left that place in a good way. So if we need to come back or if the next generation needs to come back to that space, it was a good space for them to come back to, right? It’s about understanding and respecting the very life that gave us life. Right? And so, it’s about honoring that and it’s a part of who we are. It’s a part of our culture and we’re there to help protect the Indigenous knowledge, the inherent rights of Indigenous people, on

all the different communities and territories throughout this world that have been taken for granted and have had harm pushed upon their communities.

Could you speak to any of the disparate outcomes that Indigenous people specifically face? How can we support the solutions to ending those outcomes?

I always say this in a lot of the spaces that we end up — we’re talking about the U.S. — we talk about the issues that are impacting our communities here at home, we first have to remember that this country was founded on the genocide and the bones of my people, our people. Indigenous people, the original people, these lands and the structures were built up and made into what you see today through slavery, through our Black relatives coming here, being brought here, forced here.

That slavery, those things cannot be ignored.

How do we expect not to repeat some of the faults of our history if we don’t acknowledge those things, right? You have to acknowledge them so that healing can happen. If the healing doesn’t happen, then we’re going to be prone to do some of those things again or treat each other in a different way.

So we need that healing. We need to be able to feel safe about having those kinds of discussions and owning it. I think by realizing those things, we understand the disparities and the impacts that we have in our communities and have had for generations we share.

When we talk about the EJ Frontline communities today that identify whether they feel like they’re an AfricanAmerican Community or Latino Community or however they want to identify and share something, we share the disparities, unfortunately. That’s a tactic to separate us. “This impacts them more than them.” No, that’s a tactic to take away power from us because when we come together to address the issues that impact every single one of us, that’s power, and it can’t be denied.

JACKSON DON’T FORGET ABOUT

WORDS:

Lorena Quiroz , Founder and Director of The

Immigrant Alliance for Justice and Equity

The “Jxn Icons” mural is located on the back wall of the Old Capital Inn on North Street. It depicts Civil Rights leader Medgar Evers; writer and photographer Eudora Welty; American ballet dancer, educator, and author Thalia Mara; and rapper and philanthropist David Banner.

I live in the beautiful Jackson, Mississippi, the city with Soul, a city that is 84% Black, and a city that is welcoming to immigrants and migrants; a city led by a radical mayor.

A city that was just ravaged by a legislative session that recently tried to create an entity within our water system that would put the City of Jackson’s water and sewer infrastructure in the hands of the state, a bill (SB2628) that was passed by the senate, but thankfully, ultimately defeated.

This defeat was only possible, because the people rose up to denounce the creation of the Capitol Region utility authority, an entity that would have removed authority from the city leaders over their own water system.

A water system that continues to experience repeated water boil notices, infrastructure that causes myriads of potholes, that in turn cause damage to tires, rims, and can even cost you your life. All this due to decades of neglect and divestment.

As we approach elections and continue to see trends that attack the civil rights gains of people of color, one can only wonder what is in store for Jackson. The one thing we can be sure of is that its residents are and have been ready for a fight for their city. We, activists, organizers and leaders, proudly wear t-shirts that read, keep your hands off Jackson, because Jackson will not go down without a fight.

ALABAMA NEWVILLE, FROM GROCERY A STORY ABOUT TO FOOD GARDEN DESERT:

WORDS: Mari Johnson Social Media & Community Manager, Counterstream Media

The Dixie Dandy was once a burgeoning pillar in the community of Newville, Alabama supplying its citizens with fresh produce and groceries. Having opened its doors in 1973, the store shifted Newville’s economy upwards. For nearly 20 years, the small town surrounded by peanut farms and small, quaint homes thrived with businesses like banks, cafes, a mercantile, and The Dixie Dandy. In 1991, that all changed when the once-flourishing grocery store went out of business and the previous booming town of Newville immediately became a barren food desert. Former owner Miss Wanda Hodges Brannon recounted its better days and said that after her store closed, many citizens were affected moneywise the most.

“Many of the locals had to hire somebody to take them to the grocery store [in the next town,] to the pharmacy, and to the bank or places like that, you know. So in addition to still having to buy groceries, they also had to pay for gas to take care of their needs.”

I tapped Mrs. Pinkie May, one of the oldest Black residents who has seen the town go from an expanding town to a desolate food desert during her 86 years of life. She relayed that Black families in the community rallied together to take the elders who couldn’t drive on their errands.

“They didn’t have no way to go to try to get someone to try to take them to Headland. That was a burden on [us] to try to get them to the store. That was a big burden on us. I would do it one time and then Mae [her sister] would, and we still had our households to take care of too. So yes, that was a big burden I tell you. They didn’t want to go every day, but you know they wanted to go,

especially when check day come because there wasn’t no bank or nothing.” She reminisced on when Newville was once fruitful. “Girl, I could write you a book.”

Now all that stands in the main square of Newville is the post office, the town hall, and the ruins of what once was the pristine Dixie Dandy grocery store. Aggressive Dollar General has pushed its way onto what was once farmland across the highway as a lesser food option for the citizens of Newville, sharing patronage with passers by coming from North and South. It’s a box store filled with junk food and a sliver of not-so-fresh produce.

To paint a picture, if a citizen of Newville did not have the money for a car or to pay someone for a ride, the walk to the nearest grocery store is almost two long hours on foot. So now the much older Black citizens are left to travel for food or settle for Dollar General box foods for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.

The Dixie Dandy grocery store in 2013. Photo: Rural Indexing Project.

The site of the former Dixie Dandy.

Photo by Mari Johnson.

IN CONGO COBALT MINING CRISIS

WORDS: Michael McKenzie , Executive Director, Counterstream Media

Artisanal cobalt miners in the Democratic Republic of Congo are pictured working with little, if any, health and safety measures.

The cobalt mining crisis in the Democratic Republic of the Congo (DRC) is a complex issue characterized by severe human rights abuses, environmental degradation, and forced evictions. The DRC holds a significant portion of the world’s cobalt reserves, with Chinese companies dominating the mining and refining operations. The metal is commonly used to make lithium-ion batteries, which are found in items like electric vehicles, computers, smartphones, and even in e-cigarettes and electronic toothbrushes.

This problem has led to exploitation, including child and forced labor, unsafe working conditions, and violations of human rights.

Forced Evictions and Human Rights Abuses

One of the significant consequences of industrial-scale cobalt mining in the DRC is forced evictions. Communities have been uprooted from their homes and farmlands to make way for mining projects, resulting in grievous human rights abuses such as sexual assault, arson, beatings, and intimidation. Multinational companies involved in these projects have been accused of disregarding legal safeguards and international human rights standards.

Impact on Communities

The expansion of copper and cobalt mines has destroyed long-established communities like Cité Gécamines in Kolwezi. Residents have been forcibly evicted or misled into leaving their homes without adequate consultation or compensation. Many have experienced a significant decline in living standards as they relocate to areas with limited access to basic amenities like water and electricity.

Environmental Degradation

In addition to human rights abuses, cobalt mining activities have contributed to environmental degradation in the region. The extraction process often involves harmful practices that pollute water sources, damage ecosystems, and threaten biodiversity. The lack of proper environmental regulations exacerbates these issues, posing long-term risks to local communities and the ecosystem.

A federal appeals court in March failed to hold five major tech companies — Apple, Alphabet, Dell Technologies, Microsoft, and Tesla — liable for their alleged use of forced labor in cobalt mining operations. According to the plaintiffs’ representative, IRAdvocates Terry Collingsworth, the ruling will likely have “destructive and probably unintended consequences,” and may encourage the five tech companies to be less transparent.

But the decision “will not deter us from our mission to protect vulnerable children and ensure that multinational corporations do not benefit from forced labor and human trafficking.”

Parable of the Sower by Octavia Butler

The classic speculative-fiction novel by pioneering author Octavia Butler that explores a post-apocalyptic Earth heavily affected by climate change and social inequality.

The Barber of Little Rock

This documentary follows barber Arlo Washington’s crusade to close the racial wealth gap with the People Trust, a nonprofit community bank.

PICKS READING WATCHING COOKING PLAYING

Alexis Nikole and Sophia Roe

Alexis Nikole (@BlackForager) is a self proclaimed environmental science enthusiast, vegan food concocter, and foraging teacher.

“Whitey on the Moon” by

This classic civil rights poem by musician, jazz poet, author, and thought leader Gil Scott-Heron reminds us of our reporting from Brownsville, Texas, where SpaceX rocket launches take place with no regard to community concerns.

Roe

Sophia Roe (@sophia_roe) is an award winning, trauma-informed cook who also specializes in decolonized recipes.

Gil Scott-Heron

Alexis Nikole

Sophia

SOLIDARITY RIDE

Louisville, Kentucky

July 20, 2024

CLIMATE WEEK STORY SALON

New York City, New York September, 2024

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