Los Angeles - OutWrite, FEM, NOMMO, Pacific Ties (Internewsmag 2022)

Spring 2022

We propose a Black publication, student-run, which will issue on a weekly basis. The name of the publication will be ​NOMMO​, a Swahili term meaning "magic power of the word." The basic premise for this communication instrument is quite simple: in today’s often confusing and certainly tumultuous societal environment the most obvious fundamental ingredient toward reason, understanding, and progress is improved communication of thoughts and realities.

In that sense, the Black publication will be multipurpose and multifunctional. It will fill a deep gap: it will help Black students to identify and clarify a vast array of attitudes and goals, and it will be an invaluable step toward wider communication between Black students and the campus community and the community-at-large.

FEM, UCLA's feminist newsmagazine since 1973, is dedicated to the empowerment of all people, the recognition of gender diversity, the dismantling of systems of oppression, and the application of intersectional feminist ideology for the liberation of all peoples.

FEM operates within an anti-capitalist, anti-imperialist, anti-racist framework. Our organization seeks to challenge oppression based on sexuality, gender, race, class, ability, religion, and other hegemonic power structures. We create a wide range of compassionate multimedia content that recenter narratives often rejected or ignored within mainstream media. Beyond journalism, FEM engages in actionable praxes by building coalitions with other campus and community members. As self-reflective feminists, we are committed to unlearning and relearning alongside our global audience as the sociopolitical landscape in which we are situated continues to transform.

Pacific Ties is the oldest student-run Asian Pacific Islander Desi American newsmagazine in the nation. Publishing at UCLA since 1977, we showcase rich and diverse stories about the Asian Pacific Islander Desi American community on and off campus through news and commentary. We create an on-going dialogue that offers insight into the dynamics of being an APIDA. Pacific Ties serves to challenge the perceptions of APIDA identity as well as to celebrate the achievements of the communities we all have ties to.

OutWrite is the oldest queer college publication in the United States, established in 1979 at the University of California, Los Angeles. OutWrite Newsmagazine strives to build a growing educational platform through a multimedia approach that uplifts and empowers the often silenced voices of the incredibly diverse queer community. We aim to challenge dominant cisheteronormative narratives through an unapologetically antiqueerphobic, anti-racist, and progressive lens.

Table of Contents Letter From The Editor

1

There is No Singular LA

2

A Trip in Westwood

6

Why Pride This Year?

12

Made in LA

17

Honoring The African American Muslim Coalition: An Interview With A Former Student of Malcolm X

20

Land Acknowledgement

25

City of Angels: How Los Angeles Remembers

26

Tainted Ground

28

NOMMO, FEM, Pacific Ties, and OutWrite are published and copyrighted by the ASUCLA Communications Board. All rights are reserved. Reprinting of any material in this publication without the written permission of the Communications Board is strictly prohibited.

The ASUCLA Communications Board fully supports the University of California’s policy on non-discrimination. The student media reserve the right to reject or modify advertising whose content discriminates on the basis of ancestry, color, national origin, race, religion, disability, age, sex or sexual orientation. The ASUCLA Communications Board has a media grievance procedure for resolving complaints against any of its publications. For a copy of the complete procedure, contact the publications office at 118 Kerckhoff Hall @ 310-825-9898

Contributors Editors-in-Chief: Abita Venkatesh, Christopher Ikonomou, Cindy Quach, Leilani Fu'Qua Writers: Abita Venkatesh, Louise Lin, Christopher Ikonomou, Giulianna Vicente, Cindy Quach, Noor Hasan, Leilani Fu'Qua, Bionca Bernard Artists/Photographers: Cass Sanchez, Christopher Ikonomou, Coral Utnehmer, Amber Lee, Kristal Ombogo, Grace Ciacciarelli, Cindy Quach Copy Editors: Bella Hou, Mar Escusa, Angela Patel, Yusra Akhundzadah, Emma Blakely, Tessa Fier, Aleea Evangelista, Nyyah Henry Layout: Christopher Ikonomou, Cass Sanchez Cover: Cass Sanchez

Letter From The Editors Dear Reader, After two years, delayed due to COVID-19, we have finally done it! We, four of the longest-standing college publications in the nation, have created a collaborative print edition for the first time in decades. NOMMO, FEM, Pacific Ties, and OutWrite present to you the Los Angeles issue!

From pre-pandemic, to the infamous years of online school, to our current period of chaos, uncertainty, and revival, this issue stems from our desire to reconnect with our community "post-pandemic."

As UCLA students, we are confined from the greater LA area because of our location and lack of public transportation. Los Angeles has been our home for four years, but we were unable to explore far beyond these borders. As a result, this Los Angeles zine is our love letter to the city that provided us the opportunity to build friendships, experience diverse cultures, and create everlasting memories.

In these pages you will find stories about our experiences both as students and as LA residents. You will find pieces exploring a satirical take on influencer culture, discussions about the queer pride, UCLA's ableism, harmful sweatshop conditions, an interview with a former student of Malcolm X, gentrification in Watts, and the city's music and arts scene.

Thank you for supporting this issue. We appreciate your readership and loyalty to our newsmagazines, and we hope that you are able to reflect on what makes Los Angeles special. As most of us end our time as part of UCLA Student Media, we hope that you have fun reading all of our final articles in our respective publications. Enjoy this unique project, and we hope that our next Editors-in-Chief continue this new tradition of the internewsmagazine.

Signing off, Leilani Fu'Qua | NOMMO Cindy Quach | FEM Abita Venkatesh | Pacific Ties Christopher Ikonomou | OutWrite

There Is No Singular LA

Written by Abita Venkatesh and Louise Lin | Pacific Ties Graphic by Cass Sanchez | FEM

Disclaimer: The following piece is satire, and is not indicative of the views of the authors or anyone affiliated with ASUCLA or UCLA Student Media.

2

TOP CLUBS AT UCLA MET

BY INCOMING FRESHMAN, A TRANSPARENT MEET AND GREET There is certainly no dearth of organizations to fall prey to at the Nation's #1 Public University. As the chatter of her floormates surrounds her, our student looks around Dickson Court, turgid with thousands of youngsters milling about.

This is it. This is where she can go to Very Important Meetings, attend riveting socials, and establish symbiotic friendships with the hopes that at least some of them speak to her after receiving their club cords at graduation.

She sets her sights out in front of Powell.

Pre-med clubs. Scrubs in every color of the rainbow, not indicative of inclusivity in the medical field. The students behind the booth are willfully unaware that they are not yet doctors but believe that having a vested interest in such a prestigious field is enough to make their opinion stand out among the 31,600 undergraduates at a public university.

Community service clubs. "For the good of XYZ, every quarter we host an ABC, to raise awareness for 123." This is purely done for altruistic purposes, and is completely not driven by any sort of internalized savior complex that has the added benefit of looking great on a resume.

Political clubs. The "safe space" where Bruins of various political backgrounds can engage in non-dramatic, totally professional debates that completely achieve their goal of having students maturely handle differences of opinion in a public space.

Cultural clubs. The other "safe space" where Bruins of various cultural backgrounds can engage in superficial discussions about how much they like boba and K-pop and anime, with the occasional fam social to AsianTown of your choice. Your true home away from home.

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NON-FOODIE STUDENT SUDDENLY FALLS VICTIM TO BRUNCH AND BEACH CRAZE It was finally the moment that her TikTok and Instagram feeds prepared her for. The months of careful curation allowed her social media pages to be filled with bustling beaches, bedazzling brunches and picturesque places that are totally worth the $100 experience (not including the Uber there).

She and her Bel-Air-ian friends sit at the restaurant bar that overlooks the beach. The student gazes around the room and sees various socialites having whole photoshoots with their food that has most certainly gone cold. Their cameras are ravenous children.

The menu stares back at her, as if aware of her stressfullylight wallet, courtesy of a quick and quirky run to Erewhon that morning. $15 for sauteed mushrooms. The words mock her, taunt her, as if they are aware of her tendencies to frequent Instagram-worthy places.

Her waitress comes up to her and tactfully ignores the slightly-sagging shoulders or emerging sweat on her brows.

Our student orders the most visually pleasing entrée on the menu, and tells herself that it will all be worth it if she can convince her friends back home that she is living the life.

After a skimpy brunch, our student snaps a picture of her and her aforementioned friends at the beach, the quintessential #beachbabes with #beachvibes. Her friends look confusedly at her too-wide smile and the TAP card in her hand, as she tells them to go home without her. Another successful day for the gram.

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"COFFEE IS A FULL COURSE MEAL," STUDENT SAYS ON RODEO DRIVE SHOPPING TRIP The crown jewel of Los Angeles itself: Beverly Hills. A sector of the city that so perfectly emulates the glamorous nature of a movie city with its luxury shops, European-style buildings and tasteful architecture. Everything clamors and echoes with the thought that "The world is your oyster!"

Rodeo Drive remains the single iconic street of this entire zone of the city. The streets overflow with brand names that our student has only seen on celebrity news. As she struts down the street, she convinces herself that fleeting glances into Louis Vuitton and Allsaints are sustenance enough.

Her friend ducks inside the Reformation pop-up, "just for a quick second, they have a new wallet!" and promptly purchases it on her daddy's black card. As the rest of her group excitedly checks out the latest releases, she wanders aimlessly around the storefront in search of a clearance section that simply does not exist.

The street itself is fairly short — only three blocks — but her stroll down it feels like it lasts forever. She stops to take pictures of the upscale eateries, faux French bakeries, sparkling storefronts, and beautiful street lights that epitomize the Rodeo experience.

She suddenly finds herself holding a $9 cup of kopi luwak sitting at an outdoor Parisian café. Her friend takes a singular bite of the mille-feuille, proclaims it too dry, and delicately lays her used napkin over the entire dessert.

5

A Trip in Westwood Written and Photographed by Christopher Ikonomou | OutWrite

UCLA made me disabled.

Don't get me wrong, I've been ill my whole life. I was diagnosed with Marfan Syndrome at 18 months old, a rare genetic disorder that makes my connective tissue more elastic and prone to spontaneous breakage. I hear from every medical professional I see that I am a textbook marfanoid; there was even a photo of 6-year-old me on The Marfan Foundation's "Signs & Symptoms" page for a decade. I am a literal poster child for my condition.

Suffice to say, I have never known any other body than a chronically ill body. I was hospitalized 10 times in high school for spontaneous illness-related issues, from multiple lung collapses to a mean case of septic shock. Naturally, I faced bullying and isolation throughout my entire life for existing as visibly ill. But nothing, and I mean nothing, hit me as hard as stepping onto the campus of my reach school as a new admit and thinking "I don't think I can do this."

It's not that I didn't think I was smart enough or that I didn't deserve my place at UCLA. Much like my syndrome, 6

it was a collection of things I only realized as I went through them firsthand. Let's take my freshman orientation in 2019 as an example. The first task I was expected to complete after hugging my parents goodbye was carrying my suitcase up the aptly-named Death Stairs (four flights of steep, outdoor stairs to most of the dorm buildings) without any offered assistance. The next day, we embarked on a four hour campus tour with no acknowledgement of its inaccessibility besides humorous glibs at how tired students get walking home from class; there was never an offer of rest or to use an elevator to skip the over 100 stairs required to get from one side of campus to the other. The nail in the coffin was the bonding activity that night: a campus-wide scavenger hunt race in the middle of the night and, even worse, explaining to my roommates why I wasn't going.

As expected (and dreaded), orientation was just foreshadowing to the college experience. Most every stoplight on and around campus has no auditory indicators and the curb cuts guide blind and visually impaired students like myself into the middle of crowded LA intersections. As a low vision person, navigating campus at night with the amount

of unmarked and unlit stairs everywhere is a death wish.

Every street surrounding my apartment is pocked with cracks and potholes and every sidewalk is near unwalkable from overgrown tree roots disrupting the concrete and discarded furniture and electric scooters crowding the way; my flat feet and pronated ankles struggle to keep my face peeled off the ground.

Pre-pandemic, the BruinAccess Van (a complimentary rideshare service offered by UCLA's Center for Accessible Education) ran a tight schedule set at the start of each quarter; if you missed your ride, you were shit out of luck. I vividly remember being stranded one day after leaving late from a class, then trekking up Bruin Walk to the bottom of the Covel Commons stairs. After I looked up the oddly long steps to the Death Stairs, thinking of the four more flights past those to get to my building, I sat at the bottom of the steps and cried.

Perhaps even worse than the physical inaccessibility is the normalized ableism within the student body. In an alternate universe where I did successfully make the trip to my dorm in less than 45 minutes without feeling like my heart was jumping out of my mouth, I imagine scratching half a dozen dirty looks off my back when I dared to take the elevator to get to the third floor. The judgment was palpable enough that RAs put signs up reminding people that "it's just a fucking elevator, can you guys chill?" (or at least that's how I wish they were worded).

The ableism isn't just passive, either. I cannot explain the humiliation I felt after hearing "Sorry I'm young, fit, and healthy" from a new friend for telling them you can't take the stairs. Nearly every person I met freshman year instilled a deep shame around asking for help to the point where I felt suffocated. I wish I could tell you I didn't feel pathetic asking someone for their seat while waiting for my food in a dining hall; for a long time, I just sat on the floor. (I would get into attitudes about the disabled and immunocompromised community during the pandemic, but we'd be here for longer than the 16-day Murphy Hall Sit-In.) 8

It may be too late to convince you, but being disabled at UCLA isn't all bad. I was lucky enough to find a roommate who doesn't judge me when I walk slowly, ask to rest, or need help reading something; he often offers, knowing how much I struggle with asking for help. My experiences at UCLA have also pushed me to come to terms with my disabled identity as integral to my humanity, encouraging me to express myself in creative work for the world to see.

And perhaps the most important thing to happen to me here is finding the Disabled Student Union in the summer after my freshman year. Suddenly, I was no longer alone. My voice was amplified by the hundreds of students who feel just like I do and refuse to be silent about it. I became an activist, a student leader, fearless against ableist mistreatment because I am willing to protect my found community with all I have. I would not trade the love and support I've found at the DSU for anything, nor can I discount the beauty of the intersectional connections I've made with other student organizations fighting the same fight. I am grateful for the Mother Organizations Coalition showing me what it truly means to be an accomplice working toward a better world.

UCLA tries its hardest to suck the hope out of marginalized students. I can now proudly say I am here to spit it back in their faces.

11

Why Pride This Year?

Written by Giulianna Vicente | OutWrite Illustrated by Coral Utnehmer | FEM

Picture this: it's June 28, 1970, nearly a year after the monumental Stonewall riots, and you're attending the first Pride Parade in New York City. Except it's not a parade, and it's not entirely about Pride: it's the Christopher Street Liberation Day March. Here, we recognize the familiar names of Marsha P. Johnson, Sylvia Rivera, Miss Major Griffin-Gracy, and the lesser known names of the march's organizers Craig Rodwell, Fred Sargeant, Ellen Broidy, Linda Rhodes, Brenda Howard and many more. Unlike today's Pride Parade, this march in New York was dedicated to Gay Liberation in the forms of political speeches, demonstrations, and gay visibility.

The Stonewall riots started at 3 a.m. on June 28, 1969, when customers at the Stonewall Inn, a space that welcomed the misfits of the queer community like trans women and unhoused youth, resisted two police officer's demands to prove their sex through physical examinations. The patrons at Stonewall had enough of police raiding their safe spaces and rioted in protest of the laws and legislation that allowed for homophobia, transphobia, and other discriminatory practices. Though the Stonewall riots weren't the first of their kind, they were one of the most monumental, historically speaking; the riots went for six days and involved thousands of rioters and protestors.

To keep the momentum of the riots, a group of activists known as a the Gay Liberation Front organized marches and rallies in commemoration of the Stonewall riots' anniversary. The most notable took 12

place in New York City on Christopher Street, where the Stonewall riots started. Unlike these marches and rallies, Los Angeles differed: Reverend Bob Humphries, Morris Kight, Reverend Troy Perry, and the Christopher Street West Association successfully got a parade permit from Los Angeles Police Department, making this the first official Pride Parade permitted in the country. The American Civil Liberties Union became involved after the commission granted the permit under the unfair condition that organizers would have to pay over a million dollars for "future property damages," as well as police protection. With the help of the ACLU, the organizers were granted the permit for under two thousand dollars.

Thanks to social media and the Internet, the origins, history, and importance of Pride have become more accessible.

Additionally, because of them, LGBTQ+ Pride does not solely exist isolated within the community nor its heritage month of June.

As we approach June this year, we are reminded of LGBTQ+ Pride Month through corporations' Pride merchandise drops. While it is great to find pride in wearing a rainbow polo shirt or a crop top that references a Sappho poem, rainbow capitalism, also known as pinkwashing, is usually a form of performative activism because corporations often advertise Pride while neglecting to support the community they are profiting from.

Though we mustn't disregard this corporate insincerity, we have to acknowledge the privilege of living in a city, a state, a country where corporations can, and are encouraged to, advertise the rainbow flag (often as to not face backlash for their lack of support). We must find a balance within rainbow capitalism and queer communities, so that corpora13

tions don't continue to solely profit the rich or feed off of the culture of LGBTQ+ BIPOC who are less likely to be employed or hold (generational) wealth. After all, much of popular culture comes from queer communities, specifically Black and Brown queer communities, including the origins of "queer slang" which come directly from African American Vernacular English — "voguing" comes from ballroom culture, and the term "camp" comes from Black and Brown drag queens.

Speaking of intersectionality, it is fundamental to understand the importance of not having a police presence at Pride events. Police historically and currently commit violence against minority groups, especially Black people.

The institution of the police and military is essentially anti-queer and anti-why-Pridebegan-in-the-firstplace. The origins of Pride are riots against an oppressive government, its anti-queer legislation, and the police who enforce it.

The incorporation of police into Pride events intensifies the racial divide in our community by making our spaces hostile and exclusionary to BIPOC individuals, especially those who are transgender, and caters to white cisgender gay men, who are less likely to be targeted by police. Together, both rainbow capitalism and police presence at Pride are attempts at forced assimilation of the LGBTQ+ (emphasis on the G) community into the cisheteronormative society our government and capitalism ascribe to.

This all goes to say: why is (LA) Pride so important this year, specifically?

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America today continues to observe anti-queer and anti-trans legislation.

Since 2022 started, over 134 anti-trans legislations across 34 states in the US have circulated, like Texas' order to investigate transgender children's gender-affirming care as abuse. Additionally, over 238 anti-LGBTQ+ bills have been proposed to in nearly 40 states, such as "Don't Say Gay" Bill that started in Florida and is now spreading to other states.

Furthermore, with the potential overturn of Roe v. Wade, queer rights are in even more danger.

California is one of the most progressive states in terms of LGBTQ+ legislation, which means the country will be watching the state for counter-legislation. Recently, Los Angeles County banned government-funded travel to Texas and Florida over their anti-queer legislation. California legislators introduced a bill to grant refuge for trans youth and their families being prosecuted for accessing gender-affirming care. Being a spearhead in LGBTQ+ legislation, California must continue on this progressive and productive path through its Pride parades and events. This means that Pride parades in California, especially the LA Pride Parade, should join in excluding police presences from events, just as New York City has until the year 2025. Similarly, organizers should develop plans to make Pride less capital-centric, allowing for more speeches, demonstrations, and activities led by and for 15

queer BIPOC individuals. However, this year specifically, LA Pride organizers removed the free community day, which begs the question: why is an event that should celebrate and represent all queer people behind a steep paywall?

LA Pride should be a space that is welcome to all marginalized identities and communities, especially people of color as 48% of Los Angeles County is Latine, 11% is Asian, and 9% is Black. In its queer fashion of breaking down norms and expectations, Pride should be a place where people can celebrate their identities and lives, not be excluded based on their sexual orientation, gender, class, race, ability, or any other factor that is oppressed by our society. Pride must return to it origins, commemorate the injustices faced by our queer siblings, and, in the face of society's hate, show ourselves for who we are: queer, loving, inspiring, irrevocably loud, and most of all, joyous.

This year, LA Pride takes place on June 11th and 12th, and the LA Pride Parade will take place on the Sunday in Hollywood, its historic roots. Performing at "LA Pride in the Park" are Christina Aguilera, Anitta, Michaela Jaé and others.

OutWrite Newsmagazine will have a booth Saturday the 11th, so please come by; we will be selling our previous print editions, our Spring 2022 issue "Reflections of Radiance," and merchandise designed by our team.

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Made in LA

Written by Cindy Quach | FEM Illustrated by Amber Lee | Pacific Ties

Stitches in red and blue thread write "Made in LA," referring to the assembly of your shirt, hat, shoes or pants. Idle consumers may assume that the construction of their apparel is made ethically, however, the label holds false promises of fair labor practices and conditions. Nestled in the heart of downtown Los Angeles, the fashion district is where you will find Fashion Institute of Design and Merchandising (FIDM) students browsing the walls of fabric, street vendors selling agua frescas, and also the exploitation of working-class garment experts.

The fashion industry has successfully disguised the harsh conditions of sweatshops to the public by promoting the illusions of fair wages, adequate facilities, and overall wellbeing. The industry's public deception thrives by reframing the narrative of the occupation. The language in the fashion industry strategically characterizes sweatshops as "garment factories" in order to bury the harsh truth behind clothing brands such as Fashion Nova, Skims, Macy's, Forever 21, and many more.

Workers of sweatshops in Los Angeles come from predominantly Latine/Latinx immigrant backgrounds. Based on the California Bureau of Labor Statistics, 71 percent of garment laborers are foreign born, and 60 percent of them are women. Furthermore, the Department of Labor reported that up to 50 percent of garment workers in California are undocumented immigrants, where a significant portion are women.

As a result of their citizenship status, clothing companies utilize their power to under pay their employees because of career restrictions. Even so, garment workers in general are not provided a livable wage or additional benefits such as healthcare or retirement plans. On a systematic level, capitalistic clothing brands prey on marginalized communities to stimulate their own profits.

17

In an interview, a garment worker in LA who asked to remain anonymous explained that she and her co-workers are not paid hourly nor provided a fixed salary. Instead, they are paid by each piece of clothing they make, and this price can vary from $0.05 to $0.30. Thus, a seamstress would have to complete 50 to 300 per piece in an hour to make $15, which is Los Angeles' current minimum wage. It is also common for garment workers to work over 40 hours a week without overtime compensation. According to the anonymous source, more complex garments would take about 5 minutes to complete, so within an hour they may only finish sewing 12 items. Therefore, this worker may make as little as $2.88 per hour if only 12 pieces are completed within an hour. Even though garment workers endure these exploitative wages, it is not easy to ask for a raise due to the imbalance of power within the fashion industry.

Based on Karl Marx's "Das Kapital," capitalistist corporations such as fashion brands view workers as modes of production rather than individual people. Thus, powerful producers are able to easily switch out workers instead of addressing the needs of their employees. The mode of capitalism prioritizes profit over people. The fashion industry, especially fast fashion ventures, must maintain rapid production of trending fashions in order to cater to their consumers.

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If corporations do not keep up with their audience, then they are left behind while their competitors innovate to keep up.

As a result, laborers are only viewed as abstract producers of commodities that are controlled by clothing companies, and garment workers can ask for better pay or accommodations and be fired or stay quiet and continue working in unjust conditions. Therefore, garment workers do not have a choice to quit or keep working because capitalism creates a system where capitalists desire to grow their power while exploiting working class people. Additionally, as many garment experts are undocumented, it puts them at greater risk of governmental hostility.

Furthermore, the glamorization of fashion creates a dazzling effect that hides the exploitation of sweatshop workers.

For instance, Shein or Zara hauls on Tiktok promote mass consumption, which then incentivizes fast fashion companies to keep up with trend production. If clothing brands are unable to perform as well as their competitors in the trend cycle, then they face the possibility of losing profits. Thus, workers are forced to endure longer hours in order to keep up with the companies' goal of maximizing revenue.

The Garment Worker Center is a community social service organization that works to provide resources and better working conditions for garment workers in Los Angeles. Their mission includes centering immigrant workers, women of color and their families that have been exploited by the fashion industry. Their goal is to advocate for stronger labor laws that would hold factory owners and brands accountable.

As consumers, what can we do? Although fast fashion is harmful to marginalized communities and the environment, sometimes it is the most affordable and accessible option to many. So, another alternative is thrifting or buying second hand because it helps with reducing the cycle of consumption while also being lower in cost. It is impossible to be perfect consumers, but do not get dazzled by the glitz and glamor of the fashion industry because behind the sparkles there is a system of exploitation that grows at the hands of capitalists.

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Honoring The African American Muslim Coalition An Interview With A Former Student of Malcolm X Written by Noor Hasan | FEM Illustrated by Kristal Ombogo | NOMMO

It was about 630 A.D., Arabia was flagrant in racism and slavery a widespread institution. Spearhead of Islam, the Prophet Muhammad, not only had enough but wanted to send a generational message. He called on Bilal, a formerly enslaved individual from Ethiopia and recent convert to Islam, to deliver this statement. At the Prophet's will, Bilal climbed atop the most infamous and holy Islamic structure — the Kaaba — located in present day Mecca, Saudi Arabia.

With Bilal's feet on the roof of the Kaaba, the entire city in shock at this notion of power on a structure so sacred, he gave the Islamic call to prayer — the Athan. This story 20

is indicative of the central role African Americans hold in historic foundations of Islam. In spite of this fact, the contributions of Africans to Islam have foregone repeated denigration. I aim to not only explore this history, but to actively engage in solidifying a coalition based on learning, and quite frankly a necessary task on the part of non-African American — Muslims listening.

A reality staunchly contended across legitimate Islamic institutions is that those who perpetuate any fragment of racism may never truly wear the title "Muslim." Consequently, the first time the basic tenants and holidays of Islam were practiced and rejoiced on United States soil was by enslaved Africans of the colonial era. Estimates claim nearly 30% of all enslaved individuals to have been Muslim, violently kidnapped from predominantly Islamic West African nations. In the diaspora, enslaved Africans were stripped of their Islamic beliefs and practices. Not only did today's generations of African Americans spearhead the very blueprint of Islamic identity thousands of years ago, but also brought and spread Islam to the Americas. It then becomes the duty of Muslims to not only acknowledge and respect Islam's rich history of African culture and figures, but to actively educate themselves of the modern history and intersections.

I had the absolute honor and privilege of interviewing Imam Abdul Karim Hasan, a student of Malcolm X and the chief Imam at the Los Angeles Mosque "Bilal Islamic Center" (named after the infamous Islamic figure). I was heavily drawn to how exactly his role as a Muslim uniquely impacted the United States Civil Rights movement and how his knowledge and experience could enfranchise a more modern framework of coalition building. With decades of religious scholarship, endless contributions to the African American community, and student of one of the most influential men in the history of the United States, Imam Hasan is a clear and well-equipped individual to speak on the massive intersections of racial and religious oppression.

Imam Hasan is a linguistic, intelligent, spiritual, and warm light in a period of oppressive history that has attempted 21

in more ways than one to dim. He explained to me that the "position of justice" both Muslims and the Civil Rights Movement promote, are "almost identical." To him, the Civil Rights Movement was about addressing and fighting for a clear "justice denied" and retrieving freedom for African Americans that was stolen. He explained the fight for justice was and is about "acquainting people with what's been missing," that is, unfettered freedom, a fight, he explains, is still alive and necessary today. The identity of being Muslim and African American, to him, is not only empowering but promotes a dual sense of justice. These identities work in unison to collectively promote and enrich the sense of freedom and justice that is not only deserved, but, over 60 years after the Civil Rights movement, still not granted.

As the modern forefront of progression in the US, Los Angeles has been home to the dualistic identity of African American Muslims since its inception. The blueprint of diversity within Los Angeles rests in the identity and contributions of African American individuals afflicted by the diaspora, and is graced to call itself the current home of both Imam Hasan, and NBA champion Kareem Abdul-Jabbar. As a UCLA alumni, Muslim leader, and NBA champion, Kareem Abdul-Jabbar served a pivotal role in reframing the often fundamentalist assumptions of Muslims. Abdul-Jabbar was exposed to and learned of Islam at UCLA, and, in fact, spoke of Malcolm X as a role model for himself past and present.

What Abdul-Jabbar did was not only ignite long overdue conversations of race and religion, but also normalized the practice of Islam in an educational and competitive arena.

This intersection of the marginalized identities of African American Muslims demands necessary discussion in academic spaces and sets forth a central question — how can I, and other non-African American Muslims, be a fruitful addition to the fight for unilateral justice?

Imam Hasan explained a point that stuck out to me in more ways than one. He described the necessity of linguistic history being rightfully placed into the decision-making hands of the African American community. He describes the 22

fact that African Americans need not be reduced to their "complexion."

Imam Hasan paused after this point for a brief moment, "African Americans are as diverse as a field of flowers," he said, "call me by my ethnicity." He taught me that for African Americans, there is a pungent "strength in origin" and he is unconditionally "proud to wear the badge of ethnicity" and to celebrate the roots of African identity. What I learned and took from our conversation was that listening to the choice of African Americans in preferred inclusive language and the intent behind the choice in that language, was a vital tool necessary to escape from the linguistic and rhetorical structural barriers incited to cyclically oppress them.

Imam Hasan explained that African Americans became the linguistic property of the white oppressors. The power of language became a potent weapon to oppress enslaved Africans and deny them of their religions, cultures, and heritage.

This set off a structure of racist linguistic weaponry alive and thriving today that begs the need for proud verbal protest.

His key motivator, and the archetype of the very notion of utilizing knowledge to further a cause, Malcolm X, embodied persistence astonishingly and drove home a point Imam Hasan pointed to — "change does not come from satisfaction." Demanding a change in the cyclically oppressive blueprint of the modern-day education system effectively dissatisfies the oppressive institutions which silence the voices of African Americans. This lack of satisfaction is necessary to effectively promote any meaningful structural and intersectional change.

Like the clear successes of Abdul-Jabbar and Imam Hasan foster, preserving the identity of African American Muslims is a goal every non-Muslim and Muslim alike, regardless of race, should dedicate themselves to not only understanding but furthering. When asked about his work to preserve African American Muslim identity, he demonstrated a clear love and admiration for the "land of the ancestors" of African American Muslims. To him, the themes of Islam remove the need for distinction and barriers, to instead promote preser23

vation through unity.

In expanding coalition-building, I turned to scholars Youssef Chouhoud and Quasier Abdullah's article "Non-Black Muslims Will Need to Do More Than Post Hashtags and Attend Rallies to Combat Anti-Black Racism." The authors explored a key point found in an Institute for Social Policy and Understanding 2022 study: the overwhelming majority of support for "building coalitions with Black Lives Matter movements," more than any measured faith, came from Muslims in the US. The scholars pointed to the necessity of, "seeking out and supporting of organizations, individuals and tools that do or support anti-racism work in our communities." For non-African American Muslims, to be of support in coalition-building and in the Black Lives Matter Movement, beginning conversations and (more importantly) listening to the contributions, suggestions, and pleas of African Americans is key.

In closing my conversation with Imam Hasan, I asked if he could enlighten me on a common misconception the world at large has on the life and contributions of Malcolm X. He explained to me that Malcolm X was never hateful. He was a light that freed Imam Hasan, and so many others from "educational darkness." It remains a common misconception that Malcolm X was violent and hateful. Malcolm X promoted a fruitful set of knowledge that enabled a course of education empowered by growth and truth. Inspired by the words and knowledge of Imam Hasan, it is clear that prioritizing the linguistic choice, identity, and power of African American Muslims is a necessity. A necessity that must take on new educational and structural barriers to successfully reimagine our academic and religious environment in Los Angeles to reflect the will of a legacy of African Americans which have, and continue to enrich it.

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Photographed by Cindy Quach

NOMMO, FEM, Pacific Ties, and OutWrite newsmagazines of UCLA Student Media recognize and acknowledge the Gabrielino/Tongva peoples as the traditional land caretakers of Tovaangar (the so-called Los Angeles basin and Southern Channel Islands). To learn more about the Native student community at UCLA, check out the American Indian Student Association (AISA) on Instagram (@nativebruins).

City of Angels

How Los Angeles Remembers Written by Leilani Fu'Qua | NOMMO Illustrated by Grace Ciacciarelli | FEM

Black LA has a deep and immersive history, a history that has been invigorated by the Black artists and trailblazers that fill the space between the valley and the shore. This city, with a legacy and a life of its own also witnesses its own losses, where the people and things that once belonged to the world become angels and are memorialized in the physical bounds of the city. The "City of Angels" has mastered the art of remembrance and the people come alive with art and music pouring out of them, inspired by the rebirth of life after death.

The Tupac Shakur "Wake Me When I'm Free" exhibit brings the art and legacy of the Harlem legend to Los Angeles. "Wake Me When I'm Free" provides a beautiful example of how to commemorate the artists that have been taken too soon from us, and the exhibit brings new life to the posthumous screenplays, poems and track lists from Shakur's estate.

The writings include poetry and early lyrics, personal haiku books, and a room dedicated to Afeni, Shakur's mother's revolutionary influence. The exhibit is illuminated by Shakur's voice, image and words and provides the space to appreciate his work even 26 years after his death. While Los Angeles will be premiering the exhibit throughout summer 2022, the city is imprinted with the art, music, poetry and culture of those who have passed on. Los Angeles goes even further to celebrate the lives and legacy of its own people, as seen with the commemorations of Nipsey Hussle, Kobe and Gianna Bryant's deaths. If you drive through the streets of Slauson, Crenshaw, View Park you'll see the walls of buildings painted with the faces of lost icons and artists. The city bears their faces and the people sing their songs with living voices, LA 26

remembers.

There is a wave that washes over the city when a beloved passes. A plea for peace comes after the crash of violence into our communities. The legends and the leaders that inspire the Los Angeles community are mentors and storytellers.

The cruelty of their deaths does not wash away the gifts they bring. The people fall into the streets to grieve, and for a city that spares smiles, everyone seems a little bit kinder those days. The sounds and songs of the fallen resonate through the city and murals fly upon the walls of buildings. Some may say that death becomes Her because of the way the city sparkles with new creativity and is illuminated with the intensity of life. Sometimes decay happens when the living tear away at the culture and communities we call Home. The preservation of culture and Black history lives through the walls and noise and movement of our communities. The inspiration for new music, dances, fashion, poetry and community building flourish when we can appreciate the beauty of the work that came before us, and Los Angeles is no stranger to remembrance.

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Tainted Ground

Written by Bionca Bernard | NOMMO Photographed by Cindy Quach | FEM

I always knew my side of town from the color of the roofs and doors. My little community had blue roofs and blue doors. Some parts had red roofs. Some had red doors. Colors mean a lot to this little section of South Los Angeles. They carry an unimaginable significance that you just wouldn't understand unless you were born here, unless you never saw life without them. The idea of colors and location creating a sense of belonging sounds crazy, but think of it like college culture or pride in a sports team. The Jordan Downs doesn't have a mascot though, just hand signs that would confuse any ASL instructor.

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Still, I carry these colors in my heart and throughout my life. They've kept me safe. On weekends they instructed me not to go further than the blue roofs, telling me that my mother would be displeased to know I had strayed so far from home. On weekdays, if I couldn't see the red roofs on my way to school, I had walked the wrong way. Color guided me through life.

It wasn't just the long eroding apartments of the Jordan Downs that guided me. There stood an old, haunting factory in the center of Jordan Downs that oversaw everything that happened in the city. It watched me play baseball in the fields behind the rec center. It listened as my family and friends danced during our block parties', dances only we would know, music only we could hum, parties only we could attend. It greeted me every morning and tucked me to sleep every night. We were separated by a poorly guarded fence that I only tried to cross once. How surprised was I when my 29

mother scolded me for this attempt.

"It'll make you sick," she growled. Then why was it here and why did it stay?

"That ground is tainted," she replied. It can't be all bad. I was born on it.

Was everything tainted then? Were the convenience stores I frequented in my youth tainted? The street vendors and ice cream trucks of old all had to be tainted too, right?

Did that mean the house I grew up in, that my mother grew up in, that my grandparents created a home in was all just as soiled as the ground it stood on?

Maybe. Everything of my youth has been torn down. As I return to Watts to write these words I stare at a large dirt mound where the place I was raised once sat. The blue roof is gone, and there are no blue doors to walk through.

There are Starbucks and Nike stores and Habit 30

restaurants. There are sky rises and electric car charging stations. The old factory has left its post. My sense of direction is gone as the top of the buildings that guided me before have been ripped away. The shells of the homes of my childhood friends are all that remain. I suppose they call it the "Redevelopment of the Jordan Downs" and I suppose the new apartments and restaurants are supposed to improve this community a lot. It's not the same though. They're just replacing us. Cleaning up the tainted soil.

It is hard to describe it as cleansing even. The pricey buildings didn't match the bank accounts of any of the people in Watts. As the prices shoot up, the people fall down, further into the poverty that was forged around them for decades.

Was the ground ever tainted? Is this cultural cleansing helping anyone?

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