Since the 1950s policing has presented itself as a “thin blue line” against disorder — a dog-whistle connecting the Civil Rights Movement to the mobility of Black people and white fears about the loss of a permanent, racialized social hierarchy.
Maybe we can finally really look at Theodore Roosevelt statue: a monument that is all about hierarchy, created to express what American Museum of Natural History exhibits at the time called the “distinct races of mankind.”
The museum in this moment can be transformed by a repertoire of antifascist actions that consists of mourning, militancy, and liberation.
Almost two years after the fascist rally at Charlottesville around a mediocre statue of Robert E. Lee, the American Museum of Natural History has opened its exhibition Addressing the Statue.
Isaac Julien advances a layered, palimpsestic view of time, not as progress but as a series of lessons. This, then is a note of what I learned.
Following the template of NYC, the primary way of seeing in the global city remains, above all, “move on there’s nothing to see here,” and the deprivation of sight is commensurate with a new kind of colonialism.
What stands out in Wissam Nassar’s photography of the current conflict in Palestine is the intensity with which certain bodies are articulating their task, refusing to perform disability, instead exuding capacity.
How have our ideas of strike and protest changed and what should we learn about their utility today?
When players take a knee in the manner made famous by quarterback Colin Kaepernick, they cut the white emancipator from the frame and thereby create something new: an abolition image.