i want to live in a world in which i don’t spend my time debating neo nazi imagery

long story short for non-denizens of dallas, texas: a biker showed up wearing an SS patch at double wide, a local bar known for its nouveau trailer trash aesthetic. two people called him out on the patch, and were thrown out of the bar for being belligerent. the dallas internet and media thus spent several weeks debating the right of bikers to wear neo-nazi patches and the sensitive nature of social justice warriors*.

*first, as someone who could be labeled a “social justice warrior”, i don’t give a fuck about your denigrating labels.  in my work for socioeconomic justice, i experience daily harassment and microaggressions, consistently work 50+ hr weeks, and hold space for/witness people who lose their homes, jobs, and lives due to systemic racism and disenfranchisement. so calling “social justice warriors” thin-skinned when y’all can’t even handle not being able to wear your favorite white supremacist patch is white fragility at its finest.

other than the fact that i was right about double wide all along ever since they allowed one of their patrons to bring in a chicken and use it to sexually harass me, i’ve been trying to expend zero fucks about this incident. because i need to reserve my energy for you know, the aforementioned people losing their homes and stuff. but it still doesn’t excuse the supreme idiocy of people thinking they need to debate whether or not neo-nazi imagery is white supremacist (i thought we reached that conclusion after, i don’t know, the holocaust? can’t you guys debate something more 2016, like klyde warren park’s relationship to the dakota access pipeline?).

many neo-nazi supporters in the comments of these articles are claiming their right to the first amendment, which to me illustrates a general troubling ethos in texas of advancing individuation without any acknowledgement of social context. not all identities in texas, or the united states, are allowed to individuate in the same way without repercussion. for example, are the same people who are supportive of a biker’s right to wear SS patches as a form of self expression also as passionately engaged about the recent federal court ruling that allows employers to ban black women from wearing locs as a form of a self expression? are these same defenders of the first amendment also passionately engaged in defending the eighth amendment regarding police brutality ? of course not.

now that we’ve established defenders of double wide are not actually that concerned about constitutional rights for all, what exactly are they defending? they are defending the social order that allows certain identities to exist in public without repercussion. they are defending their willful blindness to texas’ bloody history of violence against women, queers, and people of color. to my knowledge, a brigade of queer folx have never targeted white supremacists for physical violence, but the same cannot be said for white supremacists and their treatment of queers. so who gets to appear as their full selves in public? the white supremacist or the queer?

if you are truly concerned about rights of free speech, then please, defend colin kaepernick’s right to kneel during the national anthem. defend black women’s right to wear locs to work. defend trans women’s right to wear what they want without being murdered at a higher rate than cis women. and yes, defend my right to opine that neo-nazi apologists are total shitwads.

as long as white supremacist violence exists, neo-nazi imagery will continue to represent that violence. if defenders of double wide truly want to neutralize the symbols of white supremacy so that they can wear it without repercussion, they need focus their attention at neutralizing the violence of white supremacy itself. see you on the social justice warrior side.

on teaching social practice, Fall 2016

Learning is odd. Some lessons you learn only after years of obstinacy, denial, and making mistakes. In the case of socially-engaged cultural practice, I am still learning, and a lot of that learning is about how to be a good person in relationship to others. You don’t learn that kind of thing overnight, or even in a semester.

How then do you teach social practice? And how do you teach it in a semester? This is my task for Fall 2016 when I am still very much, a learner. Moreover, how do you teach a field that is living, breathing, and changing before one’s very eyes? In reading through Nato Thompson’s Living as Form, published in 2012, for syllabus material, I am struck by how much the landscape of socially-engaged art has changed in just 4 short years. And of course, this choice to construct a particular narrative history of socially-engaged art is a political choice, one fraught with the hierarchies of the formal art world that often exclude “community arts” and activist practices.

I don’t always refer to formal art history—my practice is much more shaped by the intellectual legacies of post-colonialism and black feminism—and my choices in crafting this course reflect that tension between an aestheticized practice and a more straightforward social justice approach. When it comes to the broad range of socially-engaged practice and topics, the course that has taken shape is not by any means comprehensive. It is a specific response to the knowledge and context needed to develop a site-based artist proposal for Trans.lation Vickery Meadow, an arts and cultural platform focused on issues of neighborhood identity and equity.

In a larger schema, this course is a political intervention within the Texas pedagogical landscape. Texas ranks 49th in the United States in per pupil spending, and its public education textbooks are riddled with inaccuracies. No wonder then, that students are systemically disenfranchised from developing the knowledge, analysis, and voice needed to address the structural inequalities manifest in their daily reality.

Teaching is how we can interrogate the status quo and create space for possibility, and because of that, in Texas, our most important task is to teach. One such space of possibility that I’d like to open up is that learning is always amplified when it is shared. And moreover, that learning is produced through dialogue and critique. So please take, read, add, suggest, critique:

Link to Syllabus, Readings, and Presentations (Presentations will be uploaded the week of the course)

Holding space in the wake of the Dallas shooting

Even though I was not at the vigil that evening, the shooting in Dallas hit me hard, as I’m sure it did everyone in my immediate community. But it hit me hard for numerous different reasons than the average Dallas-ite, because as someone working for racial and economic justice I am tasked to hold space for deep, painful, and powerful counternarratives. I am still processing the aftermath of the shooting, but I hope that putting some of my truths to (figurative) paper can help illuminate the path through the pain.

I am holding space for Alton Sterling, Philando Castile, Alva Braziel, and many others. I am holding space for the anniversary of Sandra Bland’s death in Waller County Jail. I am holding space for the way Erica Garner’s grief was disrespected at the White House gathering. I am holding space for the acquittal of the cop in the Freddie Gray case. I am holding space for the ways in which black life continues to be devalued in this country and internationally.

I am holding space for my friends from Baghdad who have lost family members in the car bomb. I am holding space for everyone not in the “first world” who experiences this form of daily terror. I recognize my terror and my privilege.

I am holding space for my friend Sara Mokuria, founder of Mothers Against Police Brutality and one of the most amazing people I know, who never stops working for justice for families affected by police brutality.

I am holding space for the immigrants in my community who think that seeing a minimum of 10 police cars patrol their neighborhood on a daily basis is “normal” for the United States.

I am holding space for the homeless Sudanese refugee behind our storefront who routinely gets his camp cleaned up by the city, hidden away when the organizations in the area host festivals where city officials will be present. I am holding space for his friends who routinely get questioned by the police.

I am holding space for how difficult it is to be or do anything when one is under psychological siege.

I am holding space for my teens who told me about seeing a black man harassed by police in our neighborhood, just hours before the shooting happened.

I am holding space for all the moments I have seen hate for myself, my friends, and my family, in a white person’s eyes, that tells me that white supremacy is real. I am holding space for my weariness in thinking such people cannot be changed.

I am holding space for the man in our parking lot who lost his job working odd jobs at the bars down the street, because the local business improvement district shut that shopping strip down and are in the midst of redeveloping it using the excuse that “African American men who hang out at those bars cause crime”.

I am holding space for my undocumented brothers and sisters in my community who have been harassed by private patrols, evicted by changes in property laws, and for whom DACA/DAPA is not enough. I am holding space for their dreams of a better future.

I am holding space for the sex workers in our neighborhood who experience the threat of violence from their pimps and their johns, but can’t call the police without putting themselves in jeopardy. I am holding space for all the sex workers and homeless people in the world who are completely ignored by service agencies with a moralizing focus.

I am holding space for my brothers and sisters fighting against gentrification and displacement in Los Angeles, your struggle is important to me. Your struggle informs my struggle here in Texas and my moral positioning as a cultural worker.

I am holding space for my black brothers and sisters who shouldn’t have to do this work, who shouldn’t have to be subject to the daily reinscription of state-sponsored terror. I wish I could give all of you paid mental health leaves for the rest of your lives.

I am holding space for myself as a teenager, growing up in Texas, terrified that someone will come after me with a gun because of a difference in skin color and belief. I am holding space for the enormous pain that results when civilians and police can access military-grade equipment.

I am holding space for that girl I taught in mural class in South Central Los Angeles, who said she wanted to become a police officer so that she could see transformative policing in her community.

I am holding space for the one cool police officer I know, who is my friend on Facebook, who routinely advocates against negative stereotypes of my community that are perpetuated by other DPD officers, who hopefully knows that none of my rantings about systemic violence are about her.

I am holding space for everyone who knows that “coming together” is really code for “let’s stop talking about systemic violence and the difficult choices people in power will need to make for true justice to occur”.

I am holding space for everyone who wants a more just future.

Sexual Harassment in Social Practice is a Real Thing Y’All

I think it’s widely known that I was sexually assaulted by one of my peers in my graduate program chaired by a prominent feminist artist, and when I reported it, my academic institution did very little, probably because men shedding tears over being friend zoned is a socially accepted thing, and they did not want to lose a Fulbright Scholar. Case in point: they welcomed another Fulbright Scholar the next year.

The thing with sexual harassment and assault as a femme bodied artist is that this is not my first rodeo, guys. I’ve been followed on the train. I’ve had strangers attempt to kiss me and look up my skirt. I’ve had a board member of a very prominent arts funding organization try to sleep with me. I’ve had a community member try to touch me with his erect penis and call me multiple times in the middle of the night asking to come to my house. And I’ve had an artist download my phone number without my permission and then manically text me about my whereabouts. Sexual harassment: the phenomenon that transcends age, race, and class boundaries.

People always ask, “Why don’t you report that shit?” (cue all the victim blaming during my graduate school incident), but if the case with my graduate program is any indication, I could have cured some disease with the time and energy spent (fruitlessly) dealing with sexual harassment. So for the most part I take a deep breath, spend some time with an imaginary punching bag, and move on. However, I think it’s worthwhile to take this moment and impart some feminist analysis to social practice discourse when it comes to sexual harassment, in the hopes that we can shift the ways in which we understand gendered labor in the field.

It’s pretty obvious from my scenarios that sexual harassment is a real thing in #life, but when it comes to social practice and community engaged art, I think there is a causal relationship to be unpacked between the inherent emotional and public labor expected from a social practice artist, and sexual harassment.

Social practice is a form of emotional and public labor. When you are working interpersonally and collaboratively, you are probably making an effort to not be a bitch to the other person. When you’re working on issues of neighborhood and community, you are probably making an effort to get to know your neighbors, stakeholders, and potential collaborators. Once again, probably requires not being a bitch. Kindness, care, listening, and consideration are part of the social practice toolkit, and in general, just part of the toolkit of being a good person.

However, we live in a society where cishet men are socialized to think that any small sliver of interest is enough to be considered as consent. We also live in a society where men are socialized to equate kindness, care, listening, and consideration with sexual interest, not with the mere practice of being a good person. Often I find myself at the following crossroads as an emotional and public laborer: I can either choose to work with men, and brace myself for the eventual harassment; or I can not work with men at all.

(For those of you who are like, “Why don’t you just set some boundaries up front?”, I can send you some very ineffective screencaps of me saying “stay out of my DMs”.)

(For the older women who have told me, “You’re lucky you’re still young and attractive enough to be harassed.”, please stop using ageism to justify violence against other femme bodies.)

For me it’s not a constructive solution to never work with men. Especially on the neighborhood or community level, men make up one half of that community and should be engaged in issues of justice and neighborhood health as well. When you are confronting and navigating male-dominated power structures, it is impossible to not encounter men, usually of the sleazebag variety. But it is a disheartening solution to need to put my body in the line of fire to do my work. And then I think about how this phenomenon trickles upwards in terms of the way that we build a field through practice and discourse.

For example, if social practice is premised on emotional and public labor, why are some of the most prominent and lauded social practitioners men? Why are some of the most referred to texts also written by men? Why are there conveniently no chapters on sexual harassment in those texts? I love Rick Lowe to death, but maybe his success is partially due to his ability to rally entire communities without having to endure sexualized touching.

I’m sure this doesn’t only apply to femme bodies, but queer bodies, disabled bodies, racialized bodies, and trans bodies as well in terms of our struggles to balance our personal safety with community organizing and community health. I want this acknowledged and I want our discursive support structures – the people who we uplift in the social practice field, the metrics that we use to evaluate success, the methodologies that we promote – to support the real live breathing bodies of those of us doing this work. Maybe it’s time to abandon narratives of communities – whether they be neighborhoods, cities, or theoretical/academic communities – as bound together through camaraderie, and instead look at the very real violences that run through and demarcate communities, and how these violences are structurally distributed. Only then does the dismantling begin.

Weekly Reading List: Jesse Williams is on 🔥🔥🔥 Edition

Stuff on the Internet that I’ve been reading instead of Grace Lee Boggs’ The Next American Revolution.

National/International

Regional

Social Justice

Pop Culture

Gentrification: A Web Reader

20160205_181033This weekend I will be participating (read: opening my big mouth!) on a panel about gentrification at Ro2 Gallery as part of the closing exhibition of Giovanni Valderas’ Forged Utopia exhibition at the MAC. Click for more information about Giovanni’s fantastic (and you know I rarely call anything in Dallas fantastic), timely, and relevant exhibition.

Accordingly, this week’s reading list is a list of gentrification resources that I’ve been compiling over the past year, with the goal of building connectivity between national networks and local knowledges about the ways in which communities of color are displaced and resist displacement. Please comment with thoughts and additional resources.

What is Gentrification?

Gentrifier Aesthetics and Aesthetics of Resistance

Local Context – Dallas

Local Context – Los Angeles

Local Context – Other

Macro Patterns of Migration

 

on dissociation and trauma in texas social justice organizing

one of my greatest epiphanies during allied media conference 2016 were the words, “dissociation is a survival strategy”. that, coupled with sessions on queering martial arts and decolonizing christianity, made me realize that i had been repressing so many parts of myself, so much deep pain and trauma in my past and present, in order to be present enough to do my social justice work in texas.

texas is a hostile environment for anyone who is positioned outside of the white imperialist supremacist heteropatriarchy. it is a place where because there are few government structures in place to act as a buffer, the violence and hatred from people within the white imperialist supremacist heteropatriarchy can be felt immediately and distinctly.

ever since returning to texas, and witnessing the policing, poverty, and racism in my neighborhood on a daily basis, i’ve been engaging in measures of self numbing. first it was alcohol, then it was netflix, now it’s sleeping. until the mass shooting in orlando happened, forcing all my emotions to the forefront, i had repressed the fact that i literally feared for my life and well being as someone who does not subscribe to heteronormativity. and that, instead of naming this fear that seized my brain on a daily basis, it was easier to sleep. it was easier to come home from a meeting with an extremely racist person in power and watch netflix, than it was to cry out the weariness in my body. this was because if i cried at that, i would find reasons to cry every day, and my body and work would not be able to bear it.

as someone who has been managing intergenerational, familial, and societal trauma my entire life, i’m only starting to realize that trauma has always affected the ways in which i can be involved in social justice movements, and that i’ve always felt a pinge of resentment at those who work in this space untouched by the trauma of structural violence (white people, this is why you get the side eye). i am also highly aware in my current practice, how much more slowly my work progresses because i spend so much time managing trauma, and how much of a better and more capable person i am when i am in safe spaces that don’t require such degrees of repression.

related to this, i had an incredibly healing conversation with a friend from seattle on effective ways of practicing transformative justice. these words of hers really resonated with me, “transformative justice is a process that takes years, and the way it’s practiced means there’s not any huge success stories that you can refer to.”. can we relate this to the healing we need to see in our communities, and in ourselves? and can we relate this to a critique of the charity-nonprofit industrial complex?

working in collaboration with charities and nonprofits, it seems that those who can, do. but those who can’t, don’t because they are the most affected who are too busy engaging in survival practices of managing trauma. and yet it is imperative to center the experiences of those who are most affected and this is something that i struggle with practicing within a charity-nonprofit industrial complex context.

people managing trauma require different forms of care and consideration, but we are not powerless. it is a testament to our power that we’ve already survived this far. reflecting on the texas context has taught me that we need to build better spaces for holding the ways in which we cope – whether it be through numbing or through catharsis – because there is so much hostility coming from every direction. we also need to build understandings that we are capable of grieving and being, coping and doing within the same lifetime. it just might take a little longer or look a little different from how we traditionally construct narratives of social change. maybe there is no heroic turning point or outcome. our trauma should not be the reason that we are barred from working for social change. if anything, our trauma holds the wisdom to our liberation.

Weekly Reading List: Adrian Piper is a Visionary Bo$$ Edition

Stuff I’ve been reading on the internet instead of Jeff Chang’s Who We Be.

Orlando

It’s ok for your heart to break and it’s ok to feel nothing. It’s ok to read all of the articles and none of the articles. I’ve been in mourning. These are just a few articles amid the rubble.

National

Regional

Arts – Dallas

  • The Lost History of Dallas’ Negro Parks – “Joy and suffering exist in tandem in the telling of the story of the Negro parks. Celebration and violence go hand in hand. Whatever peace the parks maintained, they existed in a world that was surrounded by hatred.”

Arts – Other

  • VISUAL CULTURES OF INDIGENOUS FUTURISMS
  • Cannibalizing the Culture of Colonizers and Other Artistic Strategies
  • Art For the Art-World Surface Pattern
    1. We can ignore political problems, but we cannot avoid them.
    2. We avoid political problems by: refusing to read the papers; OR reading the papers BUT refusing to understand what we read about; OR acknowledging or complicity in the problems we read about BUT refusing to admit we could solve them through a personal commitment to change; OR admitting we could solve them through a personal to change BUT refusing to admit that we should make that commitment; OR making that commitment BUT avoiding acting on it.
    3. We avoid acting on a commitment to political change by: refusing to acknowledge the interdependence of the personal and political; OR acknowledging the interdependence of the personal and political BUT refusing to acknowledge the political impotence of our personal lives qua personal; OR acknowledging the political impotence of our personal lives qua personal BUT refusing to recognize its dependence on a system of political oppression of others that makes our personal lives possible: Recognizing this but trying desperately to rationalize our lives by invoking other values like personal freedom, aesthetic pleasures, the right to privacy, etc., etc.- As if such values could have any meaning in the absence of true political freedom.
    4. Art for the Art- World Surface Pattern surrounds you with the political problems you ignore and the rationalizations by which you attempt to avoid them.
    -from the “Paris Biennale 1977” catalog (Paris, France Mus’ee d’Art Moderne, 1977
    Adrian Piper

Weekly Reading List: Brock Turner is a Rapist Edition

Stuff on the internet that I’ve been reading instead of Edward Said’s Orientalism.

Social Justice

Arts – Dallas

  • Changing Gears At Dallas’ Office Of Cultural Affairs – After a yearlong search by a $50,000 paid search committee, City Manager AC Gonzalez decided to reject the search committee recommendations and instead appoint someone relatively unknown by the Dallas arts community to the Executive Director position of the Office of Cultural Affairs. I’m willing to not judge Executive Director Jennifer Scripps until we see evidence of whether or not she takes steps to support individual artists, cultural equity, government transparency, and creative ways of publicly leveraging private support (I am very curious if the references to private support means that the onus is on artists and organizations to raise their own funding (ugh), or if the city will find a way to publicly manage private arts patronage) – but if the search committee was pointless, I want that $50,000 of taxpayer money back (#grants, anyone?).  Also, stay tuned for the June 23 special meeting of the Arts Commission, in which the OCA will either try to explain or find a way to ameliorate why they are cutting $60,000 from each city cultural center’s upcoming budget. Dallas, y’all! Supporting culture, one budget cut at a time.
  • GABRIEL DAWE: IN RAINBOWS – An artist from Dallas makes it onto the national scene, and everybody loses their shit (just kidding, I’ve been a fan of Gabriel Dawe’s work for years).
  • Building a bridge, not a wall: Crow Collection announces major partnership with Mexico – The resident museum of Imperial-Era Chinese Art (#NotAllAsia guys, #NotAllAsia) has announced a partnership and traveling exhibition with museums in Mexico, and all this chinita poblana can think about is, does this mean we’ll finally get to have a panel on the ChinaMex origins of the chimichanga?

Arts – Los Angeles

  • Los Angeles Is Hiring a Sound Artist to Help Make its Streets Safer – Almost three years ago, I entered a large gymnasium wearing earplugs and holding a blue balloon. The sound vibrations from the building were so loud I could hear it from the parking lot, and I laid upon metal sculptures designed to transmit the sound vibrations. I’m thrilled to see that Alan Nakagawa, artist behind said piece and one of my favorite people, has been selected as the inaugural LADOT (Los Angeles Department of Transportation) Artist in Residence. I’ve been really interested in this residency program ever since it was announced, for the way that it models itself after programs in San Francisco and New York that create space for artists in civic departments (Mierle Laderman Ukeles is one of my big inspirations, so, you know). I would love to see additional cities and city departments (AHEM, AHEM) create positions for artists-in-residence to contribute to the poetic and experiential reading of the city. I can’t wait to see how Alan’s work in sound art and field recording contributes to a more walkable city.

Misc

Los Angeles, I Ache: June 6, 2016

Despite being away from Los Angeles, there are still moments where I feel the sensations passing through collective body of my communities back home. It’s like how a spider senses an insect landing on a nether portion of its web – apt since most of these waves are transmitted through social networks. Usually I don’t sense the joy, but I do sense very deeply when my community aches, and I ache right back.

Here are some things that I’ve been aching about this week:

Shooting at UCLA – I worked at UCLA, knew people who graduated from UCLA. Despite the broken nature of the UC system and higher education, I still consider UCLA one of the defining institutions when it comes to generating discourse on art and activism in Los Angeles. In this case I watched as my friends were on lockdown for hours.

PSSST gallery opening in Boyle Heights

This has been breaking my heart for weeks. PSSST actually approached one of my collaborations earlier in the year for a short summer residency and I was immediately suspect, as it was a white-owned gallery operation in a historically Japanese and Chicano neighborhood of Boyle Heights. Boyle Heights is incredibly well organized, with long histories of cultural organizations and community spaces, and I found it really suspect that none of the prominent cultural workers from Boyle Heights had said anything about this space or were involved. Researching their website, I became conflicted because queer, femme bodied, and PoC artists/curators who I respect a lot and in some cases have personal relationships with were on their board. We ended up turning down the offer. Fast forward a few months, and PSSST is at the center of anti-gentrification protests in Boyle Heights. It has been breaking my heart to watch from afar how responses to these protests have split the art community, and moreover, split the community of radically-minded artists and artists of color. In this case, it seemed like their board of well respected queer, femme bodied, and PoC artists/curators worked to deter the conversation about gentrification and raise doubts about the legitimacy of the protestors. I myself feel really conflicted about this as I am from outside the community and now literally live thousands of miles away, so in a sense I can’t speak to what is truly happening inside Boyle Heights. But I can say that has been personally devastating to see people within my (former?) community exhibit racist and institutionalized behavior that privileges the concerns of the art community over the concerns of residents who have lived and cherished their neighborhood for years. I hope that choosing between the art community and a community on the verge of displacement is not a choice we ever have to make, that as artists we always understand that our solidarity is always with those who are most structurally disempowered – especially if we contribute to that disempowerment.

#BLMLA organizer Jasmine Richards convicted of felony lynching

13305181_10154826220643906_1751655282651861749_oTwo years later, a jury without a single black person and an Asian judge and Chinese prosecutor convicted #BlackLivesMatter organizer Jasmine Richards of felony lynching – an absurd charge that completely perverts the original intention of the law. I remember the day of the protest actually. I don’t think I went but it was in my consciousness. I also remember seeing Jasmine in Power: From The Mouths of the Occupied, a play by #BLM co-founder Patrisse Khan-Cullors at Highways Performance Art space at the 18th Street Arts Center complex in Santa Monica. The play was a collection of dramatized monologues about each participant’s experience with police and state sanctioned violence. Jasmine’s story was one of the most intense stories of the night. I held it in me, I admired her resilience, and I understood her leadership and passion. I ache now because the person who I saw perform that night is not a person who should be in jail. Because of that work, I understand her actions to free a fellow protestor (the definition of “lynching”) to be one of compassion and justice, and I continued to be floored by her strength while understanding that in this world, none of us should be obligated to be that strong.

At the same time, this event really underscores the need to do the work to heal anti-blackness in Asian communities. I think it’s time to acknowledge the structural origins of Asian anti-blackness instead to pointing to any one Asian ally as an example of #NotAllAsians. Until we acknowledge it, we can’t truly dismantle it. As someone who has been divorced from my country of origin for myriad, complex reasons, I am still working through how to begin this work in my own community which I do not consider community (once again, myriad and complex reasons). This is something that I will write more about at a later date.

These are the actions that #BlackLivesMatter is urging people to take:

SIGN THE PETITION: http://act.colorofchange.org/sign/freejasmine-no-jail-time-black-lives-matter-activist-accused-lynching/?sp_ref=203026269.176.169279.e.535244.5&referring_akid=.2244075.bWCrFT&source=em_sp

You can ALSO can help by:

1. SHARE! SHARE! SHARE! We need as many people talking about this as possible. Please share as widely as you can! #FREEJASMINE #BLMDENA #BLACKLIVESMATTER

2. Pack the courtroom for her sentencing hearing:

Tuesday, 06/07/2016 at 8:00 AM, Pasadena Courthouse – 300 E. Walnut, Pasadena, CA.

3. Donate to Jasmine’s legal defense and/or books at www.crowdrise.com/blmla(Note“Jasmine” in your comments.)

4. Use your voicetalents and resources to elevate Jasmine’s case and cause.