Below is an extract of a post published on Guardian titled "Trump's racist attacks will make it easier for ‘the Squad’ to recruit more members | Mallaika Jabali"
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Make america great again.- Donald Trump.
What counts is not necessarily the size of the dog in the fight. It's the size of the fight in the dog.- Dwight D. Eisenhower.
The best executive is the one who has sense enough to pick good men to do what wants done, and self-restraint to keep from meddling with them while they do it.- Theodore Roosevelt.
Discipline is the soul of an army. It makes small numbers formidable; procures success to the weak and esteem to all.- George Washington.
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Via: Guardian
Trump hopes his racist attacks will detract the four congresswomen from America’s domestic and foreign policy disasters It took a while before I felt it: the awareness of being gazed at as a foreign object, American-born yet an alien all the same. I didn’t feel it when my blond neighbor Chris, a third grade classmate, slipped me a note telling me how much he liked me. But, as he concluded in the blue ink scrawled across the page’s lines, his mom wouldn’t allow him to “date” a seven-year-old black girl like me. I didn’t feel it when a new middle school teacher passed me over, despite enthusiastically raising my hand first to volunteer for a project, and chose my two white girl friends who stood next to me to assist her. These were mere footnotes. Things to bookmark in my life’s files, but not to obsess over in a childhood with more pressing matters – creeks to be played in, school honors to be earned, and boys (not named Chris) to crush on. I was not surprised by these stark incidents. I grew up in a south that still had the confederate symbol on its state flag and a house that regularly received brochures offering to enroll me in a busing program to integrate the increasingly white, outer core suburban schools. The moment I felt “othered,” at around 18, was more mundane than that. I walked out of my school gym and watched several eyes turn to stare at me, this black girl in a sea of white faces at an elite private college. I looked to see what I had on. Was there something stuck on me? On my shoe? My hair? After several occurrences like this, where I wasn’t talked to, or engaged with, but glared at, I surmised that it was my blackness that was the foreign object. But it is through the mundane, in the things unsaid, the slights we think we imagine, that we realize that the world doesn’t allow us black and brown girls and boys to just be. The glares then transform to vitriol against us black and brown women and men, when being born and raised in America can still lend itself to commands to go back to the countries we came from, where only God knows where that may be. In the midst of Donald Trump commanding Ice raids to prompt widespread deportations, he was preaching what he practiced, telling a group of women of color, most of whom are American-born, that this country also didn’t belong to them. So when congresswoman Ayanna Pressley spoke of “the occupant in the White House…” in remarks confronting his attacks on her and congressional colleagues Ilhan Omar, Rashida Tlaib and Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez, all vocal critics of his white nationalist immigration policies – her statement wasn’t tinged with surprise or disappointment. It wasn’t rife with the naive shock of people who claim this isn’t the America they know. It was rooted in the resolve of someone who probably once saw the same turned, glaring faces I did. The resolve of someone who knew his racist distractions would not keep her from attending to her own pressing matters – healthcare to be fought for and human rights to protect – and other crises facing the country. Continue reading…
