Death Equals Silence

By Micaela Kaibni Raen

Bright pink and white woven fabric art, with red lips sticked shut by the string connected to a kite and two lines of text: death = silence and silence = death

 

Artist statement

I am my grandmothers’ dream, and she is mine. We exist together through Tatreez, Indigenous Palestinian textiles and embroidery. We share cultural memory and wisdom traditionally handed down, Palestinian female to Palestinian female. As a Palestinian lesbian artist, I feel Tatreez patterns hold a deep connectivity to ancestral Indigenous femininities that can be accessed through creating art based on the patterns, repetitions, and mathematical matriarchal matrices inherent in Tatreez stitching sequences. My goal is to take these intuitive insights and formulaic computations to create a new visual artform, Queer Tatreez. A style of art focused on ancestral wisdom that embraces inclusivity, diversity, and the land that gives us life.

My mission, with this artwork, Death Equals Silence, is to educate others in order to bring an end to the military occupation, and ongoing Nakba, in Palestine. I am living in exile in North America, and my artwork strives to bring our sacred teachings, rooted in spirit and land, fully into the present moment. Two keffiyeh scarves are shown, one is black and white, while the other is pink and white. To me, the keffiyeh is a symbol of cultural identity and sumud/steadfastness. Two color variations are shown to represent both the Palestinian men and women killed since October 2024. The kite image symbolizes the children of Gaza who currently have the Guiness World Record for the most kites flying at once. With little documentation and no headstones, the black kite flies as our death marker, re/telling the stories of the thousands of children that have been targeted and killed during the current genocide.

The Aids Coalition to Unleash Power (ACT UP!) has used the slogan Silence = Death to mark many social justice movements from the HIV/AIDS pandemic, Queer and Trans human rights, the Palestinian genocide, and more. At the top, I have flipped the words to read, “Death = Silence.” This is not a general statement of truth. This is in direct reference to…whole families (and their genetic line of familial relatives) that were targeted and killed since October 2024. Especially targeted were teachers, leaders, doctors, activists, journalists, authors, humanitarian workers, social workers, etc. Statistics show that death disproportionately silences children and those working toward justice. The words in the artwork combined with the lips sewn together represent the current global climate of racism, ethnic-cultural-erasure, shadow-bans, and censorship of Palestinian voices.

For this artwork, I researched ancient and modern patterns of Palestinian embroidery and keffiyeh scarf patterns. I used two keffiyeh scarves to design textile/images through high resolution scans and graphic art. Through art layering, I placed the images onto a graphic art layer and then designed the text and other graphical elements. My work incorporates multimedia modalities and is an ever-evolving journey. Contemplating Tatreez patterns, and the act of Tatreez creation, become a bridge into deep space time where I sit with my grandmothers in a sacred Tatreez Circle, embraced, and listen.


Micaela Kaibni Raen is a Palestinian-American creator, cultural worker, queer femme-dyke, mother, and global Queer/Trans human rights activist. She is most known for Queer Tatreez, a style of visual art and visual poetics based on Indigenous Palestinian Tatreez embroidery. Her work appears in Mizna; Qafiyah Review; Rowayat; Yellow Medicine Review; The Poetry of Arab Women; and El Ghourabaa: A Queer and Trans Arab and Arabophone Anthology. For more information, visit her website and Instagram.


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Two Poems by Lonav Ojha

To Refaat Alareer,
who became a kite

 

Brother, you looked so loving,

holding very gently

that box of

strawberries, and behind

your home, not yet,

not again,

but incessantly

in ruins.

 

You were not a number,

you were,

an educator,

a cheerful poet,

settler’s boogeyman,

 

and now that you’re dead, English is also

a language for mourning.

 

A strike occurs in a medium

it does not

simply

………

….

fall.

 

And your words

hang in air

heavier than any

gravity bombs.¹

 

1. American

•          •          •          •          •          •          •          •          •          •       

 

A letter to a friend explaining the student movement

 

I have been listening

to more Bollywood these

days. I have been writing Press Statements

for the Press that does not state what

must be stated. I live in despair. And I

sometimes wish I didn’t have to, but hearing

love songs, Bollywood love songs, without

having anybody to love in a Bollywood sort of way,

means I’m hoping to learn a few things

about romancing myself.

 

A newly made friend

told me

during the protests that he’s serious about

killing himself, & he was writing

a letter, and another

said she’s cutting herself after many years.

The first person, we don’t talk anymore, because I have

nothing to say.

 

They’re still alive. I am also still alive.

I am listening to Bollywood songs. I am writing

Press Statements.

I am talking to L, and he says,

the Vice-Chancellor is planning something

HUGE!!

He’s been flying back and forth to Delhi. He,

is a bastard, and I’m listening

to Bollywood songs, and I’m doing alright.

And I’m trying to love my friends, the ones I can,

the ones who can love me.

 

Long live that look

on your face, and mine. I am

listening to Bollywood

songs, and I’m imagining someone

who would have me fully.

I suffer egregiously from the main character

syndrome. I suffer from having faith

in people. Long live the crane

behind the Magis block that spent a year

building what it will never occupy.

Long live the cats in the New Academic Block

that don’t give a shit. So I am

writing Press Statements. I’ve always

danced in my room,

when nobody’s watching,

when the world is burning,

and I haven’t stopped.

 


Lonav Ojha is a 22-year-old writer from India. His work has previously appeared on ASAP Art, Agents of Ishq, LiveWire, and The Open Dosa. He was also longlisted for the 2024 TOTO Awards for Creative Writing in English. He writes regularly on his personal blog, Stories Under My Bed, where he attempts to reimagine resistance from the praxis of joy and education. Since the 2014 national elections, his country has plunged into the depths of Hindutva fascism, crushing dissent in all its varied expressions and stifling whatever remained of academic freedom in public universities.

Photo credit: Magne Hagesæter via a Creative Commons license.


A note from Writers Resist

Thank you for reading! If you appreciate creative resistance and would like to support it, you can make a small, medium or large donation to Writers Resist from our Give a Sawbuck page.

 

Two Poems by Ron Dowell

We Are What We Shine

after J. Venters and M. Barajas

 

Bright as a jewel, we are what we shine.
A gang’s red-blue color-coded word clash
Compton’s graffitied not-so “Welcome” sign.

Compton Court obliterates the blue skyline,
Angeles Abbey minarets, brown grass,
like burnished silver, we are what we shine.

We suffer potholed streets silent decline
show taxes limit terms make thunder crash
Compton’s graffitied not so “Welcome” sign.

Change old habits & shade the asinine
who pour concrete slabs over weeping ash
as a begrimed city loses its shine.

Compton Creek crawdads, waters unwind
spawn Dr. Dre, Coste-Lewis, Niecy Nash.
Compton’s artists unveil the “Welcome” sign

Our shimmering gold—Venus, Kendrick’s rhymes
Venters, Barajas, their COVID backlash
bright as a jewel, we are what we shine.

Compton rolls out our “Welcome” sign.

 •     •     •    •     •     • 

 

Ebonics

My native tongue felt perfectly normal
until they labeled it Ebonics in the 70s.
School disparaged my native tongue

like jazz, denigrated and disrespected.
The principal paddled me with the holey oak.
The new whip burned my ass, lashing and tentacled.

He tried to beat out vernacular for sleeping
through American heroes like Jefferson Davis
Father Serra, Charles Lindbergh. For his doctorate

a man discovered the new Negro language.
Even today, I violate grammar rules, unconscious
even today, I slip forward, or back, into natural speech

even today, I sing coded enslaved spirituals
Wade in the water, cause God’s gonna trouble the water
hounds don’t follow when we wade in the water.

Ah ‘on know what homie be doin. He be runnin’
They say a child’s personality forms by age five
–knowing two languages, he knows two worlds.

I learned a new language, but the new world hides.
I’m burdened, weighted, an imposter in a world
that squeezes me like a piece of coal.

Under pressure, like a black diamond, I sparkle dark
and hard                                   I chew steel.

 


Ron L. Dowell holds two Master’s degrees from California State University Long Beach. In June 2017, he received the UCLA Certificate in Fiction Writing. His poetry resides in Penumbra, Writers Resist, Oyster Rivers Pages, The Wax Paper, Kallisto Gaia Press, The Penmen Review, Packingtown Review Journal, and The Poeming Pigeon. He’s a 2018 PEN America Emerging Voices Fellow. Visit his website at crookedoutofcompton.com.

Photograph, City of Compton.


A note from Writers Resist:

Thank you for reading! If you appreciate creative resistance and would like to support it, you can make a small, medium or large donation to Writers Resist from our Give a Sawbuck page.

We Must Resist

By Laura Martinez

 

Everything has changed

Nothing has changed

He is gone

Does that mean we no longer resist?

It “takes time” to undo what he has done

Does that mean we no longer resist?

As long as elected officials state “America is not a racist country”

We must resist

As long as there is voter suppression

We must resist

As long as my grandson lives in fear of driving while black

We must resist

As long as women and LGBTQ communities risk losing everything they have gained

We must resist

As long as those fleeing oppression and poverty are turned away at the Southern border

We must resist

As long as elected officials live in fear of he who is not really gone

We must resist.

As long as fear and conspiracy theories abound

We must resist.

No matter who is in the White House

WE MUST RESIST

 


Laura Martinez is a retired social worker. She has been involved in active resistance for more than fifty years and knows we must resist injustice no matter who is in the White House.