csmonitor--2020-07-24--How George Floyd and #BlackLivesMatter sparked a street art revival

The Monitor reached out to five professional street artists to hear their stories .
They paint in different locales and approach murals from different art traditions .
But what they share is a mission to counter racism and denounce police violence by presenting affirmative images of Black people .
Following the death of George Floyd , muralists have picked up aerosol cans and paintbrushes to convey a need for change .
Scores of murals of Mr. Floyd , other victims of police violence , and messages and images of hope have sprung up across the country .
Street artists are @ @ @ @ @ @ @ art forms to beautify drab urban spaces and touch hearts .
He starts painting at 5 a.m. , racing against the sun .
From atop his forklift crane , Rob “ ProBlak ” Gibbs – one of Boston ’ s foremost graffiti and street artists – resumes work on a multistory mural at a local school .
As dawn glistens on nearby skyscrapers , the artist ’ s thoughts flit to his 2-year-old daughter as his spray cans rattle and spit .
She inspired his mural of a young Black girl floating above @ @ @ @ @ @ @ .
Street artists often paint on walls in order to tear them down .
Following the death of George Floyd and subsequent protests , muralists have picked up aerosol cans and paintbrushes to convey a need for change .
Dozens upon dozens of murals of Mr. Floyd and other victims of police violence have sprung up on walls across the United States .
Street artists are taking advantage of the immediacy of this most public of art forms to beautify drab urban spaces and reach the hearts of viewers .
They ’ re @ @ @ @ @ @ @ muralists who ’ ve used outdoor canvases to convey political messages .
During the New Deal , for instance , Diego Rivera ’ s murals highlighted the toil of industrial workers .
But it was the arrival of spray cans that truly democratized street art and empowered a young generation to express itself .
During the late 1970s and early 1980s , the burgeoning punk and hip-hop scenes in Philadelphia and New York spurred teenagers to both deface and decorate subway trains and urban spaces with stylized slogans and signatures .
Elegant forms @ @ @ @ @ @ @ street art , started to emerge from spray paint scribbles .
“ This is an art form that was started by Black and brown and Latinx teenagers in their marginalized communities because of the injustices that they ’ re facing and because that was their outlet and their voice , ” says Liza Quiñonez , founder of Murals for the Movement , an initiative to rebuild communities in Boston , New York , and Los Angeles with uplifting murals by Black and other minority artists .
Long before Jean-Michel Basquiat and Keith Haring @ @ @ @ @ @ @ to decry racism and the devastation of AIDS , they were street artists .
Mr. Haring ’ s 1986 anti-drug mural , “ Crack Is Wack , ” in East Harlem remains New York ’ s most famous mural .
More recently , the likes of Shepard Fairey ( most famous for his Barack Obama “ Hope ” poster ) and the mysterious Banksy ( most famous for his playful pranks ) have become global icons through their Instagram-shareable street art that advocates for social justice and other causes .
Not all street @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Subjects range from the prosaic ( portraits , landscapes , animals ) to the imaginative ( surrealist trompe l ’ oeil optical illusions whose meanings are as elliptical as Salvador Dalí ’ s mustache ) .
But the global art form remains a visible form of public protest in places such as Mexico City , Beirut , Hong Kong , Johannesburg , Santiago , and cities across America .
“ All these different movements are quite specific in their political concerns , but I do feel that it ’ s fair to put @ @ @ @ @ @ @ is artists are looking for an audience , eyeballs , really , when it comes to drawing more attention to their political concerns , ” says Liz Munsell , co-curator of a new exhibition , “ Writing the Future : Basquiat and the Hip-Hop Generation , ” at Boston ’ s Museum of Fine Arts .
“ Artists throughout history have been at the forefront of introducing very progressive social ideas into society and paving the path towards normalizing them.
” “ It ’ s a voice for the voiceless , ” adds @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Art United States website , a hub dedicated to worldwide murals that instill a sense of hope , as well as history , through creative expression .
The Monitor reached out to five professional street artists to hear their stories .
Reliant upon commissions , grants , and sponsorship from nonprofits and businesses , they approach murals from different art traditions ( several of them employ graffiti nicknames ) .
But what they share is that they ’ re using murals to counter racism and denounce police violence by presenting affirmative images of @ @ @ @ @ @ @ 5 a.m. , racing against the sun .
From atop his forklift crane , Rob “ ProBlak ” Gibbs – one of Boston ’ s foremost graffiti and street artists – resumes work on a multistory mural at the Madison Park Technical Vocational High School .
As dawn glistens on nearby skyscrapers , he observes nature ’ s daily shift change as bats cede the sky to birds .
The artist ’ s thoughts flit to his 2-year-old daughter as his spray cans rattle and spit .
She inspired his mural of a @ @ @ @ @ @ @ with wings on her sneakers .
Mr. Gibbs says the message of the mural is , “ The future is in our children .
Regardless of your culture .
If you are a child to this world , you are contributing to a better future.
” He believes that the timing of the image coincides with the Black Lives Matter protests .
“ I know a higher power is playing into everything we do , ” the veteran graffiti artist says later , sweat beading on his forehead during a midmorning break .
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ a positive balance .
Not to say I ’ m not hearing what ’ s happening or that I don ’ t have an opinion , but while the young people are speaking , I ’ m just letting them know , ‘ Yo , I hear you.
’ ” Mr. Gibbs , an artist-in-residence at Boston ’ s Museum of Fine Arts , co-founded Artists for Humanity , a studio to mentor young artists , most of whom are minorities .
Today , an art class of teens hovers near the mural @ @ @ @ @ @ @ canister and dons a respirator that looks like the bottom half of Darth Vader ’ s mask .
“ If you ’ re giving the youth the ability to open their mouth to say something and it ’ s on a platform to be seen and heard ?
Let ’ s go man , ” says Mr. Gibbs .
“ Let ’ s lean into these conversations .
Let ’ s see if we can do better if we just teach each other to do better.
” In Denver , Thomas “ Detour @ @ @ @ @ @ @ see impassive hunks of stone , brick , and concrete .
“ I saw a wall and it spoke to me and said it needs a George Floyd on there , ” says Mr. Evans , who branched out from ambitious art museum exhibitions built around his paintings to street art in 2015 .
Once he ’ d received permission to paint the surface from the building ’ s owner , his friend Veiga came over to help .
Mr. Evans created the lower part of Mr. Floyd ’ s face , rendering @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , a distinguished graffiti writer , muralist , and fine artist , painted a more realistic skin tone .
The effect was to make it seem as if life was being breathed back into the body .
Soon after , the pair were offered spaces to memorialize two other people who died recently from police violence , Breonna Taylor and Elijah McClain .
Mr. Evans calls the series a “ Spray Their Name ” campaign .
Like all street artists , he shares his work on Instagram .
“ We are visual historians @ @ @ @ @ @ @ says the artist , who is the subject of the documentary “ Detour , ” on Amazon Prime .
“ As many of the marches die down and there ’ s more distraction for people as things open up ...
I like having that as a reminder of what ’ s really important.
” A strikingly different type of Black Lives Matter portrait was recently unveiled across the street from the Barclays Center in Brooklyn .
Sophia Dawson painted a mural depicting Eric Garner , the victim of asphyxiation by a police officer @ @ @ @ @ @ @ smiling alongside his sister , Lisha , and his brother Emery .
Titled “ For Gwen , ” the mural is dedicated to the mother of Mr. Garner .
“ A mother ’ s loss of a child is a universal loss , ” explains Ms. Dawson , whose long-standing activism for criminal justice reform stems from watching documentaries in college as well as her own mother ’ s incarceration .
“ I was really trying to tap into the hearts of people that don ’ t care and don ’ t see @ @ @ @ @ @ @ because I think they ’ re blinded in a way .
And I ’ m hoping that my art will lift the veil off their faces so that they can see things the way I see it.
” Ms. Dawson , a fine artist who is entirely new to street art and using spray paint , also collaborated on a mural where she painted Mr. Floyd as an infant in the arms of his mother .
In another Black Lives Matter mural in Foley Square in Manhattan , Ms. Dawson filled the “ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ of mothers whose children have been killed by police .
“ I believe my gift is from God , so I use it as a form of service , ” says Ms. Dawson , who teaches art classes at Rikers Island , a jail for New Yorkers , most of whom are awaiting trial .
“ We ’ re meant to bless other people , to heal other people , to liberate other people.
” Long before he went to college to become a professional designer , Cedric “ Vise1 ” Douglas learned @ @ @ @ @ @ @ strokes of aerosol cans on the streets .
Scanning other people ’ s sneakers for telltale aerosol splatter , he joined a crew in Boston and tagged walls as Fanes , a playful twist on the word “ finesse.
” Recognizing his talent for art was , Mr. Douglas says , akin to discovering he possessed a superpower .
“ The cool thing about graffiti was it was like my second superhero outfit , ” he says .
“ I ’ m Cedric Douglas by day , but at night I ’ m @ @ @ @ @ @ @ didn ’ t know who you were .
But you had something that you knew you were doing that no one knew.
” Not even his own family knew about his pastime .
When Mr. Douglas was arrested for elaborate artwork on a derelict basketball court , the police he ’ d fled from during a foot chase were far more genial than his livid mother .
Compounding his mother ’ s ire : The Boston Globe covered the incident .
Indeed , some street art is considered vandalism under the law and @ @ @ @ @ @ @ if people are caught by the police .
But Mr. Douglas knew that his interest in graffiti had steered him away from worse paths .
After college , he and his partner Julia Roth started their own mobile art vehicle , dubbed the Up Truck , to mentor children .
“ We ’ d go around teaching people how to be creative , ” he says .
“ Some of the things we do teach is spray paint , which is kind of ironic since I got arrested for using it .
Mr. @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , including portraits of nine victims of the 2015 mass shooting at a church in Charleston , South Carolina .
For a recent art project , Mr. Douglas created yellow caution tape featuring the last words of Black people killed by police , including Mr. Garner ’ s “ I can ’ t breathe.
” When he handed out reels of the tape to Black Lives Matter protesters in June , the front page of The Boston Globe featured a photograph of someone holding a strip with the words “ Don ’ t @ @ @ @ @ @ @ work I try to do is paint Black men and women in a positive light , ” says Mr. Douglas , who was nominated for the Ad Club of Boston ’ s 2016 Rosoff Award for individuals changing the city through diversity and inclusion .
“ One of the issues we have with racism is that a lot of people have a negative perception of Black men and women .
A lot of people just aren ’ t around a lot of different cultures .
Boston is very siloed , and there ’ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ white neighborhoods.
” For much of the coronavirus shutdown , Robert Vargas has been working on one of the world ’ s most ambitious – and dangerous – pieces of art .
He ’ s been painting “ Angelus , ” one of the world ’ s largest murals , entirely freehand on the side of a 14-story Los Angeles building .
Ascending two stories on the swaying scaffolding can feel like an additional 1,000 feet , says Mr. Vargas , who explains that “ Angelus ” celebrates ethnic diversity in an inclusive @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Matter protests came through his downtown neighborhood , the internationally known fine artist came back down to earth .
He watched rioting and looting break out while standing in front of another of his murals , “ Our Lady of DTLA.
” Days later , when the ransacked Starbucks across the street from him erected wooden boards to cover its broken windows , Mr. Vargas saw an opportunity to turn a “ black eye for our community and a bit of an eyesore ” into a positive message .
He used the planks @ @ @ @ @ @ @ “ Justice.
” The word is split into two .
Mr. Floyd ’ s eyes sit between the two fragments .
“ The symbolism there is that he is the bridge to justice , ” says Mr. Vargas .
“ What I wanted to do was create something that would , of course , show solidarity with the Black Lives Matter movement , but also be able to create an image that would show that we are a resilient people.
” Mr. Vargas went even further .
After observing artists painting the slogan @ @ @ @ @ @ @ letters on streets across the country , he decided to make a statement of his own .
He painted the words “ Change , ” “ Peace , ” “ Unity , ” and “ Love ” over the four crosswalks directly beneath his high-rise studio .
He named the piece “ Intersection of Introspection.
” “ You ’ ll be able to take one of these roads , make a left , make a right , and then find the Black Lives Matter intersection somewhere else , ” says Mr. Vargas , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ .
“ If you ’ re down with Black Lives Matter , then that ’ s the destination .
If you don ’ t understand Black Lives Matter , then that ’ s the origin .
”

The Monitor reached out to five professional street artists to hear their stories. They paint in different locales and approach murals from different art traditions. But what they share is a mission to counter racism and denounce police violence by presenting affirmative images of Black people.
As movements for racial justice have rocked the country, murals have become a striking part of the protest – and healing – process. Our culture writer talked to five street artists to understand what’s prompting the revival of this political art form.
Following the death of George Floyd, muralists have picked up aerosol cans and paintbrushes to convey a need for change. Scores of murals of Mr. Floyd, other victims of police violence, and messages and images of hope have sprung up across the country. Street artists are taking advantage of this most public of art forms to beautify drab urban spaces and touch hearts.
He starts painting at 5 a.m., racing against the sun. From atop his forklift crane, Rob “ProBlak” Gibbs – one of Boston’s foremost graffiti and street artists – resumes work on a multistory mural at a local school. As dawn glistens on nearby skyscrapers, the artist’s thoughts flit to his 2-year-old daughter as his spray cans rattle and spit. She inspired his mural of a young Black girl floating above the ground with wings on her sneakers.
Street artists often paint on walls in order to tear them down.
Following the death of George Floyd and subsequent protests, muralists have picked up aerosol cans and paintbrushes to convey a need for change. Dozens upon dozens of murals of Mr. Floyd and other victims of police violence have sprung up on walls across the United States. Street artists are taking advantage of the immediacy of this most public of art forms to beautify drab urban spaces and reach the hearts of viewers.
They’re also continuing a rich artistic tradition of muralists who’ve used outdoor canvases to convey political messages. During the New Deal, for instance, Diego Rivera’s murals highlighted the toil of industrial workers. But it was the arrival of spray cans that truly democratized street art and empowered a young generation to express itself. During the late 1970s and early 1980s, the burgeoning punk and hip-hop scenes in Philadelphia and New York spurred teenagers to both deface and decorate subway trains and urban spaces with stylized slogans and signatures. Elegant forms of stylized graffiti, the progenitor of street art, started to emerge from spray paint scribbles.
Why We Wrote This As movements for racial justice have rocked the country, murals have become a striking part of the protest – and healing – process. Our culture writer talked to five street artists to understand what’s prompting the revival of this political art form.
“This is an art form that was started by Black and brown and Latinx teenagers in their marginalized communities because of the injustices that they’re facing and because that was their outlet and their voice,” says Liza Quiñonez, founder of Murals for the Movement, an initiative to rebuild communities in Boston, New York, and Los Angeles with uplifting murals by Black and other minority artists.
Long before Jean-Michel Basquiat and Keith Haring hung pieces of art in ritzy galleries to decry racism and the devastation of AIDS, they were street artists. Mr. Haring’s 1986 anti-drug mural, “Crack Is Wack,” in East Harlem remains New York’s most famous mural. More recently, the likes of Shepard Fairey (most famous for his Barack Obama “Hope” poster) and the mysterious Banksy (most famous for his playful pranks) have become global icons through their Instagram-shareable street art that advocates for social justice and other causes.
Not all street art is political, of course. Subjects range from the prosaic (portraits, landscapes, animals) to the imaginative (surrealist trompe l’oeil optical illusions whose meanings are as elliptical as Salvador Dalí’s mustache). But the global art form remains a visible form of public protest in places such as Mexico City, Beirut, Hong Kong, Johannesburg, Santiago, and cities across America.
“All these different movements are quite specific in their political concerns, but I do feel that it’s fair to put them under one political umbrella, which is artists are looking for an audience, eyeballs, really, when it comes to drawing more attention to their political concerns,” says Liz Munsell, co-curator of a new exhibition, “Writing the Future: Basquiat and the Hip-Hop Generation,” at Boston’s Museum of Fine Arts. “Artists throughout history have been at the forefront of introducing very progressive social ideas into society and paving the path towards normalizing them.”
“It’s a voice for the voiceless,” adds Sami Wakim, who runs the Street Art United States website, a hub dedicated to worldwide murals that instill a sense of hope, as well as history, through creative expression.
The Monitor reached out to five professional street artists to hear their stories. Reliant upon commissions, grants, and sponsorship from nonprofits and businesses, they approach murals from different art traditions (several of them employ graffiti nicknames). But what they share is that they’re using murals to counter racism and denounce police violence by presenting affirmative images of Black people.
Rob “ProBlak” Gibbs
He starts painting at 5 a.m., racing against the sun. From atop his forklift crane, Rob “ProBlak” Gibbs – one of Boston’s foremost graffiti and street artists – resumes work on a multistory mural at the Madison Park Technical Vocational High School. As dawn glistens on nearby skyscrapers, he observes nature’s daily shift change as bats cede the sky to birds. The artist’s thoughts flit to his 2-year-old daughter as his spray cans rattle and spit. She inspired his mural of a young Black girl floating above the ground with wings on her sneakers.
Melanie Stetson Freeman/Staff View caption Hide caption Artist Rob "ProBlak" Gibbs works on his mural at Madison Park Technical Vocational High School in the Roxbury neighborhood of Boston July 15, 2020. When finished, the mural will be 36 feet tall and 107 feet wide.
Mr. Gibbs says the message of the mural is, “The future is in our children. Regardless of your culture. If you are a child to this world, you are contributing to a better future.”
He believes that the timing of the image coincides with the Black Lives Matter protests.
“I know a higher power is playing into everything we do,” the veteran graffiti artist says later, sweat beading on his forehead during a midmorning break. “I’m here to give a positive balance. Not to say I’m not hearing what’s happening or that I don’t have an opinion, but while the young people are speaking, I’m just letting them know, ‘Yo, I hear you.’”
Mr. Gibbs, an artist-in-residence at Boston’s Museum of Fine Arts, co-founded Artists for Humanity, a studio to mentor young artists, most of whom are minorities. Today, an art class of teens hovers near the mural as Mr. Gibbs tops up a paint canister and dons a respirator that looks like the bottom half of Darth Vader’s mask.
“If you’re giving the youth the ability to open their mouth to say something and it’s on a platform to be seen and heard? Let’s go man,” says Mr. Gibbs. “Let’s lean into these conversations. Let’s see if we can do better if we just teach each other to do better.”
Thomas “Detour” Evans
In Denver, Thomas “Detour” Evans sees canvases where ordinary people see impassive hunks of stone, brick, and concrete.
“I saw a wall and it spoke to me and said it needs a George Floyd on there,” says Mr. Evans, who branched out from ambitious art museum exhibitions built around his paintings to street art in 2015.
Courtesy of Thomas 'Detour' Evans View caption Hide caption Black Lives Matter protesters gather in front of a mural of George Floyd by artist Thomas "Detour" Evans on their way to a demonstration in Denver.
Once he’d received permission to paint the surface from the building’s owner, his friend Hiero Veiga came over to help. Mr. Evans created the lower part of Mr. Floyd’s face, rendering it with impressionistic color. Mr. Veiga, a distinguished graffiti writer, muralist, and fine artist, painted a more realistic skin tone. The effect was to make it seem as if life was being breathed back into the body.
Soon after, the pair were offered spaces to memorialize two other people who died recently from police violence, Breonna Taylor and Elijah McClain. Mr. Evans calls the series a “Spray Their Name” campaign. Like all street artists, he shares his work on Instagram.
“We are visual historians of what is happening today,” says the artist, who is the subject of the documentary “Detour,” on Amazon Prime. “As many of the marches die down and there’s more distraction for people as things open up ... I like having that as a reminder of what’s really important.”
Sophia Dawson
A strikingly different type of Black Lives Matter portrait was recently unveiled across the street from the Barclays Center in Brooklyn. Sophia Dawson painted a mural depicting Eric Garner, the victim of asphyxiation by a police officer, as a child. He poses smiling alongside his sister, Lisha, and his brother Emery. Titled “For Gwen,” the mural is dedicated to the mother of Mr. Garner.
“A mother’s loss of a child is a universal loss,” explains Ms. Dawson, whose long-standing activism for criminal justice reform stems from watching documentaries in college as well as her own mother’s incarceration. “I was really trying to tap into the hearts of people that don’t care and don’t see and that don’t feel, because I think they’re blinded in a way. And I’m hoping that my art will lift the veil off their faces so that they can see things the way I see it.”
Courtesy of Street Theory Gallery View caption Hide caption The mural “No Weapon Formed Against Thee Shall Prosper” is a collaboration piece by artists Marka27, Cey Adams, and Sophia Dawson. It includes a painting by Ms. Dawson of George Floyd's mother cradling him as a toddler (bottom right).
Ms. Dawson, a fine artist who is entirely new to street art and using spray paint, also collaborated on a mural where she painted Mr. Floyd as an infant in the arms of his mother. In another Black Lives Matter mural in Foley Square in Manhattan, Ms. Dawson filled the “L” in the phrase with portraits of mothers whose children have been killed by police.
“I believe my gift is from God, so I use it as a form of service,” says Ms. Dawson, who teaches art classes at Rikers Island, a jail for New Yorkers, most of whom are awaiting trial. “We’re meant to bless other people, to heal other people, to liberate other people.”
Cedric “Vise1” Douglas
Long before he went to college to become a professional designer, Cedric “Vise1” Douglas learned his craft with quick, furtive paint strokes of aerosol cans on the streets. Scanning other people’s sneakers for telltale aerosol splatter, he joined a crew in Boston and tagged walls as Fanes, a playful twist on the word “finesse.” Recognizing his talent for art was, Mr. Douglas says, akin to discovering he possessed a superpower.
“The cool thing about graffiti was it was like my second superhero outfit,” he says. “I’m Cedric Douglas by day, but at night I’m Fanes. So it was like people didn’t know who you were. But you had something that you knew you were doing that no one knew.”
Not even his own family knew about his pastime. When Mr. Douglas was arrested for elaborate artwork on a derelict basketball court, the police he’d fled from during a foot chase were far more genial than his livid mother. Compounding his mother’s ire: The Boston Globe covered the incident. Indeed, some street art is considered vandalism under the law and may be punishable with fines or imprisonment if people are caught by the police. But Mr. Douglas knew that his interest in graffiti had steered him away from worse paths. After college, he and his partner Julia Roth started their own mobile art vehicle, dubbed the Up Truck, to mentor children.
Christopher Gaines/Courtesy of Cedric "Vise" Douglas View caption Hide caption Artist Cedric “Vise1” Douglas painted this mural of the Black Madonna in Lynn, Massachusetts, during a festival called Beyond Walls. “Madonna is always depicted as white, so we did Black Madonna,” he says. “She's depicted as powerful and beautiful. And we've painted her with a futuristic look.”
“We’d go around teaching people how to be creative,” he says. “Some of the things we do teach is spray paint, which is kind of ironic since I got arrested for using it.”
Mr. Douglas has painted many pieces protesting violence, including portraits of nine victims of the 2015 mass shooting at a church in Charleston, South Carolina. For a recent art project, Mr. Douglas created yellow caution tape featuring the last words of Black people killed by police, including Mr. Garner’s “I can’t breathe.” When he handed out reels of the tape to Black Lives Matter protesters in June, the front page of The Boston Globe featured a photograph of someone holding a strip with the words “Don’t shoot.”
“A lot of the work I try to do is paint Black men and women in a positive light,” says Mr. Douglas, who was nominated for the Ad Club of Boston’s 2016 Rosoff Award for individuals changing the city through diversity and inclusion. “One of the issues we have with racism is that a lot of people have a negative perception of Black men and women. A lot of people just aren’t around a lot of different cultures. Boston is very siloed, and there’s Black neighborhoods and there’s white neighborhoods.”
Courtesy of Robert Vargas/@therobertvargas View caption Hide caption Mural artist Robert Vargas (left) works up high on his “Angelus” mural – reputed to be one of the world’s biggest murals – on a 14-story building (right).
Robert Vargas
For much of the coronavirus shutdown, Robert Vargas has been working on one of the world’s most ambitious – and dangerous – pieces of art. He’s been painting “Angelus,” one of the world’s largest murals, entirely freehand on the side of a 14-story Los Angeles building. Ascending two stories on the swaying scaffolding can feel like an additional 1,000 feet, says Mr. Vargas, who explains that “Angelus” celebrates ethnic diversity in an inclusive city. But when the Black Lives Matter protests came through his downtown neighborhood, the internationally known fine artist came back down to earth. He watched rioting and looting break out while standing in front of another of his murals, “Our Lady of DTLA.”
Days later, when the ransacked Starbucks across the street from him erected wooden boards to cover its broken windows, Mr. Vargas saw an opportunity to turn a “black eye for our community and a bit of an eyesore” into a positive message. He used the planks as a canvas to paint the word “Justice.” The word is split into two. Mr. Floyd’s eyes sit between the two fragments.
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“The symbolism there is that he is the bridge to justice,” says Mr. Vargas. “What I wanted to do was create something that would, of course, show solidarity with the Black Lives Matter movement, but also be able to create an image that would show that we are a resilient people.”
Courtesy of Robert Vargas/@therobertvargas View caption Hide caption Artist Robert Vargas painted a mural on the boards of a ransacked Starbucks. Mr. Vargas saw an opportunity to turn a "black eye for our community and a bit of an eyesore" into a positive message. He used the planks as a canvas to paint the word "Justice." The word is split into two. George Floyd's eyes sit between the two fragments.
Mr. Vargas went even further. After observing artists painting the slogan “Black Lives Matter” in gigantic letters on streets across the country, he decided to make a statement of his own. He painted the words “Change,” “Peace,” “Unity,” and “Love” over the four crosswalks directly beneath his high-rise studio. He named the piece “Intersection of Introspection.”
“You’ll be able to take one of these roads, make a left, make a right, and then find the Black Lives Matter intersection somewhere else,” says Mr. Vargas, a fine artist in the classical tradition. “If you’re down with Black Lives Matter, then that’s the destination. If you don’t understand Black Lives Matter, then that’s the origin.”


csmonitor--2020-07-27--With spy allegations, crisis in US-China relations deepens

Many say it was long past time for the U.S. to move beyond rhetoric and dialogue with China to action .
Some China experts in the U.S. agree Beijing has been targeting American intellectual property using Chinese citizens in the U.S .
The difference they see now is that the Trump administration is more willing to confront Beijing .
Ms. Tang ’ s tale is part of the unfolding crackdown on Chinese spy activities in the U.S .
In a symbol of deeply troubled U.S.-China relations , the U.S. ordered the closure of the Chinese consulate in Houston , and @ @ @ @ @ @ @ consulate in Chengdu .
Last month , Chinese citizen Tang Juan suddenly stopped her research at the medical school of the University of California , Davis .
U.S. officials allege in court documents filed last week that she sought refuge in the Chinese consulate in San Francisco .
Federal prosecutors allege Ms. Tang is an active member of the People ’ s Liberation Army and was recruited to enter the United States as a researcher , tasked with stealing American intellectual property and research .
Ms. Tang was expected to appear in federal @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Like many visiting researchers in the United States , Chinese citizen Tang Juan seemed to lead an uneventful life at the Davis campus of the University of California , not far from the state capital of Sacramento .
According to the FBI , however , that image was far from the reality .
Last month Ms. Tang – perhaps spooked by a visit from FBI agents – stopped her research at the UC Davis medical school ’ s department of radiation oncology .
U.S. officials allege in court documents filed last week that @ @ @ @ @ @ @ refuge in the Chinese consulate .
Federal prosecutors allege Ms. Tang is an active member of the People ’ s Liberation Army , a branch of the Chinese military .
She was recruited by her government to enter the U.S. as a researcher , the Department of Justice alleges , with the objective of gaining access to and stealing American intellectual property and sensitive research .
In other words , according to the U.S. government , Ms. Tang is a spy .
Last Thursday , Ms. Tang turned herself over to federal officials @ @ @ @ @ @ @ a Chinese military university was jailed .
She was expected to appear in federal court Monday charged with visa fraud .
Ms. Tang ’ s tale is one piece of the unfolding crackdown on Chinese spy activities in the U.S. , an operation that also led to last week ’ s ordered closing of China ’ s consulate in Houston .
Beijing retaliated by ordering the U.S. consulate in Chengdu to shut down .
The extraordinary tit-for-tat closures – unusual even by Cold War standards – illustrate an accelerating deterioration in U.S.-China relations @ @ @ @ @ @ @ missteps , as well as to a further weakening of the two national economies as well as the teetering global economy .
“ The closing of consulates is a major step , ” says Dean Cheng , a senior research fellow specializing in Chinese military and political affairs at the Heritage Foundation in Washington .
“ Even in the darkest days of relations between the U.S. and the Soviet Union , the two sides typically expelled diplomats for spying , ” he adds , “ but here the Trump administration is going significantly @ @ @ @ @ @ @ ’ s possible equivalent response to closure of the Houston consulate .
What caught it off guard , some officials say , was the ordered closure of the U.S. consulate in Chengdu – the westernmost of five U.S. consulates in mainland China and the closest to Xinjiang and Tibet , two regions the U.S. has been closely monitoring , and speaking out about , for human rights violations .
Still , many say it was long past time for the U.S. to move beyond rhetoric and dialogue to action .
Past administrations have @ @ @ @ @ @ @ gain access to American technology through American companies operating in China , some experts say , while paying less attention to China ’ s expanding activities on U.S. soil .
Some U.S. officials claim the Houston consulate had developed as a central command for a spy network made up of Chinese-military-linked graduate students and other Chinese nationals in more than two dozen U.S. cities .
Republican Sen. Marco Rubio of Florida tweeted on Thursday that “ China ’ s consulate in Houston is not a diplomatic facility [ but ] the central node @ @ @ @ @ @ @ network of spies & influence operations ” in the U.S. China ’ s “ cyber and other theft in the U.S. have been a problem for a very long time , ” says Shirley Kan , an independent China expert who until recently worked at the Congressional Research Service in Washington .
“ The difference is in how this administration fights back .
Unlike some previous administrations , [ this one ] is not afraid of friction ” with China .
Indeed Secretary of State Mike Pompeo laid out a stark vision in @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Library in Yorba Linda , California .
“ If we want to have a free 21st century , and not the Chinese century of which [ Chinese leader ] Xi Jinping dreams , the old paradigm of blind engagement with China simply won ’ t get it done , ” he said .
“ We must not continue it and we must not return to it.
” Still , some wonder why , if U.S. action was “ long overdue , ” as Senator Rubio and others are saying , the administration has @ @ @ @ @ @ @ certainly is good reason to confront China .
My concern is , escalating this tension , is it really about confronting China , or does it have something to do with an election in four months ?
” Sen. Angus King , an independent who serves on the Intelligence Committee and caucuses with the Democrats , said on CNN last week .
President Donald Trump and his presumptive Democratic opponent , former Vice President Joe Biden , have recently hardened on China .
Others have wondered if the spy networks were watched but @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Trump ’ s first-phase trade deal , reached in January .
Mr. Cheng says it ’ s a possibility the election is a factor .
“ But it ’ s also true , ” he says , “ that intelligence investigations take a long time , you have to be able to lay out evidence that can be presented in an open court.
” Ms. Kan notes that David Stilwell , assistant secretary of state for the Bureau of East Asian and Pacific Affairs , said in comments on the Houston consulate that @ @ @ @ @ @ @ last six months and might be linked to efforts to develop a coronavirus vaccine .
She says the Department of Justice revealed the FBI was investigating links between the Houston consulate and what The New York Times reported were “ attempts to illegally transfer medical research and other sensitive information from institutions in the area.
” Mr. Cheng says he hopes the Department of Justice proceeds to make public more information about the Houston consulate and the spying allegations .
“ I think it helps our case to say , ‘ We are @ @ @ @ @ @ @ t just randomly make accusations , and this is exactly why we are doing what we ’ re doing , ’ ” he says .

Spying accusations and consulate closures speak to an accelerating deterioration of relations. Some experts say action over Chinese spying in the U.S. is long overdue, and a result of new U.S. willingness to confront Beijing.
Many say it was long past time for the U.S. to move beyond rhetoric and dialogue with China to action. Some China experts in the U.S. agree Beijing has been targeting American intellectual property using Chinese citizens in the U.S. The difference they see now is that the Trump administration is more willing to confront Beijing.
Ms. Tang’s tale is part of the unfolding crackdown on Chinese spy activities in the U.S. In a symbol of deeply troubled U.S.-China relations, the U.S. ordered the closure of the Chinese consulate in Houston, and China ordered the closure of the U.S. consulate in Chengdu.
Last month, Chinese citizen Tang Juan suddenly stopped her research at the medical school of the University of California, Davis. U.S. officials allege in court documents filed last week that she sought refuge in the Chinese consulate in San Francisco. Federal prosecutors allege Ms. Tang is an active member of the People’s Liberation Army and was recruited to enter the United States as a researcher, tasked with stealing American intellectual property and research. Ms. Tang was expected to appear in federal court Monday charged with visa fraud.
Like many visiting researchers in the United States, Chinese citizen Tang Juan seemed to lead an uneventful life at the Davis campus of the University of California, not far from the state capital of Sacramento.
According to the FBI, however, that image was far from the reality.
Last month Ms. Tang – perhaps spooked by a visit from FBI agents – stopped her research at the UC Davis medical school’s department of radiation oncology. U.S. officials allege in court documents filed last week that she fled to San Francisco to seek refuge in the Chinese consulate.
Why We Wrote This Spying accusations and consulate closures speak to an accelerating deterioration of relations. Some experts say action over Chinese spying in the U.S. is long overdue, and a result of new U.S. willingness to confront Beijing.
Federal prosecutors allege Ms. Tang is an active member of the People’s Liberation Army, a branch of the Chinese military. She was recruited by her government to enter the U.S. as a researcher, the Department of Justice alleges, with the objective of gaining access to and stealing American intellectual property and sensitive research.
In other words, according to the U.S. government, Ms. Tang is a spy. Last Thursday, Ms. Tang turned herself over to federal officials, and on Friday the graduate of a Chinese military university was jailed. She was expected to appear in federal court Monday charged with visa fraud.
Ms. Tang’s tale is one piece of the unfolding crackdown on Chinese spy activities in the U.S., an operation that also led to last week’s ordered closing of China’s consulate in Houston. Beijing retaliated by ordering the U.S. consulate in Chengdu to shut down.
The extraordinary tit-for-tat closures – unusual even by Cold War standards – illustrate an accelerating deterioration in U.S.-China relations that some worry could lead to dangerous missteps, as well as to a further weakening of the two national economies as well as the teetering global economy.
Justice Department/AP View caption Hide caption This undated photo provided by the Justice Department shows Tang Juan, a visiting researcher at UC Davis medical school, in her China People's Liberation Army military uniform. The Justice Department says the scientist lied about her military affiliation in a visa application last October.
“The closing of consulates is a major step,” says Dean Cheng, a senior research fellow specializing in Chinese military and political affairs at the Heritage Foundation in Washington. “Even in the darkest days of relations between the U.S. and the Soviet Union, the two sides typically expelled diplomats for spying,” he adds, “but here the Trump administration is going significantly further.”
The State Department anticipated China’s possible equivalent response to closure of the Houston consulate. What caught it off guard, some officials say, was the ordered closure of the U.S. consulate in Chengdu – the westernmost of five U.S. consulates in mainland China and the closest to Xinjiang and Tibet, two regions the U.S. has been closely monitoring, and speaking out about, for human rights violations.
Still, many say it was long past time for the U.S. to move beyond rhetoric and dialogue to action. Past administrations have focused on China’s efforts to gain access to American technology through American companies operating in China, some experts say, while paying less attention to China’s expanding activities on U.S. soil.
Some U.S. officials claim the Houston consulate had developed as a central command for a spy network made up of Chinese-military-linked graduate students and other Chinese nationals in more than two dozen U.S. cities.
Republican Sen. Marco Rubio of Florida tweeted on Thursday that “China’s consulate in Houston is not a diplomatic facility [but] the central node of the Communist Party’s vast network of spies & influence operations” in the U.S.
China’s “cyber and other theft in the U.S. have been a problem for a very long time,” says Shirley Kan, an independent China expert who until recently worked at the Congressional Research Service in Washington. “The difference is in how this administration fights back. Unlike some previous administrations, [this one] is not afraid of friction” with China.
Indeed Secretary of State Mike Pompeo laid out a stark vision in a speech last week at the Nixon Library in Yorba Linda, California.
“If we want to have a free 21st century, and not the Chinese century of which [Chinese leader] Xi Jinping dreams, the old paradigm of blind engagement with China simply won’t get it done,” he said. “We must not continue it and we must not return to it.”
Still, some wonder why, if U.S. action was “long overdue,” as Senator Rubio and others are saying, the administration has not acted until now.
“There certainly is good reason to confront China. My concern is, escalating this tension, is it really about confronting China, or does it have something to do with an election in four months?” Sen. Angus King, an independent who serves on the Intelligence Committee and caucuses with the Democrats, said on CNN last week.
President Donald Trump and his presumptive Democratic opponent, former Vice President Joe Biden, have recently hardened on China.
Others have wondered if the spy networks were watched but tolerated to avoid disrupting negotiations for Mr. Trump’s first-phase trade deal, reached in January.
Mr. Cheng says it’s a possibility the election is a factor. “But it’s also true,” he says, “that intelligence investigations take a long time, you have to be able to lay out evidence that can be presented in an open court.”
Ms. Kan notes that David Stilwell, assistant secretary of state for the Bureau of East Asian and Pacific Affairs, said in comments on the Houston consulate that research theft attempts had accelerated over the last six months and might be linked to efforts to develop a coronavirus vaccine.
She says the Department of Justice revealed the FBI was investigating links between the Houston consulate and what The New York Times reported were “attempts to illegally transfer medical research and other sensitive information from institutions in the area.”
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Mr. Cheng says he hopes the Department of Justice proceeds to make public more information about the Houston consulate and the spying allegations.
“I think it helps our case to say, ‘We are a rule-of-law country, we don’t just randomly make accusations, and this is exactly why we are doing what we’re doing,’” he says.


csmonitor--2020-07-27--As a statue falls, Texas Rangers are cast as heroes and villains

“ The way Texas is changing , it ’ s really important to talk about what Texas is and how it got to be this way , and where it ’ s going , ” he says .
Doug Swanson , the author of a new book on the Texas Rangers , is wary of pulling down statues , but agrees that it ’ s essential for all Texans to understand how minorities see their present-day grievances – echoed and amplified in the national conversation – rooted in historical wrongs .
A generation of scholars has shined a spotlight on @ @ @ @ @ @ @ s past treatment of Black and Hispanic residents , including a particularly bloody period in the 1910s .
Now as the United States is roiled by protests against racism , minority communities in Texas are among those questioning the legitimacy of statues to honor men who enforced racial injustice in the past .
The removal of a statue at an airport in Dallas that shows a Texas Ranger who helped stop Black students from integrating public schools in the 1950s is the latest racial flashpoint in Texas .
That it involves the Rangers @ @ @ @ @ @ @ in 1823 , is not surprising .
As the United States wrestles with racial injustice and policing , a broader conversation has emerged over historic and present-day injustices faced by ethnic minorities .
In Texas , that conversation has turned to the violent history of the Texas Rangers .
Created in 1823 to fight Native Americans and secure the frontier for settlers , the Texas Rangers redeployed to the borderlands in the early 1900s , resulting in widespread racial brutality on which recent historical research has shined a harsh light .
Today the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ sharp focus .
A statue of a Ranger at the Dallas Love Field airport – modeled on a Ranger who stood by as white mobs physically blocked the integration of public schools in the 1950s – was taken down last month .
Other statues , monuments , and mascots honoring the Rangers have become a focus of public debate .
And even before the killing of George Floyd convulsed the nation , historical markers had already begun to go up in south Texas to memorialize the victims of Ranger violence .
For generations @ @ @ @ @ @ @ of Rangers , this may be a jolt .
But historians say that acknowledging and embracing that broader , more complicated history is an important step on the path toward building a more just and equitable society .
“ The history happened , and like it or not it informs contemporary identities , ” says Sonia Hernández , an associate professor of history at Texas A & M University and member of Refusing to Forget , which seeks to memorialize the racial violence in Texas a century ago .
According to recent historical @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Americans were killed here in the 1910s ; many died at the hands of Rangers themselves .
“ Anything to do with complicating the history of Texas , talking about some of its dark chapters , that ’ s not going to destroy our state , ” she adds .
“ I only think it ’ s going to make us better.
” The early 20th century in south Texas was a period of rapid change , and of heightened fear and distrust .
Railroads and commercial agriculture brought an influx of white @ @ @ @ @ @ @ from the south , joining communities of landowning “ Tejano ” families who had lived in the region since Spanish rule .
A revolution had broken out in Mexico , and revolutionaries and refugees were crossing the border constantly .
In 1917 , then-wartime adversary Germany was revealed to have been seeking an alliance with Mexico .
Historians believe that between 700 and 5,000 Tejanos and Mexican Americans were killed by U.S. law enforcement in this period , many of them innocent .
The deaths were justified as the lawful killing of Mexican @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Jesus Bazán and Antonio Longoria – both prominent leaders of the Tejano community in Hidalgo County – were fatally shot in the back by Texas Rangers after reporting a horse robbery .
In January 1917 , a company of Rangers surrounded the residents of the town of Porvenir in the early morning , separated 15 men and boys from the town and executed them .
This is not the only controversial chapter in Texas Ranger history .
The Rangers also have a long history of “ using force , violence , and intimidation @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , and anti-lynching campaigns , ” Monica Muñoz Martinez , an assistant professor of American and ethnic studies at Brown University , writes in an email .
Between 1919 and 1921 , the Rangers helped pressure 24 of the 33 original NAACP chapters in the state to disband , according to Dr. Martinez , who is also a member of Refusing to Forget .
And in the 1950s , the Rangers blocked Black students in Texas from enrolling in white schools in defiance of a U.S. Supreme Court ruling .
It ’ s @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Love Field , a city-owned airport in Dallas , is modeled .
The sculptor modeled it on Sgt .
E.J .
Banks , who commanded Rangers sent to police anti-integration protests in Mansfield .
In a 1956 photograph , Banks , hands on hips , leans against a tree outside Mansfield High School as white students gather under a Black person hanging in effigy from a noose over the school ’ s entrance .
The inscription reads , “ One Riot , One Ranger.
” The airport took the statue down – it @ @ @ @ @ @ @ backstory was described last month in a local magazine .
The photograph of Banks “ seemed to display flippancy towards racial issues , ” says Christopher Perry , a spokesman for the airport .
The magazine article was an excerpt from Doug Swanson ’ s new book “ Cult of Glory : The Bold and Brutal History of the Texas Rangers.
” Banks and the other Rangers in Mansfield at that time were doing what they were told , says Professor Swanson , a former journalist at the Dallas Morning News .
Still @ @ @ @ @ @ @ them as “ heroes who waded into the mob and dispersed them and brought order to an unruly situation , and all that just is not true , ” he says .
He says it ’ s important to unpack the myths of the Rangers not only in the context of the current national dialogue around racial injustice , but for Texas itself , given its evolving demographics .
“ It ’ s really important to understand what some of the long-term grievances are from minority communities , ” says Professor Swanson , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ .
“ The way Texas is changing , it ’ s really important to talk about what Texas is and how it got to be this way , and where it ’ s going.
” That said , he ’ s wary of seeing statues pulled down .
“ I ’ d kind of like to see more statues rather than fewer , just to give people a chance to talk .
Why is this statue here ?
Who put it here and what were they trying to say ?
What does it @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the time ?
” The talk is likely to continue for some time .
Students and faculty at Texas A & M are calling for the removal of a 1919 statue of Lawrence Sullivan Ross – a former president of the college , as well as a former Texas Ranger and Confederate general – from the school ’ s main campus .
So far , no action has been taken .
San Antonio College has removed the Ranger as its school mascot .
It had been discussed for years , says Robert Vela @ @ @ @ @ @ @ recent months the College Council felt “ we needed to act ” and passed a unanimous vote this month .
“ We needed to be sure that whatever we present as our community , what represents us , that it ’ s inclusive , and that it supports student success and student development , ” he says .
Meanwhile , the Texas Rangers Major League Baseball team has come under pressure to change its name .
In a statement , the Rangers said that while the team took its name from the law @ @ @ @ @ @ @ own identity since 1971 .
“ The Texas Rangers Baseball Club stands for equality .
We condemn racism , bigotry and discrimination in all forms.
” Today , the Texas Rangers agency is a 234-person division within the Texas Department of Public Safety .
It maintains some operations on the border , but its main function is assisting local police departments in Texas with their serious-crime investigations .
Some say the agency ’ s bicentennial in 2023 offers an opportunity to confront and discuss its complicated past .
“ I think in the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , ” says Professor Swanson .
“ We have to confront this .
We have to go through the pain of talking about it and acknowledging it to do this healing.
” Scholars also hope that a broader historical view will show not just the tragic chapters of history for people of color in the state , but more positive chapters too , such as Bettie Coleman , an early female Black aviator and Lee Roy Young , who in 1988 was sworn in as the first Black Ranger .
“ There were @ @ @ @ @ @ @ as it relates to people of color , ” says Michael Hurd , director of the Texas Institute for the Preservation of History and Culture at Prairie View A & M University .
“ I ’ m hoping this is an opportunity for people to learn and appreciate that history , and appreciate others ’ humanity .
”

“The way Texas is changing, it’s really important to talk about what Texas is and how it got to be this way, and where it’s going,” he says.
Doug Swanson, the author of a new book on the Texas Rangers, is wary of pulling down statues, but agrees that it’s essential for all Texans to understand how minorities see their present-day grievances – echoed and amplified in the national conversation – rooted in historical wrongs.
Sometimes finding a way forward means first confronting the past. In Texas, national scrutiny of law enforcement and historic racism has shined a focused lens on the bloody past of the Texas Rangers.
A generation of scholars has shined a spotlight on the Texas Rangers and the agency’s past treatment of Black and Hispanic residents, including a particularly bloody period in the 1910s. Now as the United States is roiled by protests against racism, minority communities in Texas are among those questioning the legitimacy of statues to honor men who enforced racial injustice in the past.
The removal of a statue at an airport in Dallas that shows a Texas Ranger who helped stop Black students from integrating public schools in the 1950s is the latest racial flashpoint in Texas. That it involves the Rangers, a much mythologized frontier force created in 1823, is not surprising.
As the United States wrestles with racial injustice and policing, a broader conversation has emerged over historic and present-day injustices faced by ethnic minorities. In Texas, that conversation has turned to the violent history of the Texas Rangers.
Created in 1823 to fight Native Americans and secure the frontier for settlers, the Texas Rangers redeployed to the borderlands in the early 1900s, resulting in widespread racial brutality on which recent historical research has shined a harsh light.
Today the reality of the Texas Rangers is in sharp focus.
Why We Wrote This Sometimes finding a way forward means first confronting the past. In Texas, national scrutiny of law enforcement and historic racism has shined a focused lens on the bloody past of the Texas Rangers.
A statue of a Ranger at the Dallas Love Field airport – modeled on a Ranger who stood by as white mobs physically blocked the integration of public schools in the 1950s – was taken down last month. Other statues, monuments, and mascots honoring the Rangers have become a focus of public debate. And even before the killing of George Floyd convulsed the nation, historical markers had already begun to go up in south Texas to memorialize the victims of Ranger violence.
For generations of Texans raised on heroic cultural depictions of Rangers, this may be a jolt. But historians say that acknowledging and embracing that broader, more complicated history is an important step on the path toward building a more just and equitable society.
“The history happened, and like it or not it informs contemporary identities,” says Sonia Hernández, an associate professor of history at Texas A&M University and member of Refusing to Forget, which seeks to memorialize the racial violence in Texas a century ago.
According to recent historical research, as many as 5,000 Hispanic Americans were killed here in the 1910s; many died at the hands of Rangers themselves.
“Anything to do with complicating the history of Texas, talking about some of its dark chapters, that’s not going to destroy our state,” she adds. “I only think it’s going to make us better.”
Rapid change, racial tensions
The early 20th century in south Texas was a period of rapid change, and of heightened fear and distrust.
Railroads and commercial agriculture brought an influx of white farmers from the north and Mexican laborers from the south, joining communities of landowning “Tejano” families who had lived in the region since Spanish rule. A revolution had broken out in Mexico, and revolutionaries and refugees were crossing the border constantly. In 1917, then-wartime adversary Germany was revealed to have been seeking an alliance with Mexico.
Historians believe that between 700 and 5,000 Tejanos and Mexican Americans were killed by U.S. law enforcement in this period, many of them innocent. The deaths were justified as the lawful killing of Mexican “bandits.”
In September 1915, Jesus Bazán and Antonio Longoria – both prominent leaders of the Tejano community in Hidalgo County – were fatally shot in the back by Texas Rangers after reporting a horse robbery. In January 1918, a company of Rangers surrounded the residents of the town of Porvenir in the early morning, separated 15 men and boys from the town and executed them.
This is not the only controversial chapter in Texas Ranger history.
The Rangers also have a long history of “using force, violence, and intimidation to undermine desegregation efforts, labor organizing, and anti-lynching campaigns,” Monica Muñoz Martinez, an assistant professor of American and ethnic studies at Brown University, writes in an email.
Carl E. Linde/AP View caption Hide caption White students enter Mansfield High School in Mansfield, Texas, as a crowd of anti-integrationists kept watch for any black students that might want to register, Sept. 4, 1956. At left wearing hat is Texas Ranger Capt. Bob Crowder.
Between 1919 and 1921, the Rangers helped pressure 24 of the 33 original NAACP chapters in the state to disband, according to Dr. Martinez, who is also a member of Refusing to Forget. And in the 1950s, the Rangers blocked Black students in Texas from enrolling in white schools in defiance of a U.S. Supreme Court ruling.
It’s from this period that the statue at Love Field, a city-owned airport in Dallas, is modeled.
The sculptor modeled it on Sgt. E.J. Banks, who commanded Rangers sent to police anti-integration protests in Mansfield. In a 1956 photograph, Banks, hands on hips, leans against a tree outside Mansfield High School as white students gather under a Black person hanging in effigy from a noose over the school’s entrance. The inscription reads, “One Riot, One Ranger.”
The airport took the statue down – it is now in storage – after the backstory was described last month in a local magazine. The photograph of Banks “seemed to display flippancy towards racial issues,” says Christopher Perry, a spokesman for the airport.
Depicted as heroes
The magazine article was an excerpt from Doug Swanson’s new book “Cult of Glory: The Bold and Brutal History of the Texas Rangers.”
Banks and the other Rangers in Mansfield at that time were doing what they were told, says Professor Swanson, a former journalist at the Dallas Morning News. Still, the coverage of their actions depicted them as “heroes who waded into the mob and dispersed them and brought order to an unruly situation, and all that just is not true,” he says.
Kevin Jairaj-USA TODAY Sports NPSTrans TopPic View caption Hide caption Cardboard cutouts of Texas Rangers fans before the game against the Colorado Rockies at Globe Life Field on Jul 25, 2020 in Arlington, Texas.
He says it’s important to unpack the myths of the Rangers not only in the context of the current national dialogue around racial injustice, but for Texas itself, given its evolving demographics.
“It’s really important to understand what some of the long-term grievances are from minority communities,” says Professor Swanson, who teaches at the University of Pittsburgh. “The way Texas is changing, it’s really important to talk about what Texas is and how it got to be this way, and where it’s going.”
That said, he’s wary of seeing statues pulled down. “I’d kind of like to see more statues rather than fewer, just to give people a chance to talk. Why is this statue here? Who put it here and what were they trying to say? What does it say about who had political power at the time?”
The talk is likely to continue for some time.
Students and faculty at Texas A&M are calling for the removal of a 1919 statue of Lawrence Sullivan Ross – a former president of the college, as well as a former Texas Ranger and Confederate general – from the school’s main campus. So far, no action has been taken.
San Antonio College has removed the Ranger as its school mascot. It had been discussed for years, says Robert Vela, the college president, but in recent months the College Council felt “we needed to act” and passed a unanimous vote this month.
“We needed to be sure that whatever we present as our community, what represents us, that it’s inclusive, and that it supports student success and student development,” he says.
Meanwhile, the Texas Rangers Major League Baseball team has come under pressure to change its name. In a statement, the Rangers said that while the team took its name from the law enforcement agency, it had forged its own identity since 1971. “The Texas Rangers Baseball Club stands for equality. We condemn racism, bigotry and discrimination in all forms.”
A bicentennial beckons
Today, the Texas Rangers agency is a 234-person division within the Texas Department of Public Safety. It maintains some operations on the border, but its main function is assisting local police departments in Texas with their serious-crime investigations.
Some say the agency’s bicentennial in 2023 offers an opportunity to confront and discuss its complicated past.
“I think in the end it’s a healing action,” says Professor Swanson. “We have to confront this. We have to go through the pain of talking about it and acknowledging it to do this healing.”
Scholars also hope that a broader historical view will show not just the tragic chapters of history for people of color in the state, but more positive chapters too, such as Bessie Coleman, an early female Black aviator and Lee Roy Young Jr., who in 1988 was sworn in as the first Black Ranger.
“There were so many positive stories in Texas history as it relates to people of color,” says Michael Hurd, director of the Texas Institute for the Preservation of History and Culture at Prairie View A&M University. “I’m hoping this is an opportunity for people to learn and appreciate that history, and appreciate others’ humanity.”
Editor's note: This story has been updated to correct the year of the Porvenir massacre and the spelling of Bessie Coleman's name.


csmonitor--2020-07-27--A protest against one racial inequity – tree deserts

In a few U.S. cities , street protests against racial inequities have escalated in the two months since the police killing of George Floyd in Minneapolis .
In that city , however , people are trying something else .
From pastors to politicians , according to the Minneapolis Star Tribune , they are “ working to quell community tensions and exploring new strategies to combat racial injustice.
” One particular effort focuses on bringing people together to reshape the urban landscape – literally .
In the city ’ s racially diverse northern neighborhoods , for example , volunteers and local @ @ @ @ @ @ @ June – planting trees , creating gardens – as an act of social healing .
This urban regreening “ is about putting Black , brown , Indigenous , white hands in the soil together , ” Jordan Weber , artist-in-residence at the Walker Art Center , told Minnesota Public Radio .
According to various studies , people who live in communities with trees and gardens tend to be closer to one another .
A canopy of trees in summer can prevent “ heat islands ” that drive people off the streets .
With @ @ @ @ @ @ @ outside more where they can meet neighbors .
Shared gardens not only root useful plants but also a community .
With more natural greenery around them , neighbors have a stake in protecting their environment .
Places without such leafy cohesion have “ tree inequity , ” according to American Forests , the nation ’ s oldest conservation organization dedicated to protecting and restoring U.S. forests .
Since 2018 , the group has launched a campaign to plant trees in marginalized communities .
“ A map of tree cover in virtually any city @ @ @ @ @ @ @ income and , in many cases , race in ways that transcend income , ” writes Jad Daley , president and CEO of American Forests .
By 2030 , the group wants every neighborhood in the 100 largest cities to reach tree equity , based on a score that combines three indicators : tree canopy , climate projections , and public health data .
Racial inequities have many causes and thus many solutions .
Changes are needed , for example , in schools , housing , and police .
In Minneapolis , residents @ @ @ @ @ @ @ equity – in the shared love and respect of their trees and gardens .

In a few U.S. cities, street protests against racial inequities have escalated in the two months since the police killing of George Floyd in Minneapolis. In that city, however, people are trying something else. From pastors to politicians, according to the Minneapolis Star Tribune, they are “working to quell community tensions and exploring new strategies to combat racial injustice.”
One particular effort focuses on bringing people together to reshape the urban landscape – literally. In the city’s racially diverse northern neighborhoods, for example, volunteers and local residents have been working the land since June – planting trees, creating gardens – as an act of social healing.
This urban regreening “is about putting Black, brown, Indigenous, white hands in the soil together,” Jordan Weber, artist-in-residence at the Walker Art Center, told Minnesota Public Radio.
According to various studies, people who live in communities with trees and gardens tend to be closer to one another. A canopy of trees in summer can prevent “heat islands” that drive people off the streets. With more trees, people tend to be outside more where they can meet neighbors. Shared gardens not only root useful plants but also a community. With more natural greenery around them, neighbors have a stake in protecting their environment.
Places without such leafy cohesion have “tree inequity,” according to American Forests, the nation’s oldest conservation organization dedicated to protecting and restoring U.S. forests. Since 2018, the group has launched a campaign to plant trees in marginalized communities.
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empower and uplift daily. By signing up, you agree to our Privacy Policy Already a subscriber? Log in to hide ads.
“A map of tree cover in virtually any city in America is also a map of income and, in many cases, race in ways that transcend income,” writes Jad Daley, president and CEO of American Forests. By 2030, the group wants every neighborhood in the 100 largest cities to reach tree equity, based on a score that combines three indicators: tree canopy, climate projections, and public health data.
Racial inequities have many causes and thus many solutions. Changes are needed, for example, in schools, housing, and police. In Minneapolis, residents are showing an additional route to racial equity – in the shared love and respect of their trees and gardens.


csmonitor--2020-07-27--In Israel, first hijab-wearing lawmaker hopes to build bridges

“ I hope we can be a good example of what religious women can do , ” she says .
She was elected to the Knesset in March , on a list representing the descendants of Palestinian Arabs who stayed in Israel when the state was created in 1948 , instead of becoming refugees .
But her social welfare agenda transcends ethnic boundaries , and so do the friendships she has struck up with religious Jewish women .
Ms. Khatib Yassin , a middle-aged mother of four , became religious out of gratitude for her first child ’ s birth @ @ @ @ @ @ @ was infertile .
But she has been political since childhood , when the Israeli government confiscated some of her family ’ s land .
Iman Khatib Yassin is a groundbreaker , the first woman wearing an Islamic headscarf to be elected to Israel ’ s parliament .
She knows that the scarf , or hijab , is what people will see first .
But she wants to make the voices of devout Muslim women heard in the corridors of power , and bring her long experience of community activism to the Knesset .
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ , Iman Khatib Yassin , one of Israel ’ s newest lawmakers , sinks into a chair in her living room , furnished with plush cream-colored couches and Persian rugs .
Wearing a pale green hijab headscarf and rose-colored cardigan , she clasps her hands on the lap of her floor-skimming dress .
It ’ s been a long week , she explains in her low , gentle voice , a week of shuttling between parliamentary committee meetings on the coronavirus and the economy in Jerusalem , and long drives to tend to @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the Galilee .
She would return home around 11 p.m. Ms. Khatib Yassin still seems surprised that she ’ s a member of the Knesset , Israel ’ s parliament , more than four months after being elected .
A social worker and community center director , she had long turned down suggestions that she enter politics .
In the end she decided to run for office in March because she was motivated by the idea of representation itself .
“ I strongly felt a calling to serve others , I saw running @ @ @ @ @ @ @ to other traditional women .
But even though I ran I still didn ’ t think I had any chance of actually getting into the Knesset , ” she says .
She scraped in , 15th on the Joint List , a coalition of parties representing the descendants of the Palestinian Arabs who stayed in Israel in 1948 when the state was created as a Jewish homeland .
Others fled or were expelled , settling as refugees in Egypt , Jordan , and Lebanon .
The Joint List won 15 seats , which @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Israel and made Ms. Khatib Yassin the first hijab-wearing Muslim woman to be elected to parliament in the history of Israel .
She knows the hijab , the Islamic headscarf , is what people will see first , but she hopes to make her mark , she says , as a feminist with a social welfare agenda that will transcend ethnic boundaries to help all of those marginalized and in need .
“ I believe we need to push and invest and if we do , ultimately that work will pay off , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ daughter of farmers with little education who pushed her and her siblings to go to university .
Another breakthrough – she is the first woman elected to the Knesset from Ra ’ am , a party representing the Southern Islamic Movement , known for its conservative brand of Islam and network of social services .
Ms. Khatib Yassin , a middle-aged mother of four , is credited with helping get the Arab women ’ s vote out in the March elections .
She campaigned especially hard in the Negev desert among Bedouin women @ @ @ @ @ @ @ pitch the importance of making their voices as devout Muslim women heard in the corridors of power .
She would leave her home at 6 a.m. , returning after midnight .
Rose , her daughter , 24 , acted as her driver .
She recalls a speech to a group of men and women when someone proposed a photo .
Some men balked , mindful of the taboo against mixed-gender gatherings in traditional Bedouin society .
But they relented .
A woman pulled her aside to whisper , “ Iman , we are @ @ @ @ @ @ @ ever joined an Israeli governing coalition , but the Joint List is demanding to take part in decision-making , especially on budget allocations and investment in Arab towns , and on issues that disproportionately impact Palestinian citizens of Israel such as home demolitions , rising crime levels , and civil rights .
During the election campaign the party said it was ready to join a government under the right conditions .
The current politically polarized climate , in which the right-wing establishment paints the Arab electorate as disloyal and dangerous , makes the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ .
But just floating the idea seems to be eroding the taboo against it , some observers say .
“ We are aware of the realities here , but we in the Joint List decided we want to be part of the political game , ” says Ms. Khatib Yassin .
And she has a message for those Jewish Israelis who tell her that that this will never happen .
“ We are getting stronger all the time.
” Palestinian Arab turnout was 67 % in the last elections , the highest in @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Yassin ’ s rise , and that of the Joint List , is part of a larger story of the social and economic integration of Arab citizens – or Palestinians as many call themselves – into Israeli society .
“ My national identity is Palestinian , but my civic identity is as an Israeli .
I am Israeli in every way .
I was born here , grew up here , and became part of this society , ” says Ms. Khatib Yassin .
Her political awareness dates back to childhood .
From @ @ @ @ @ @ @ family fields with her mother and her siblings , growing tomatoes , melons , and tobacco .
It was there she first felt the sting of injustice .
The government confiscated a piece of her family ’ s land with a well on it .
She would sneak under the fence to fill up the family water bottles .
“ This was my first memory of the government – that it prevented us from having a normal life , ” she says .
She wishes her children had had a chance to grow @ @ @ @ @ @ @ was a pride in working the fields , the fruit you held in your hands was a product of your work , ” she recalls .
“ We children took pride in the land and our role .
I feel it built my personality .
From early on I had an understanding that not everything comes easily , but that there is worth in what you do and what you contribute.
” She was not always religious , she explains .
But when her doctor told her she would not be able to @ @ @ @ @ @ @ if she became pregnant .
Grateful for her first pregnancy , she became a devout Muslim .
Ms. Khatib Yassin sees political significance in the way Palestinian Arabs in Israel are increasingly returning to their Islamic faith .
It is a salve to soothe the pain of the suspicion they face , she believes .
Over the years she has befriended religious Jewish women , including fellow social activists .
She sees a common goal to their joint struggle – an equal place for women in conservative religious and political settings .
“ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ example of what religious women can do , ” she says .

“I hope we can be a good example of what religious women can do,” she says.
She was elected to the Knesset in March, on a list representing the descendants of Palestinian Arabs who stayed in Israel when the state was created in 1948, instead of becoming refugees. But her social welfare agenda transcends ethnic boundaries, and so do the friendships she has struck up with religious Jewish women.
New Israeli Knesset member Iman Khatib Yassin, a devout Muslim, knows her hijab is eye-catching. But before she became religious, or political, she was a feminist motivated against injustice.
Ms. Khatib Yassin, a middle-aged mother of four, became religious out of gratitude for her first child’s birth after her doctor had told her she was infertile. But she has been political since childhood, when the Israeli government confiscated some of her family’s land.
Iman Khatib Yassin is a groundbreaker, the first woman wearing an Islamic headscarf to be elected to Israel’s parliament. She knows that the scarf, or hijab , is what people will see first. But she wants to make the voices of devout Muslim women heard in the corridors of power, and bring her long experience of community activism to the Knesset.
In her hilltop village home outside Nazareth, Iman Khatib Yassin, one of Israel’s newest lawmakers, sinks into a chair in her living room, furnished with plush cream-colored couches and Persian rugs.
Wearing a pale green hijab headscarf and rose-colored cardigan, she clasps her hands on the lap of her floor-skimming dress. It’s been a long week, she explains in her low, gentle voice, a week of shuttling between parliamentary committee meetings on the coronavirus and the economy in Jerusalem, and long drives to tend to her ailing mother at a hospital in the Galilee. She would return home around 11 p.m.
Ms. Khatib Yassin still seems surprised that she’s a member of the Knesset, Israel’s parliament, more than four months after being elected. A social worker and community center director, she had long turned down suggestions that she enter politics. In the end she decided to run for office in March because she was motivated by the idea of representation itself.
Why We Wrote This New Israeli Knesset member Iman Khatib Yassin, a devout Muslim, knows her hijab is eye-catching. But before she became religious, or political, she was a feminist motivated against injustice.
“I strongly felt a calling to serve others, I saw running as a chance to open the door to other traditional women. But even though I ran I still didn’t think I had any chance of actually getting into the Knesset,” she says.
She scraped in, 15th on the Joint List, a coalition of parties representing the descendants of the Palestinian Arabs who stayed in Israel in 1948 when the state was created as a Jewish homeland. Others fled or were expelled, settling as refugees in Egypt, Jordan, and Lebanon. The Joint List won 15 seats, which made it the third largest party in Israel and made Ms. Khatib Yassin the first hijab-wearing Muslim woman to be elected to parliament in the history of Israel.
Breaking barriers
She knows the hijab, the Islamic headscarf, is what people will see first, but she hopes to make her mark, she says, as a feminist with a social welfare agenda that will transcend ethnic boundaries to help all of those marginalized and in need.
“I believe we need to push and invest and if we do, ultimately that work will pay off,” says Ms. Khatib Yassin, the daughter of farmers with little education who pushed her and her siblings to go to university.
Heidi Levine/Special to The Christian Science Monitor View caption Hide caption Iman Khatib Yassin with her daughter Rose (r.) at their home near Nazareth. Rose acted as her mother's driver during the recent Israeli election campaign.
Another breakthrough – she is the first woman elected to the Knesset from Ra’am, a party representing the Southern Islamic Movement, known for its conservative brand of Islam and network of social services.
Ms. Khatib Yassin, a middle-aged mother of four, is credited with helping get the Arab women’s vote out in the March elections. She campaigned especially hard in the Negev desert among Bedouin women, giving speeches in village courtyards to pitch the importance of making their voices as devout Muslim women heard in the corridors of power. She would leave her home at 6 a.m., returning after midnight. Rose, her daughter, 24, acted as her driver.
She recalls a speech to a group of men and women when someone proposed a photo. Some men balked, mindful of the taboo against mixed-gender gatherings in traditional Bedouin society. But they relented. A woman pulled her aside to whisper, “Iman, we are breaking barriers.”
No Arab party has ever joined an Israeli governing coalition, but the Joint List is demanding to take part in decision-making, especially on budget allocations and investment in Arab towns, and on issues that disproportionately impact Palestinian citizens of Israel such as home demolitions, rising crime levels, and civil rights. During the election campaign the party said it was ready to join a government under the right conditions.
The current politically polarized climate, in which the right-wing establishment paints the Arab electorate as disloyal and dangerous, makes the likelihood of a such an outcome low. But just floating the idea seems to be eroding the taboo against it, some observers say.
Heidi Levine/Special to The Christian Science Monitor View caption Hide caption A view of the village where Iman Khatib Yassin lives. Palestinian Arab citizens of Israel are playing an increasingly active role in Israeli politics.
“We are aware of the realities here, but we in the Joint List decided we want to be part of the political game,” says Ms. Khatib Yassin. And she has a message for those Jewish Israelis who tell her that that this will never happen. “We are getting stronger all the time.” Palestinian Arab turnout was 67% in the last elections, the highest in more than 20 years.
Political since childhood, religious since childbirth
Ms. Khatib Yassin’s rise, and that of the Joint List, is part of a larger story of the social and economic integration of Arab citizens – or Palestinians as many call themselves – into Israeli society. “My national identity is Palestinian, but my civic identity is as an Israeli. I am Israeli in every way. I was born here, grew up here, and became part of this society,” says Ms. Khatib Yassin.
Her political awareness dates back to childhood. From the age of five she worked the family fields with her mother and her siblings, growing tomatoes, melons, and tobacco. It was there she first felt the sting of injustice. The government confiscated a piece of her family’s land with a well on it. She would sneak under the fence to fill up the family water bottles.
“This was my first memory of the government – that it prevented us from having a normal life,” she says.
She wishes her children had had a chance to grow up in the village. “There was a pride in working the fields, the fruit you held in your hands was a product of your work,” she recalls. “We children took pride in the land and our role. I feel it built my personality. From early on I had an understanding that not everything comes easily, but that there is worth in what you do and what you contribute.”
She was not always religious, she explains. But when her doctor told her she would not be able to have children she vowed to become observant if she became pregnant. Grateful for her first pregnancy, she became a devout Muslim.
Ms. Khatib Yassin sees political significance in the way Palestinian Arabs in Israel are increasingly returning to their Islamic faith. It is a salve to soothe the pain of the suspicion they face, she believes.
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empower and uplift daily. By signing up, you agree to our Privacy Policy Already a subscriber? Log in to hide ads.
Over the years she has befriended religious Jewish women, including fellow social activists. She sees a common goal to their joint struggle – an equal place for women in conservative religious and political settings.
“I hope we can be a good example of what religious women can do,” she says.


csmonitor--2020-07-27--Letter from Karachi: In a too-familiar crisis, signs of life and love

“ The only way I know how to protect him is to buy fish I don ’ t want ; the only way he knows how to protect me is to give me a present of raw honey , ” she writes .
“ We both watch out for each other in the best way we know how.
” But the pandemic is a reminder of something else , too : how people have indeed learned to survive – together .
Sometimes it ’ s by dropping off food , a biryani or daal that bespeaks love more than words @ @ @ @ @ @ @ a fisherman ’ s catch of the day , whether or not the fridge is full .
The crisis has been one more reminder , she writes , of how insignificant lives can seem in a country where thousands have died in conflict since 9/11 .
A country where it ’ s easy to feel the government is more invested in glorifying deaths than preventing them .
It was the poem she ’ d listened to in 2014 , after a Taliban attack killed almost 140 children .
It was the poem that @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , and a suicide attack on lawyers .
Now , she listens as she drives through Karachi , wondering how the pandemic has affected each household .
When my city , Karachi , quiets down at night , I often go for a drive by myself , driving slowly , savoring every moment of the few minutes I have in the world outside home .
On my stereo , the same verses from South Asian poet Faiz Ahmed Faiz play each day .
The poem , “ Intesab , ” begins with a @ @ @ @ @ @ @ for days in 2014 , after the attack on the Army Public School ( APS ) in the city of Peshawar , where almost 140 children were killed by the Taliban .
It understood the grief I had no power to articulate when nearly 100 people were killed in church one Sunday ; or when 70 lawyers were killed in a suicide attack , wiping out a generation of Balochistan province ’ s sharpest legal minds .
It is the poem I now listen to when I drive through the streets of my @ @ @ @ @ @ @ how many houses are mourning ; how many people today will be in need of a hospital bed , of an ambulance , of a ventilator .
For weeks , Pakistan broke its own record of new coronavirus cases and deaths every other day .
Now they are finally falling – but so is testing , creating an impression that the country has emerged victorious .
Some restrictions remain , but worshippers congregate in mosques , markets are open , and the government has encouraged tourism .
The government says cases stand at @ @ @ @ @ @ @ lost – though these counts are little trusted .
As Pakistan climbed to join the most affected countries in the world , it felt as if the possibility of prevention had not even occurred to the government .
Declining to extend the lockdown , Prime Minister Imran Khan told the people of Pakistan that there are two options : to be exposed to the virus or die hungry .
As I write this essay , I feel it could have been written 10 years ago , in different ways , on different pages @ @ @ @ @ @ @ always emerge : of how we learn to live in a country that appears always willing to claim our tragedies , but not prevent them .
This pandemic is another reminder of our collective insignificance , in a land where thousands have died in conflict since 9/11 .
Their names are on no walls or monuments ; the number of total casualties remains uncertain .
In the post-2001 Pakistan , the extraordinariness attached to moments of tragedy is long gone .
Yet anyone can be branded a shaheed , a martyr , with @ @ @ @ @ @ @ crash victims , health care workers , children .
Victims of terrorism are barely mourned before they are officially exalted in the nationalist narrative .
In April , when the government announced that doctors too would be given the title of shaheed , it was obvious there would be no place for acknowledging their deaths as a loss , but only as an honor for the nation .
Soon after , the military produced a video urging people to live with the virus ; reminding us to be “ brave , ” that @ @ @ @ @ @ @ this pandemic is a reminder of something else , as well : how , unprotected , we have indeed learned to survive – together .
My city of over 16 million runs on ambulance services that are entirely dependent on charity .
Countless citizen-led initiatives collect donations for low-income workers to allow them to stay home , while some people cook food for patients , their families , and front-line workers as an act of service .
On Facebook groups , home cooks post photos of what they ’ ve cooked that day @ @ @ @ @ @ @ them .
Food is the language of love here ; it ’ s the best way we can express that which we do not say .
I have never told anyone I love them in my own language , Urdu , and I have never been told that myself .
It is , instead , communicated through biryani , through yakhni soup or daal that a loved one has taken the time and care to cook , that love felt all the more profusely when one is frail and unwell .
Caretaking works @ @ @ @ @ @ @ visits my house with his occasional catch of the day .
On his last visit , he insisted that I have the honey his wife had sent me from their village .
The only way I know how to protect him is to buy fish I don ’ t want ; the only way he knows how to protect me is to give me a present of raw honey .
We both watch out for each other in the best way we know how .
Karachi , a city best known for violence @ @ @ @ @ @ @ very first time knowing how it feels to be loved and wanted .
During summer holidays , Europe ’ s quaint streets usually occupy our Instagram feeds , but today Karachi is finding its due place .
Images of our Arabian Sea and the city ’ s bougainvillea and jasmine flowers are shared with that sense of awe and wonderment that comes when an object of love is seen for the very first time .
Without a lockdown , there is no expectation here of reaching a peak or flattening a curve .
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ us will not survive this , and in how many ways our lives will forever change .
I do know that the state will tell us it could have been worse , representing tragedies as moments of triumph .
But what I also know is that we will continue to find togetherness in the sharing of food and honey , and find comfort in the sights and smells of jasmine flowers , holding on dearly to signs of life that are promised in every flower that blooms .
Zehra Abid is an independent @ @ @ @ @ @ @ most of her three decades .
She tweets at @ ZehraAbid_ .
Editor ’ s note : As a public service , all our coronavirus coverage is free .
No paywall .

“The only way I know how to protect him is to buy fish I don’t want; the only way he knows how to protect me is to give me a present of raw honey,” she writes. “We both watch out for each other in the best way we know how.”
But the pandemic is a reminder of something else, too: how people have indeed learned to survive – together. Sometimes it’s by dropping off food, a biryani or daal that bespeaks love more than words can. Sometimes it’s purchasing a fisherman’s catch of the day, whether or not the fridge is full.
The crisis has been one more reminder, she writes, of how insignificant lives can seem in a country where thousands have died in conflict since 9/11. A country where it’s easy to feel the government is more invested in glorifying deaths than preventing them.
In a crisis like COVID-19, where do you turn for help, let alone hope? Amid the pandemic, Pakistani neighbors “watch out for each other the best way we know how,” this writer reflects. And sometimes, no words are needed.
It was the poem she’d listened to in 2014, after a Taliban attack killed almost 140 children. It was the poem that articulated her feelings after a church bombing, and a suicide attack on lawyers. Now, she listens as she drives through Karachi, wondering how the pandemic has affected each household.
When my city, Karachi, quiets down at night, I often go for a drive by myself, driving slowly, savoring every moment of the few minutes I have in the world outside home.
On my stereo, the same verses from South Asian poet Faiz Ahmed Faiz play each day. The poem, “Intesab,” begins with a dedication:
to this day
and
to its sorrows
to the day’s sorrows, cross with life’s overflowing garden
this thicket of yellowing leaves
this thicket of dying leaves, that is my land
this assembly of anguish, that is my land (as translated by Mustansir Dalvi)
I listened to this poem for days in 2014, after the attack on the Army Public School (APS) in the city of Peshawar, where almost 140 children were killed by the Taliban. It understood the grief I had no power to articulate when nearly 100 people were killed in church one Sunday; or when 70 lawyers were killed in a suicide attack, wiping out a generation of Balochistan province’s sharpest legal minds. It is the poem I now listen to when I drive through the streets of my city, wondering how many people in how many houses are mourning; how many people today will be in need of a hospital bed, of an ambulance, of a ventilator.
Akhtar Soomro/Reuters/File View caption Hide caption A girl holds candle for the victims of the attack by Taliban gunmen on the Army Public School in Peshawar, the country's worst massacre in years, during a prayer service at Gurdwara Guru Nanak Shah in Karachi on December 19, 2014.
Why We Wrote This In a crisis like COVID-19, where do you turn for help, let alone hope? Amid the pandemic, Pakistani neighbors “watch out for each other the best way we know how,” this writer reflects. And sometimes, no words are needed.
For weeks, Pakistan broke its own record of new coronavirus cases and deaths every other day. Now they are finally falling – but so is testing, creating an impression that the country has emerged victorious. Some restrictions remain, but worshippers congregate in mosques, markets are open, and the government has encouraged tourism. The government says cases stand at 274,000, with more than 5,800 lives lost – though these counts are little trusted.
As Pakistan climbed to join the most affected countries in the world, it felt as if the possibility of prevention had not even occurred to the government. Declining to extend the lockdown, Prime Minister Imran Khan told the people of Pakistan that there are two options: to be exposed to the virus or die hungry.
As I write this essay, I feel it could have been written 10 years ago, in different ways, on different pages of my journal. The same questions always emerge: of how we learn to live in a country that appears always willing to claim our tragedies, but not prevent them.
This pandemic is another reminder of our collective insignificance, in a land where thousands have died in conflict since 9/11. Their names are on no walls or monuments; the number of total casualties remains uncertain. In the post-2001 Pakistan, the extraordinariness attached to moments of tragedy is long gone.
Yet anyone can be branded a shaheed, a martyr, with no choice in the matter: air crash victims, health care workers, children. Victims of terrorism are barely mourned before they are officially exalted in the nationalist narrative. In April, when the government announced that doctors too would be given the title of shaheed, it was obvious there would be no place for acknowledging their deaths as a loss, but only as an honor for the nation. Soon after, the military produced a video urging people to live with the virus; reminding us to be “brave,” that “life comes and goes.”
But this pandemic is a reminder of something else, as well: how, unprotected, we have indeed learned to survive – together. My city of over 16 million runs on ambulance services that are entirely dependent on charity. Countless citizen-led initiatives collect donations for low-income workers to allow them to stay home, while some people cook food for patients, their families, and front-line workers as an act of service.
On Facebook groups, home cooks post photos of what they’ve cooked that day, asking anyone in need to message them. Food is the language of love here; it’s the best way we can express that which we do not say. I have never told anyone I love them in my own language, Urdu, and I have never been told that myself. It is, instead, communicated through biryani, through yakhni soup or daal that a loved one has taken the time and care to cook, that love felt all the more profusely when one is frail and unwell.
Caretaking works in myriad ways. A fisherman often visits my house with his occasional catch of the day. On his last visit, he insisted that I have the honey his wife had sent me from their village. The only way I know how to protect him is to buy fish I don’t want; the only way he knows how to protect me is to give me a present of raw honey. We both watch out for each other in the best way we know how.
Akhtar Soomro/Reuters View caption Hide caption Shopkeepers wear protective masks as they sit outside their closed shops, after Pakistani authorities re-imposed lockdowns in selected areas in an effort to stop the spread of the coronavirus disease (COVID-19), in Karachi, Pakistan, July 1, 2020.
Karachi, a city best known for violence and chaos, is perhaps for the very first time knowing how it feels to be loved and wanted. During summer holidays, Europe’s quaint streets usually occupy our Instagram feeds, but today Karachi is finding its due place. Images of our Arabian Sea and the city’s bougainvillea and jasmine flowers are shared with that sense of awe and wonderment that comes when an object of love is seen for the very first time.
Without a lockdown, there is no expectation here of reaching a peak or flattening a curve. I am not sure how many of us will not survive this, and in how many ways our lives will forever change. I do know that the state will tell us it could have been worse, representing tragedies as moments of triumph. But what I also know is that we will continue to find togetherness in the sharing of food and honey, and find comfort in the sights and smells of jasmine flowers, holding on dearly to signs of life that are promised in every flower that blooms.
Get stories that
empower and uplift daily. By signing up, you agree to our Privacy Policy Already a subscriber? Log in to hide ads.
Zehra Abid is an independent journalist who has lived in Karachi for most of her three decades. She tweets at @ZehraAbid_.
Editor’s note: As a public service, all our coronavirus coverage is free. No paywall.