There is an action being held in the UK today, being held by comrades who are attempting to stop asylum seekers being deported to Rwanda.
I never imagined the stench of inhumane sloganeering would follow me so closely from Australia to the United Kingdom. ‘Stop the boats’ former Prime Minister Tony Abbott sneered on our television screens, night after night after night. I did not imagine that his sneer would be replicated on the face of a brown billionaire, gifted the top job in Britain because no-one was left in his party to take up the lectern of shame.
I am still on a visa in the UK, meaning I am without British citizenship or the security of permanent residency. While having an Australian passport means I am far more privileged than the majority of my Sudanese counterparts, my status remains precarious, my ability to live in the city I have made my home reliant on the whims of the so-called ‘home’ office. What this also means is that I cannot risk interactions with the police, detention, arrest - I cannot, no matter how much I might want to - put my body on the front line. Or, perhaps it is more accurate to say that I can, but the risk is sky high, and it is a risk I am too afraid to take. You might characterise the urge as selfish. There is some part of me that accuses myself of selfishness in this respect. But most of the time, I accept it is the least strategic use of my skills and time. We all have a different role to play, I remind myself, before sitting down to write another newsletter.
In an act of understanding and generosity, the organisers asked me to write a few words to be read out at the action today. I thought I would share those words with you, as well as a recording of my reading it out.
For hundreds of years, people left these shores with greed in their eyes, prepared to plunder and murder and claim land as their own, all under the flimsy guise of ‘civilising’. ‘Civilising,’ they say. The British brand of so-called civilisation has not changed its spots an iota, no matter what they may claim, no matter how fine their suits or how fancy their words. You can draw a direct line between the massacres of Indigenous Australians to these deportations today. A direct line between the torture of Kenyans during the Mau Mau Uprising to the treatment of asylum seekers today. A direct line between the brutality of the British Empire’s hey day to the cruelty facing our dear friends seeking safety, today.
Nobody should be punished for wanting to be safe. Every single person on this blessed earth, and yes, even those who we might despise! Every human being deserves to live in safety, and dignity. This is a core, inviolable truth. This government might not think so, but this government forgets that our friends here are not alone. That they are not matchsticks in the wind, prone to snapping in two. They are rooted saplings protected by a dense forest of care and solidarity that is as old as the Empire itself, older even. We will not let them face the machine of Imperialism alone, and we will not let such savagery be done in our name. We are not free until we are all free. That is the truth that brings down every Empire, no matter where the sun sets. We are not free until we are all free. We are not free until we are all free.
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Read: Who’s Afraid of the Internet Novel?
A short but thoughtful piece on the trend of ‘internet novels’, books that I personally find interminable but continue to be written.
People will say this writing is current, but it isn’t—it’s dated. This is the main issue with the latest iteration of Internet fiction. It’s presented as of the moment, but due to the production cycle of a book, the content will always be at least two years old. Levy’s, for instance, contains a story about cancellation, a topic so stale by now that even New York Times op-ed writers have tired of it. We’re remembering not last week’s Internet but the Internet of 2, 3, 15 years ago. This is not necessarily the fault of the authors, but it is something to consider. Are old memes enough to hang a book on?
Watch: Nas Shagala - People Working
Please, please, please, watch this video. It’s a trailer for a series made by a Sudanese production company on the ground, recording the lived reality for people in the midst of a nightmare. I’ve written before about the situation in El-Fasher, where UN folks are reporting a genocide is ‘possibly’ happening. But I also wanted to show you what magic Sudanese people are able to create during this forsaken war, the way Sudanese people still somehow have the capacity to keep looking after each other, even while everything seems lost. Watch, and weep (and then send a letter to your MP).
Listen: Jerusalem Calling
Kerning Cultures is a fantastic podcast by the Kerning Cultures Network - a “independent podcast company, raising the bar for audio storytelling and journalism in the Middle East and North Africa.” I have dipped in and out of their stories over the years, and thought it would be a great time to share this particular episode, on the Palestinian Broadcasting Service.
Travel through time to the decade leading up to the 1948 Nakba where radio meant prestige, giving rise to what was known as the Palestine Broadcasting Service. As Palestine saw political upheavals, bloody conflicts and power shifts, this very Palestinian Broadcasting Service found itself in the middle of it all… and became a unique capsule of the events that lead up to the Nakba.
Please forgive today’s shorter post, I’m squeezed for time by some writing deadlines but wanted to make sure I still appeared in your inboxes as expected! I suppose a question I have for you right now, as a way of filling my own cup is, what are you reading? What are you watching? What are you thinking about?
I would love to know! Drop a comment, or reply to this email… and I look forward to chatting next week, inshallah.
Best,
Yassmin
Thanks for this reminder of the dense forest of care--sometimes we forget we're part of it. 🙏 What I'm reading is A Marvellous Light by Freya Marske and it's so incredibly gorgeous. I'm watching Doctor Who for the living light that is Ncuti Gatwa. And I'm thinking of how I'm going to use my new position in the trade union to speak with urgency and make things better, even if I'm shattered by the relapse of my current long covid relapse (went out yesterday and am back down today). Napping when I can, working when I can. Sending love your way 🌌
Thank you for this 🙏🏽