Viewing entries tagged
Non-fiction

The Management of Savagery / Max Blumenthal / 2019

I picked up this book looking to better understand the history of US intervention in Afghanistan and the Middle East, as well as reactionary and perhaps revolutionary violent resistance against it. In order to contextualize Afghanistan, Blumenthal begins in the Cold War, when the US began arming tribal Islamists, including Al-Qaeda, who were frequently compared to US independence heroes and Star Wars rebels by interventionists. In particular, Blumenthal does a great job disentangling the ways the military industrial complex manipulates the media to sanitize allies, demonize targets, and muddy an admittedly complex terrain to audiences to justify intervention and pull Washington’s purse strings. Inevitably, Blumenthal ends up playing defense for the Assad regime in Syria, pointing out untrue propaganda against his regime, a move his critics see as apologetic but I see as simply nuanced. Blumenthal can be seen as a tankie by some, and that’s probably inevitable for a writer who spends so much time countering hyperbolic US propaganda against its enemy nations, who are of course as flawed and complex as any other nation. I particularly appreciated Blumenthal’s writing on the rise of Alex Jones, who had an early career as a 9/11 truther through documentaries like Loose Change, which I had watched as a middle schooler. I never connected the dots from Loose Change to the Sandy Hook massacre denialism to the rise of Trump. Blumenthal includes a skillful argument about how neocon and neolib US military interventions led to the rise of Trump by destabilizing once functional countries and increasing the amount of terrorism and refugees in Europe. This increase led to a rise in ultranationalism and xenophobia the far right thrives on. As someone who was too young during the 9/11 era and didn’t pay enough attention to the interventionist wars during the Obama era, Blumenthal provided an incisive and clarifying narration of the history I lived.  4/5 

The Undocumented Americans / Karla Cornejo Villavicencio / 2020

As an employee at a refugee-serving organization and former megaphone-wielding activist for undocumented folks, I admit I’m likely a mark for stories like the ones in The Undocumented Americans. However, since I spend quite a bit of time with these stories and the discourse around them, I usually have my fair share of critiques of how the stories are being told or used. Cornejo Villavicencio’s unvarnished depictions of the undocumented in all their human oddity, mundanity, and trauma resists the common romanticization of the immigrant community and creates an infinitely more familiar portrait of the undocumented. Cornejo’s coverage of Flint’s undocumented community and the undocumented who served as first-responders during 9/11 are especially provocative examples of the injustices undocumented folks suffer that usually get overlooked within the explosion of discourse around them. My only real criticism of the book is that at one point Cornejo Villavicencio critiques newspapers for referring to the undocumented as “undocumented workers as if all these men are worth is their labor” (paraphrase). For a community afforded so little, I get where this critique is coming from; however, I do see value in hearkening to the labor rights traditions of the left and in acknowledging the contributions of undocumented folks.  Regardless, I cried several times when reading this book and found its stories a useful reminder of the actual conditions too often invisibilized in the US. 5 out of 5.

Gangs of Zion / Ron Stallworth / 2024

Gangs of Zion / Ron Stallworth / 2024

I read this book at the recommendation of a former colleague for a Utah-related project of mine. From the author and subject of Black Klansmen, the book and the film, we have a follow-up project fleshing out his career as a gang unit police investigator and the so-called hip-hop cop in (drumroll) Utah of all places.

Stallworth begins this memoir with a hamfisted rebuttal of Boots Riley. For those unaware, when the BlackKklansmen rollout began, Riley released a forceful critique of BlackKklansmen as revisionist history, copaganda, and pointed out Stallworth’s history of infiltrating radical Black organizations, including the one Riley’s father was a part of, as part of COINTELPRO. Stallworth fixates one aspect of Riley’s blistering and effective critique: turns out, Stallworth was too young to have participated in COINTELPRO. He definitely DID take part in infiltrating radical Black organizations, just not under the behest of the FBI. Stallworth lambasts Riley for this factual inaccuracy, completely missing the thrust of Riley’s critique. Everyone I love and care about would consider this a minor hiccup in Riley’s critique, since Stallworth did in fact break up radical Black orgs. 

For his part, Stallworth justifies infiltrating these organizations using explicitly anti-communist rhetoric and claiming they were a threat to national security. To the surprise of no one, a cop is a cop. What was mildly surprising and thoroughly entertaining was Stallworth’s confession to physically assaulting Riley at a dinner, where he boasts of squeezing his hand too hard and holding him hostage by squeezing a pressure point on his neck. Later on, he describes patting Riley’s back and telling him he just used the bathroom and didn’t wash his hands. He literally brags about making Riley “my bitch.” The moments reveal just how disgusting, insecure, and brute Stallworth’s masculinity is. What a weird little clown! 

The first bit of Stallworth’s memoir details his rise in the police department and the emergence of his “Black consciousness.” We see Stallworth refuse to tokenize himself in moments and opportunistically tokenize himself in other moments. He’s clearly a bullheaded person with a high tolerance for external criticism and disapproval as both his Black community and the officers on the force didn’t really like him much, it seems. He relates to Malcolm X, but never bothered learning the history of policing or thinking critically about solving societal problems, so he’s completely bought into the prison industrial complex as our best option it seems. 

There are two worthwhile histories described in this book. The first is the history of the JobCorps in Utah. Stallworth focuses in on this federal program, which took low-income, high-risk youth from major cities like LA and brought them to suburban Utah for job skills training, because JobCorps brought gang culture to Utah. Utah officials were in denial of this, because JobCorps stimulated their economies with fat federal checks to administer the program. In my opinion, the JobCorps also likely increased the racism of Utahns by making some of the few people of color visible in their communities, some of the poorest and in need in the country. Of course, their presence brought social problems that proliferate among any historically oppressed working class and racialized youth. For his part, Stallworth provides a sturdy critique of how the program was administered that actually shows a deep concern for these youth. It’s hilarious to learn more about white, Mormon gangsters of Utah committing petty crimes and aggravating to learn about the Pacific Islander Mormons swept up into gang culture as a reprieve from a racist society. Stallworth rebuts criticisms of his profiling of youth of color by providing anecdotes of families crying racism when they had proven gang ties and never by describing actual data and letting us know what his profile looked like. Overall, this is socially complicated territory, where actual racism is certainly at play, as well as actual violent criminal activity in some communities of color at the time. Stallworth’s voice and bias here is useful, even if I disagree with him, in painting the larger picture of what was happening in Utah’s lower income community at times. For his part, Stallworth genuinely went out of his way to do what he thought was right in revealing the way JobCorps was failing both youth  of color and the communities these youth were brought to. 

The second history tied into this one is the rise of gangster rap and its influence on youth. During the hysterical pearl-clutching of the Ice T, NWA, and Tupac era, Stallworth gained a reputation as a so-called “hip-hop cop,” where he would rap and breakdown rap lyrics in universities and serve as an expert witness in the “Gangster Rap Made Me Do It” cases. I listened with troubled curiosity about how Stallworth claims to have learned the “G-code” by listening to gangster rap. He became a fan of 90s gangsta rap, falling hard to Tupac’s consciousness in songs like “Dear Mama’ and “Brenda’s got a baby.” During this era, Stallworth became a N-word-whisperer for scared white people and elites. His representations of hip-hop culture were sympathetic, as he saw gangster rappers as expressing the genuine concerns of an oppressed community. He defended hip-hop culture in courtrooms and warned politicians against culture wars that simply made gangster rap cooler. While I agree that Stallworth’s experience as a cop, a Black man, and a fan of hip-hop, who self-studied sociology and ethnic studies to better understand the culture, give him some insight in the gang culture and communities of color, I believe these experiences gave him too much confidence. He acts as if hip-hop culture can substitute actually getting to know people. His relationship with community remains antagonistic, even in his somewhat believable anecdotes about former gang members saying he was the only positive male role model in their life. Even if these anecdotes were true, a handful of anecdotes hardly compare to the many other lives he likely ruined and made much more difficult in his role.  

Even when Stallworth is dead wrong, he still manages to be entertaining. 3 out of 5.

The Qu’ran: A Biography / Bruce Lawrence / 2017

The Qu’ran: A Biography / Bruce Lawrence / 2017

I wanted to read the Qu’ran to better understand my Islamic clients and students. I asked Ameena for an English translation she’d recommend and she pointed me here instead. This is not a translation of the Qur’an, but rather a history of Islam, covering the story of Muhammad, the tension in Islam between mystic and non-mystic traditions, and Islam’s transformations as it traveled East and into Black communities. I especially appreciated Lawrence’s attention to philosophical debates in Islam, especially in India, and his analysis of Bin Laden’s interpretations of the Qu’ran and the Nation of Islam’s. This is a solid introduction to a complex tradition and it’s given me great directions to go for further studies. 5/5 as the book accomplishes its modest goals handedly.

No Bad Parts: Healing Trauma and Restoring Wholeness with Internal Family Systems Model / Richard Schwartz / 2021

No Bad Parts: Healing Trauma and Restoring Wholeness with Internal Family Systems Model / Richard Schwartz / 2021

No Bad Parts is a potentially revolutionary work of psychology and philosophy. No Bad Parts,  written by the founder of Internal Family Systems, is in some ways a manifesto for IFS, outlining its core theory of self, methodology, and findings. The basic idea is to apply the tools of family therapy to the internal world of parts within us. Schwartz believes in the plasticity and positive potential of each part inside of us, including those who have taken on toxic roles for misguided reasons. 

I will begin with my qualms: I am at once seduced and skeptical of IFS’s nonviolent approach. His belief that you can only transform toxic parts through love and compassion is an implicitly nonviolent approach to conflict internally and he sees the same systems dynamic play out in the level of geopolitics. I am enticed by the idea that the only way to heal the traumatized parts inside us--including those that are responsible for acts of violence or have other taboo desires--is to treat them with love and compassion. Schwartz claims to have successfully healed incarcerated pedophiles whose protective parts were caught in a toxic cycle of violence in misguided attempts to protect a victimized part. It’s difficult to know how much faith to put in the IFS approach in these extreme circumstances without a huge data set, which I’m not sure even exists yet. On the political level, I’m simply unsure whether nonviolence is a viable strategy against bad faith violent actors. 

In Schwartz’s desire to spread his findings far and wide, he’s dipped into corporate psychology and even boasts of consulting with McKinsey and Company, a well-known ruling class consulting group with their hands in a number of ethically dubious, if not outright unethical situations. Both of my biggest criticisms come from a lack of political clarity on Schwartz’s end. Schwartz himself admits IFS was held back from his own slow pace in addressing engaging racism, which he manages to do admirably in meditations and transcripts where he explores a client’s internal racist parts. I am looking for IFS reading that engages trans issues and marxist thought at this point. 

Onto the positive, IFS’s philosophy of the mind resonates deeply with me, providing more satisfying answers than the bits of psychoanalysis and Buddhism I have engaged with. Schwartz ultimately arrived at believing there is a russian stacking dolls of selves within us if we keep digging. They blend and unblend kinda like the gems in Steven’s Universe. He has also found that when--after a lot of IFS therapy--people begin to identify the self they most identify with, they find someone with clarity, compassion, courage, confidence, calm, connectedness, curiosity, and creativity. This definition of the self feels revolutionary in that it is helpful, useful, and scientifically documented--at least with IFS therapy clients. Although I wonder what really makes this self any different than a particularly well-put-together protector or manager, I do dig that IFS practice would seek to bolster these seven characteristics and if this self is a manager/protector, seek to prioritize its stewardship of the soul. Where I deviate from IFS and more likely connect with more indigenous and Buddhist thought is that I’m not sure if my inner personalities always manifest as humans. I got at least one blue dragon swimming around in there. 

In discussing IFS philosophy with Anushka, we went back and forth between psychoanalytic ways of understanding the mind, as opposed to IFS. Interestingly enough, we landed on a metaphor of the self having wave-particular duality like light. The metaphor goes like this: if you treat the interior world as a wave, like psychoanalytic, you can follow that logic successfully to understand and treat yourself; on the other hand, if you treat the elements like atomized particles, like IFS, you can follow that logic successfully to understand and treat yourself. I mention this not because its particularly insightful, but because Schwartz used the same metaphor to discuss Self energy and our connection to a higher universal self. Here is perhaps where the book got its most woo-woo with segways into quantum physics and so forth. Despite the toe in perhaps magical scientific thinking, I do think Schwartz spoke with enough hedging and humility to not spoil my trust of his scientific mind. The mind is an inherently subjective field of study, so I don’t think we can reasonably expect folks to be strictly scientific when exploring topics of curiosity that we don’t have clear answers to yet. I am curious what a more scientifically studied mind would make of this chapter. 

I especially recommend the embodiment chapter for helping me understand better how my selves can press buttons in my body, triggering somatic symptoms and drives, depending on my stewardship of their needs. 
Despite whatever wrinkles I identify, I find IFS so powerful a tool I can’t help but give this a 5/5. 

Custer Died For Your Sins / Vine Deloria Jr / 1969

Custer Died For Your Sins / Vine Deloria Jr / 1969

feel like this book is the Native version of Souls of Black Folk and Black Marxism, dutifully teasing out a history of indigenous resistance and spelling out elements of Native culture in a sharp and stirring voice. Chapters in, I realized Deloria was the predecessor of the gorgeous and erudite poetic sweeps taken by Tommy Orange in his novels.  The Du Bois comparison comes from Delorias's historic breakdown of the indigenous plight with attention to cultural elements like Native humor (compare this to Du Bois breakdown of the blues and spiritual tradition). The Robinson comparison comes from Deloria's critical Marxist leanings and biting humor. I deeply appreciate Custer Died for Your Sins for elucidating the relationships between Black and Native movements, including the lack of enthusiasm in some Native circles for the civil rights movement: the US government doesn't follow its own laws, so many viewed the Civil Rights Movement as a lost cause, and the sense among some indigenous folx that Black people were gonna fall into an identity trap in the Black Power movement.  Deloria includes a breakdown of native caricatures in pop culture and media that really provided context for the ways racism differed for Blacks and Natives. Deloria occasionally ventured into strange but fun arguments, such as his chapter on how white people were returning to tribalism via corporate culture, but by and large, Delorea provides a much needed history and perspective on where the Native leftist movement has been and where it needs to go.  His critiques of the Bureau of Indian Affairs effectively changed parts of the agency in the years after publication.  While not perfect, Custer Died for Your Sins did A LOT to fill in the gaps of my own miseducation.  4.5/5



Whipping Girl: A Transsexual Woman on Sexism and the Scapegoating of Femininity / Julia Serrano / 2007 

Whipping Girl: A Transsexual Woman on Sexism and the Scapegoating of Femininity / Julia Serrano / 2007 

A sweeping overview of trans feminism from a time before queer language had ossified into the shape of the contemporary LGBTQ+ lexicon, Whipping Girl is a memoir and manifesto by writer who first found their celebrity in the poetry slam circuits. Serrano’s style is blunt, thorough, and thoughtful, utilizing personal experience as well as providing insights on queer theory and sexuality research hitherto unspoken. Whipping Girl would function as an excellent introductory text to trans feminism for an undergraduate classroom. It clarified my understanding of myself again. 3/5 

The Devil’s Highway: A True Story / Luis Alberto Urrea / 2004 

The Devil’s Highway: A True Story / Luis Alberto Urrea / 2004 

The Devil’s Highway is a Latino classic that launched an already well established poet and novelist into literary stardom. Written in vivid language that mixes the scientifically specific, journalistic, and vulgarly hyperrealistic, The Devil’s Highway’s tone is reminiscent of Charles Bowden. I mean this in a good way in that it is attention-grabbing, as well as the bad way in that it indulges in a very masculine vulgarity and includes racist hangovers, such as the use of the word “illegal” throughout the text. Urrea of all people should know better than to use such dehumanizing language. At one point, Urrea snickers with migrants who hear the word “Chicago” and hear “I piss shit” in Spanish. Urrea mostly manages to balance the range of perspectives he includes in The Devil’s Highway in a way that probably leaves people across the political spectrum feeling discomfited at different moments. This feels like Urrea’s attempt to look at the border issue with a depoliticized objectivity. It succeeds in what it set out to do just fine, but is disappointing coming from a Latino literary star, as a greater political clarity and savvy is urgent. (2.5/5) 



Indian Conquistadors: Indigenous Allies in the Conquest of Mesoamerica / eds, Laura E. Matthews & Michael R. Odjik / 2012 

Indian Conquistadors: Indigenous Allies in the Conquest of Mesoamerica / eds, Laura E. Matthews & Michael R. Odjik / 2012 

A necessary volume of essays on the history of indigenous conquest especially in Mexico and Central America, I recommend this book to anyone interested in better understanding mestizaje and indigenous and Latino identity in the Americas. Banished are the white supremacist myths of Cortes and the Spanish defeating the Mexica on their own, as well as progressives’ lingering romantic flattening of Native Americans as purely vanquished and victimized. I first encountered this book in grad school and I’m glad I returned to it. While the chapters got more redundant and less interesting as Matthews and Odjik’s arguments became more and more solidified, they remained fascinating in their particularity and the underlying mysteries. 4/5 



Reimaging National Belonging: Post-Civil War El Salvador in Global Context / Robin Maria / 2014 

Reimaging National Belonging: Post-Civil War El Salvador in Global Context / Robin Maria / 2014 

A foundational text in Central American studies, RNB is an anthropologist’s take on postwar El Salvador that succinctly provides introductory political clarity. It captures the consequences of the ARENA’s years in power on education and national history, as well as the failures of justice and political accountability. I recommend this book to every undergrad and grad Salvadoran because DeLugan’s approach is the first idea many of my friends had when conceiving their research projects carried into fruition by a professional. It also provides clarity on how mestizaje has played out in a contemporary context.  4/5



The Communist Manifesto / Karl Marx and Friedrich Engels / 1848


The Communist Manifesto / Karl Marx and Friedrich Engels / 1848

I picked up the Penguin edition, which was front loaded with a ton of critical material that was useful to understanding the reception of the text, the history of its ideas, and Marx and Engels as figures. I skipped the last half of these essays, as I wanted to get to the legendary manifesto already, although after listening to the manifesto, I realized the essays would have served me better and proved more informative. While I can appreciate the manifesto, especially as it lays out its principles, and its biting humor about false socialisms and the bourgeoisie, a lot of its key revolutionary ideas I’ve already encountered updated in other texts. I don’t know if I’m ever going to read Das Kapital, but for now, I’m moving onto Lenin and others in my quest to better understand Marxism. 3 out of 5. 

The Souls of Black Folk / W.E.B. Du Bois / 1903

The Souls of Black Folk / W.E.B. Du Bois / 1903

I’ve read chapters of this book during my degrees and decided I had to return to read the whole thang to understand the Black Radical Tradition better. Du Bois pours his soul into every word of the text, diving between astute economic and historical truth-telling, musical criticism, and personal essays on Atlanta and the lives of everyday Black folk in the Jim Crow south. It’s all the more painful to see Du Bois’s legacy so under-talked about and misrepresented as a mere counterpoint to Booker T. Washington. It was painful to read his chapter on education, which might as well be about contemporary under-funded schools in the US. This round of reading helped really color in the picture of just how fucked the South was economically before and after the Civil War, especially during the Reconstruction period. Du Bois’s thoroughness is so earnest and unearned by this country. Amerikkka did not and does not deserve souls as beautiful as Du Bois. 5/5 

Handbook of Restorative Justice / edited by Gerry Johnstone and Daniel V. Van Ness / 2011 

Handbook of Restorative Justice / edited by Gerry Johnstone and Daniel V. Van Ness / 2011 

I’m so grateful for this book. At over 600 pages, it goes through chapter by chapter tackling critical issues in restorative justice, from its philosophical underpinnings, its history, the rationale of its procedural variations and its evaluative criteria, and more. The wisdom in this book is through the roof and articulated with a clear-eyed thoughtfulness, chapter after chapter. Contemporary pop abolitionists frequently point to the terror of mass incarceration and its impact without adequately drawing a picture of what a world without mass incarceration would look like. Restorative justice has well thought out plans and answers in this regard that, yes, do need more experimentation, but do offer viable alternatives. I especially appreciate its philosophical wrestling with the need for coercion in cases of persistent violence and its focus on the lack of rehabilitative services for victims, as a part of its vision. Beyond the rhetorics of marxism and decolonization, the books on restorative justice that I have read are the ones that have provided me with the greatest sense of clarity and hope about the future I want.  

There’s only two larger shortcomings with this collection I think are worth quibbling with: 1) The first is minor. They include a chapter on Christianity that misses the mark entirely imo, as it spends time going back and forth with different interpretations of the Bible and its forms of justice, losing itself in the debate. This sidesteps what is most interesting about Christianity’s relationship to restorative justice: a) Christians have led the way in many places in developing restorative justice. The authors acknowledge this and use this as justification for including the chapter, but they never talk about WHY that may be the case. My suspicion is that few religions have circled the ideas of sin and forgiveness than Christians. Through Christ, EVERYONE can be forgiven and I think this sincere belief gives ordinary people the strength to do the work of restorative justice. I’m curious how other ordinary people develop this strength, but anyone who spends time in prisons knows that Christians are some of the few people who dedicate themselves to serving the incarcerated. Many of the incarcerated, especially those who have committed heinous crimes, rely on Christianity to survive mass incarceration and forgive themselves. Under extreme duress, many humans reach towards the supernatural, of course. But I am hungry to read something that unpacks the layers here about the role of Christianity for both practitioners of RJ and victims of the system and how ordinary non-Christians can develop some of the muscles that best Christian RJ practitioners seem to have. 

2) There’s a chapter on the role of police in RJ. The authors ultimately conclude that there’s no data that suggests that police participation in RJ is more harmful than not. Just as some folks feel alienated by police, others feel safer, and the authors ultimately conclude that it’ll depend on the community, relationships built therein, and there’s no reason to rule it out entirely. I’m sure they didn’t misread their data, but here’s a place where ideology and the history of policing in the US at large do have tremendous insights and why that isn’t a good idea. The role of police officers and the tools they have would need to be completely reimagined under RJ and it was strange to encounter a chapter that basically opened the door to intersecting with traditional justice systems without challenging some of the fundamental issues of power and relations that exist between community members and traditional police forces. How cool would it have been to have a chapter that used RJ to reimagine what services would exist in lieu of police or how coercion would operate under RJ in necessary situations. 

While not exactly reflected in this little book review, my takeaways were ultimately largely positive and an immense sense of gratitude for having found a community of people approaching the work with the right spirit. 4.8/5

Wovoka: The Life and Legacy of the Prophet of the Ghost Dance Movement / Charles Rivers Editors / 2022

Wovoka: The Life and Legacy of the Prophet of the Ghost Dance Movement / Charles Rivers Editors / 2022 

I first learned about Wovoka in Our History is Our Future by Nick Estes and was moved to learn of a Paiute prophet so central to Native American history, because the Paiute are particularly marginalized and humiliated in Native American history. Sold to the Spanish as slaves by both the Utes and Dine, they weren’t particularly renowned for their military skills. Their own original story pokes fun at this hierarchy, humbly and humorously claiming their people were brown because they were made out of shit. I’m drawn to Wovoka’s story because it gives Paiutes a pretty central role in US Native history. Charles Rivers Editors did an excellent job contextualizing Wovoka’s teachings within a global indigenous context, drawing parallels in Africa and the Pacific. Essentially, in the face of genocide and a dramatic change of lifestyle, there’s a strain of indigenous thought that conservatively retreats into tradition, claiming that if indigenous folks dig their heels into their spiritual practice, the gods will vanquish their colonizers for them. In Wovoka’s case, this is the spirit dance and ceremony. The spirit dance promised a decolonized future, where the relationship between humans and nature were restored and white men were wiped off the face of the earth. The stomps in the spirit dance were sometimes literally supposed to be stomping the white man under the earth. The spirit dance inspired Natives across North America facing genocide and gave them the hope to continue resisting, rather than dying and/or assimilating. This contribution changes the course of US Native history in two dramatic ways: 1) First, it inspires the resistance of the Lakota Sioux, one of the most resistant indigenous nations of North America, who interpreted Wovoka’s teachings in a way that inspired violent resistance. The book does an excellent job here delineating between Wovoka’s teachings and differing between varying Paiute, Lakota, and federal white man interpretations of them. The Lakota Sioux popularized the spirit dance the most and led a resistance movement to be crushed but not vanquished at Wounded Knee. 2) Because the dance was associated with anticolonial indigenous movements, the US government outlawed all Native dance, ceremonial, and religious practices. The US also anglicized the name as the Ghost Dance to give it a spookier, more terrorist edge. These are two pivotal moments of North American native history where Wovoka played a critical role! On top of all that, there is some speculation that Wovoka’s teachings were somewhat inspired by Mormonism. Wovoka incorporated Christian theology into his teachings in ways that aren’t entirely clear to me, but Wovoka clearly occupies a similar mystic and revelatory lineage of the era, which includes Joseph Smith. The LDS (Mormon) teaching that Jesus visited the Americas and that Natives are a Jewish, Biblical people was apparently sometimes interpreted by some Natives to mean Jesus was Native and some went as far to identify Wovoka with a reincarnation of Jesus. I wish I could talk about this history with my former students in Cedar City, as there’s a lot of layers here. If folks have recommendations on more reads relevant to Wovoka, please let me know. 5/5 

Our History is Our Future: Standing Rock Vs the Dakota Access Pipeline and the Long Tradition of Indigenous Resistance / Nick Estes / 2019

Our History is Our Future: Standing Rock Vs the Dakota Access Pipeline and the Long Tradition of Indigenous Resistance / Nick Estes / 2019

I slept on this book for a bit because I thought that all the news I read and conversations with friends on the ground would have made some of the information in this book redundant. That wasn’t the case at all. In fact, I’d argue that Nick Estes performs here a version of what Cedric Robinson performed in Black Marxism. I found particularly moving Estes’s discussion of the Ghost Dance movement, led by a Paiute prophet Wovoka. In my experience, Paiutes are extremely marginalized, even in Native circles, and are frequently portrayed as a largely peaceful, undefiant band of Natives, so finding such a monumental figure in the history of Indigenous resistance was exciting. I also deeply appreciated Estes’ discussion of the AIM movement and its transition away from armed militant struggle to international solidarity campaigns. I was unaware of the role indigenous nations played in the UN and their ties to Palestine. Indeed, it was horrifying to learn of Israel’s role in Standing Rock as well. Israel shared its crowd control technologies and referred to the water protectors as a Hamas insurgency in the US (maybe slightly paraphrased here). US forces particularly targeted Middle Eastern, and of course, Palestinian activists who participated. This book was infuriating and inspiring to read and I’m so grateful for it. 5/5  



The Little Book of Restorative Justice / Howard Zehr / 2002

The Little Book of Restorative Justice / Howard Zehr / 2002

I read this book in preparation for a job interview (Pray for me yall). I was impressed by its ability to open a can of worms, let you get a good glimpse inside, close it, then move onto the next can of worms. This is no easy task for issues as fraught as justice and for a practice as varied, situational, and complex as restorative justice. Though published over 20 years ago, it hardly feels outdated in the United States, especially since so much of the United States has yet to adopt restorative justice in a serious way. I highly recommend it for folks looking to see if they are interested in a deeper dive. 5/5

This Non-Violent Stuff’ll Get You Killed / Charles E. Cobb Jr / 2014

This Non-Violent Stuff’ll Get You Killed / Charles E. Cobb Jr / 2014

Pratik Raghu recommended this book to me years ago, which I only just read in India. It's a story of Black resistance to white supremacy told through African American relationships to guns. Far from romanticizing violent resistance, Cobb opens by laughing off the idea of Blacks leading an armed revolution of the US as a fantasy and criticizing Fanon’s view of guns as inherent to liberation. Instead, Cobb weaves the history of Black veterans’ participation in the American Revolutionary and Civil War to its necessary role in the Black Liberation movements of the 60s and 70s. Public education teaches Black history as slavery, civil war, Jim Crow, then the civil rights movement, as if Black people didn't learn to fight and defend themselves effectively until the 50s or so. In doing so, it erases not just Black participation in early rebellions of the American Revolutionary period, but also the ideals and convictions behind those weapons, which were of course wildly different than those of the Founding Fathers.  It erases the violent repression and constant extrajudicial murder of Black people, convict leasing of the Reconstruction period and how Blacks managed to protect themselves, sometimes managing to scare off vigilantes with shots in the air, frequently choosing to bow down, however reluctantly and with whatever much subversive resistance, to overwhelming reactionary violence by white mobs who would use any reason not just to lynch, but terrorize and burn down Black communities. It erases the Deacons for Defense and Justice and other unnamed armed groups that protected nonviolent organizers in the civil rights era, shooting bullets into the air to scare off Klan members and other terrorists, as well as providing armed security for nonviolent demonstrators, sometimes against the wishes of said demonstrators, but more often, providing safe homes and teaching them how to be safe under the tyranny of the South. Cobb makes clear the nonviolent civil rights movement would've been impossible without guns. There's a lot more I can say, but mostly I want to express gratitude for this book as it made so much of history make more sense to me. It's hard to get an overarching history that shares how the civil rights movement worked on the grassroots level. One of the weirdest things about the 50s and 60s movement is that its taught as if it was top down (led by King and a few others) rather than grassroots, when the grassroots elements of the movement are the ones that accomplished the most in terms of chipping away at the South's apartheid state.  Grassroots activists had profound disagreements with King and the presence and need of guns sometimes embarrassed nonviolent, who sometimes attempted to portray the movement in the squeakiest cleanest light to continue to win the media narrative. I learned so much from this book that i really wish i would've known learned between 14 to 16. 5/5 no doubt.  

Pleasure Activism / Edited by adrienne marie brown / 2019

Pleasure Activism / Edited by adrienne marie brown / 2019

I started reading this book in 2019 at the height of my PTSD symptoms and have sunken into it little by little. Built largely upon Audre Lorde's "The Uses of the Erotic," the collection includes abundant essays and interviews following activists' journeys into reconnecting with their joy and pleasure. Because of the genre, I actually recommend listening to the audio book rather than reading it. It reads like a thoughtful podcast. I'm immensely grateful for this book as it included many tools for reconnecting and rerooting myself. Without pleasure and joy at the center of our work, many of our struggles would be in vain. 3.7/5

Solito / Javier Zamora / 2022

Solito / Javier Zamora / 2022

Solito is a memoir recounting Javier's journey to the US, without his family, as a 9-year-old. I'll write a longer review about this book later, but my biggest notes are as follows: 1) the choice to recreate the voice of his 9-year-old self and the day-by-day timeline of his trek is extremely ambitious. The line between memory and imagination must blur somewhere along the way. It's painstaking, masterful, and deeply rewarding. I'm curious what historians will make of this book and how they will use it. 2) this is a work of environmental literature and I hope folks in environmental humanities champion this book. Young Javi's mind describes flora and fauna in exquisite detail. 3) I cried on the train listening to this book at least 4 times. 4) it took me months to read, honestly bc the 9 yr old voice and repetitiveness of certain parts of the journey became a bit boring at times, as it should when you're describing waiting in a hotel room for weeks in end until you wait for the next leg of the journey. Historically, that's important to mark. 5) there's discrepancies between Unaccompanied and Solito. Specifically, Chino dies in Unaccompanied and his whereabouts are left unknown in Solito. The first and second attempt crossing are flipped in Unaccompanied. This isn't a criticism. Memory is fickle, especially early childhood trauma. I'm really curious what Javi would say about this though. 6) this is an extremely poignant ode to Patricia and Chino, the adults who cared for him along his journey. It is a gigantic testament to the lengths humans will go to love and protect one another in the face of the worst the world has to offer (the soulless US immigration system). 7) this is the pettiest, most hilarious moment in the book for me: in his second attempt crossing, a journey that likely left dozens of migrants and a coyote dead in the desert, when his unit is separated from the group when Javi is delirious and potentially going to die of thirst, he says something to the effect, I am so thirsty I would even drink Mexican horchata. I bust out laughing on the train. That's how much Salvis hate Mexican horchata. We'll use one of the most heartrending moments of our magnum opus memoir to throw shade, and it'll be completely honest. Hats off, Javi. Peace be with you. 5/5

Somewhere We Are Human / edited by Reyna Grande / 2022

Somewhere We Are Human / edited by Reyna Grande / 2022

This is the undocumented anthology we've needed for years. Exquisitely curated, it features the voices of undocumented migrants across Latin America, Asia, and Africa and from a range of intersecting identities. It's delightfully queer forward. While I knew my friend Mariella Mendoza was featured in this collection writing urgently about their connection to Native communities and land defense work, I was stunned to find Azul Uribe's story. Azul was a Mormon in Cedar City who was persecuted by her own congregation and ultimately deported. I cried on the train when I read her story because it was too close to home. I lived in Cedar City. I can only imagine it 20 years ago, how much worse its racism must have been, how callous and inhuman it was when I knew it. Azul could've been my neighbor, my hermana if she wasn't stolen from her home. Other compelling essays include Yosimar Reyes' depiction of his undocumented community, the essay of an undocumented lawyer reflecting on the limitations of the legal system in providing viable avenues of resistance for undocumented movements. I especially was moved by and cried on the train again when I read Reyna Grande's essay about the generational distances created between families by migration. I can see the distance in worlds of understanding between my mother, my sister, and my niece all too well. The only essay that felt almost out of place was the essay by the decorated soldier, who managed to hold onto some sense of idealism about the USA despite the injustices in his own narrative. His inclusion makes sense, however, to cover a range of the undocumented experience in to demonstrate that even military excellence will not save you from the dehumanization of the system. 5/5