Tw Racism - Blog Posts

Say her name. Ma’Khia Bryant.

When Derek Chauvin was found guilty on all three charges surrounding his murder of George Floyd, the conversation found on Tumblr (and elsewhere online) reflected two major points:

This is not justice being served. There is no justice in the face of murder, and if there were, it certainly would not be found within the American carceral system. The verdict stemming from this trial will not stop the violence and oppression Black people face at the hands of an over-policed country.

“Black people don’t need reminders that Chauvin’s guilty verdict doesn’t mean the fight is over. It’s okay to celebrate small victories.”

These truths are not at odds with each other. They can, and will, co-exist.

Take a moment today to celebrate George Floyd and his beautiful family. Keep his little daughter in your mind and hearts. If you want to feel a bit of relief that at least one person was found guilty for their hateful, heinous crime—please do so. And then remember that it was just one person. Remember that if you are an ally and an accomplice, you must not stop learning. You must not stop fighting for real justice.

Accountability for police killings is rare:

Since 2005, 140 law enforcement officers have been arrested for on-duty manslaughter and murder. Only 8—5%—have been convicted.

And that doesn’t account for the 98% of police killings where there were no arrests for murder or manslaughter.

Black people are three times more likely to be killed by police

And then yesterday, roughly one hour after Nancy Pelosi thanked George Floyd for “sacrificing” his “life for justice,” police in Columbus, Ohio shot and killed 16-year-old Ma'Khia Bryant.

That is not what justice looks like.

Rest in power, George Floyd.

Rest in power, Ma’Khia Bryant.

16 year old Mikayla Miller was killed by 5 white teenagers and her body was strung from a tree. Despite this obviously being a racist, homophobic hate crime (Miller had broken up with her girlfriend a while before) the Hopkinton, MA police station refused to do a proper investigation or file a report. When Mikayla’s mom questioned the police, they threatened to release Mikayla’s sexuality to the press. 

Here is the link to a petition to get the District Attorney to look into the case:

https://secure.everyaction.com/9MnHP9OMREyLq4oeg7pH0A2

And here are some sources

Please sign and reblog so justice can be gotten for this child and her family. 

Wow

What else can you say....except for wow? I dont think I need to say anything here. I didn't even read the whole post nor do I want. This is so...blatantly racist and biphobic....just.....wow. What else can I say?

You dug your own grave. Lie in it. Heartshapedcreaturefromcriptoon, everyone.

Fire, Death, Light, Dark. There are many such abilities beholden to the Awakened. Those powerful souls who can command a fundamental force of nature with their will alone. There are thousands of us, an underground society operating even to this day, under the guise of governmental organizations and secret agents. Some of us are hired guns, sought out to bring down oppressive regimes – at least on paper. Many hone their abilities through such work. Others try their hardest to help those who need it. Some of us, though, hunt down our fellows who break the laws of the Covenant, an ancient document made by the First Council of the Awakened, to bind us all and keep us secret. Those hunters are called the Vyadha

I’m one of the latter; day to day, I’m a private investigator in sunny Miami, but once in a while, a next-to-unused fax machine (which is unlisted and even unplugged) will spring to life and print out my next target. A picture, a name, and some basic information will be printed out and I’m to hunt them down, wherever they be, all costs assured. Who finds out what they did, who sends the commands, no one knows. It’s the job of the Vyadha to hunt them down, and to recruit other Awakened to serve as Vyadha; once they take the oath, they are bound to hunt down all who break the laws until they lay dying. Those who fail become the hunted.

It was one boring Tuesday in the middle of November when the fax machine did just what it does, printed out the face of an attractive twenty-something boy. Long, unkempt but clean blonde hair, blue eyes, a well-defined jawline, and dressed in some combination of black and leather. The name and aliases read as follows.

ALEKSANDER KUZNETSOV

“The Bright One, Sunspot, The Light of God”

Twenty-two, Russian origin, currently hiding out in Crimea. You know what to do.

I looked at his face again. I didn’t know him, but then again, I didn’t need to, to know what he was. I looked closely at his face, and I saw it in his eyes. He wasn’t just one of the hired soldiers, he was one of the “Razbudili Rebenka”, the child soldiers that saw use in the latter days of the Soviet Union, whose use continued into the late twentieth century by the disenfranchised pieces of the disbanded country. When their use became a risk to secrecy, they were killed by their handlers, soldiers who were unawakened. Even against the powers of nature, a single bullet can take our lives just as easily.

I’d guess he probably killed his handler. I wonder if he had even met one of his own kind. I wondered if it would have made a difference. Probably not; it was too late for him, regardless.

Getting up from my seat, I picked up my overcoat and put it on, looking in a mirror. An aged face looked back. I’d been at this for a long time. I was born in 1973, a child of a poor German-Jewish immigrant, whose parents had moved here to avoid the Nazis, and a black woman, and for the first fifteen years of my life I was happy enough. Then, they came.

The Erwechter Henker, a sect of Awakened Neonazis who sought to kill all awakened bloodlines from ‘lesser races’. They tracked down my father and struck. An awakened whose powers were to control fire burned our house down, killing my father, asleep in bed, my mother taking me and running outside. The awakened who had burned down the house was waiting outside with a group of unawakened. They took pleasure in beating me and my mother until I lay dying and my mother dead. That was when it happened, my powers awakened, the bloodline coming alive like fire devouring my blood.

My power is a rare one; the ability to affect matter with my mind. I can agitate it, move it, pressurize it, among other things. Within seconds I’d boiled the unawakened’s brains within their skulls, and shattered the bones in the awakened’s arms and legs. Unable to move, and therein unable to use his abilities, I took my pleasure slowly forcing all his blood into his head until it popped like an overripe cherry. I was sixteen years old.

I’m not ashamed of what I did that night; swearing to never let this kind of man do what he did ever again, I buried my family and left that night, to hunt down the rest of the Erwechter. Thanks to my efforts, their sect will never take root in America ever again. That took a decade and a half to do. By the end of it, I had burned every bridge in my life. I had no family; fascists had taken all that from me. It was then that he came to me, a Vyadha calling himself Jack the Reaper. His power, to control darkness, was used to hunt down Nazis across South America, to inspire terror in them before they died. He was near ninety when he came to me.

It was night, and I was drunk, aimlessly wandering around the streets in the dark, when he approached. He was dressed in a suit and overcoat, looking every bit the sophisticate. I looked like a vagrant, mostly because I was. I had no money, no goals – I had done everything I’d sought out to do.

“You are lost,” he spoke, his voice overlaid with a subtle German accent. “You are better than this, herr Abner.”

I looked at him closely, wondering if he was a spy of some sort. “Are you one of them?”

He shook his head at this. “Do not ever mistake me for one of those shizcoff.”

“Then who-“

“I am like you. I am Erwecht, Awakened,” he interrupted me. “I have spent my life hunting down the scum that have robbed us of our families, and I knew your grandfather and father before they came to America. I had heard he had a son.”

I nodded to this, it making sense even in my relatively inebriated state.

“He was a good man. I am sorry to hear what happened to him. I’m sorry that this is the fate that has befallen you; your vengeance was justified, but it should not have cost you the life you could have lived.”

I nodded again, accepting his statement. I’d have been lying if I had not thought the same thing, many times.

“I am here to offer you a chance at a new life; I am Vyadha, of the ancient order of hunters who destroy those who would break our laws. One such as the Erwechter Henker, and many such groups across the world. I have come to offer you the oath to join. It is a lifelong commitment, and should not be taken lightly.”

Here he paused, thinking for a moment. “I do not have much time left, myself. I have spent my years hunting much the same chaff as you, sending them to whatever awaits them. You can continue my work.”

From there, he handed me a piece of paper with a phone number on it, as well as a cell-phone, something somewhat rarer at the time.

I did not call right away. I continued to wander, the thought never leaving my mind.

But, one night, that changed. Two weeks later, I was taking the subway downtown, and came across a scene. Two muggers assaulting a black woman, calling her several slurs along the way. What charming fellows, with Celtic crosses and swastikas tattooed on their necks and the backs of their heads. I shouted at them, and one of them turned to me, drawing a gun. “What do you want, shitskin?” he asked, pointing the gun at my head.

“Leave her alone.” I stated, calmly. It wasn’t the first time a neonazi had pointed a gun at me. Wasn’t even the dozenth, or even the dozenth dozen.

He laughed, drawing back the hammer on the pistol. “Nah, I think I’ll kill you. Then-“ he gestured at the woman, “Me and my friend will do what we want to her.”

“No, I don’t think you will,” I said, this time cracking a smile.

“And why’s that, you n-“ he stopped as I broke his hand with my mind, dragging it down, and causing the gun to discharge into his foot. Screaming in pain, I picked him up by the throat with one hand, and threw him bodily into his friend. I nod with my head, indicating the woman to leave the station, as I did what I always do to Nazis. Leaving behind quite the gory mess, I pulled the phone out, and dialed the number. The voice on the other end was familiar. “Have you made your decision?”

Looking down at the corpses of my attempted murderers, I answered, “Yeah, I think I have.”

Two days later, I met him in central park. “I used my connections to get the investigations against you to stop,” said Jack, holding a lit cigarette. “Two men dead to gang-related activities, I am afraid.”

We both stop to laugh a little. “What do I need to do?”

He tossed me a silver knife and a piece of parchment with writing on it. “Cut your hand and say the words aloud. That is all that need be done.”

Drawing the blade across my hand, I read the paper.

“I swear on the Powers that Be to honor the first covenant, to hunt down the enemies of life itself, and to keep the secrets of the First Council. I swear this on my life, on the lives of my ancestors, and the power passed through blood. On this day, until my last day, I swear.”

I felt something change – like my awakening, but stronger. Pain, yes, but almost in a good way. Like a cleansing. “It is good to meet another Vyadha,” said Jack, “Welcome, brother Abner.”

That all seemed so long ago. Jack took me under his wing for a few years, introducing me to his contacts and other awakened, like us. But in 2006, at the age of 95, he died peacefully in his sleep, and I made sure he was buried with his dead family in Germany.

He left me a tidy sum, secret bank accounts holding liquid assets nearing a half a million dollars. Funds stolen from Nazis he had hunted.

Now, in the present, I boarded the first plane I could get to Ukraine, calling in favors from some of my contacts for information on the target. He was indeed of the Rebenka, and had indeed killed his handler. He was famous for his abilities, to channel light into his body and out through his hands. The effect could be anything from creating fire to blowing apart a building, depending on the strength of the light and his own desires.

I rued the fact that Jack had died so long ago, his ability to extinguish light would have come in handy in this venture. But, there are other ways to handle this.

Arriving in Ukraine, I was met by one of my contacts, an elderly woman who had lived through worse regimes than the modern Russians and had been a friend to Jack. She brought me to her son, a mechanic who had helped me and Jack in the past. War-torn countries are often havens for Awakened seeking to escape world governments. He gave me a vehicle, I took out a fake passport – one that claimed I was a reporter from the states – and set out for Crimea.

Within a day’s drive, I was in Crimea, and trying to figure out where Aleksander was. I hoped he’d been making a scene, but, as I knew was likely, he’d gone underground. It took a week of searching before I even heard of someone matching his description.

He’d fallen in with a gang in Sevastopol, who had protected him in exchange for his services as a ‘peacekeeper’, an enforcer who hunted down rival gangs. I tracked him to a club, called P’yana Svolota, and kept a close eye on the door, before following him into the club, wearing a thick hood and gloves. A black man in Crimea would stand out like a sore thumb. And there he was – dressed in the leather he seemed to like so much, attempting to woo a dancer – and by woo, I mean he was snorting coke out of her bra. He was laughing and chatting up a couple of suspicious-looking gents in suits in Russian. I couldn’t make a scene, killing him here. I’d probably kill him before he could do anything, but I’d most likely get shot for my trouble. I listened to their conversation.

“I want my salary doubled,” he said, sniffling a little.

“You’re already the highest-paid employer in our service,” said one of the men in suits. “We can’t justify paying you more – despite your valued service.”

Laughing, Aleksander brushed his blonde hair away from his face, and began again, “I don’t think you understand, I’m not asking – I’m telling you what I want, and you give it to me, or I drop more bodies than just your enemies.”

“The boss will hear about this,” said the other man, “You can’t just go making threats like this –“

“I can and I will, you mat’ shlyukhoy,”

The two men in suits stood up and walked out, and I watched as he pushed the dancer away roughly and got up, going to the bathroom. I followed.

Inside the dingy, graffiti-laden bathroom, I stood a couple urinals away from him and when he went to wash his hands at the pair of sinks, and I joined him at the other.

“Hey, man,” I said in English.

“What do you want?” he responded in an accent-laden English.

I turned to him and used my powers to throw him into the wall.

“Sukin syn!” he exclaimed, followed by a stream of likewise vulgar slurs.

Aiming a hand towards me, I dodged out of the way as a burst of flame went from his hand to the far wall, nearly taking me out. Using my abilities, I pinned his arms against the wall, and he responded by shooting light out of every bare bit of skin he had – brighter than a flashbang. Losing my concentration, he dropped to the floor, diving towards me while I was blinded. Recovering quickly, I used my abilities to turn off the lights in the room.

Remembering what Jack had taught me about fighting in the dark. Guard on all sides. Use your other senses, he had told me, be prepared for a strike from any side, but if both you and your opponent are on equal footing, make sure to face wherever they are coming from.

I drew from my pocket a switchblade that I had bought on the trip here, knowing telekinesis would be less than useless without my sight to guide it. I heard his footsteps as he ran towards me, and threw myself forward in a tackle.

Unfortunately, I dropped my knife. We grappled on the floor, and I heard sounds from outside, shouting. As I pinned Aleksander, the door slammed open, spilling light into the room. I rolled off of Aleksander as he blasted a beam of light from his bare hands, at what would have been me, but striking the ceiling. Finding the knife, I crouched as he rolled backwards, throwing himself forward into a standing position. Firing blast after blast at me as I dodged as fast as I could, I got closer and closer to him. A blast grazed my arm, melting cloth and burning flesh, painful but survivable.

Finally, I stabbed the knife through his right hand, causing him to scream in pain. Though he was trained in hand-to-hand, he was mostly a ranged opponent and was unused to physical pain in combat. Pulling the knife out quickly as he tried to blast me again, I drove the knife home, slicing through leather and into his right lung. A scream becoming a gurgling gasp as the lung collapsed, I knocked him off his feet, and finished the job, slicing across his throat. I turned and saw the man standing in the doorway, trying to draw his gun, but it was already too late. I threw him out of the doorway with my mind, ran outside and got back into my loaned truck, and drove.

It took me a week, three cars and a couple thousand dollars, but I made it back to the States, and to my house. Taking a beer from the fridge, I relaxed into my chair, and turned on the television. A rerun of Friends was playing. Taking a sip, I closed my eyes and let out a groan. My bandaged arm still hurt like hell. Then, the fax machine in the corner began to beep and print again.

There are many types of Mages in the world. Fire, Ice, Wind, Water, Death, Darkness, to name a few. But in this world, every type of mage is treated as equal. Everyone can be a good guy, no matter how dark your power. And anyone could be a bad guy, no matter how beautiful their ability…

ppl pulling the 'just let people enjoy Wizard Game' are often met with 'JKR funds anti-trans groups!' and that's. entirely true. but doesn't actually go far enough.

like if you're on team Let People Enjoy Wizard Game hey. did you know. that in my city RIGHT NOW JKR is sole funder and key board member of an unregulated private agab-policed rape crisis shelter set up specifically to Own The Transes

and which now sits on several gendered violence prevention boards alongside representatives from the (publicly funded and accountable) existing Rape Crisis Centre, against the staff of which her friends and followers have been involved in a years-long harassment campaign purely and explicitly because they run trans-inclusive support services and bc their CEO is a trans woman of colour.

(my friend works there and the pure volume of transphobic harassment has caused several long standing members of staff to quit. which I'm really fucking angry about bc I would not be here today if the Edinburgh Rape Crisis Centre hadn't been there to help me)

and that on those boards they're known for supporting increased police harassment and approaches that disproportionately criminalise trans people, unhoused people and sex workers and provably don't positively impact the issue of gendered violence.

what I'm saying is that yes JKR funds anti-trans groups but she is also pretty directly involved in materials worsening conditions for vulnerable people at a local and personal level too!!!! she's running an unregulated crisis shelter out of spite and using that to legitimise her political lobbying!!!!!! fuck you!

CPD just killed a fifteen year old child.

STOP ASIAN VIOLENCE

As an Asian, I feel like I have the need to speak out, but there might not be a lot of people who see this. So please, if you can, reblog for me. we need to spread the information.

70.9% of 2808 reported incidents are verbal harassment

21.4% of 2080 reported incidents are shunning

8.7% are physical assault

8% are workplace discrimination or refusal of service

6.4% are coughed/spat on

and these are only REPORTED CASES (March - December 2020)

Here are some reported attacks from around May 2021

An 84-year-old Thai immigrant in San Francisco, California, died in February after being violently shoved to the ground during his morning walk

In Oakland, California, a 91-year-old senior was shoved to the pavement from behind

An 89-year-old Chinese woman was slapped and set on fire by two people in Brooklyn, New York

Two Asian American women were stabbed at a San Francisco bus stop; eyewitness reports say the assailant "casually walked away in broad daylight"

An Asian man walking with his 1-year-old child in a stroller in San Francisco was punched in the head and back multiple times

A stranger on the New York subway slashed a 61-year-old Filipino American passenger's face with a box cutter

An Asian American woman in New York City was struck in the head with a hammer by an unidentified assailant who demanded that she remove her mask

Asian American restaurant employees in New York City told the New York Times they now always go home early for fear of violence and harassment

An Asian American butcher shop owner in Sacramento, California found a dead cat - likely intended for her - left in the store's parking lot; police are investigating it as a hate crime

An Asian American family celebrating a birthday at a restaurant in Carmel, California, was berated with racist slurs by a Trump-supporting tech executive

Several Asian Americans homeowners say they've been abused with racial slurs and had rocks thrown at their houses

The only Asian American lawmaker in the Kansas legislature says he was physically threatened in a bar by a patron who accused him of carrying the coronavirus

New York police arrested a man who assaulted a woman during a protest against anti-Asian racism

A grieving family received a hateful letter on the day of their father's funeral, telling them to "pack your bags and go back to your country where you belong"

A school board candidate of Vietnamese descent in Portland, Oregon, found a note with the words "Kung Flu" on her doorstep

A medical worker of Filipino descent in Los Gatos, California was shoved to the ground from behind by an assailant who told her to "go back to [expletive] China"

A Thai woman was brutally beaten and robbed of her phone while commuting on a train in San Francisco

These incidents are best explained by the "widespread omission" of Asian Americans within cultural conversations, according to Amanda Nguyen, an activist, and the founder of the Rise civil rights not-for-profit organization.

Of the 832 incidents reported in California, many included anti-Asian slurs and references to China and the coronavirus. One assailant yelled about "bringing that Chinese virus over here" during an attack against an Asian-American man at a San Francisco hardware store on May 6. The assailant reportedly also said "Go back to China," "F*ck you, Chinaman" and "F*ck you, you monkey." In Santa Clara on June 16, a man kicked a woman's dog and then spat at her, saying, "Take your disease that's ruining our country and go home."

Asian American families shouldn't be worrying about returning back to school, buying groceries, working, and so on, in their country. They shouldn't be worrying about their family going on a morning walk and not coming back.

"These are real people just living their lives and encountering this kind of hate,"

Here are some videos I found, if you have time, please watch the videos.

Asian Americans Speak Out: Countering the Rise in Anti-Asian Hate

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OkWrZ0K7Wr0

'Go back to your own country': Asians face racism during the pandemic

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zR80lLDcG6E

Asian American community battles surge in hate crimes stirred from COVID-19

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sJCactTaEfY

Yes, black lives STILL matter. Yes, LGBTQ+'s rights still matter. But I feel like we are overlooking the Asian Hate.

BLM, LGBTQ+, Asian Hate, women's rights, and more. They're NOT a trend, and I DESPISE those people who see these as a trend to get more fame. We are all in this together, there's no race in this pandemic. The virus isn't racist, you won't get the virus BECAUSE you are white, you won't get the virus BECAUSE you are black. Skin colors do NOT matter to the virus, so why should they matter to us? If we want to end this pandemic, we need to fight TOGETHER.

Thank you for spending your time reading this. Please, if you can, reblog.

information source:https://www.bbc.com/news/world-us-canada-56218684

so can we start hunting down white liberals now or what

Brief overview of what it means to be Me/Na

I feel bad for clogging up people’s dashboards with this type of discourse every couple of days (even if I know it’s not my doing) instead of posting content, which is what people followed me for (honestly kinda discouraging when this is most of what I see when I log on here). Plus I’m honestly getting tired of addressing this over and over again. So here you go, one last post to put this all to rest, hopefully you’ll learn something new from this. I won’t be responding to any anons like this after this post. 

Here’s a couple of things anons have said about me where I just chose to block them and then move on with my day:

(got this masterpiece a while ago over a ship of all things, Arabic is a language not an ethnicity sweetheart)

(not really much to say here, I’ll give them the benefit of the doubt and assume they didn’t know my nationality. Still disgusting)

I even got one that I refuse to share on here out of respect for myself and other POC (involved a racial slur pertaining to another race, honestly hats off to you for being creatively the worst human being imaginable). One moment I’m called racial slurs, the next I’m not even acknowledged for my ethnicity. So which is it? Tell me anons, am I a goat fucker or a white cracker, hm? 

Actually I’ll answer that one for you, since you seem to be lacking some cogs up in your noggin.

I doubt many people have heard of the term Mena. Hell, I myself was introduced to it not too long ago, and I’m Mena. That tells you a lot already about the erasure of my culture in western societies.

Mena simply stands for Middle eastern and North African, which most people generalize as “Arabs” which isn’t entirely accurate considering the fact that Iran is a middle eastern country but not an Arab state.

As you can see, there are a lot of countries that fall under the umbrella term Mena. The amazing geographical advantage this area held led to colonization. Colonization dates centuries back in time, speaking for my homeland Egypt, we’ve been subject to colonization dating back to Ancient Egypt. First came the Greeks, then the Romans, then with the introduction of Islamic rule came an era of medieval dynasties originally from Saudi Arabia ending with the rise of the Mamluk sultanate which was composed of several tribes and groups of nomadic Turks. Then came the ottoman empire which reigned for over 5 centuries, with some interference from the French around the 1790′s which lasted about two decades, until modern-era Egypt which was under British imperialism. It’s important to note that pre-modern era, the main ethnic group in north Africa were called the Berbers (there are other names used to refer to them), who had pale skin despite their black ancestors, yet still had distinctly different features compared to western and north European Caucasians. 

This is all speaking about one fucking country, and I didn’t even go into detail to save time. Do you people not realize the ethnic diversity in the middle east and north Africa? 

Generally speaking we’ve had European influences (British and French colonization), Euro-Hispanic influences (Portugal and Spain colonization), a large number of countries have typically Persian features (mostly in the Persian gulf and Iran). I haven’t even scratched the surface here.

With all this ethnic diversity you can now clearly see the need for an umbrella term to house the variety of ethnic groups and sub-groups here. Mena is no way, shape or form a good indicative of the ethnic background of each specific area but it’s a fucking start. 

When people from North Africa, the middle east or southwest Asia migrate, they have to legally write down that they’re white or some other race because there’s no option for us. I mean shit, I got called white twice on here, even though the third thing on my about me page is literally my nationality. It’s erasure.

I can’t even begin to describe how empty I feel regarding all of this; getting degraded because of my race when it’s convenient and getting my whole ethnic identity disregarded when it’s convenient. 

I know as someone with a pale skin tone, I have it way easier than other Mena who have darker skin colors, I wont sit here and try to pretend that colorism doesn’t exist. Because it does, and it’s disgusting. But at least have the common decency to address me correctly, I can’t count the amount of times I’ve mentioned my ethnicity/nationality and waited with baited breath for some sort of insult. 

Before you make baseless assumptions about me, please at the very least take two seconds out of your day to check the link in my description. It’s there for a reason. 

The Minneapolis police are back to publicly being terrorists now that George Floyd’s death is out of the media cycle.

Directly from the article:

Bayle Adod Gelle was deep in sleep late Wednesday night at his home in Eden Prairie when he heard loud banging on the door.

The intensity of the sound at 2:15 a.m. left Bayle confused. He trudged down the stairs from his second-floor bedroom. As soon as he reached the living room, he found his wife there—surrounded by more than a dozen officers from the Hennepin County Sheriff’s Office. The officers allegedly pointed their guns at him and his wife, Bayle said, and then tied their hands tightly with a cord.

Awakened by the bangs and commotion, three children—ages 4, 7, and 9— joined their parents in the living room. Officers allegedly pointed guns at them, too, Bayle said.

“I felt very scared,” Bayle said in an interview with Sahan Journal at his home Thursday evening, some 14 hours after the police raid. “I thought they were going to kill us.”

The police search felt like it took forever—maybe two hours, he said. Bayle kept asking the officers who they were and why they’d come to his house. (In the end, the police appear to have found nothing, and took no evidence with them, Bayle said.)

They told him “shut up,” he recalled.

Bayle said the officers ransacked the house and never showed him a search warrant— until the end. That’s when they told him his son had been killed.

Bayle said that until that moment, he had no idea that nearly 8 hours earlier Minneapolis Police officers had fatally shot his 23-year-old son, Dolal Bayle Idd, in an altercation at a Holiday gas station in south Minneapolis. It was the first police killing in Minneapolis since Officer Derek Chauvin killed George Floyd about a dozen blocks away.

Here’s the full article

they had to move out of their house on new year’s eve to a nearby mosque.

please share, I haven’t seen anyone talking about this