[Imc-omaha-editorial] California murders Tookie

[RAH j]

This is from the San Francisco Bayview, a Black
newspaper. One of the
better articles I've read on Tookie. (The writer
seems to be a Muslim...I
wrote her a note of thanks.)
-NS

California murders Tookie

by Wanda Sabir

It was a "No Cookie, Cookie," Bilal Sabir's
famous dessert guaranteed to
hit the spot - but somehow it missed this time.
The occasion - post
state-sponsored murder, a situation not
necessarily good for the appetite.
I think the inclination was the linguistic
affinity - Tookie … Cookie.
Comfort food for the political upset once I
arrived home from San Quentin
Dec. 13 at 2:30 a.m.

I still can't believe it. Maybe if I refuse to
watch the news or turn on
the radio for a few hours, don't open the door or
buy a newspaper, I can
pretend it was all a nightmare and wait for the
sun to rise again and then
again until the wrong is righted, what's done is
undone. But I was there.
At 12:01, I remembered Stan Williams on the other
side of the hill, one
covered in uniformed men, riot gear on, poised
and ready for trouble as
reinforcements in helicopters circled overhead,
often drowning out the
speakers.

The scene was surreal and a bit too artificially
bright to be real. The
usual folks tried to sell me a paper, quiz me
about the death penalty;
still others asked for my phone number. I don't
know why young white
anarchists assume every African person is in need
of political education.


Shadows walking back to cars after the execution
I ignore the bright
lights, fake smiles, sympathetic yet clueless
looks of empathy as news
anchor in red suit blocks my view, her blonde
hair unruffled, matching
lipstick a slick smear where lips meet, her media
techs pushy and
territorial. White privilege spraying the air
like Raid, I try to stay
focused and remember the life about to be
terminated just because certain
people have the power to do so. This makes the
scenario in front of me
even more unpalatable. Why all the lights? Why
all the noise? Why all the
fanfare now that a man's life is about over?

If this spectacle were not reason enough for
every sane person to register
and vote, I'm not certain what might be a better
one. Over 2,000 people
were there, the speaker's list lengthy, and
except for the children who
spoke and then read from Tookie's books, most of
the talk was the tired
rhetoric of the past which up to now has
benefited everyone except the
ones it's supposed to help.

I was surprised to see so many people I knew,
like Marina Drummer, Kamil
Jabril, JR, Donald Lacy, Angela Davis, Fania
Davis, Heru Nefera Amen,
Sandra McGee, Kwami Yephet, Marcel Diallo ….
Most, like me hadn't come to
any other executions, but this one was different.


Barbara Becnel and Rudy Langlais at Sunday's
screening of "Redemption"
Not in our name, a slogan made popular at the
start of the Iraq war, took
on additional meaning as each of us silently
considered the language of
capital punishment: "The people of the state of
California …."

Unless one consciously disassociates herself from
the acts of terror
committed on her behalf, then silence equals
complicity. "Ignorance of the
law," as we're told, "is no excuse." Neither is
ignorance of harm
committed by such laws in one's name by elected
officials, whether they
were the representatives of one's choice or not.

Allah says in the Qur'an not to stand idly by and
allow wrong to be
committed. The first or best resistance is to
stop it with one's hand, the
second is to stop it with one's mouth and the
third to leave the place
where the wrong is committed.

Resistance is an active word, and so is change,
both transitive. Both
attach themselves to an object, something
concrete, something measurable,
something visible, and in the process make it
into something else … we
hope, something better.

Tookie's thinking changed and when that changed,
so did his life. This
change is seen in the choices he made to eschew
negative actions and to be
a man of peace.

At one point I thought democracy belonged to all
Americans, the same with
justice. Tookie's death is evidence to the
contrary, the two - justice and
democracy - are owned by white men in business
suits who run the world and
control many people in it.

But not for long.

It was 12:15 … "take a deep breath," someone
advised. "Sometimes it takes
10-15-20 minutes before we know what's going on."
These were veterans
around me. One woman ran down the procedures for
her friend.

12:20 … Life is ended so quickly, yet takes so
long to live - 24 years, 51
years, gone just like that.

It was the same argument … safer streets.
Remember the victims. We do
remember the victims, especially those of us who
are victims. My nephew
was murdered three-four years ago, another San
Francisco unsolved murder -
21 years old, shot in the head.

Murder is wrong no matter who commits the wrong.

Tookie professed his innocence to his grave; and
to substantiate this, new
evidence was revealed just Saturday from a former
inmate of the LA county
jail which incriminates the LA Sheriff's
Department.

Nothing has changed, except now Black men don't
have to get off the
sidewalk and walk in the street, their eyes down,
when a white person
walks by.

"Stay peaceful … hold onto Tookie's legacy (of
peace)" came from the stage.

Tookie stated just before his death that he was
okay, that his conscience
was clear," Brother Fred Jackson, project
coordinator for the Internet
Project for Street Peace, shared. I'd just seen
Brother Fred yesterday at
the screening of "Redemption" sponsored by
Oakland Councilwoman Desley
Brooks' office.

Tookie called in to speak to us. Executive
producer Rudy Langlais was
there too. We were all so hopeful. Desley told me
about victory parties
planned, and when I spoke to Sister Barbara
Cottman Becnel, co-author of
the anti-gang and violence books she and Tookie
authored, she smiled and
invited me for an interview once he was granted
clemency or a stay.

"We're going to stay calm," Brother Fred
continued as still another voice
joined his. "I know you're angry; we'll all
angry, but we're going to stay
calm.

The recitation of Tookie's words helped me stay
mindful about the reason
for the gathering.

Minister Keith Muhammad called Tookie a scientist
of social change. I had
a déjà vu moment as he spoke: Saturday morning
MGT classes at Temple 26 in
San Francisco. Recitation of the Actual Facts,
Student Enrollment Lessons
and discussions from "Message to the Black Man."
I always wondered when
the "Lesson to the Black Women" was going to be
written, until Shaharazad
Ali wrote hers. I'll have to write it myself.
Just as Tookie wrote his.

Each of us is responsible for his or her life.
The answer lies inside each
of us. We need to stop throwing away our power.
Greatness fills many
landfills.

While many people prayed for a California
moratorium against the death
penalty through Jan. 1, 2009, a bill authored by
Assemblyman Paul Koretz,
about to have a legislative hearing next month, a
week behind the next
scheduled execution - this time of Clarence Ray
Allen - a lone voice
shouted and cursed the night, and soon even that
voice was silenced at
12:25 a.m. as we began to wonder what was going
on.

The helicopters flew closer as we waited
information about Brother Stan.
Was he still alive?

"Don't kill in my name," a sign read. "Blessed
are the Peacemakers,"
another stated. "It's our ancestral territory …"
a man whispered angrily.
"If we're going to do something, why not do
something!"

I looked around at the potential guns pointed at
us and where I could move
if people went stupid.

At 12:34 we sang a Native American healing song.

At 12:35, Stanley Tookie Williams was dead. The
state of California had
murdered him.

A man whose greeting was the Swahili term Amani,
or peace, was gone. What
a waste, his loss incalculable now or ever.

I felt like the brothers and sisters must have
felt when faced by lynch
mobs - the barbecue for the day, their bodies. We
turned around and began
to the long walk back to the car. Crosses piled
on the ground made travel
hard, as did other discarded protest
paraphernalia.

The rowdy voices grew louder as the police
presence grew more visible. We
left the visitor's center location, the San
Francisco Bay a serene
contrast to the madness we'd just witnessed.

Email Wanda at wsab1 at aol.com.