back in michigan
Piece I did last semester.
"The Zionists—as distinguished from the people known as Jews—using, as someone put it, the “available political machinery,’’ i.e., colonialism, e.g., the British Empire—promised the British that, if the territory were given to them, the British Empire would be safe forever.,
But absolutely no one cared about the Jews, and it is worth observing that non-Jewish Zionists are very frequently anti-Semitic. The white Americans responsible for sending black slaves to Liberia (where they are still slaving for the Firestone Rubber Plantation) did not do this to set them free. They despised them, and they wanted to get rid of them.”
As of late, conversations about masculinity and meat eating have re-emerged, partially in response…
We drove up to the Covance facility discussing the strategic merit of the protest, and possible media coverage and messaging, but that all fell into silence and became utterly insignificant when we saw the horror behind their fences. I expected to be pulling up to a building that hid the primates behind concrete walls; instead, the nightmare in which the primates live was shockingly visible. Standing behind a barbed wire electrified fence bearing signs that warned against bringing cameras into the facility were rows and rows of cages—at least hundreds, maybe thousands—for as far as we could see. We all went silent, and as what I was seeing sank in more, I gasped and my hand flew to my mouth. Suzanna, the dog traveling with us, started whimpering. Even she knew something was very wrong.
We got out of the car to stand closer to the fence and look at the cages, barren and so far away from the forests from which the monkeys were kidnapped and torn away from their families. We heard a monkey scream, and I felt the cry reach inside me and tear me apart in a way that still makes me feel numb in knowing that I can’t even begin to imagine the terror that the monkeys experience—and in knowing that the terror has just begun for them. As awful and lonely as the cages look, they are a sanctuary compared to the scalpels, needles, and restraint devices that await the monkeys in laboratories. I held onto Suzanna as I listened to the screaming monkey, and I wished that my protective arms wrapped around her could be felt by all of the animals before me.