The Remix

If someone says something that you know to be wrong, say something. Push back on it. Iran didn't start this war. They haven't been at war with the US for forty seven years. The US didn't have to support Israel's strikes with this kind of escalation (we haven't in the past, in fact Trump hasn't in the past). The Iranian people are not looking to the US as liberators. The Strait of Hormuz was always going to be used tactically in this way, it is absurd to suggest that the Iran would open it because it is the single best method of leverage they have to resist annihilation from a superpower. Bombing civilian infrastructure is a war crime. Saying that an entire culture will be destroyed is genocidal.

There is no moral reason for the US to do this, the reasons that the US is doing this are oil and to destabilize the region. Hubris, cruelty, and a vile old man who wants to give himself a hero's legacy play a part as well.

You should be saying out loud to the people around you "This war is unjust, unnecessary, and cruel, and every reason our leaders are giving us to tell us why we're doing it is a lie."

There is no justification for bombing water and power infrastructure for ninety million people; that will kill thousands of civilians and is a war crime.

Iran was bombed while they were negotiating with the countries that bombed them; they were willing to make the agreements requested by the US and Israel before they were bombed.

The Strait was open in February. If the US and Israel hadn't attacked Iran there would have been no reason for Iran to close it.

At least hit the shiny repost button if you're going to do nothing else. This should not stand.

Israeli civilians are civilians. This is unpersoning and it's evil.

Here's what the World Central Kitchen has to say about the people it lost in Gaza:

"Today we pause to remember seven members of the World Central Kitchen family killed in Gaza on April 1, 2024: Saifeddin Issam Ayad Abutaha, John Chapman, Jacob Flickinger, Zomi Frankcom, Jim Henderson, James Kirby, and Damian Soból.

They were more than colleagues. They were humanitarians, teammates, and friends who believed deeply in the power of a meal to bring comfort, dignity, and hope in the hardest moments.

Two years later, their absence is still deeply felt.

“We will never forget the seven members of our WCK family who were killed two years ago. They were the best of humanity, feeding people they didn’t know,” said WCK Founder José Andrés. “There was and never will be any excuse for the attacks on their convoy. We demand truth and justice for them, and for all the humanitarian workers who have been killed in Gaza. We mourn the loss of all lives in this war. Civilians must never be a target of any war.”

Grief does not follow a schedule. Some days it sits quietly in the background. Other days, like this one, it feels close and undeniable. For the WCK community around the world, today is a moment to reflect, to remember, and to honor who they were and what they stood for.

On that day, Israeli military airstrikes hit a clearly marked WCK convoy whose movements had been coordinated in advance. Seven lives were lost in an instant. The Israel Defense Forces acknowledged responsibility for the strike and admitted to grave errors. But full accountability remains incomplete. We continue to call for everyone responsible to be held to account. What happened to our colleagues must never happen again. The protection of humanitarian workers everywhere depends on it.

Even in the face of this loss, their legacy shapes everything we do.

It lives on in the meals our teams serve each day in Gaza and in communities around the world facing crisis. It lives on in the care our teams bring to every kitchen, every delivery, every interaction. And it lives on in the way we show up for one another, with compassion and a shared sense of purpose.

Our mission has always been simple: to feed people in times of crisis.

We carry Saifeddin, John, Jacob, Zomi, Jim, James, and Damian with us in our work, in our values, and in our commitment to one another and to the people we serve.

We will keep cooking. We will keep showing up. And we will honor our colleagues by doing the work they believed in."

Fuck off with this nonsense..every single Israeli are settlers who participate in genocide and ethnic cleansing

Department of Homeland Security has sent legal requests to Google, Reddit, Meta and Discord seeking the names, email addresses, phone numbers and other identifying information of users who track and criticize ICE.

This is what age verification laws lead to. If you would like to avoid this and avoid having to give companies your ID to access social media, please call your representatives to say No to KOSA and other age verification bills before the next vote Thursday, March 5.

You can also say no to repealing Section 230, which protects companies from being sued for what people say on their platforms. This bill was called the bill that "created the internet." Repealing it would lead to large self-censoring.

Here are the numbers for the House and Senate. If you don't know your rep, they can help direct you.

House 202-225-3121

Senate 202-224-3121

For script: https://www.badinternetbills.com/

The Sameer Project is currently running 2026 Ramadan campaign with the following goals:

Water: Buy Desalination Plant ($180,000)

Food: 100,000 meals for camps ($800,000)

Parcels: 5,000 Ramadan Packages ($200,000)

Ramadan Mubarak.

What should be a time for the people in Palestine to spend joyfully with their families is still a nightmare. Resources like food, water, and medicine are still scarce and bombs are still falling on children in tents.

If you have the means, please consider donating to my friend Hamza during his and his family’s time of need. They have had such a rough go of life, and could use the help, especially during the holiday. If you can’t donate please consider reblogging — everything is helpful!!

[X]

this happening in october is crazy, theres no way this will happen again haha

venmo: sleepisforlovers

and

I highly recommend watching this testimony from Aliya Rahman, the disabled woman who was dragged out of her car and kidnapped by ICE on her way to a doctor appointment in Minneapolis a few weeks ago.

Thank you members, for taking the time to be here today, and thank you staff for making this happen.

My name is Aliya Rahman, and I am a resident of South Minneapolis. I am a Bangladeshi American born in Northern Wisconsin. And I’m a disabled person with autism and a traumatic brain injury.

Not all autistic brains do this, but mine fixates on sounds, numbers, and patterns. And while what the world saw happen to me exactly three weeks ago today on video was a terrible violation it is still nothing compared to the horrific practices I saw inside the Whipple center.

So I am here today with a duty to the people who have not had the privilege of coming home, and I offer this data because these practices must end now.

On January 13th on the way to my 39th appointment at Hennepin County’s traumatic brain injury center, I encountered a traffic jam caused by ICE vehicles and no signs indicating how to get around it. I had not wanted to pull in to a blocked, chaotic intersection, but verbally agreed to do so and rolled down my window after an agent yelled, “Move! I will break your f-ing window!”

His first instruction.

Agents on all sides of my vehicle yelled conflicting threats and instructions that I could not process while watching for pedestrians.

Then, the glass of the passenger side window flew across my face.

I yelled, “I’m disabled!” at the hands grabbing at me and an agent said, “Too late.”

I felt immersed in a pattern, and I thought of Jenoah Donald, an autistic black man killed by the police during a traffic stop in 2021.

I remembered mister Silverio Villegas González, who was killed by ICE in his vehicle last year.

An agent pulled a large combat knife in front of my face, which I thought was for cutting me, and later learned was used to cut off my seat belt. Shooting pain went through my head, neck, and wrists when I hit the ground face first and people leaned on my back.

I felt the pattern, and I thought of mister George Floyd, who was killed four blocks away.

I was carried face down through the street by my cuffed arms and legs while yelling that I had a brain injury and was disabled. I now cannot lift my arms normally.

I was never asked for ID.

Never told I was under arrest.

Never read my rights.

And never charged with a crime.

Approaching the Whipple center, I saw black and brown bodies shackled together, chained together, being marched by yelling agents outdoors. I continued to hear the word “bodies”, because that is how agents referred to us:

“We’re bringing in a body.”

“They’re bringing in bodies 7, 8 at a time, where do I put ‘em?”

“We can’t use that room, there’s already a body in there.”

You have no reason to believe you will make it out alive if you’re already being called a body.

Agents repeatedly had to stop and ask how to do tasks. I received no medical screening, phone call, or access to a lawyer. I was denied a communication navigator when my speech began to slur. Agents laughed as I tried to immobilize my own neck. I asked for my cane and was told no, pulled up by my arms and prodded forward in leg irons by agents laughing and saying, “Walk! You can do it, walk.”

Agents did not know if the facility had a wheelchair.

When I was finally placed in one to be taken to interrogation an agent taunted, “You were driving, right? So your legs do work.”

I pleaded for emergency medical care for over an hour after my vision had become blurry, my heart rate went through the roof, and the pain in my neck and head became unbearable.

It was denied.

When I became unable to speak my cellmate pleaded for me.

The last sounds I remember before I blacked out on the cell floor were my cellmate banging on the door, pleading for a medic, and a voice outside saying, “We don’t wanna step on ICE’s toes.”

When I opened my eyes at Hennepin County’s emergency room, I learned I was brought there to be treated for assault.

The impacts of DHS detention on my physical, mental and financial well-being and safety have been very severe, but I do not deserve more humane treatment than anyone else, US citizen or not. And I am here today with a strong spirit and a duty to the many people who haven’t had the privilege to tell their stories or see their loved ones come home. I am extremely distressed by the pattern that violence from law enforcement has been happening to black and indigenous communities for centuries, and to DHS survivors for over 20 years.

We call ourselves a civilized nation, but we lack rules and accountability around what a person claiming to be law enforcement is permitted to do to another human being.

I highly recommend watching this testimony from Aliya Rahman, the disabled woman who was dragged out of her car and kidnapped by ICE on her way to a doctor appointment in Minneapolis a few weeks ago.

Thank you members, for taking the time to be here today, and thank you staff for making this happen.

My name is Aliya Rahman, and I am a resident of South Minneapolis. I am a Bangladeshi American born in Northern Wisconsin. And I’m a disabled person with autism and a traumatic brain injury.

Not all autistic brains do this, but mine fixates on sounds, numbers, and patterns. And while what the world saw happen to me exactly three weeks ago today on video was a terrible violation it is still nothing compared to the horrific practices I saw inside the Whipple center.

So I am here today with a duty to the people who have not had the privilege of coming home, and I offer this data because these practices must end now.

On January 13th on the way to my 39th appointment at Hennepin County’s traumatic brain injury center, I encountered a traffic jam caused by ICE vehicles and no signs indicating how to get around it. I had not wanted to pull in to a blocked, chaotic intersection, but verbally agreed to do so and rolled down my window after an agent yelled, “Move! I will break your f-ing window!”

His first instruction.

Agents on all sides of my vehicle yelled conflicting threats and instructions that I could not process while watching for pedestrians.

Then, the glass of the passenger side window flew across my face.

I yelled, “I’m disabled!” at the hands grabbing at me and an agent said, “Too late.”

I felt immersed in a pattern, and I thought of Jenoah Donald, an autistic black man killed by the police during a traffic stop in 2021.

I remembered mister Silverio Villegas González, who was killed by ICE in his vehicle last year.

An agent pulled a large combat knife in front of my face, which I thought was for cutting me, and later learned was used to cut off my seat belt. Shooting pain went through my head, neck, and wrists when I hit the ground face first and people leaned on my back.

I felt the pattern, and I thought of mister George Floyd, who was killed four blocks away.

I was carried face down through the street by my cuffed arms and legs while yelling that I had a brain injury and was disabled. I now cannot lift my arms normally.

I was never asked for ID.

Never told I was under arrest.

Never read my rights.

And never charged with a crime.

Approaching the Whipple center, I saw black and brown bodies shackled together, chained together, being marched by yelling agents outdoors. I continued to hear the word “bodies”, because that is how agents referred to us:

“We’re bringing in a body.”

“They’re bringing in bodies 7, 8 at a time, where do I put ‘em?”

“We can’t use that room, there’s already a body in there.”

You have no reason to believe you will make it out alive if you’re already being called a body.

Agents repeatedly had to stop and ask how to do tasks. I received no medical screening, phone call, or access to a lawyer. I was denied a communication navigator when my speech began to slur. Agents laughed as I tried to immobilize my own neck. I asked for my cane and was told no, pulled up by my arms and prodded forward in leg irons by agents laughing and saying, “Walk! You can do it, walk.”

Agents did not know if the facility had a wheelchair.

When I was finally placed in one to be taken to interrogation an agent taunted, “You were driving, right? So your legs do work.”

I pleaded for emergency medical care for over an hour after my vision had become blurry, my heart rate went through the roof, and the pain in my neck and head became unbearable.

It was denied.

When I became unable to speak my cellmate pleaded for me.

The last sounds I remember before I blacked out on the cell floor were my cellmate banging on the door, pleading for a medic, and a voice outside saying, “We don’t wanna step on ICE’s toes.”

When I opened my eyes at Hennepin County’s emergency room, I learned I was brought there to be treated for assault.

The impacts of DHS detention on my physical, mental and financial well-being and safety have been very severe, but I do not deserve more humane treatment than anyone else, US citizen or not. And I am here today with a strong spirit and a duty to the many people who haven’t had the privilege to tell their stories or see their loved ones come home. I am extremely distressed by the pattern that violence from law enforcement has been happening to black and indigenous communities for centuries, and to DHS survivors for over 20 years.

We call ourselves a civilized nation, but we lack rules and accountability around what a person claiming to be law enforcement is permitted to do to another human being.