The relative victory of Marissa is that she is the one who lived. And she lives precisely because she knew her life mattered. Even if no one else believed it to be so.
Connecting community violence to the movement for accountability for police brutality would help call attention to the disproportionate violence experienced by all kinds of black women, and girls and it would also create a space to more closely interrogate the detrimental aspects of police abdication on black communities.
For change to happen, we must focus our resources on mechanisms of support. There is another way forward that does not involve punishment or jail. It's time to stop criminalizing victims and provide help instead.
On January 27, domestic violence survivor Marissa Alexander will walk out of Florida's Duval County jail -- but she won't be free.
Many of the condemnations of police brutality have excluded the experiences of black women who have been brutalized in custody. The ongoing media blackout surrounding the case of 13 black women allegedly assaulted by a police officer in Oklahoma City may be the hardest evidence of the devaluation of African-American women's lives.
When someone we love is robbed from us, it feels like the world should stop. Actually, it does. For a moment. And we look around us, jealous that others are still living, working and being alive.
On Monday a grand jury chose not to indict Officer Darren Wilson, the white police officer who shot and killed Michael Brown, an unarmed black teenager, on a street in Ferguson, Missouri, in August. Innumerable people were immediately outraged, erupting in fury. The criminal justice system must be reformed to promote civil rights for African Americans.
The possibility of being imperfect -- of making mistakes -- without dire consequences is in some respects the very definition of privilege. For only some groups need to fear that they may trip the wire of state-sanctioned violence at any moment.
The dynamics of domestic violence are complex and changing them requires not just one thing to change, but many things simultaneously.
Of all the categories of victims who might justifiably agitate for more protection from the law, women facing down abusive partners in their own homes should be at the top of the list. And yet Stand Your Ground laws do nothing to help them. This is not by accident but by design.
At just 17 years old, Jordan Davis died with his back to his killer. He will not graduate college. He will not marry the love of his life. He will not...
I wonder if white America as a whole will ever be able to empathize with present-day struggle. Looking back with sympathy and indignation is easier than looking around, isn't it? I just wonder what are we looking toward.
A few days after giving birth, Florida woman Marissa Alexander was attacked by her allegedly abusive husband. She fired one warning shot, at the ceiling. No one was harmed. Alexander has no prior arrests. Marissa was sentenced to 20 years by the state of Florida.
As I observed how Jeantel had been eviscerated on social media -- by blacks and whites -- because of her excruciating testimony and her appearance (she was ridiculed for resembling Gabourey Sidibe's character in Precious), Zora Neale Hurston's ruminations on race sprang to mind.
It's clear we have a caste system in which certain people have no ground to stand on, and others are allowed to stand by whatever ground they happen to see. The question is, whose ground is it to defend?
As a minister, I want both reconciliation and justice. If you think there is no racism in this nation, you are willfully blind. If you believe there has been no progress towards racial justice, your eyes are not open.