I Was Punched And Pepper Sprayed By Cops That My University Administration Set On Student Protesters

I was punched and pepper sprayed by cops that my university administration set on student protesters yesterday. Including once where a cop ripped my mask off my face, grabbed my jaw, and sprayed pepper sprayed straight into my mouth. The university sent out an alert in the middle of our protest canceling classes for the rest of the day, only citing “adverse conditions”. After protesters dispersed under threat of even more violence and three buses of riot police from all over the state with rubber bullets and bully sticks parked in front of one our school’s famous landmarks. I staggered over to a couple of friends who were watching on the sidelines. They gave me water and an apple and held a bag of ice on my very pepper spray irritated face. As they were walking me back to my dorm we ran into one of their roommates. She had taken cancelled classes as an opportunity to get crumbl cookie with her friends. Standing in front of her, happy in a floral blouse with her box of cookies, in my pepper spray and water soaked tshirt, keffiyeh sadly hanging off my shoulder, holding an ice pack to my mouth, felt like a slap in the face.

After putting my pepper spray soaked clothes, shoes, and keffiyeh in a plastic bag and taking an extraordinarily painful shower, a friend and I went for dinner just off campus. There we had a pot of green tea and ramen to soothe pepper sprayed throats. We got ice cream after (shared a cup with chocolate and raspberry pomegranate with strawberry pieces on top, it was very good). From our spot outside the ice cream place we watched a steady stream of groups of sorority girls in matching jeans shorts and blue bikini tops walking back to their apartments after some apparently raucous parties. The cognitive dissonance was insane. I really felt a little like I was going crazy.

Even this morning, waking up to the smeared sharpie of the National Lawyer’s Guild’s phone number on my arm, a black and blue chest from where a grown man straight up clocked me while I was held up by two other protesters in a wall, and a still sore throat and eyes from the pepper spray, life goes on like normal. I still have final papers to write and a math exam to review for.

I’m not sure I really have a point. But, this feeling only makes me want to fight harder for a free Palestine. So, fuck Israel for being an apartheid state and all of their crimes over the last 76 years. Fuck university administration for not disclosing their level of investment in Israel. Fuck university administration for not divesting from this genocide. Fuck Joe Biden for actively supporting this genocide. And fuck the police.

Her name was Saly, she was five years old. She was like any child, she probably liked to play with her toys, she was probably learning to read, she probably like to spend time with her family and friends.

Maybe she would have been a doctor, or a farmer, or a engineer. Maybe she would have advanced the field of physics or medicine, written a best seller novel or stared in a major movie production; Or she might have had a quieter life, the world might have never known her name, but her friends and family would have and that might have been enough.

But no one will ever know now because Israel took those lives away from her, the tens of thousands of possibles that lay before each child burning like candle lights in cool summer night sniffed out in an instant. A last story shared by thousands of Palestinian children in Gaza.

At this point if you’re still defending her don’t interact with me in any way whatsoever. She knows her "apolitical" stance has hurt and disappointed people - especially her Palestinian/Muslim readers - and that she needs to do better but is actively choosing not to because she simply doesn't care!!! She knows EXACTLY what she's doing.

“Sexy Nina” commission for @gvartistsforpalestine . Donate to the Gaza families in this linktree and I’ll draw you whatever you want. The top three links are all friends of my friends.

I drew an aged up book!nina from her time at the White Orchid. For the clothes I was inspired by Dutch delft pottery, lacework, and a Russian Slavic 1800s peasant belt

My "favorite" part of the kat.aang from the comics was when Aang gave up searching for the missing Katara in order to convince ONE dude that the Avatar is not evil. Like... Man, your BELOVED is missing, maybe you could put her a little higher in your value system?

I also don't like how the rest of the Gaang are starting to justify this action. Sokka is very concerned about his sister's disappearance just until Aang needs to stroke his ego.

I don't know why this insert is needed. To show how no one really cares about Katara? Ugh...

Gaang redraws!! (Sorry for being inactive here I keep forgetting about this account 😭)