By Teta
Last month, Buah zine asked for personal statements of solidarity with Palestine from people of Indonesian heritage in diaspora.
The hope is that this brief collection can help continue to foster deeper connections that understand total liberation as a collective struggle across the world.
The inspiration behind this zine came, firstly, from the incredible work of Palestinian activists, artists, archivists, journalists and writers in Palestine and in diaspora. If you want more zines centering Palestinian voices, here are a few off the top of my head:
- Publishers for Palestine released a free chapbook in February called “Poems for Palestine.” The group has also compiled a list of free zines here.
- Maamoul Press is a small press that published this zine about the history of the Palestine-Lebanon border. Proceeds are going to Gaza mutual aid efforts.
- The CUNY Graduate Center released this zine honoring Dr. Refaat Alareer.
- Boston-based collective Pleasure Pie released a zine called “Queer Voices from the Fight for Palestinian Liberation.”
Secondly, this zine is also inspired by the meaningful solidarity work from diasporic Black, Latine and other Southeast Asian collectives. (Shout out to the Filipinx organizers who have been tirelessly working in the D.C. area.)
Thirdly, I’m targeting this zine toward my fellow diasporic Indonesian folks because I know we may have shared experiences about how we were taught about Palestine. If you grew up in an Indonesian Muslim household like I did, support for Palestine likely came from a religious angle, meaning you supported Palestine because you were Muslim. When I got older, I learned how incredibly misguided that perspective was and had to unlearn it. I instead had to learn about solidarity with an anti-imperialist foundation.
On the surface, Indonesia as a nation-state seems to be on the side of the Palestinian people. But when you interrogate it deeper, you’ll find that the support can be superficial, especially when it does not extend to the occupation that is happening within the archipelago itself, in West Papua especially. A solidarity that is conditional (could it crumble at possible acceptance into the OECD?) and does not extend to challenge the familiar oppressions within its own borders is not a solidarity worth chasing after.
With that lengthy introduction, Buah zine presents its collection of personal solidarity statements from previous zine interviewees and other folks in the diaspora. (I also hand-painted the watercolors.) You can download it for free here and share it widely.
Here is the full collection of statements, lightly edited for spelling and grammar only. Statements are identified by the sender’s chosen name, age range and location.
(1) As someone with Indonesian heritage living outside of Indonesia, how do you think that influences your perception of the world, particularly when it comes to understanding politics and history, if at all?
“I was born in Indonesia during Suharto’s presidency and lived there until I was 10 years old, when my family moved to America. In Indonesia, I grew up with the propaganda of the New Order regime. I remember watching the ‘G30S’ movie as a kid each year. As a child, I didn’t yet realize we were living in a dictatorship, but I knew there was something wrong with our country and the way people couldn’t talk openly about the government. I remember learning the word ‘coup d’état’ in junior high school in the U.S. and realizing that was what happened in Indonesia in 1965. I started to realize that my sense of history was skewed and obscured by the propaganda I was raised with, especially after watching the movie ‘The Act of Killing.'” —kat, 45-54, Philadelphia
“There are many stories untold of a country. You never can just learn of the surfaces of its name, its capital city, its landmarks like what you have to remember for your IPS test in SD level in Indonesia. Indonesia’s history is not only Java-centered — it’s all over the archipelago. Understanding your own heritage — your indigenous knowledge — is important to tackle the white-washing writings.” —SS, 25-34, Indonesia
“I’m an Indo living in the U.K., a country with little to no collective understanding of Indonesia as a place, geographically or historically. I regularly meet individuals who have never heard of Indonesia and am often confused for Filipino or Malaysian. According to the population census, there are fewer than 10,000 Indonesian-borns residing in the U.K., which has a population of 67 million, placing us at 0.01% of the population. Compare that with the 18% of U.K. residents who self-identify as people of colour, and you see just how few and far between we are. The U.K. tends only to focus on the league of territories it once colonised. That said, it did occupy the Dutch East Indies in the 1811-1816 interregnum post-Napoleonic wars and further attempt to invade on behalf of the Dutch during the so-called ‘Decolonisation wars’ (I would rather REcolonisation wars) of the 1940s. Despite this, most Brits still would struggle to place Indonesia on a map and close to none, other than a few history nerds, would acknowledge that the U.K. invaded the territory within living memory. The U.K.’s relationship with its colonial history is largely summarised as a mixture of collective amnesia and shamefully revisionist period dramas. Colonial history is not taught on the national curriculum for high schools and popular television programmes tend to glorify the country’s otherwise inglorious colonial past as a point of pride. Even worse, there is a general consensus it had a mild civilising effect on the otherwise backward peoples of the world — we gave the Indians tea, railways, and democracy after all, even if on this last point democracy was in fact denied until we left. As recently as 2020, a Yougov poll found only 19% of Britons saw the Empire as something to be ashamed of. That said, the tides are changing, thanks to the efforts of many other margnalised groups seeking liberation, both here and elsewhere in the ‘Western’ world. Obviously, living in this country has given me close to nothing when it comes to learning about history, whether that be on my British or Indonesian sides. For that, I have had to seek out literature, podcasts, and friends who have embarked on a similar journey. But materials on Indonesian history in the English language are scant. You’d be better off learning Dutch, which I actually did, or Indonesian, which I am still struggling through. Perhaps if materials and knowledge were more abundant, I would be less resolute in my attempts to seek out a past, but that’s an alternative universe, in which I do not live.” —Daniel Widjaja, 25-34, London
“I grew up in an Indonesian household in the U.S. For as long as I can remember, I’ve been at least tangentially aware of the Palestinian struggle. I knew growing up that it was a place in the Middle East whose people were beset with war, though I could not distinguish this struggle from the milieu of violence in the broader Middle East. Still, I sympathized with the cause vaguely because I understood it as part of a shared Muslim struggle against U.S. and European dominance. It wasn’t until 2014 when I spent a summer in Indonesia that, for the first time, I saw the nature of the struggle on mainstream news, which covered the relentless Israeli bombing of Gaza. This was the first time I could actively discuss the subject with Indonesian family members, whose support of Palestine was defined more by nationalist and religious elements. While I was notably less religious than they were, I still saw the Palestinian struggle as part of my own, connecting the active U.S. backing of Israeli militarism with the surveillance and racial profiling of Muslim-appearing people in the West. Since then, I became more vocally in support of the Palestinian struggle. In 2021, I became a socialist organizer and played an active role in participating and even organizing rallies for Palestine in the DMV [D.C., Maryland and Virginia]. This was motivated by a newer analytical framework: Marxism. I saw the struggle of Palestine as one with the struggle of poor and oppressed people everywhere. I learned about the Indonesian massacre of 1965, also U.S.-backed, and to this day, I see Palestine as just a continuation of the same neocolonial project.” —Syihan, 25-34, Maryland
“I would say stories and perceptions from my parents and my partner. And extending from that, explainer posts on social media, such as from accounts alike What Is Up Indonesia and Remotivi.” —Yanti, 25-34, Stockholm
“Understanding diversity and plurality is something anyone who has lived in Indonesia would fundamentally understand. The striking number of languages, cultures, religions and diversity is so special. This has shaped my understanding of politics and history, as has growing up as a Person of Colour in a White Settler Colony. This led me to understanding the importance of dismantling systems of oppression and the importance of anti-imperialism, knowing the history of Indonesia’s independence and the legacy Indonesian feminists, trade unionists and Communist Party members have left for us.” —Bridget Ying Harilaou, 25-34, Narrm (Melbourne, Australia)
“As someone who is deeply interested in politics and history, I see our identities as political choices. I find myself shaped and reshaped by my interactions, through each encounter with a new language or a book or a conversation with a neighbour from a different part of the world. I am Indonesian and I am also Palestinian, poems by Noor Hindi, historical analyses by Aimé Césaire, and the Black liberatory treatises of Angela Davis. Our histories are intertwined and so too is our liberation. My political choice is to live in community and in struggle with others across borders and time, perhaps because I have been fortunate to grow up much like a vine twisting transnationally and, as a result, cannot imagine existing any other way.” —Mita, 25-34, U.K.
“When I first moved to the U.S. in 1988 for college, I spent a lot of time at the library learning Indonesian histories that had been suppressed under my Orde Baru education. Some of it seemed completely outrageous and turned out to be true. Some of it was an oversimplified outside lens that my lived experience allowed me to read critically. But mostly, my focus was on accessing histories and views that had been hidden from us by the New Order public school propaganda machine.” —Innosanto Nagara, 45-54, Oakland, California
“As I have Indonesian (Moluccan) and Dutch heritage, I think this definitely influences the way I see politics and history; I am familiar with the colonisation some of my ancestors committed, and the colonisation other ancestors endured. It can be confusing, sometimes, to come to terms with this myself. But hearing the stories about how each family member or ancestor came to terms with this, in their own ways, has helped me shape my own perspective when understanding politics and history. What did my ancestors do that inspires me, from my Indonesian, Dutch and Indo sides? What different choices can I make in my own lifetime? Especially living on unceded Aboriginal land (in so-called Australia) as a white-passing settler … what is my own position in this colony? I come from a line of Indo matriarchs, who were proud of their cultural heritage, and I often draw on their wisdom when forming my own understanding of the world.” —J, 25-34, Gadigal
“Being in the Indonesian diaspora is where my perception starts, but I didn’t really get my understanding of politics and history from my parents or any of my elders. I did know Indonesia won independence from the Dutch but nothing about Sukarno or the Indonesian Revolution was ever explained to me despite often celebrating Indonesian Independence, often at KJRI (the Indonesian consulate) a mansion on the Upper East Side where I have many fond memories one maybe including a ghost. Sometimes we were even invited to the Consul General’s home. Perhaps the apoliticalness of it all was the result of Suharto and the New Order. It was my own interest in history, i have a bachelors, and politics that led me to learn about Sukarno, the non-aligned movement, the Bandung Conference, the rise and unfortunate fall of the PKI, US meddling in Indonesia, all culminating in the 30 September Movement, the overthrow of Sukarno by Suharto, and the 1965-66 massacres of Indonesian leftists. Growing up I did have the general understanding that Indonesia was a poor underdeveloped country. Knowing the US role in this only furthered my growing resentment for US Empire and my own anti-imperialist politics. There were Indonesian leftists with the same beliefs as me, that believed in the same better world that I did, and the US put their names on lists and handed them out to death squads and I do take that to heart. To borrow from Ghassan Kanafani, ‘Imperialism has laid its body over the world,’ the same that crushed Indonesia in 1965 is the same one in Gaza right now. It is the same enemy, the same evil, and we all should be compelled to fight it.” —N.L. Bekti, 25-34, Queens, Babyyyy!
“Living outside of Indonesia has allowed me to learn more about my country and heritage than I ever could as a student or resident, especially regarding discrimination, working class struggle and the genocide in 1965-1966.” —AP, 25-34, Unceded land of the Ngambri People in so-called Australia
“My introduction to Indonesian history was through my family. From a young age, I was told about the brave efforts of my immediate elders who resisted Dutch colonization. When I was a kid, I tried to reinvent the Indonesian language to replace all Dutch loanwords (LOL). I don’t think my parents intended to instill such anticolonial perspectives; I think they were just trying to stress like ‘don’t forget where you came from’ that a lot of first-gen immigrant kids may get. Ultimately, I think how I understand my Indonesian heritage has offered a strong foundation for how I understand the world around me.” —Teta, 25-34, occupied lands of the Piscataway and Nacotchtank people (in the so-called U.S.)
(2) As someone with Indonesian heritage living outside of Indonesia, how did you first learn about Palestine? What were you taught or not taught growing up that you had to unlearn or learn as an adult?
“I watched a PBS documentary called ‘New Americans’ that chronicled a Palestinian family’s journey to emigrate from the West Bank to the U.S. as refugees around 2004. It was the first time that I saw Palestinians depicted as humans; in the news media in the U.S., Palestine was always referred to in conjunction with Yasser Arafat and as a ‘militant’ liberation organization. In this documentary, I saw that Palestinians were just like humans anywhere in the world: They were dreaming of a better life; they wanted the simple things in life; they wanted better futures for their children; and they wanted to get away from occupation and political turmoil. I saw images of Palestinians being dehumanized as soldiers checked their papers. I saw people whose only defense against this occupation was to throw rocks. As I saw that people around me decried these acts, I only saw the desperation of the occupied people. They were fighting with whatever they had. Although their occupation was nothing like I’ve experienced in my life, I drew parallels to my own situation at that time: an undocumented Indonesian without papers. The way the Israeli soldiers treated the Palestinians stuck with me. I saw that they just wanted a better life for their children, the same reasons that Indonesians wanted to leave our country. I thought about the Dutch occupation and started to realize it is not unlike what Israel was doing to the Palestinians — it was present-day colonization. In human history, we have always dehumanized our enemies, and the western world was very successful in doing this with Palestinians. Even as I started to sympathize with the Palestinian people, my upbringing still made me believe that the Israelis, too, deserved a homeland for what they went through in the Holocaust. But I started thinking more deeply about what was going on in Palestine about 15 years ago. My partner started challenging me to pay attention to what was actually happening there. I think it’s important to note that he didn’t grow up in America, so he didn’t grow up with the media depictions and messaging that we have here in the U.S. regarding Palestine. I had to let go of the idea of a Zionist state as inevitable. I started to see what was actually happening in Palestine: a settler-colonial occupation building developments on Palestinian land, displacing people and creating an apartheid state. And, in the last 15 years, we have seen the Israeli settler-colonial project in full force as settlements encroach Palestinian territory. I saw the hypocrisy of the world decrying religious extremism among Palestinians without acknowledging religious extremism in Israel. It sickens me to see the U.S. support of Israel during this war. Now I believe that trauma does not give a group of people the right to inflict that trauma on another group. Who gets the right to a homeland? Who gets the right to return? Who gets to move freely in this world?” —kat, 45-54, Philadelphia
“I’ve known about Palestine since childhood. In the U.K., unsurprisingly, difficult questions are swept under the rug. Instead, we spend a lot of time thinking about the Holocaust, the near eternal plight and persecution of the Jewish people, and how it’s nice that they finally have a homeland. Finally, some historical justice! Little attention is cast on the fact that the Holy land is also the home of the Palestinians. Even less attention is cast on the fact that we (the Brits) occupied the Holy lands, that there was such a thing as the British Mandate or Balfour Declaration, or that the creation of the modern state of Israel was predicated on ethnic cleansing. Essentially, there was little to unlearn, because the topic of Israel–Palestine, like most aspects of colonial British history, sits beneath an enormous blind spot in the historical collective consciousness of the country. I actually travelled to the West Bank to give some lectures at a weeklong science workshop at Birzeit University in 2021. Travelling there and witnessing the barbarity of the occupation first hand did more to shape my understanding of the evils of colonialism than any book, documentary, or protest ever could.” —Daniel Widjaja, 25-34, London
“As alluded to in the first question, the key difference between understanding the Palestinian struggle in Indonesia versus in the United States is the religious and national elements. While these elements were what initially drew me to support Palestine, I began to associate my support more with classist, racist, and imperialist oppression into my adulthood.” —Syihan, 25-34, Maryland
“I think I learnt more from media like Vox on YouTube, and slowly from friends sharing on Instagram Story with various resources, mostly with a critical stance. I was not taught about the Nakba and the settler colonialism of Israel, and started learning a lot last year. I had to unlearn plenty about how my views were shaped to be against Palestine and learning a lot on the double standards in extending compassion for those suffering.” —Yanti, 25-34, Stockholm
“I learnt about the colonial occupation of Palestine in university: the apartheid Palestinians lived under and how there were nets in the street to catch rubbish that Israeli settlers would throw at Palestinians from their apartments. The inhuman checkpoint system that saw Palestinian mothers giving birth without medical support if they were stuck at the border crossing. The huge walls. The tanks that would roll into villages to dispossess people of their land and homes. The refugee crisis and Palestinians forced to move to Western countries, such as those I encountered in Australia and America. Every piece of information I found, whether directly from a Palestinian or through research, articles, video footage, media, and now icons like Bisan, allowed me to make an educated and informed opinion that genocide is now occurring in Palestine, and the Israeli state is one of the most disgusting regimes, funded by the U.S., to commit crimes against humanity.” —Bridget Ying Harilaou, 25-34, Narrm (Melbourne, Australia)
“It was actually when, as a teenager, I lived for a few years in Indonesia, attending a very Islamic school. My classmates were extremely religious and called for joining the jihad in Palestine. And then, I went to university in the U.S. at a very liberal school, where my classmates were progressive Jews who campaigned against Zionism and for Palestinian liberation. Both were probably atypical experiences, but I learned a lot through my Jewish comrades, and that’s when I began to read up more about the colonial anti-semitic history of Zionism, the violent establishment of the Israeli state, and of Nakba and the ongoing dispossession and oppression of Palestinians. That then brought me back to Indonesia, figuratively, as I learned about the centrality of the Palestinian struggle in our own road to independence. As for unlearning, it was more that I had to unlearn the fiction of western ‘human rights’ or ‘rule of law’ and became acutely aware of how the west — including the U.K., western Europe, and settler colonies like the U.S., Canada, Australia and NZ — very much profit politically and financially from Israel’s supremacy in the Middle East, even if it means supporting a genocide.” —Mita, 25-34, U.K.
“Because I came to the U.S. as a young adult, I was already familiar with the rest of the world’s view of Palestine. So, when I got involved in anti-war activism (Gulf War, 1990) in college, the General Union of Palestine Students (GUPS) was one of the organizations in the anti-war alliance and it was very clear where we stood. What was new to me actually was the anti-Zionist Jewish perspective. Having never met any openly Jewish people in Indonesia, where even the term Yahudi was regularly used interchangeably with Israeli/Zionist, more of my learning was there. I met people who were very progressive on all issues we agreed on, except on Palestine. So I learned a lot from them. Later I moved to San Francisco and worked at the Arabic Bookstore on Valencia Street, a hub for the Palestinian activist community. Most were supporters of the Popular Front for the Liberation of Palestine, a more left-leaning wing of the movement, and learned a lot about the internal differences in the PLO and the various movements fighting against Israeli occupation across the region, and the ways that they represented a very diverse range of ideologies, strategies, and tactics. But what was clear was that everyone understood the occupation to be a colonial endeavor and, Palestinian or otherwise, everyone coming out of the liberation movements of the previous generation felt Palestinian liberation, along with the dismantling of South African apartheid, was pivotal.” —Innosanto Nagara, 45-54, Oakland, California
“I first learned about Palestine in depth after October — I had just returned from overseas and began getting more involved in local communities. It was difficult for me to come to terms with the ‘both-sideism’ that I was drawn to in the early days of the conflict. My Indo heritage definitely had an influence on this position which I initially took. It didn’t take long at all for me to realise how damaging that perspective was — I felt a great deal of anger at the injustice following those initial days as I learned more about how Palestine had become increasingly occupied by Israel, with an upsetting familiarity to my own generational memories.” —J, 25-34, Gadigal
“I didn’t learn much about Palestine until later in my early 20s. That’s when I came to learn the views of the Indonesian Christian community I grew up in aligned with the general views of evangelicals in regards to Israel, much to my disappointment. It’s basic Schofield Bible bullshit and the ahistorical belief that modern Israel is the same as the one of the Bible that God says they must stand with. Ironically their blind devotion towards the Zionist state goes against their own covenant with Christ and his Kingdom, the new heaven, the new earth, and the new Jerusalem as St. John envisioned. Then there’s the analogs between Jesus under Roman rule and the modern western imperialism of the Zionist state. I’m agnostic but bad theology just frustrates me.” —N.L. Bekti, 25-34, Queens, Babyyyy!
“First learned about at SD, where I learned that it was an important land in the Bible and Qur’an. I learned more about the Palestinian cause while living in America, and quickly became a staunch opponent of Zionism in university as I saw the complicity of the Western world in the repression, occupation and murder of Palestinians through its support, political and material, of the State of Israel.” —AP, 25-34, Unceded land of the Ngambri People in so-called Australia
“I grew up in an Indonesian Muslim household, so supporting Palestine was the default, but it was largely in nebulous, religious terms. Once I started undergrad at 18, that was when I discovered I needed to unlearn what I thought I knew and relearn everything from an anticolonial perspective. I think also, because I was in a lot of poli sci classes that I felt were so deeply biased and uncritical, I ended up doing self-study that led me away from my previously centrist standpoint. I also remember watching a bootleg of ‘Omar‘ (2013, dir. Hany Abu-Assad), which I think was the first Palestinian movie I saw. I also had an Ana Tijoux phase, and through her, I learned about Palestinian rapper Shadia Mansour with their 2014 collab song ‘Somos Sur.’ I’m really grateful that I had that time to seek out writings, music, art, etc. that I wouldn’t have been exposed to otherwise.” —Teta, 25-34, occupied lands of the Piscataway and Nacotchtank people (in the so-called U.S.)
(3) What does solidarity mean to you?
“Solidarity means standing up and speaking up for occupied peoples in whatever way we can. I was relieved when I finally became a U.S. citizen and could speak up in protests. During the Trump presidency, I was never afraid to say what I wanted. I was grateful that I was no longer a kid living in the Suharto era, where you could not say anything. But this is the first time that I’ve felt that it’s risky to talk about this issue openly. I didn’t think I would ever feel like that in the U.S. It now feels like the Indonesia I grew up in: People afraid to criticize Israel for fear of being labeled. But I am so inspired by the Free Palestine movement that the rest of the world now sees the occupation and genocide for what it is. I have hope that the momentum and the tide will turn.” —kat, 45-54, Philadelphia
“Everything. Any kinds of support should be stated as solidarity. Solidarity is not a scary word. It’s an essential word that is placed to be immoral, marginalised for its kindness and purpose.” —SS, 25-34, Indonesia
“Solidarity for me is strength in numbers. It’s the antithesis of that colonial weapon ‘divide et impera.’ I don’t have to understand or experience your struggle to stand with you. All that matters is that we have each others’ backs.” —Daniel Widjaja, 25-34, London
“In my opinion, solidarity is a measure of sacrifice, which comes in many flavors. The smallest (and perhaps most common) form of solidarity is emotional sacrifice; in other words, feeling bad and sympathizing with the struggle. The most committed (and most necessary) form of solidarity is material sacrifice; in other words, devoting personal time, energy, and resources towards resolving the struggle. Every supporter of Palestine exists in a spectrum between the two ends, and even at each level, there is broad disagreement on tactics, but what is most needed to see any liberation struggle through is organized and collective material sacrifice.” —Syihan, 25-34, Maryland
“A collective being that is alive — always in motion, supportive, and emotionally aware in tending the fire to fight.” —Yanti, 25-34, Stockholm
“Solidarity is simple. To quote Lilla Watson, Gangulu woman and visual artist, and Queensland Aboriginal activists of the 1970s: ‘If you have come here to help me, you are wasting your time. But if you have come because your liberation is bound up with mine, then let us work together.'” —Bridget Ying Harilaou, 25-34, Narrm (Melbourne, Australia)
“I have been thinking about this a lot in light of anarchist comrade Aaron Bushnell’s recent martyrdom. I wrote elsewhere: There are different kinds of love and arguably the deepest kind is between comrades — a love with no conditions other than your struggle entwined with mine. Solidarity is that love. It’s the love Aaron expressed in his act and I hope we carry, because no matter where you were born or where you live, none of us are free until all of us are free.” —Mita, 25-34, U.K.
“I think of solidarity in two (related) ways. There is the traditional labor movement use of the term in relation to creating a unified front across a sector. It has to do with movement discipline, marching in step, and adhering to principles (i.e. never cross a picket line). Then there is the International Solidarity idea, in particular in relation to those of us who live in the belly of the beast (the imperialist countries) and our role in supporting liberation movements. The key piece here being finding ways to follow the lead of the on-the-ground impacted folks while also actively doing what we can in our sphere of influence. In Indonesia ,this was always tricky, because different on-the-ground organizations will have different asks of the international solidarity movements. And, after a long history of western colonialism, admonitions from foreigners is something that can have the opposite effect than what was intended (strengthening rather than weakening the hand of the repressive regime). I expect it is similar elsewhere. The U.S. government has very little standing to do anything but harm in relation to Palestine. But there are many people in the U.S. who have or are beginning to understand what’s really going on despite the Israeli propaganda machine.” —Innosanto Nagara, 45-54, Oakland, California
“To me, solidarity means love. I used to think solidarity meant only a shared anger at injustice, which it certainly can and should be … but as I have gradually become a part of the community that is fighting for Palestine, what has struck me the most about Palestinians during this time is their unshakeable faith in the future of their culture, their nation, their land, and their children, and their warmth, grace and strength. It’s a love and steadfastness that has made the whole world stop and listen in solidarity. And the key to that solidarity is the immense heart that the Palestinian people have in the face of quite literally the worst side of humanity.” —J, 25-34, Gadigal
“Solidarity occurs when people from one or more people group organize for one or the other’s cause or common cause or towards a shared goal.” —N.L. Bekti, 25-34, Queens, Babyyyy!
“Solidarity means expressing unconditional support with the struggle of a person, class of people or ethnic group towards equity, justice and liberation.” —AP, 25-34, Unceded land of the Ngambri People in so-called Australia
“To me, solidarity is taking action to support a new world where everyone is free, where we all can thrive. If even one of us is still oppressed, exploited, unable to live as their full self, our fight for liberation is incomplete.” —Teta, 25-34, occupied lands of the Piscataway and Nacotchtank people (in the so-called U.S.)
Buah 