On hometown horror and turning communal grief into action

Vol. 88

In This Issue: ESSAY | TAKE ACTION | NOW READ THIS | FINAL FRAME

My heart is heavy and hurting. There is some small comfort in knowing that I am hardly alone in that fact, or the specific reason for it.

I was laid up sick in bed last week Wednesday when the video came across my newsfeed. I watched a horrifying scene before I knew what I was looking at: an all-too familiar street, a neighborhood I’ve lived in and frequently spend time in, the music venue where my bands have played on many occasions. A cluster of police vehicles blocking the intersection as a Black man rides a bicycle across the street, clearly fleeing in terror, then knocked to the ground. Four police officers rush to tackle him back to the asphalt, he tries to get back to his feet, one hand out in a defensive gesture, the other held tight by one of the cops. A taser is deployed, then he’s on the ground again, covered by bodies. Just seconds later, the cop restraining his hand stands up and points his gun at the man’s head. Three gunshots ring out in quick succession. 

A woman on the street nearby screams, a heartbroken, terrified wail. Another bystander yells in disbelief. Quickly, it’s clear many people are witnesses to what, by all appearances, is the summary execution of a man in distress.

Police have to make split-second decisions about threat levels, goes the official line. The man had a knife and injured the officer who shot him, they’ll say in a press conference later that day. Of course there will be an investigation. Of course it will all be handled very properly. Of course no consequences will befall the man whose split-second decision resulted in the death of a father, son, beloved. Because he was unhoused and struggling. Because he was Black. 

We’ve seen this play out too many times to count. There will be no consequences or changes to the system that produces these outcomes, time after time. Not even in “progressive” Madison. 

Unless. 

Unless all of us who are heartbroken and sick and angry force a change. Demand accountability. Love each other and the dream of a better world so consistently and so ferociously that the toxic systems that have been built and forced upon us finally relent and crumble away under the weight of their own sins.

When I felt well enough I went with my two best friends to visit the memorial that has since been lovingly created at the site of the man’s death. His name was Corey Ruiz. People filled the intersection of Williamson and Baldwin Streets with flowers, candles, letters, banners, artwork, stuffed animals, and a rainbow of messages on the asphalt and manhole covers in markers and spray paint.

Folks set up tents where free water, food, medical supplies, art-making supplies, and other sundries were on offer. A grill had been set up and they announced brats were available for lunch, for anyone/everyone who needed one. 

I sat and just tried to take it all in. I’m not traditionally very good at slowing down and sitting with grief and other heavy feelings. It’s a lifelong journey to undo old survival skills that no longer serve me so well. But as I sat and took in the visual evidence of a community’s outpouring of emotion, it gave me the chance to really see and appreciate what it means to make space for communal grief. I don’t think you can understate the impact of it.

It also struck me as further proof that most people want–need–to help in some way, to be together and turn to a stranger and say, “This was not right and something must change.”

Too much of the world around us is constructed to direct us toward a hollow sense of ease, convenience, avoidance of conflict or discomfort, even outright numbness. In short: Inaction. Stasis. Never challenging the status quo or those hoarding power.

I understand the urge to retreat from the horrors. Sometimes it is necessary to seek reprieve and give yourself space to rest and regulate your damn nervous system! I have been trying to spend at least an equal amount of time being intentional about where and how I can show up and do something, too. And there’s always something to do.

No one needs to be a hero, either. None of us are the main character, I don’t think. What we are, at our best, is an ecosystem. Everyone with their unique contributions and role(s) to play, and everyone reliant on everyone else to make the whole thing thrive. When even one thing is broken or sick, the whole web is thrown off-kilter. There are well-entrenched poisons that need rooting out, chronic ailments that require holistic healing.

The actions we can take will differ person to person. Maybe you show up and grill brats for mourners and protesters. Maybe you sign up to speak at city meetings where budgets and policies are set. Maybe you volunteer to bring supplies to unhoused neighbors in need. Maybe you write letters to elected officials urging real investment in police accountability, and in restorative and transformative, community-based justice models. Maybe you organize gatherings in your living room to discuss ways to better connect with and support your community. Maybe right now you just go to the memorial and sit with your grief and anger and figure out your next steps later.

I hope I don’t ever become numb or nihilistic. I hope you won’t, either. I think we can choose our way out of it. I believe a little intention goes a long way. More so, as a white person who is far less policed and far more privileged in how I’m perceived and treated in this city/country, I have to keep trying (and fucking up and trying again). Reaching out, not in. Even when it hurts. Maybe especially so when it does.

### 

Corey Ruiz was 38 years old. According to friends, he’d struggled with mental health and addiction challenges for years. His record shows a litany of small-time crimes of desperation: petty burglary, resisting arrest, fighting with law enforcement officers. He cycled in and out of prison when he should have been offered counseling, safety, and care. Our safety nets are not built to catch Black and Brown people. Madison in particular has enormous racial disparities in arrest and imprisonment (and education, where so many of the seeds are planted). Black men particularly bear the brunt of it.

Lots of “liberal” white Madison leaders routinely tout the allegedly “progressive, community-based” policing style of the Madison Police Department. Sure, when you compare them to, say, the actual gangs that make up the Los Angeles County Sheriff’s Department, MPD comes out looking pretty good. But we shouldn’t be satisfied with them clearing a bar that’s in hell. 

Corey’s death happened just two blocks from where Tony Robinson was killed by Officer Matthew Kenny in 2015. Kenny did not face charges for the death and continues to serve on the force to this day. Police also killed Victor Montero-Diaz in 2006, in that exact same two-block radius.

The fact is that police and the DA’s office in Madison continue to arrest, charge, imprison, and kill people of color at disproportionately high rates, despite a mountain of data and multiple reports highlighting those disparities and suggesting meaningful ways of addressing them. Police continue to operate with almost complete immunity, too, almost never facing consequences for their actions, no matter how damning the evidence of wrong-doing or law-breaking. Such an environment is a bright light attracting fearful people desperate to exert power over others with impunity.

Disparities and discrimination that are purpose-built into all of our systems–to disadvantage people of color, people with disabilities and/or mental health challenges, queer and trans folks, people experiencing homelessness, etc.–come home to roost in our so-called justice system. 

It’s worth dreaming and fighting for a different, better world than this. It’s not impossible. All systems have eventually ended or changed. It’s up to us when and how it happens.

###

Corey has a family, including a daughter who had to get up in front of the media to tell the world about how she learned her dad had been killed and that she would never get to see him again. I can hardly imagine what that’s like, or fully understand the enormous toll it will take on her and everyone who loved him.

“He is more than his rap sheet,” a friend of Corey’s told the press. "He was a human.  He had children, a family, people that loved him. And he did not deserve to be gunned down in front of the world."  

So too everyone else. All of us are in this thing–for better or worse–together.

Take Action.

If you’re in Madison:

• Exercise your democratic rights by contacting City Alders at allalders@cityofmadison.com to share concerns, ask for transparency, ensure an independent investigation, and advocate for meaningful accountability.
• Write to your alders and/or show up to speak in person future Common Council meetings to urge/ensure full funding and support for the Office of the Independent Police Monitor and Police Civilian Oversight Board, as well as policies that create real levers of accountability for them with Madison Police.
  • The good news is that it appears alders have backed off from proposed amendments that would have muddied the waters of this process, at least for now, but there is still work to be done.
• Donate goods/funds to the vigil-keepers and protesters (list of needed items available on site and via various social media accounts). Or show up in person to build solidarity and protection of the space. There will be efforts to end and remove the vigil from the street but the plan is to maintain it until Officer Kiel Peterson, the man who killed Corey, is arrested and charged. 
• Donate goods/funds to the Dane County Homeless Justice Initiative, who provide direct, on-the-ground aid to folks experiencing homelessness in Madison and the surrounding communities. IG @ danecountyhomeless
• Freedom, Inc is holding “Power to the People” pop-up sessions at the memorial site from Tuesday through Friday this week, each day from 5-7 p.m. Learn about the demands around community control of police, ask questions, connect with organizers, and take action alongside others.

If you’re not in the area:

• Where can you get involved locally in similar efforts to demand accountability from police, create community control over police, shift budget money from policing to restorative/transformative justice processes and community-based responses to people in crisis? Your town deserves this work and support, too!
• Police have been killing people at an increasing rate in recent years. When we say “defund the police” we don’t mean get rid of them entirely or all-at-once. We mean that there are many alternatives for creating community safety without resorting to violence and brutality and our money would be better spent supporting those efforts. Decriminalization of many low-level “crimes,” disarmament and demilitarization of police forces, community-based justice initiatives, robust funding for holistic mental health and addiction treatment, public/affordable housing, etc.

Now Read This.

“Joel Brenna keeps telling us what he thinks electability looks like” [Angela Lang and Nada Elmikashfi]

Wisconsin consistently has had an “electability” dogwhistle problem. Every time there is a candidate of color running statewide we hear this sneaky line suggesting, I like them but I just don’t think they can win. We heard it during Mandela Barnes’ recent U.S Senate race, where he came within 1% of ousting incumbent Senator Ron Johnson during a difficult cycle and while being abandoned by national Democrats. Mandela was perceived as being “too black to win” and it became a self-fulfilling prophecy. Rather than matching their concerns with the support to overcome them, much of the white political establishment simply accepted that racist narrative. 

“Punching Left” [Kevin Kruse]

Look, if you're a liberal, you want leftists in the Democratic Party. They're not a threat to the party's success. They're an essential element. 

“Let AI Burn” [Ed Zitron]

No bailouts, no handouts, no special treatment, no tax breaks, no CHIPS act, and no sovereign wealth fund. It is time to tell the AI industry to go fuck itself, because it’s effectively done the same to the rest of society. 

Final Frame.

Scenes from the vigil and memorial for Corey Ruiz, at Williamson and S. Baldwin Streets in Madison. Rest in power.

‘Til next time.

Take care of yourself and of each other. Free Palestine. Abolish ICE.

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