The poverty rate in the U.S. would be 15 percent higher if not for the War on Poverty and government anti-poverty programs since 1967.
I was reminded over and over this week that black and indigenous communities of struggle are deeply connected through our experiences with colonialism, oppression, and white supremacy.
“Before I was on SNAP, I budgeted $50 a week for all groceries for my two children and myself. This was for food, shampoo, toilet paper, everything.”
In the evolving global economy, migrants facing virtual indentured servitude abroad—and coming home to debt and social isolation—feels like the new normal.
“We need to expand the civil-rights struggle to a higher level—to the level of human rights.”
These projects show how everyday people can address violence in our own communities by break through the silence to interrupt abuse.
The Nonviolence Handbook teaches that when we exhibit patience and refrain from criticizing others harshly, we're building nonviolent potential.
Useful as it may be as journalistic shorthand, “mansplaining” is cultural bubblegum in comparison to Solnit’s actual body of work.
47 million Americans live beneath the official poverty line, under a daily judgment of failure. The question today is: Whose failure?
The goal is to raise enough money to send 500 treatments for tear gas exposure to support protesters in Ferguson, Mo.
Other tweets from Palestinians pointed out parallels in racial injustice between the two situations.
“We want to show that faith doesn't divide Jews, Christians and Muslims, but instead reconciles them.”