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violence
Why Abolition Matters in This Moment
The crises of our generation demand a holistic approach that acknowledges the interconnectedness of systems of oppression and the need for a collective movement that dismantles state violence at all levels.
Oct 22, 2025
It feels like the world is spinning out of control as militarized violence, climate chaos, economic inequality, and authoritarianism escalate. At the same time, I've been inspired by an expanding sense of global solidarity, epitomized by the thousands who traveled to Egypt for the March to Gaza this past June and the millions who watched in real time as the Global Sumud Flotilla attempted to break Israel's siege this month. Amid escalating violence, the repression of civil rights, and the incarceration of peaceful protesters worldwide, there is a growing people's movement for transformative action that connects the dots between militarism, corporate capitalism, and the climate crisis.
In this context, I've been planning the logistics for World BEYOND War’s annual global #NoWar2025 Conference on October 24-26 with the feeling that this year's theme of abolition is especially timely. The crises of our generation demand a holistic approach that acknowledges the interconnectedness of systems of oppression and the need for a collective abolition movement that dismantles state violence at all levels. Abolition invites us to reimagine safety and security beyond punishment, control, and state violence.
Abolition is a project of liberation, a collection of goals, ideas, practices, strategies, campaigns, and movements aimed at abolishing institutions and forces of violence—from police and prisons to war and colonization. It’s an act of refusal, a rejection of the violent status quo. And a commitment to build something much better, together.
Admittedly, abolition can be a daunting concept. And in the face of encroaching state violence and authoritarianism, there can be an impulse to play it safe—to appease, or to attempt to reform. But the systemic issues we face necessitate a rethinking of the system itself, a paradigmatic shift away from the corporate capitalistic framework that fuels the inequities of our time. This starts first with daring to imagine what an abolitionist future could look like. The work of World BEYOND War challenges us to make that mental leap. Otherwise, we can get stuck in cycles of piecemeal reforms that never address root causes and upend the institutions that perpetuate violence.
The #NoWar2025 Virtual Conference on October 24-26 will be a key moment to come together across borders and movements to explore abolition as a visionary and necessary approach to dismantling systems of violence.
Importantly, dismantling violent and oppressive systems does not mean that society is left in a vacuum without support. On the contrary, abolition necessitates creating community-led nonviolent systems that center common security, meaning, “No one is safe until all are safe.” These models already exist and can be learned from and replicated.
Costa Rica abolished its military. South Africa ended apartheid (but work continues for reconciliation and reparations). Many Indigenous peoples around the world have long employed ancestral and liberatory practices beyond prisons, policing, and punishment while other communities are trying new models of violence interruption programs, nonviolent deescalation, community self-policing, court diversion, restorative and transformative justice, and much more right now.
Beyond a failure of imagination, a key impediment to abolition is the misuse of billions of our tax dollars. When we call for defunding the police and slashing the military budget, those funds must be adequately redirected toward meeting people’s basic needs and establishing robust systems for common security. To discount frameworks like unarmed civilian defense, violence interruption programs, and restorative justice processes as being unfeasible at scale overlooks the fact that most of these programs are grassroots driven with little funding. Imagine what we could achieve with the $1 trillion per year currently spent on the US military alone.
The #NoWar2025 Virtual Conference on October 24-26 will be a key moment to come together across borders and movements to explore abolition as a visionary and necessary approach to dismantling systems of violence, including police, prisons, militaries, and borders, while cultivating communities rooted in justice, care, and collective well-being. Join us.
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Supporting Survivors: A Spark of Hope In A Climate of Violence
All communities must realize that funding for domestic violence resources is not just charity—it’s an investment in public safety, community health, and the future stability of families.
Sep 21, 2025
Another school shooting? Shooting of a social media conservative advocate? In a nation where children can be murdered at church or school, an activist like Charlie Kirk can be assassinated at a campus event, and a man can kill a pregnant teen because of “road rage,” it is a daily challenge to prepare for the worst and simply hope for the best.
I wonder if I will become a victim to my circumstances or a survivor with a cautionary tale.
Despite US President Donald Trump recently dismissing domestic violence as "a little fight with the wife," 1 out of every 2 women are subjected to gender-based violence by an intimate partner in the US. This means every employer employs survivors and we all know someone affected.
Despite its prevalence, the silence and stigma surrounding this issue continue to isolate survivors. Equally concerning, survivors face overwhelming financial obstacles, unlivable wages, reduced access to essential services, and now recent funding cuts to domestic violence services. Nonprofit organizations that support survivors are being asked to do more with fewer resources.
The fact is economic security for survivors is not just about preventing them from returning to abusers—it’s about investing in a safer, healthier, more resilient society for everyone.
In this political climate, it feels audacious to hope for government budgets to include the kind of holistic, wraparound services that support communities’ most vulnerable populations. From the highest levels of government there have been thousands of layoffs including the US Agency for International Development, the Internal Revenue Service, the Education Department, the Defense Department, health agencies, the National Park Service, and the Department of Veterans Affairs.
In light of these devastating layoffs and funding cuts, survivor-serving organizations have lost most, if not all, government funding and must pivot to sustain themselves. In an ideal situation this may transpire into leveraging complimentary community resources, exchanging services, and collaborating to build grassroots, organic networks of support.
This can also look like survivors of domestic violence left alone with shame, fear, and confusion on what to do next. The window of opportunity for survivors to access support is narrow.
Without immediate emergency support, survivors are forced to return to unimaginable circumstances and some never make it out. Research is clear: Economic security is one of the greatest pathways to helping individuals break free from the cycle of abuse; without stable housing, income, or childcare, survivors are often forced back into unsafe situations.
As a survivor, I acknowledge the privilege I have by being the breadwinner. Once I broke free from the mental bondage and fear of physical abuse, I was fortunate enough to have my career (although I almost lost it), a home with my name on the lease (and $15,000 in back rent), and just enough fight left to obtain a restraining order and full custody of my son.
I tried utilizing what services existed in my area but ran into agencies with reduced staffing and hours. The providers did their best to support me over the phone, but they were also overwhelmingly busy and forgot to send follow-up emails, so I did the best I could on my own with a lot of faith and just a little spark of hope. Statistics and experiences show most survivors aren’t that lucky.
All communities must realize that funding for domestic violence resources is not just charity—it’s an investment in public safety, community health, and the future stability of families. When someone makes the courageous decision to leave an abusive environment, their path forward must not be blocked by scarcity and closed doors.
I share my experience to help others. I speak up to destigmatize talking about domestic violence and its correlation to economic security. I offer to take care of survivors' children while they figure out what to do next and sometimes just provide a safe space to process.
No one wakes up and decides to become a victim, nor does a person wake up and decide to be a batterer—however this happens at a frequency equal to 24 people per minute and 10 million people per year in the United States.
By focusing on the most vulnerable populations, there will be positive residual consequences for everyone. There is an estimated $7.73 billion cost of domestic violence in my home state of California alone.
Nationally, “One study estimated the cost of intimate partner violence against women to US society, including health costs and productivity losses," would be $12.1 billion n 2025 dollars.
This affects everyone as economic insecurity is widespread: 77% of US adults report they don’t feel fully financially secure. The fact is economic security for survivors is not just about preventing them from returning to abusers—it’s about investing in a safer, healthier, more resilient society for everyone.
By providing stable economic foundations, it is possible to create a world where leaving isn’t a leap into the unknown—it’s a step toward a future filled with hope and opportunity.
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On Charlie Kirk, Public Grieving, and Violence
The country is turning him into a symbol, even as his legacy fuels harm, fear, and loss for families who will never be mourned this loudly.
Sep 12, 2025
I want to be clear: I don’t condone killing of any kind. That’s not who I am, and that’s not what I believe.
This post is also not about advocating for or against gun laws (although we know that the majority of Americans do agree with common-sense laws). This is about societal attention and whose lives are mourned publicly, and how certain narratives and policies shape who we grieve and why.
I am struck by how many people on my feed are publicly grieving Charlie Kirk. It feels dissonant. Let me explain why.
None of these same people posted about Minnesota House Member, Speaker Emerita Melissa Hortman, and her husband being murdered in their sleep. Nor did they post about Speaker John Hoffman and his wife being shot in their sleep by the same shooter (they did survive).
None posted about the 48 school shootings that have occurred already in 2025, leaving 19 dead and 81 injured (including one just hours after Kirk was shot, where two more children are critically injured, and at least four more injured in the Colorado school shooting).
None posted about the 50,000+ Palestinian children killed or injured in what can only be described as genocide.
None posted about the 688 women in the US who died in childbirth in 2024, or the 49,000 who almost did. Primarily women of color of course.
None posted about the 14 people who have died in Immigration and Customs Enforcement custody so far this year.
I could go on and on with these examples.
He spent his career normalizing deadly ideas (from gun culture to dehumanization), and in the end, he was consumed by the same violence he helped spread.
Here’s the dissonance: Charlie Kirk actively contributed to the narratives and policies that fueled this violence. He supported policies that tore children from their parents’ arms, while claiming to be a family man. He spread racist, homophobic, transphobic, antisemitic, and Islamophobic ideology while claiming to be a Christian. He near shouted misogynistic ideals while being married to a woman. Through Turning Point USA, he built a media machine that thrived on outrage, disinformation, and deepening division.
He once said, “I can't stand the word empathy, actually. I think empathy is a made-up, new age term that—it does a lot of damage.” If you don’t believe in empathy, it makes it much easier to oppress others and create division. It makes it much easier to push a narrative without regard for the consequences of that narrative.
He spent his career normalizing deadly ideas (from gun culture to dehumanization), and in the end, he was consumed by the same violence he helped spread.
Charlie Kirk didn’t physically commit violence himself, though he profited from fear, division, and policies that harmed and continue to harm marginalized people, thus perpetuating the violence. His influence amplified oppression, and that influence brought him financial gain, visibility, and political power.
It is, of course, deeply sad for his children. No child should have to lose a parent like this.
That being said, the way his death is being framed publicly goes beyond grief. It edges into martyrdom. This is turning him into a symbol, even as his legacy fuels harm, fear, and loss for families who will never be mourned this loudly.
We should grieve children, families, and communities first. Not the people who profited from their suffering.
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