Stop Police Officers from Killing Our Children
After the Grand Jury decision in Ferguson, I couldn't watch the news. I couldn't bear to see Lesley McSpadden's--Michael Brown's mother's--face. Her eyes were my eyes. I remember when I looked like that; when I felt like that.
After the Grand Jury decision in Ferguson, I couldn't watch the news. I couldn't bear to see Lesley McSpadden's--Michael Brown's mother's--face. Her eyes were my eyes. I remember when I looked like that; when I felt like that.
My son, Alan Blueford, was shot by an Oakland police officer on May 6, 2012. He had just turned 18. Officer Miguel Masso and his partner had stopped Alan and two friends as they were walking down 90th St. The boys were racially profiled; the officers never arrested them, but they tossed one of Alan's friends against a fence, twisting his arm behind his back; they threw the other friend onto the curb. Alan saw this abuse and knew he was not under arrest, so he ran. Officer Masso had on a lapel camera, but he turned it off and chased my Alan for about five city blocks, then took out his gun. Accounts diverge here: either Alan was shot once, stumbled into a driveway, and was shot twice more while lying on his back, or he stumbled into a gate, fell into the driveway and was then shot three times. Either way, the officer stood over him and shot him, center mass. According to multiple witnesses, Alan screamed "I didn't do anything!" One of the bullets went through his armpit, proving his hands were up at the time. His last words were "Why did you shoot me?"
After Alan died, people said I was strong; they didn't see how broken I really was. They didn't see how I couldn't eat, how I could barely stand. People had to hold me up because my knees would buckle. The only time I could even speak was when I spoke about my son. And I realized how important it was to speak, and to keep speaking.
Members of the community formed the Justice 4 Alan Blueford Coalition to help us obtain the truth. We shut down the Oakland City Council to demand answers; we filed a federal civil rights lawsuit against the city of Oakland to seek justice for my boy. We later founded the Alan Blueford Center for Justice in Oakland, a place where people can come together to raise awareness about police brutality and heal as a community. It's a lively, healthy environment where we share music, art, food and stories, and talk about how to take action. OnDecember 20th, Alan's birthday, we have a canned food and toy drive to serve our community. We have also started the Alan Blueford Foundation where we will eventually offer scholarships, healthcare outreach, and support groups. Oakland is suffering, and we want to make a difference. We want to give our children hope. Everyone deserves hope.
That's why we must use this moment, when the nation's attention is focused on police violence, to make real changes. That's why I'll be traveling to Washington, DC December 9 and 10 with a group of mothers to share our stories--our sons' stories--with legislators and the Department of Justice. Together, we will be loud and forceful. Together, we will tell our lawmakers that the system has to change, that we have to stop protecting these officers who are killing our children without cause.
I'll never get my son back, but if I raise my voice along with the voices of other mothers who have experienced unbearable loss, perhaps we'll be able to help save the lives of other mothers' children, and bring our children's murderers to justice.
We are at a crossroads
This country and this world are at a monumental crossroads. US voters have an opportunity to beat back the forces of fascism and confront the billionaires who are rigging the economy, our media system, and our democracy, making it increasingly impossible for ordinary people to get by. We’re not just talking about the election. We’re talking about what must be done once these fascist elements are vanquished from power. We need a bolder set of solutions than what either major party has so far been willing to offer and a working-class movement ready to fight like hell for it. Trump didn't emerge from nowhere. The conditions that fueled MAGA authoritarianism were created by decades of radical neoliberal economic policies and a corrupt political system dominated by corporate interests. They slashed taxes on the super-rich, promising that the benefits would trickle down. They said giveaways to the corporate titans would make life more affordable for the rest of us. It was all bullshit. And when a bitter, betrayed populace searches for someone to blame, right-wing demagogues have little trouble finding scapegoats. People know when they're being lied to, but you won't hear any of this from the corporate media. Only independent journalism—powered and funded by people who believe in building a better world—can deliver truly trustworthy daily news. Our Fall Campaign is underway, and we need your help. To power our newsroom through the rest of the year, we need to raise $125,000 by midnight on October 31. So if you share our vision, please contribute whatever you can to sustain our work. |
After the Grand Jury decision in Ferguson, I couldn't watch the news. I couldn't bear to see Lesley McSpadden's--Michael Brown's mother's--face. Her eyes were my eyes. I remember when I looked like that; when I felt like that.
My son, Alan Blueford, was shot by an Oakland police officer on May 6, 2012. He had just turned 18. Officer Miguel Masso and his partner had stopped Alan and two friends as they were walking down 90th St. The boys were racially profiled; the officers never arrested them, but they tossed one of Alan's friends against a fence, twisting his arm behind his back; they threw the other friend onto the curb. Alan saw this abuse and knew he was not under arrest, so he ran. Officer Masso had on a lapel camera, but he turned it off and chased my Alan for about five city blocks, then took out his gun. Accounts diverge here: either Alan was shot once, stumbled into a driveway, and was shot twice more while lying on his back, or he stumbled into a gate, fell into the driveway and was then shot three times. Either way, the officer stood over him and shot him, center mass. According to multiple witnesses, Alan screamed "I didn't do anything!" One of the bullets went through his armpit, proving his hands were up at the time. His last words were "Why did you shoot me?"
After Alan died, people said I was strong; they didn't see how broken I really was. They didn't see how I couldn't eat, how I could barely stand. People had to hold me up because my knees would buckle. The only time I could even speak was when I spoke about my son. And I realized how important it was to speak, and to keep speaking.
Members of the community formed the Justice 4 Alan Blueford Coalition to help us obtain the truth. We shut down the Oakland City Council to demand answers; we filed a federal civil rights lawsuit against the city of Oakland to seek justice for my boy. We later founded the Alan Blueford Center for Justice in Oakland, a place where people can come together to raise awareness about police brutality and heal as a community. It's a lively, healthy environment where we share music, art, food and stories, and talk about how to take action. OnDecember 20th, Alan's birthday, we have a canned food and toy drive to serve our community. We have also started the Alan Blueford Foundation where we will eventually offer scholarships, healthcare outreach, and support groups. Oakland is suffering, and we want to make a difference. We want to give our children hope. Everyone deserves hope.
That's why we must use this moment, when the nation's attention is focused on police violence, to make real changes. That's why I'll be traveling to Washington, DC December 9 and 10 with a group of mothers to share our stories--our sons' stories--with legislators and the Department of Justice. Together, we will be loud and forceful. Together, we will tell our lawmakers that the system has to change, that we have to stop protecting these officers who are killing our children without cause.
I'll never get my son back, but if I raise my voice along with the voices of other mothers who have experienced unbearable loss, perhaps we'll be able to help save the lives of other mothers' children, and bring our children's murderers to justice.
After the Grand Jury decision in Ferguson, I couldn't watch the news. I couldn't bear to see Lesley McSpadden's--Michael Brown's mother's--face. Her eyes were my eyes. I remember when I looked like that; when I felt like that.
My son, Alan Blueford, was shot by an Oakland police officer on May 6, 2012. He had just turned 18. Officer Miguel Masso and his partner had stopped Alan and two friends as they were walking down 90th St. The boys were racially profiled; the officers never arrested them, but they tossed one of Alan's friends against a fence, twisting his arm behind his back; they threw the other friend onto the curb. Alan saw this abuse and knew he was not under arrest, so he ran. Officer Masso had on a lapel camera, but he turned it off and chased my Alan for about five city blocks, then took out his gun. Accounts diverge here: either Alan was shot once, stumbled into a driveway, and was shot twice more while lying on his back, or he stumbled into a gate, fell into the driveway and was then shot three times. Either way, the officer stood over him and shot him, center mass. According to multiple witnesses, Alan screamed "I didn't do anything!" One of the bullets went through his armpit, proving his hands were up at the time. His last words were "Why did you shoot me?"
After Alan died, people said I was strong; they didn't see how broken I really was. They didn't see how I couldn't eat, how I could barely stand. People had to hold me up because my knees would buckle. The only time I could even speak was when I spoke about my son. And I realized how important it was to speak, and to keep speaking.
Members of the community formed the Justice 4 Alan Blueford Coalition to help us obtain the truth. We shut down the Oakland City Council to demand answers; we filed a federal civil rights lawsuit against the city of Oakland to seek justice for my boy. We later founded the Alan Blueford Center for Justice in Oakland, a place where people can come together to raise awareness about police brutality and heal as a community. It's a lively, healthy environment where we share music, art, food and stories, and talk about how to take action. OnDecember 20th, Alan's birthday, we have a canned food and toy drive to serve our community. We have also started the Alan Blueford Foundation where we will eventually offer scholarships, healthcare outreach, and support groups. Oakland is suffering, and we want to make a difference. We want to give our children hope. Everyone deserves hope.
That's why we must use this moment, when the nation's attention is focused on police violence, to make real changes. That's why I'll be traveling to Washington, DC December 9 and 10 with a group of mothers to share our stories--our sons' stories--with legislators and the Department of Justice. Together, we will be loud and forceful. Together, we will tell our lawmakers that the system has to change, that we have to stop protecting these officers who are killing our children without cause.
I'll never get my son back, but if I raise my voice along with the voices of other mothers who have experienced unbearable loss, perhaps we'll be able to help save the lives of other mothers' children, and bring our children's murderers to justice.