Anniversaries have a way of pulling us backward and forward at once. October 7 lives in that space — a day that holds grief, fear, and the unbearable weight of human loss. Especially now as Palestinians continue to bear untold grief for the loss of their history, their homes, and their futures. It also calls us, again, to ask: Who do we choose to be in the aftermath of violence? October 7 isn’t where grief began and it also isn’t where it ends.
We are reminded how grief and power collide — how loss can be used to justify violence, even genocide, and how truth becomes dangerous when it challenges the narratives of the powerful.
In times like these, silence is a kind of surrender. And yet, we’ve seen how power seeks to turn speech itself into a weapon — to decide who is allowed to speak, and what truths are allowed to be told. Across this country, we’ve watched the normalization of censorship and fear. We’ve seen how the language of “safety” can be twisted to justify the silencing of entire communities.
That is why we lift up our partners — the Arab Resource & Organizing Center (AROC) and the Majdal Community Center — who persist through hate and harm, holding fast to justice, to community, and to the dignity of their people. We ask you to stand with them — to give, to speak, to act — in defense of the right to name the truth and fight for liberation. Their courage reminds us: freedom begins when we refuse to be silent.
California cannot mirror the censorship it condemns elsewhere. Governor Newsom must veto AB 715, a bill that would silence educators and students in the name of politics. Tell him to veto AB 715.
And today, we also celebrate a victory for visibility and justice: Governor Newsom just signed AB 91 into law, a bill that the Majdal Community Center helped lead and champion. For the first time, Californians will see a “Middle Eastern or North African (MENA)” category on state forms collecting demographic data — ending decades of invisibility and ensuring the MENA community is finally seen, counted, and served.
California has long imagined itself as a moral leader — a place where justice could take root. But leadership is not a title; it’s a test. At this moment, that test is before us.