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Coming of Age:

A New Afrikan Revolutionary



by Safiya Asya Bukhari
Coming of Age:
A New Afrikan
Revolutionary

by Safiya Asya Bukhari

Introduction
(by the International Committee to
Free PoliticaliPrisoners of War 1979) 1

Coming of Age:

ANewAfrikan Revolutionary (1979)
Coming of Age: An Update (1981) 13
We Mourn The Loss

of Producer Safiya Bukhari
(by Sally O'Brien 2003), __ a 14

wo
decision o follow the example set by all those now active in the Movemnent
who, along with Sister Safiya and all other Political/Prisoners of War,
are ‘otally committed to carrying on the New Afrikan tradition of
resistance, and who stand as beacons on the hill, shining light onthe path
that the New frikan nation must take as iteomes of age, and makes
revolution



From one generation to the next,
Build To Win The War
For Independence and Socialism
Free All Political/Prisoners of War
Free The Land
All Power To The People


COMING OF AGE: A NEW
AFRIKAN REVOLUTIONARY

by Safiya Asya Bukhari

Greek mythology tellsthe story of Mines, ruler of the city of Knossus.
Minos has a great labyrinth (maze) in which he keeps the Minotaur, a
‘monster half man and half bull, whose victims were boys and girls who
would make itto the center of the maze and be killed when they came
face to face with the Minotaur. [fan intended vietim cranced to survive
the encounter with the Minotaur, they perished trying to find their way
out of the many intricate passages. Finally, Theseus of Athens, with the
help of Ariadne, Minos’ daughter, enters the labyrinth, slays the beast,
and finds his way cut by following the thread he had unwound as he
entered.





The maturation process is full of obstacles and entanglements for
anyone, but for a New Afrikan woman in amerika, it has all the
‘markings of the Minotaur's Maze. i had to say that, even though nothing
as spectacular takes place in the maturation process ofthe average New
Afrikan woman —it didn’t ever happen to me— but the day-to-day
struggle for survival and growth reaps the same reward in the end in ten
thousand different ways. The trick is to learn from each defeat, and
become stronger and more determined.... think and begin to develop
the necessary strategies to insure the annihilation of the beast...



iam one of family of 10 children. My parents were strict and religious,
but proud and independent. One of the strongest influences of my
childhood wasmy motherconstantly telling us to holdour heads up and
be proud because We were just as good or better than everyone else,
andto stand up and fight for what you believe to be right.



This essay first appeared in Notes fram a New Afrikan POW. Journal,
Book 7 (Spear & Shield Publications, 1979).
“There was. lot of competition in my family; had to be, with 10 children
(all two years apart) growing up, each trying to live upto the other or be
better. We were determined not to be caught up in the rut of the ghetto.
We were going to get out.... so each of us worked on our separate goals
—ten individuals —one family, in our separate world

‘We believed that with the right education We could “make it” — so
that’s the route We took searching for the “amerikkkan dream.” i was
goingto bea doctor.

In my second year of college i pledged for a sorority —it was here
that the rose-colored glasses were cracked and rays of reality were
allowed to filter in.

The sorority had decided to help “disadvantaged” children as one of
cur projects for the year and were trying to decide what country to work
with, when one of the Sisters suggested that We work in the ghettos of
New York. Personally, i'd never even thought of people in the united
states being disadvantaged, but only too lazy to work and “make it.” i
‘was in for one ofthe biggest rude awakenings of my life.

A few ofus were sent to Harlem to investigate the situation, We talked
to people on thestreet, in the welfare centers, from door to door, and
watched them work and play, loiter on the comers and in the bars. What
We came away with was story of humiliation, degradation, deprivation
and waste, that started in infancy and lasted until death. .. in too many
cases, at an early age.

Even at this point, ididn’t see this as affecting me personally, only as
sorority project... sort of tourist who takes pity ontthe less fortunate.

‘The sorority decided todo what We could ta help the children. The
Black Panther Party had a Free Breakfast Program to feedthe children
going on. ihad a daughter of my own at this point, and decided that i
‘would put my energies intothis.

i couldn't getinto the politics of the Black Panther Party, buti could
volunteer to feedsome hungry children; you see,children deserve a start
and you have to feed them for them to live to learn. It'shardto think of
reading and arithmetic whenyour stomach’s growling,

i'm not trying to tell the logic of why a Free Breakfast Program for
children, butto show how i had to be slowly awakened into the reality of
life andshown the inter-conrection of things

Every moming at 5:00 my daughterand i would getready and go to
the Center where i was working on the Breakfast Program —cook and
serve breakfast, sometimes talk to the children about problems they
were encountering and sometimes help them with their homework.
Everything was going along smoothly until thenumber of children coming,
began to fal off. Finally, i began to question the children and found out
that the police had been telling the parents in the neighborhood not to
sead their children to the Program because We were feeding them
poisoned food.



It’s one thing to hear about underhanded things the policedo — you
ccan ignore itthen —but it’s totally different when you experienceiit for
yourself— you either lie to yourself or face it. chose to face it and find
out why the police felt it was so important to keep New Afrikan children
from being fed that they told lies. i wentback to the Black Parther Party
and started attending some of their Community Political Education
Chases.



It wasn’t long after that when i was forced to make a decision about
what direction i was going in politically, i was on 42nd street with a
friend when we noticeda crowd gathered on the comer. In the center of
the crowd was a Panther with some newspapers under his arm. Two
police officers were also there, i listened to see what was going on, The
police were telling the Panther he couldn't sell newspapers onthe comer
and he was insisting that he could. Without a thought, i told the police
thatthe Brother hada “constitutional right” to disseminate political literature
anywhere, at which point the police asked for my identification and
arrested the Sister and mysel!, along with the Brother who was selling
the papers.


First Encounter With The Police

ihad never been arrested before, and i was naive enough to believe
that all you had to do was be honest and everything would workout all
right. | was wrong again. As soon as the police got us into the back-seat
of their carand pulled away from the crowd, the bezstiality began to
show. My friend went to say something and one of the police officers
threatened to ram his nightstick up her if she opened her mouth again,
and ran on in a monologue about New A frikan (black) people. i listened
and got angry...

At the [4th Precinct they separated us to search us. After the
policewoman had searched me, i remember one of the male officers
telling herto make sure she washed her hand so she wouldn’t catch
anything.

‘That night, i went to see my mother, explained to her about the bust
and about a decision i'd made. Momma and Daddy were in the kitchen
when i got there — Daddy sitting at the table and Momma cooking. i
remember telling them about the bust and them saying nothing. Then i
told them about how the police kad acted aad them still saying nothing.
Then i told them that i couldn’t sit still and allow the police to get away
with that. ihad to stard up for my rights asa human being, i remember
my mother saying, “...if you think it’s right, then doit.” i went back to
Harlem and joined the Black Panther Party.







i spent the next year working with welfare mothers. Liberation
Schools, talking o students, leaming the reality of life in the ghettos of
amerikkka and re-evaluating a lot of the things i had been taught about
the “land of the free and home of the brave.”

It was about this time that i quit school and went to look fora full-
time job. i had education and skills but there was always something
wrong. It didn’t dawn on me what it was until i went to fT Tand applied
for a job asa receptionist-clerk,and they told me i was over qualified,
i ended up working for my friend’s mother in her beauty parlor and
spentall my spare time with the Party


By the summer of 1970 i was a full-time Party member and my
daughter was staying with my mother. i was teaching some of the Political
Education classes at the Party office, and had established a Liberation
School in my Section of the community. i had listened to the elderly
while they told me how they couldn’t survive off their miserly Social
Security checks — not pay rent and eat, too — so they pay their rent
and cat from the dog food section of the supermarket or the garbage
cans, i had listened to the middle-aged mother as she told of being evicted
from her home and sleeping on a subway with her children because the
welfare refused to give her help unless she signed over all the property
she had, and out of desperation, fraudulently received welfare. i had
watched while amother prostituted her body to put food inthe mouth of
her child and another mother, mentally broken under the pressure,
prostituted her eight year old child. i had seen enough of the ravages of
dope, alcohol, and despair to know that a change had to be made so the
world could be a better place for my child to live in.



My mother had successfully kept me ignorant to the reality of the
plight of New A ftikan (black) people in amerika —now i had leamed
it for myself— but i was still to learn a harsher lesson: the plight of the
slave who daresto rebel.

Turbulent Times

‘The year 1971 saw many turbulent times inthe Black Panther Party,
and changes in my life. met and worked with many people who were to
teach me and guide me: Michael (Cetewayo) Tabor of the Panther 21;
Albert (Nuh) Washington, and "Lost One,” who was responsible for my
initial political education; Robert Webb. Cet taught me to dealprincipledly;
Nuh taught me compassion; and Robert taught me to be firm in my
convictions.

‘When the split went down in the Black Panther Party, i was left ina
position of Communications and Information Office: for the East Coast
Party. It wasn’t until much later that i wasto find out how vulnerable that
position was.
Many of the members of the Party went underground to work with
the Black Liberation Army (BLA). i was among those who elected to
remain aboveground and supply necessary support. The murders of
youths such as Clifford Glover, Tyrone Guyton, etc., by the police, and
retaliation by the BLA with the assassination of pigs Piagentini and Jones
and Rocco and Laurie, made the powers that be frantic, and they pulled
out the stops in their campaign to rid the streets of rebellious slaves.

By the spring of 1973, Comrades Assata Shakur and Sundiata Acoli
\were captured, along with Nuh and Jalil (Anthony Bottoms), and Twyman
Myers was on the f.b.is 10 Most Wanted list, and i was still traveling
back and forth across the kountry trying to build necessary support
‘mechanisms.

In 1972 i recognized the need for something other than myself to
depend on. You see, in less than two years id aged to the point where i
realized that nothing is permanent or secure in a world where it’s who
you know and what you have that counts. i'd seen friends and loved
‘ones either killed or thrown in prison, and associates that ’d once thought
would never go back, tum states or go back into the woodwork. Nuh
tumed me onto Islam, which gave mea new security, sense of purpose,
and dignity.

By 1973 i'd begun to receive a lot of flak from the police because of
what they “suspected” i might be doing. Actually it was because i didn’t
havea record; they couldn’t catch me doing anything, and i continued to
actively and vocally support the BLA members... also my homework
had been done so well in the community, that the community's support
was there, also.

Following the receipt of subpoenas to appear before a special grand
jury investigating the BLA that was seated in New York in the spring of
1974, i went underground along with some other people, to function
with the BLA.

‘On January 25, 1975, myself and some other members of the Amistad
Collective of the BLA, went into the country in Virginia to practice night
firing. We were to leave Virginia that night on our way to Jackson,
Mississippi, cause i wanted to be there on Sunday to see someone. We
decided to stop by a store before We went back to the crib We were
staying at, so We could pick up some cold cuts to make sandwiches
with so We wouldn't have to stop at any restaurants. We drove around
looking for an open store. When We came on to one i told the Brothers
to wait in the car and i'd go and be right back.

i entered the store, went past the registers, down an aisle to the meat
counter and started checking them for all-beef products, i heard a door
opening and looked up to see two of the Brothers coming in — didn’t
give it a thought — went back to what i was doing when out of the
comer of my lefteye i saw a rifle pointed toward the door in the manager's
hand. i quickly got into an aisle justas the firing started. Up to this point
i had heard no words spoken. With the first lull in shooting, Kombozi
came down the aisle toward me. He was wearing a full-length army
coat. It was completely unbuttoned. As he came toward me he told me
hhe was shot. i didn’t believe him at first because i saw no blood and his
‘weapon wasn’t drawn. Then he insisted he was again, so itold him to lie
down on the floor and ill take care of it.

Masai had apparently made it back out the door when the firing
started, because just then he came back to the door and tried to draw
the fire so We could get out. i saw him get shot in the face and stumble
backwards out the door. i looked around fora way out, and realized
there was none, and elected to play it low-keyed in order to try and get
help for Kombozi as soon as possible. i was to learn that the effort was
wasted. The manager of the store and his son, Paul Green Sr. and Jr,
stomped Kombozi to death in front of my eyes.

Later, when i attempted to press counter-charges of murder against
them, the Commonwealth Attomey called it “justifiable” homicide.

Five minutes after the shoot-out went down, the f.b.i. was on the
scene and the next momning they held a press conference, saying i was
notorious, dangerous, etc., and known to law enforcement agencies
nationwide — and my bail was set at one million dollars on each count.
‘Trial and Imprisonment

On April 16, 1975, aftera trial that lasted one day, We were sentenced
to40 years, and on April 17, i arrived hereat the Virginia Correctional
Center for Women at Goochland.

Directly following my arrival i was placed in the Max Security Building
and there i stayed, until after being threatened with kourt action, they
released me ‘o general population. The day after my release to general
population i was told that the first iota of trouble that i caused would be
placed back in the Max Security Building and there i'd stay.

Atthat point and for the next two years, my emphasis wason getting
some medical care for myself'and the other women here and educational
programs and activities; the priority being on medical care for myself.
Inside the prison i was denied it (the general feeling was they couldn't
chance hospitalization for fear i'd escape; so rather than chancing my
escape, they preferred to take a chance on my life). In the kourts they
said they saw no evidence of inadequate medical care, but rather a
difference of opinion on :reatment between me and the prison doctor.

‘The“medical treatment” for women prisoners here in Virginia has got
to be an all-time low, when you got to put your life in the hands ofa
“doctor” who examines a woman who has her right ovary removedand
tells her there’s tenderness in her rightovary; or when this same “doctor”
examines a woman who has been in prison for six morths ard tells her
she’s six Weeks pregnant, and there’s nothing wrong with her, and she
later finds her baby has died and mortified inside her; or when he tells
‘you you're not pregnant and three months later you give birthto a seven
pound baby boy; not to mention prescribing Maalox for a sore throat
and diagnosing a sore throat that turns out to be cancer.

In December of 1976i started hemorrhaging and went to the clinic
for help. No help of any consequence was given, soi escaped. Two
months lateri was recaptured. While on escape i was told by a doctor
tat i could either endure the situation, take pain killers, or have surgery.
i decided to use the lack of medical care as my defense for the escape
and by doingso dotwo things: (1) expose the level of medical care at
the prison and (2) put pressure on them to give me the care ineeded.

10
i finally got to the hospital in June of 1978. By that time it was :00
late. was 50 messed up inside that everything but one ovary had to 20,
because of the negligence of the “doctor” and lack of feeling of the
prison officials (they didn’t give a damn), i was forced to have a
hysterectomy.

‘When they brought me bac to this prison in March of 1977 because
of the escape, they placed me in Cell 5 on the segregation end ofthe
Maximum Security Building —the same room they placed me in on
April 17, 1975. To date, i’m still in that cell, allegedly because ofmy
escape, but in actuality because of my politics,

How do i know? Because since my being retumed to this institution
on March 24, 1977, other women have escaped and been brought back
andhave been releesed to general population — and yesterday my co-
defendant on the escape charge was okayed for release to general
population, i was denied.

Despite all ofthe emotional and physical setbacks i've experienced,
i've learned alot. i've watched the oppressor play that same old game
onblack people they’ ve been playing for centuries —divide ané conquer.
Black women break under the pressure and sell their men down the
river and then separate them from their children. Intwo strokes they do
moze damage than 30 years in prison could have done if the women had
supported their men.

And now, more than ever before, black women — New Afnikan
women — have developed amercenary outlook on life. They are not
about Family, Community, and us as a People anymore. They're about
looking good, having fun andmaking it.” Women’s liberation is what
they're about, failing to grasp the realization that true women’s liberation
forblack women will only come about with the liberation of black people
as a whole, so that for the first time since our forefathers were snatched
from theA fiikan continent and brought to amerikkka as slavelabor, We
‘canhavea Family, and from that Family build aCommunity and a Nation.

The powe-s that be were totally disconcerted when black mothers,
wives, daughters and black women in general, stood by andin a lot of
cases, fought beside their men, when they were captured, shot or

"


victimized by the police and other agents of the government. They were
frightened of the potential wreak havoc that black women represented
when black women began to enter into the prisons and jails in efforts to
liberate their men. They were spurred into action when they were
confronted with the fact that black women were educating their children
from the cradle up, who the real enemies of black peopleare, and what
must be done to eliminate this ever-present threat to the lives of black
people.

During the last four years of my incarceration i've watched and dicn’t
speak because i didn't want to chance alienating the “left,"as black men
and black women have fooled themselves into believing that We were
“maiing progress” because (1) Patricia Harris, a black woman, is part
ofthe u.s. president's cabinet, and (2) Andrew Young is the ambassador
tothe UN— failing to realize that it’s all politics—amerikkkan style.
And, twenty women of all races are working together for Women’s
Liberation. There isno real progress being made. As a matter of fact,
one of Carter’s best friends, Verion Jordan, hadto coacede in his annual
economicreview, the State of Black Amerikkka, 1979, that “theincome
‘gap between blacks and whites is actually widening,”



The secrifices black women have made in search of black
womanhood, like the sacrifices made by the people of Knossus in its
cffors toslay the Minotaur, have been many, harsh and cruel — but We
too can slay the beast (in our case, amerikkkan racism, capitalism, and
sexism), and out of the ashes build a free and independent Black Nation
in which We can take our rightful place as Women, Wives, and Mothers,
knowing our children will live to be men and women, and our men will
be allowed to recognize their manhood — support and defend their
families with dignity.

TOGETHER BUILDING A FUTURE FOR OURSELVES!

Build To Win!



12
























Coming of Age:
An Update (1981)

It's two years since i wrote the original article... lots of
things have happened .. . Assata Shakur was. liberated; Imari
Obadele was released... the Ku Klux Klan regrouped and
revamped; 16 black children are missing and presumed to! be
dead in Atlanta; 8 black men murdered in Buffalo; pregnant
black womer shot in Chattanooga; Ronald Reagan will take
office in 2 days.



It's two months since i was released from the Meximum
Security Building... had to go to kourt to do it...it too wasan
eye opening experience. .. they said the reason they were
keepingme housed in that building was because iwas a “threat
to the security of the free world.”

What can i say? It scems that the political scenein amerikkkka
has come full circle, and black people are once again the
scapegoats for everything that goes wrong in white amerika.
They nolonger feel the need to pacify us with poverty programs
and token jobs.

Sitting in a Maximum Security cell for3 yearsand 7 months
afforded mean opportunity to reflect upon my life and the
lessons i was forced to learn... butnow the learning process is
over... itis time toput what i've leamed into practice... freedom
will only be won by the sweat of our brows.

3




We Mourn the Loss of

Dedicated, nationally known Black liberation
fighterand longtime WBAI producer Safiya Bukhari
(Where We Live, Thursdays, 8-9 pm) died in the early
hours of the morning from complications due to
prolonged illness. She was 53. Safiya joined the Black
Panther Party in 1969 after witnessing a vicious
police beating of another Panther standing on a
Harlem street corner selling the Party's newspaper. “1
tell people straight up that it was the New York Police
Department that made me decide to join the Black
Panther Party.” She said, “In college I supported the
war in Vietnam. I was so far to the right it was
ridiculous. But by the time the summer of 1969 was
over, in November, I was in the Party.”

A disciplined and dedicated revolutionary, Safiya
went on to join the Black Liberation Army. She spent
close to nine years in prison for clandestine actions
on behalf of the BLA. After her release, Safiya
dedicated her life to the freedom of her comrades she
left behind, and used every means at her disposal. She
eS
by Sally O’Brien, co-producer, co-host, Where We Live
August 24th, 2003
Producer Safiya Bukhari

wrote prolifically about individual cases, designed
and made political prisoner T-shirts, buttons, bumper
stickers, and mouse pads, wrote fact sheets on each
individual case and in 1992 co-founded the New York
Free Mumia Abu-Jamal Coalition which she co-
chaired until her death. She also served as Vice
President in the Provisional Government of the
Republic of New Afrika, an organization working
towards the formation of a separate Black nation
comprised of five states — South Carolina, Georgia,
Alabama, Mississippi, and Louisiana, states built on
the backs of enslaved Africans.

In 1998, Safiya became the co-chair of the J jericho
Movement to Free U.S. Political Prisoners and
Prisoners of War. She established a website and
traveled throughout the country organizing people
to the cause of those behind the walls. Coming from
a strong family spiritual tradition, Safiya came to
embrace Islam.

Safiya Asya Bukhari, Revolutionary, Mother,
Grandmother, singer, writer, comrade, sister and
friend, our loss reverberates throughout the ages.





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