During the latter half of the 20th century, as U.S. liberal democracy tightened its hold on global political consciousness, Black Liberation Army veteran Assata Olugbala Shakur lived in Cuba as a fugitive and strong critic of the empire that continues to commit atrocities at home and abroad.
Shakur would continue to stand as a symbol of victory against U.S. imperialism until her death on Sept. 25 in Havana at the age of 78. Weeks later, her words and works continue to inspire young people currently fighting for similar causes.
“What specifically stands out to students, especially college students, is the way that she came into social and political consciousness during her time in college in New York,” said Dr. Kimberly Monroe, an associate professor of Africana Studies and African-American History at Trinity Washington University in Northeast.
Three years ago, Monroe, a longtime scholar of “Assata: An Autobiography” (1988), submitted that book and “The Autobiography of Malcolm X” (1965) to Trinity’s list of transformational books. Days after learning about Shakur’s death from elder comrades, Monroe would join several students and faculty members in the public reading of excerpts from the book in Trinity’s Africana Studies Reading Room.
In between readings, Monroe played music, including Common’s “A Song for Assata” (2000). She also showed students Gloria Rolando’s 1997 documentary, “Eyes on the Rainbow,” that detailed Shakur’s life in Cuba.
Weeks later, while sitting before another group of students at Howard University’s (HU) Blackburn University Center, Monroe reflected on the vitriol she received from conservative media outlets for conducting the live reading.
She would later tell The Informer that the Oct. 7 event proved well worth it.
“That was really important to me to share with students,” Monroe told The Informer, “to say [that] while we put her on this major pedestal in terms of being a part of the Black Panther Party [and] Black Liberation Army, later escaping with the help of her comrades to Cuba, she’s also had a journey of growing in terms of knowledge and social and political consciousness through study and…practice.”
A Young Person Honors Shakur With Action
Shakur, also a former member of the Black Panther Party, died in Havana on the afternoon Sept. 25 at the age of 78. She not only died a free woman, but a contemporary symbol of resistance against racism, capitalism, and imperialism.
A day later, shortly after the start of the rumor mill, Shakur’s daughter confirmed what many throughout the Diaspora feared to be true.
“Words cannot describe the depth of loss that I am feeling at this time,” Kukuya Shakur said in a Facebook post. “I want to thank you for your loving prayers that continue to anchor me in the strength that I need for this moment. My spirit is overflowing in unison with all of you who are grieving with me at this time.”
Born JoAnne Chesimard in Queens, the revolutionary Shakur became a student activist in the late 1960s while studying at Borough of Manhattan Community College and City College of New York. She later adopted her African name and joined the Black Panther Party.
Shakur later joined the Black Liberation Army, during which she became a U.S. fugitive. In 1973, while on the run, Shakur, along with Sundiata Acoli and Zayd Malik Shakur, got caught up in a shootout on the New Jersey Turnpike that ended in the latter’s death and that of a state trooper.
A jury would later convict Shakur of first-degree murder, despite her assertions that, due to the injuries she sustained in the shootout, she couldn’t have killed the state trooper.
In 1979, Shakur escaped prison. She went underground until 1984, when Cuba gave her political asylum.
For decades, U.S. authorities had gone to great lengths to secure Shakur’s extradition. In the 1990s, the New Jersey State Police appealed to Pope John Paul II for assistance. More recently, during the Obama administration, Shakur became the first woman to be added to the FBI’s Most Wanted Terrorists List.
As Howard student Delaney Leonard pointed out, Shakur overcame those hurdles to live life on her terms.
“To see someone struggle and be successful in sustaining her freedom serves as a big inspiration for all of us that it is possible to escape from the clutches of the United States,” said Leonard, a member of HU’s Kwame Ture Society for Africana Studies (KTS). “The fact that Assata was almost in some ways able to have autonomy over her own death…means a lot to young folks like myself who are coming into adulthood in such a stratified time period.”
For weeks, young people honored Shakur’s legacy across the D.C. metropolitan area — including at the Anacostia River near the 11th Street Bridge on the night of Shakur’s death and at Busboys and Poets on 14th Street in Northwest while in conversation with Andy Shallal and scholar Marc Lamont Hill.
On the evening of Oct. 28, Leonard and two other HU students sat on a panel alongside Monroe, journalist-playwright-organizer Obi Egbuna Jr., cultural educator James Early and attorney-activist-author Nkechi Taifa.
The two-hour event at HU’s Blackburn University Center allowed for analysis of Shakur’s life and legacy, and how students can best advance the cause of African liberation.
During the panel discussion, Leonard, who uses they/them pronouns, cautioned their peers against immortalizing Shakur to the point where they felt it insurmountable to walk in her footsteps. Days later, while speaking to The Informer, Leonard reiterated those sentiments.
“We all can be global anti-imperialists in solidarity with African people around the globe and particularly being in solidarity with our political prisoners who have been exiled all over the world,” Leonard said. ”It’s hard to lose anyone, let alone someone as impactful as Assata, but within this transition, there’s also a lot of ways that Assata’s passing is bringing more people into the movement, into consciousness.”
Leonard first learned about Shakur during high school while reading “Assata: An Autobiography.” Later, as an Africana Studies student, Leonard applied much of what they learned from Shakur in their organizing work. In September, shortly before Shakur’s death, Leonard made their second visit to Cuba, bringing aspirin and other items that Cubans aren’t able to easily access due to the Cold War-era U.S. blockade imposed on the island nation.
Under the blockade, Cuba, a one-party socialist state, often suffers food and fuel shortages. However, its government provides free medical care to its citizens while assisting other countries — including Barbados and Liberia — on medical missions via the Henry Reeves Medical Brigade.
In addition to Shakur, Cuba has also provided political asylum for Eldridge Cleaver and Robert F. Williams.
All of the aforementioned, Leonard said, demonstrates a common understanding between Cuba and Black America about the need to dismantle oppressive systems. It also speaks, they said, to the price that Cuba continues to pay for supporting African people.
“We know that, not only is it politically right to stand in solidarity with Cuba and work to end the blockade, but we know that that’s connected to our liberation as well,” Leonard told The Informer. “As long as the United States is in a position where it can impose economic sanctions on another country to the point that this country’s economy and people’s daily life is crippled, they are able to still keep us internally oppressed as an internal colony.”
An Elder Artist Reflects on Shakur’s Legacy
In 2015, under President Obama, the U.S. re-established diplomatic relations with Cuba. That change in policy brought 2630 16th Street NW back into its role as the Cuban Embassy.
One decade, and at least one terrorist attack later, the embassy continues to host cultural programming.
One such program, titled “CUBAN LINKS: A Three-Artist Exploration of Cuban Culture,” took place at the embassy one week after Shakur’s death.
During the evening hours of Oct. 3, the top floor of the embassy turned into an art exhibit featuring dozens of pieces curated by veteran museum consultant Jon West-Bey. West-Bey told The Informer that each of the featured artists — Bronx-born visual artist Samuel “Sami” Miranda, Cuban-born painter Lazaro Batista and Georgia-born African-American artist Ulysses Marshall — produced art representing their unique relationship with Cuba.
The artists’ various backgrounds, West-Bey said, makes for an even more culturally enriching experience in the Cuban Embassy.
“The embassy thinks of themselves as deeply interconnected with their African roots and has a commitment to connecting African Americans, Afro-Cubans all over the Diaspora,” West-Bey told The Informer. “This was a perfect partnership to have to host this exhibition here because it really gets to the heart of Pan-Africanism, of shared historical experiences through our African ancestors.”
Marshall, an award-winning artist, said he and a friend went to Cuba on a whim during the early 2000s. In speaking about his Cuba-centric work, he revealed that it first came out of conversations on the island about the nearly 100-mile trek that some Cubans make on the water to get to the U.S.
“I was like, ‘Can you imagine someone being out there this time of night in the darkness of the ocean, on the sea? Do they have a compass? Do they have food?,’” Marshall said. “The idea then was born to do a series of works based on that particular conversation. That work then exploded into what you might see upstairs.”
Well before he collaborated with West-Bey for the first CUBAN LINKS program in Dorchester, Maryland, Marshall showcased his Cuban-influenced art in solo exhibits throughout Georgia. He said that his art reflects the sense of community that he felt in Cuba, unlike anything he had experienced in the U.S.
“Sometimes I feel like I have Cuban DNA simply because of my southern birth and what I saw there was not surprising or overwhelming to me,” Marshall told The Informer. “It was more like I was at home. There was a friendship, there was a kinship, and there was an acceptance of me as an African-American in their culture. I didn’t feel like an outsider. I didn’t feel like someone was watching me as I walked down the street into the villages or when I’m going into a restaurant to eat.”
While neither Marshall nor West-Bey spoke at length about the recently transitioned Shakur, Marshall expressed respect for what she represents in this day and age.
“Maybe moving to Cuba was her destiny,” Marshall said, “and whether or not the legacy will be in bold writings on Broadway, I think what she has accomplished was important for her. The message is: ‘If I can do this, so can you.’ I can live away from this country because of what the country has done to me.”