A Quote by Patrisse Cullors

In 'When They Call You a Terrorist,' I reflect on my time growing up in Van Nuys, California, surrounded by my devoted family and supportive friends, weaving our experiences into the larger picture of how predominantly marginalized neighborhoods are under constant systemic attack.
Why do terrorist attacks that kill a handful of Europeans command infinitely more American attention than do terrorist attacks that kill far larger numbers of Arabs? A terrorist attack that kills citizens of France or Belgium elicits from the United States heartfelt expressions of sympathy and solidarity. A terrorist attack that kills Egyptians or Iraqis elicits shrugs. Why the difference? To what extent does race provide the answer to that question?
I consistently go to therapy and work on this one issue. I've devoted an hour every two weeks to ask, 'How do I be a workaholic, do what we love to do, and not die of a heart attack, destroy myself and my family, and keep my friends?'
I grew up in predominantly black neighborhoods and went to predominantly black schools. And hip-hop is what I grew up listening to in my teenage years. Basically I'm just being myself.
You know how Van Nuys got its name? Well, one day my little old Jewish mother was visiting me, and I took her to the top of the Hollywood Hills and had her view the valley below just at sunset. Well, mama, what would you call that? And she said, Ver nize.
My family, friends and community members rarely spoke about race relations, or how people from different races have different experiences growing up in America. Race was a taboo topic.
It seems that, every several months, you have to expect there is going to be a terrorist incident or that there could be a terrorist incident somewhere. Right away, you're thinking, 'What are the consequences? Is this the first part of a larger attack? Is it coordinated, or a lone wolf?'
I was a typical Valley teen, in smoggy Van Nuys.
I think I missed out on so many good experiences - maybe priceless experiences - playing with my friends when I was growing up.
It’s a strange sort of attack, to be sure: a wonderfully pacific attack, a supportive attack, an attack without the slightest intention or capacity to cause harm, consisting, as it does, of the earnest wish of certain loving couples to join themselves to that very institution and thus to feel themselves, and be accepted as, full members of the American (and human) family.
I grew up loving movie musicals and Idolizing Fred Astalre. I never worked with Fred but I met him once at a pool hall in Van Nuys.
You grow up inside these neighborhoods and these communities, and you have friends, friends that you love, friends that you grew up with since elementary. And you have their trust, and you have their loyalty. So it brings influence. So no matter how much of a leader I thought I was, I was always under the influence, period.
For me, growing up in a ridiculously poor family living in dead-end neighborhoods, Superman was a deeply personal icon, one that said you can do anything if you put your mind to it. What he stood for formed the core of who I wanted to be as I grew up, and informed how I view the world and my responsibilities to other people.
The Christian Church overwhelmingly - there are exceptions - who choose to call Muhammad a terrorist. They could call Jesus a terrorist too. I mean, he was pretty tough on money lenders a time or two.
Where would we be without our friends? Honestly, every friend is so unique and special. I have my friends back in New Zealand; I have my friends in New York and California. Then you have your friends who are your family. Barbara Palvin falls into that category. I have a lot of love for all my friends.
Where would we be without our friends? Honestly, every friend is so unique and special. I have my friends back in New Zealand, I have my friends in New York and California. Then you have your friends who are your family. Barbara Palvin falls into that category. I have a lot of love for all my friends.
I was surrounded by music in my family, surrounded by people who sang songs - every single person I knew as a child growing up had one, two, three songs they knew from start to finish.
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