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Brother Malcolm Told Us Where the Courtroom Was
Before I get into what happened in Switzerland I need to pay a debt, because this trip does not exist without a man who never got to make it.
On April 3, 1964, in Cleveland, Malcolm X stood up at Cory Methodist Church and told a room full of Black folks that they had been fighting in the wrong courtroom. Civil rights, he said, keeps the whole struggle inside the jurisdiction of Uncle Sam. You are asking the man who is violating you to also be the judge. Human rights, though, is a different jurisdiction. Human rights are the rights you were born with, and the moment you frame the case that way you can carry it to the United Nations and put the United States in the dock in front of the whole world. That is the argument of “The Ballot or the Bullet” that people skip past when they only quote the title.
Then he did what he said. On June 28, 1964, he founded the Organization of Afro American Unity, modeled on the Organization of African Unity, with the explicit purpose of internationalizing the struggle. Three weeks later, on July 17, 1964, he was in Cairo at the OAU summit handing African heads of state a memorandum asking them to bring the condition of 22 million Black Americans before the United Nations. He spent the last year of his life flying between Africa and Harlem building that case. He was assassinated on February 21, 1965, before he could file it.
I’m a former national championship winning policy debate coach and hall of fame college policy debater, that spent years running Afro pessimist critiques of civil society in rounds. I know the arguments about why the UN is a colonial instrument, why the state cannot be reformed into recognizing Black humanity, why appealing to the international order is appealing to the same order that built the plantation. I still believe a lot of that as description. Malcolm believed a lot of that too. Then he went to Cairo anyway, because he understood something that took me a flight to Geneva to feel in my body: the value of the human rights forum is not that it will save you. The value is that it forces the state to be seen refusing to save you, on a record it does not control, in front of people it cannot intimidate.
That is the work I went to Switzerland to continue. Not because I think Geneva is Wakanda. Because Malcolm told us where the courtroom was, and in November 2025 the United States refused to show up to it, and somebody had to be in the room to write that down.
Why I Was There
Let me zoom in for a minute, y’all. I did not go to the United Nations for me. I went because two people invited me to come capture what they were doing, and what they were doing was putting the reproductive health of Black women, pregnant people, and multiply marginalized folks in this country into the international record while our own government was actively trying to erase it.
Pearl Ricks, who uses they and them pronouns, is the executive director of the Reproductive Justice Action Collective in New Orleans and a cofounder of the Choice Congregation Church. Pearl is an artist and, in their own words, a full human being who refuses to forget that while doing advocacy and care work. Kiana Lewis is a full spectrum community doula with over 25 years of birth work, born and raised in St. Louis, Missouri, seventeen years in Texas, and now between the two. She founded the Holy Ho Institute, a reproductive justice sanctuary in Dallas, she serves as interim executive director of the historic Jamaa Birth Village in Ferguson, Missouri, and she is cochair of the National Network of Abortion Funds. She entered this work, as she said on my stream, as a Black queer birth worker.
Neither of them is a diplomat. Neither of them has a law degree. Pearl told me in Geneva that they had to leave college because it was giving depression and broke. That is important, because the United Nations has a word for who they are, and the word is civil society. I looked it up, because I know how my audience is. According to the UN, civil society is the third sector of society, distinct from both government and business, the realm of organized voluntary activity by citizens. Which means the doula in Dallas and the organizer in New Orleans are not guests in that building. Structurally, they are one of the three legs the whole thing stands on.
What the Universal Periodic Review Actually Is
Huey P. Newton once said that power is the ability to define the phenomenon and make it act in a desired manner. So before we get into the phenomenon, let me define it, because most people in the U.S. have never heard of it and that is not an accident.
The Universal Periodic Review, or UPR, is a process of the UN Human Rights Council in which every single member state, all 193, has its human rights record reviewed by the other member states on a cycle of roughly four and a half years. Every country. The rich ones. The powerful ones. The ones that position themselves as defenders of democracy and human rights. That is the entire point of the word universal. No country is supposed to be above scrutiny.
Here is how it works, in Kiana’s words on my stream, because she explained it better than the website does. The government being reviewed submits a national report on what it is doing to protect human rights. Other governments examine the record and make recommendations, which can cover racial discrimination, reproductive rights, policing, incarceration, LGBTQ rights, health care, housing, voting rights. The country under review can accept, note, or respond to each recommendation, and ideally it acts on them before the next cycle. The process is not a world court. It cannot force anybody to change a law. What it does is put violations into an international record, allow governments to question one another, and allow civil society to introduce evidence that the official government narrative leaves out. In Kiana’s phrasing: hey, I know this is what our government told you, but this is what our experience is on the ground.
That civil society evidence has a name. It is called a stakeholder submission, or in the language of the people who do this work, a shadow report. Pearl put it plainly: anything a government does not want to talk about, it is going to omit. Anything a government wants to change the facts on, the shadow report gives us the opportunity to tell the truth about. Pearl and Kiana, with the Reproductive Justice Action Collective, Birthmark Doulas, Ipas, and a coalition of other organizations, spent the better part of a year interviewing people, talking to legislators, and reviewing policy to produce a submission titled Diminishing Reproductive and Bodily Autonomy in the United States. It documents restrictions on freedom of movement, abortion access, and the criminalization of pregnancy outcomes, whether that outcome is a miscarriage, an abortion, or a stillbirth. Pearl noted something that mattered to them: in a global venue they were able to degender the language, to talk about pregnant people and bodies capable of pregnancy, and to bring a reproductive justice lens that refuses to put trans people, intersex people, or immigrants on the chopping block to protect somebody else.
Now here is the phenomenon. The fourth cycle review of the United States was scheduled for November 7, 2025. Civil society organizations had already filed 155 submissions documenting arbitrary detention, abuse of immigrants, regression on sexual and reproductive rights, systemic racial discrimination. The government’s national report was due in August. On August 28, 2025, the chief of the UPR branch announced that the United States had withdrawn from its own review. On November 7, the chair of the Human Rights Council opened the session, the U.S. delegation’s seats were empty, the interactive dialogue could not proceed, and the Council adopted by consensus a decision expressing regret and urging the U.S. to resume cooperation.
No UN member state had ever failed to be reviewed since the process began in 2008. Israel boycotted its own review in 2013 and came back the same year. The United States, which participated actively in its first three reviews, including in 2020 after it had already left the Human Rights Council once, is now the only country on Earth to simply not show up.
Kiana described what that felt like. A group of them had gone to Geneva for the presession in the fall of 2025 because they had an inkling the government might not participate, and they were there to testify anyway. In the middle of a session, in the middle of a testimony, a note came through that the United States would not be participating. She said it felt disrespectful, and not to the UN. It felt disrespectful to the people whose lives were in the reports. To the people being criminalized, denied health care, living in state violence. She remembers sitting with a delegate, she thinks Norway or Chile, and telling them: even if the United States decides not to show up, you cannot not still name the atrocities. You cannot leave the citizens of the United States alone with this administration. It is not safe.
I’m a educator. I come from the academic space. When I hear the word review, I understand what a peer review is. I understand what it means when you pull out of one. It means you do not want your claims checked. It means you would rather have your work uncited than refereed. That is not a technicality to me. That really means something.
The Same Year, Three Times
Here is where the historian in me needs to slow the room down, because the Universal Declaration of Human Rights is not a neutral document that fell out of the sky.
It was adopted by the UN General Assembly on December 10, 1948, the day after my birthday, in the ashes of the Second World War, after the world had watched what happens when a government decides certain human beings are less worthy of dignity. The declaration begins from a principle: all human beings are born free and equal in dignity and rights. Your citizenship does not create your dignity. Your income does not. Your race does not. Your gender does not. Kiana read the list on my stream and I put the articles on the screen: freedom from slavery and servitude, equality before the law, privacy, protection from arbitrary arrest and detention, freedom of movement, freedom of expression, peaceful assembly, the right to participate in government, the right to work, the right to education, an adequate standard of living, health and wellbeing.
Now hold that date. 1948. On May 14, 1948, the State of Israel declared itself into existence. On May 26, 1948, the National Party won the South African election on a platform called apartheid, and when the UN voted on the declaration that December, South Africa was one of the eight abstentions. The same body that wrote down universal dignity for the first time was, in the same twelve months, presiding over the legitimation of two racial states, one of which would spend the next forty six years building a legal order the declaration explicitly forbids.
So when I say the United Nations has not always already been the best adjudicator of human relations, that is not me being cute. That is the archive. Du Bois was in San Francisco in 1945 as an NAACP consultant to the founding conference, and he came home and wrote Color and Democracy to say the new organization had been built to protect the colonial powers from the colonized, not the other way around. In October 1947 he filed the NAACP’s An Appeal to the World with the UN, a 94 page petition documenting the condition of Black Americans as a human rights matter. Eleanor Roosevelt, who sat on the NAACP board and chaired the UN Human Rights Commission, refused to let it be introduced, because the Soviet Union wanted to discuss it and the State Department didn’t. In December 1951, William Patterson of the Civil Rights Congress walked into the UN in Paris with We Charge Genocide, a petition documenting lynchings, police killings, and legal murder under the 1948 Genocide Convention. The State Department confiscated his passport on his way home.
In Eyes Off the Prize, Carol Anderson documents what happened next: under Cold War pressure, with the Truman administration treating any international critique of American racism as Soviet propaganda, the NAACP walked away from the human rights frame and settled for civil rights. Not because human rights was the wrong frame. Because the state made the human rights frame too expensive. The organization that filed An Appeal to the World in 1947 would, by 1955, be defending itself against accusations of communism for having done so. The file was not lost. The file was closed.
This means Malcolm’s 1964 pivot was not an innovation. It was a reopening. And the empty chair in Geneva in 2025 is the same state, seventy eight years later, still trying to keep the file shut. The only difference is that in 1947 they pressured the petitioners. In 2025 they just refused to come to court.
Whitey at the UN: The Treaties We Wrote and Would Not Sign
Kiana said something on the stream that I need everybody to sit with. There is a difference between something being a human right and your government agreeing to be legally accountable for it. The declaration is a declaration. The accountability comes from treaties, and a treaty only binds you if you ratify it.
I promised I would highlight a few. So here is the list, and I corrected one thing from the stream, which is that most of these the U.S. did sign and then never took the second step.
The Convention on the Rights of the Child is the most ratified human rights treaty in history. Every UN member state is a party to it except one. The United States signed it in 1995 and has never ratified it.
The Convention on the Elimination of All Forms of Discrimination Against Women, the core international women’s rights treaty, was signed by Jimmy Carter in 1980. It has sat in the Senate for forty six years. The U.S. is one of a handful of countries on Earth that has not ratified it, alongside Iran, Sudan, and Somalia.
The International Covenant on Economic, Social and Cultural Rights, the treaty that turns the declaration’s language about health, housing, food, and education into obligations, was signed in 1977 and never ratified. The United States is the only developed country that has not.
The Convention on the Rights of Persons with Disabilities was signed in 2009. The Senate voted on it in December 2012 with Bob Dole sitting in the chamber in a wheelchair asking them to pass it, and it fell five votes short.
Kiana framed the consequence exactly right. In some countries there is a certain level of health care that community is simply supposed to have. Here, it is tied to your job, your income, your ability to pay for a procedure. That is not an accident of policy. It is the direct result of the United States never agreeing that health is a right of its citizens, even though it helped write the sentence that says so.
Then there is the vote that took me out. In 2021 the UN General Assembly’s Third Committee voted on a resolution reaffirming the right to food. One hundred eighty countries voted yes. Two voted no: the United States and Israel. The U.S. delegate said on the record that the United States does not recognize a right to food. In 2010, when the General Assembly recognized water and sanitation as a human right, the U.S. abstained. Now put that next to the data centers going up across Black and rural communities in this country, drawing down the water tables and the grid, and ask yourself why a government would need to be on record that clean water is not a right. Whitey on the Moon, and the astronaut says the rent ain’t a human right either.
What Delegates’ Faces Look Like When You Say Lynching
There is something from Geneva that is going to stay with me for the rest of my life.
Pearl was talking to a delegate, and I am not going to say from where, and Pearl mentioned that they are lynching Black people again. This delegate said, I used to live in America. And they were caught off guard. We were telling them that Black bodies are being found hanging, that we have Flock cameras and Axon cameras on every corner and somehow nobody can see who did it, and this diplomat who had lived in the United States looked at us like: they are doing what again?
That look is the whole reason for the trip. Pearl said it on the stream: just like our incoming news is censored, so is our outgoing news. Blackness is the largest cultural export America has, and America is not exporting what happens because of anti Blackness. The delegates in that building know Beyoncé. They do not know that in 2025 the United States government dropped a note and walked away from telling them what is happening to Beyoncé’s people.
Pearl talked about contemporary lynchings, which they defined carefully: death by another means, still a lynching, including a police department refusing to help a family determine who caused the harm. Refusing to investigate is its own form of brutality. Pearl talked about the intersections, about migrant and undocumented people whose reproduction is being criminalized alongside ours, about stillbirths and miscarriages treated as crimes. And Pearl said the thing that made the room go quiet: when the United States decides what is acceptable treatment for other nations, it is telling you who it does not consider human. If they are denying your basic human rights, the only explanation is that you have been dehumanized. Adultifying Black children. Calling a teenager the Hulk. Calling a whole population roaches. The denial of rights is the paperwork. The dehumanization is the policy.
Venezuela, and the Word Human Rights in a Bomber’s Mouth
I was sitting in that building listening to people describe indefinite ICE detention and criminalized movement, and I kept thinking about how much of this country’s military history has been justified in the language of the very rights it was refusing to be reviewed on.
On January 3, 2026, the United States bombed Caracas and captured the sitting president of Venezuela and his wife, flew them to a warship, and then to a courtroom in New York. The president of the United States said the U.S. would run Venezuela until a transition it approved of. The secretary general’s office called it a dangerous precedent. Most of Africa, Asia, and Latin America condemned it. NATO members mostly cheered. I am not here to defend Maduro. I am here to point at the language. For months the case for that operation was built on democracy, on freeing the Venezuelan people, on human rights. The same government that would not sit in a chair in Geneva to be asked about its own detention centers was, seven weeks later, kidnapping a head of state in the name of the rights it refused to be reviewed on.
That is not hypocrisy in the casual sense. That is a two roles frame. What they say human rights is for: a standard that applies to everyone. What human rights structurally does in their hands: a license that applies only outward, never in. And when you understand that, the empty chair and the raid are not contradictions. They are the same policy.
What American Hegemony Is
Let me define this term, because it gets thrown around like an insult when it is actually a description.
Hegemony, in Antonio Gramsci’s sense, is domination that does not need to announce itself as domination, because it has become common sense. The hegemon does not just have the biggest army. The hegemon writes the rules of the game, staffs the referees, and then gets to be the one country the referee never calls a foul on. After 1945, the United States built exactly that. It hosted the UN. It wrote the dollar into the world’s plumbing at Bretton Woods. It took a permanent seat and a veto on the Security Council. It drafted the declaration with Eleanor Roosevelt’s name on the committee, and then it used the phrase human rights as a foreign policy weapon against the Soviet Union while making sure, as Anderson and Von Eschen both document, that the phrase could never be turned around and pointed at Mississippi.
Von Eschen calls what happened to the Black anticolonial movement in the 1950s a domestication: an international Black politics that in 1945 saw Jim Crow and European colonialism as one system was, within a decade, pressured into treating them as separate problems. Paul Robeson’s passport, Du Bois’s indictment, Patterson’s passport. Hegemony is when you do not have to ban the argument. You just have to make the people who make it unemployable.
So American hegemony is not simply that America is strong. It is that America built the human rights system as a mirror that faces outward, and the Universal Periodic Review was one of the very few places where the mirror got turned around. Withdrawing from it is not a retreat from hegemony. It is hegemony dropping the pretense. The referee has announced that he will keep calling fouls on everybody else and will no longer be reviewing his own tape.
The Hypocrisy of Democracy, Which Is Not a Bug
Frederick Douglass asked in 1852 what the Fourth of July is to the slave, and Du Bois in Black Reconstruction named the answer: American democracy has always run on what he called the American Assumption, the belief that the system is free and open to all while it was structurally built on the exclusion of most. Aziz Rana, in The Two Faces of American Freedom, makes the argument sharper. The freedom of the settler citizen was never a partial democracy waiting to be completed. It was a freedom whose material content depended on the subordination of Indigenous people, enslaved people, and later immigrants and colonial subjects. The two faces are not a contradiction the founders failed to notice. They are one machine.
Pearl’s point about ICE is Rana’s point. Kiana said it flatly: Black Americans should recognize the danger of allowing the government to create categories of people whose rights become conditional. The UPR withdrawal is the government announcing that its own compliance with rights is also conditional, on nothing but its mood. A democracy that reviews everybody’s elections but its own, that lectures Saudi Arabia about women’s movement while shackling a woman in Louisiana while she miscarries, that spends decades of curriculum dollars teaching children why abducting people into camps was the crime of the century and then runs a youth detention facility in San Benito, Texas, where girls arrive not pregnant and become pregnant, is not failing at democracy. It is doing what Rana says it was built to do. The word democracy is the outward face. The category of people whose rights are conditional is the inward one.
The Curriculum Was Always an Export Product
When the Justice Department filed its brief in Brown v. Board of Education in 1952, it made an argument that had nothing to do with Black children. Segregation, the brief said, was damaging the reputation of the United States abroad and handing the Soviet Union propaganda. Dudziak’s Cold War Civil Rights traces this pattern through the whole era: Little Rock was a crisis for Eisenhower because of the photographs in the foreign press, the State Department sent jazz musicians on tour to prove the country was free, and the federal government’s investment in racial progress rose and fell with how bad the story looked in Geneva, in Accra, in Delhi. Black education was funded, when it was funded, as an image.
So when I sat in the UN and heard delegates from other countries recommending, through the UPR process, that the United States provide full spectrum, accurate, up to date, and culturally relevant education for its children, and when Pearl told me you can look this up in the UPR Info database and filter by who recommended it, I understood that the world has been trying to grade this curriculum for seventy years and the U.S. has just stopped turning in the paper.
Here is what American exceptionalism does as a taught doctrine. It teaches that the human rights violations happened somewhere else. I said it on the stream: how much money was spent building curriculum to teach us what Hitler did, that abducting people and forcing them into camps and discriminating against them by category was evil and must never happen again. That lesson was built to point outward. It was never built to make a child in Houston look at a detention facility in Dilley and recognize the shape. Exceptionalism is a pedagogy of the outward mirror, and the UPR withdrawal is the state making sure nobody adds an inward one.
In Cutting School she names the economy that runs underneath: segrenomics, the practice of extracting profit from keeping Black and poor children in separate and lesser schools while calling it choice, reform, or innovation. The material impact of exceptionalism is not just what a child believes about America. It is what gets defunded so the story can stay clean. The same year the United States withdrew from its human rights review, it was dismantling the Department of Education’s research and civil rights capacity, cancelling the contracts that measure achievement gaps, and executing an order against what it called radical indoctrination in K through 12, which in practice means any curriculum that adds the inward mirror. You cannot audit what you refuse to count, and a country that refuses to count is a country that has decided the count would be a foreign policy embarrassment.
Now the intersectional material impact, because Rooks and Dudziak both show whose bodies carry the image. Pearl left college because it was giving depression and broke. Kiana said she is not studying these issues from a distance; she sits with the bodies who live inside policies somebody else wrote. The Black women and queer folks doing this work at the UN are largely people the education system did not credential, and they are the ones doing the archival labor the credentialed system has abandoned. That is the adult education lesson I hold as somebody with a degree in it: the most rigorous human rights documentation on the United States this cycle was produced by a doula, an organizer, and a coalition of community organizations, submitted in a language they had to teach themselves, for a review the country’s own scholars mostly did not know was happening. The classroom failed them, and they built the archive anyway. Kiana’s word for it was witness. Pearl’s was griot. The UN’s word is civil society. All three mean the same thing: the record is being kept by the people the record was supposed to erase.
The Girls in San Benito Were Never Meant to Be in the Report
In September 1994 the United Nations held its International Conference on Population and Development in Cairo. That same year, twelve Black women meeting in Chicago, calling themselves Women of African Descent for Reproductive Justice, coined the term reproductive justice by fusing reproductive rights with social justice, and they built it explicitly on the human rights framework then being assembled for Cairo. Loretta Ross was one of them. She would go on to run the National Center for Human Rights Education and to cofound SisterSong. In Reproductive Justice: An Introduction she and Solinger define the framework as three rights held together: the right not to have a child, the right to have a child, and the right to parent the children you have in safe and sustainable communities. Health care, housing, policing, water, and immigration are not adjacent to reproductive justice. They are its content.
Now put that framework on the girls in San Benito, Texas.
In July 2025 the acting director of the Office of Refugee Resettlement directed that every pregnant unaccompanied minor in federal custody be placed in a single shelter in San Benito, hours from specialized obstetric care, in a state with a total abortion ban and no exception for rape or incest. Former officials described it as a deliberate effort to deny abortion access by concentrating pregnant children in a state where there is none. Girls as young as 13. About half the pregnancies, according to reporting, the result of rape. In April 2026, Representative Maxine Dexter, one of six physicians in Congress, visited the facility, was blocked from speaking to girls who had asked to speak with her, and was told a facility that had held seventeen children weeks earlier now held seven, with no answer to where the others went beyond “it’s case by case.” Her letter to HHS carried the question in its plainest form: where are the kids?
Pearl said it on the stream and I will not soften it. Kids in youth detention who were not pregnant when they arrived and are pregnant now. Who got them pregnant? And when a child in federal custody gives birth, who does the United States give parental rights to? Pearl said it made them think of breeding under chattel slavery, where whoever gives birth does not own the line, the one who controls them does. That is partus sequitur ventrem, the 1662 Virginia statute that made the child follow the condition of the mother, and it is not a metaphor in this instance. It is a custody question the government will not answer.
The reproductive justice framework was built so that the right to parent your child in a safe community would sit beside the right not to have one, because Black women knew that population control had always been aimed at them from both directions: forced sterilization when they wanted children, forced birth when they did not. San Benito is both directions at once, applied to migrant girls, in a state that Ross’s own framework would name as an unsafe community by design. And here is Crenshaw’s point, which Kiana made without citing her: a Black immigrant does not stop being Black when immigration policy hits them. A queer person in Palestine does not experience sexuality separately from occupation. The systems meet on the body, and the body cannot file them separately.
The ACLU and its partners documented what meeting looks like. In an October 2025 letter to ICE and Senate committees, they described more than a dozen women interviewed over nine months: a woman shackled at her arms and legs while actively miscarrying on the way to an emergency room, a woman shackled at ankles, hands, and waist during cross country transport while pregnant, women begging for prenatal vitamins and being denied, women left bleeding in a room without water. Shackled and chained while miscarrying, denied prenatal care. I read that paragraph on the stream because I did not want these to sound like nebulous examples.
Pearl’s line is the intersectional thesis of this whole essay: my liberation will never be achieved by ignoring the oppression of the people who stand beside me, whether we share intersections or not. Pearl said trans men need reproductive health care. Kiana said amen. I said Audre Lorde: there is no such thing as a single issue struggle because we do not live single issue lives. And I want to be specific to my people, because I get the comment every time: Conscious Lee, why you talking about trans women, what about Black people. Black trans women are Black, trans, and women at the same time, not one at a time. Black Haitians and Black Nigerians are getting swept up in the same raids people are cheering as a Latino problem. The Memphis raid at the end of August, 121 people taken out of a nightclub in the Berclair neighborhood in white vans while the neighborhood shouted shame, was in an immigrant corridor, and if you think the agency running it has ever drawn a line around Black folks, you have not read a single page of this country’s police history. ICE is the police. CPS is the police. The police have never been our friend, and a police agency with a bigger budget than any in American history is not going to start with you.
They Told Us Who the Terrorists Are
Pearl brought up something I want everybody to research after they finish reading this. On September 25, 2025, the president signed National Security Presidential Memorandum 7, on countering domestic terrorism and organized political violence. The memo lists indicators that a person or group may commit domestic terrorism. Among them: anti Americanism, anti capitalism, anti Christianity, extremism on migration, race, and gender, and hostility toward those who hold traditional American views on family, religion, and morality. The Justice Department issued implementation guidance in December 2025. The FBI repeated the list in its March 2026 budget request. The IRS created a command center to examine nonprofits.
Read that list again as a Black person. Anti Christianity, from a country that weaponized Christianity to justify our enslavement. Extremism on race, from the people who put Moya Bailey on a watchlist. Extremism on gender, which is the government’s word for knowing that intersex and trans people have always existed. Hostility toward traditional American views on family, from the state running San Benito.
And then, in the same summer, the IRS announced in a Texas court filing that churches may endorse political candidates from the pulpit without losing tax exempt status, a reversal of seventy years under the Johnson Amendment. Pearl told a viewer to connect those dots. So let me: nonprofits that document human rights violations are being investigated as potential terrorists, while churches that endorse the administration are being freed to campaign with tax free money. That is the Genocide Convention’s language of intent turned into a domestic filing system. Kiana asked the audience to look up the five categories of genocidal acts and compare them to what is happening in this country. I am not going to do that comparison for you. I am going to tell you the list exists, that the United States helped write it in 1948 and did not ratify it until 1988, forty years later, with reservations that gutted it, and that the last people who carried that word to the UN about this country had their passports taken.
The Garden, Not the Flower
Pearl gave me the image I am going to close on, and it is the counterweight to everything above.
I am trying to save a garden, Pearl said. Save one flower, the garden still dies. That flower can stand strong for decades, but the garden itself will still be dead. I cannot be the one flower I am focused on, because I believe in the chorus around me. I know Q sees me as a flower and is going to look out for me. I know Conscious sees me as a flower and is going to look out for me. I need to do the same thing for the people who do not have a voice.
Ella Baker called this spadework, the unglamorous, patient, local labor of building people who can build people. Kiana said none of us are living in isolation, and that she does not have to move away from her Blackness to care about somebody else. If I believe Black people possess human rights simply because we are human, then I believe that about everybody. Our human rights cannot mean I protect my body and not yours, my children and not yours. We can militarize your neighborhood, but we good over here. That is not what that means.
What became obvious to me in Geneva is that the building was full of descendants of colonial subjects demanding, and in some cases begging, that the governments claiming us as citizens be held to the humanity they claim to uphold. I did not know until I got there that decolonization is in the UN’s own framework. Resolution 1514, adopted December 14, 1960, declared that all peoples have the right to self determination and that colonialism is a denial of fundamental human rights. Eighty nine countries voted for it. Nine abstained. The United States was one of them. Of course it was.
So here is the ask I left with. The U.S. is disinterested in this process right now. Some of the delegations we met want to persuade it back. Some think it will do what it wants and maybe show up next cycle. Pearl’s suggestion is the smartest thing I heard the whole trip: link participation in the UPR to the midterms. If you organize, if you knock doors, if you run campaigns, make it an expectation. Make them jump through the hoops we jump through for WIC. Kiana’s ask is simpler and older: tell your stories. That is how we archive. That is how we hold history. That is how we heal. With books being pulled off shelves, we have to be our own archivists.
Malcolm went to Cairo to file a case he never got to finish. Two Black healers went to Geneva sixty one years later and filed the next chapter of it while the defendant refused to enter the courtroom. In all these examples, when it comes to universal human rights, you have to always ask and beg the question: who gets to determine what it means to be human, and who is always left behind or excluded from the way we understand humanity in these human groups, man.
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8 KEY TAKEAWAYS
* The Universal Periodic Review is the one place every country gets graded, and the United States is the only country ever to skip its own review. The withdrawal was announced August 28, 2025; the chair opened the November 7 session to empty seats; the Human Rights Council adopted a decision of regret by consensus.
* Civil society is not a courtesy category. It is one of the three legs the UN stands on. A doula in Dallas and an organizer in New Orleans have standing to file a shadow report that becomes part of the permanent international record, whether or not the government shows up to answer it.
* Black folks taking America to the UN is a tradition, not a novelty. Du Bois in 1945 and 1947, Patterson’s We Charge Genocide in 1951, Malcolm’s OAU memorandum in 1964, and Geneva in 2025 are one lineage. Carol Anderson documents how the state pressured the NAACP to close the human rights file in the early 1950s. The empty chair is the same state keeping it closed.
* A declaration is not a treaty. The U.S. signed the Convention on the Rights of the Child, CEDAW, the economic and social rights covenant, and the disability convention, and ratified none. That is why health care here is tied to your job and not your humanity.
* The U.S. voted no on the right to food in 2021 and abstained on the right to water in 2010. Read that next to the data center buildout and the San Benito facility. Rights the state refuses to recognize are rights it plans to violate.
* ICE is the police. Kiana’s line. It carries the largest budget any police entity in American history has had, its mechanisms are surveillance, raids, detention, and family separation, and no police agency in this country has ever been built that did not eventually reach Black people, including Black immigrants.
* Reproductive justice was born as a human rights framework, at a UN conference, by Black women, in 1994. Pearl and Kiana did not carry an American lens to Geneva. They carried a framework home.
* The garden, not the flower. Save one flower and the garden still dies. Pearl’s image is the whole solidarity argument: my liberation cannot be achieved by ignoring the person beside me, whether or not we share intersections.
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RELATED READINGS (Bibliography)
Anderson, Carol. Eyes Off the Prize: The United Nations and the African American Struggle for Human Rights, 1944 to 1955. Cambridge University Press, 2003.
Civil Rights Congress. We Charge Genocide: The Historic Petition to the United Nations for Relief from a Crime of the United States Government Against the Negro People. Edited by William L. Patterson. 1951.
Crenshaw, Kimberlé. “Mapping the Margins: Intersectionality, Identity Politics, and Violence Against Women of Color.” Stanford Law Review 43, no. 6 (1991): 1241 to 1299.
Du Bois, W. E. B. Color and Democracy: Colonies and Peace. Harcourt, Brace, 1945.
Du Bois, W. E. B., ed. An Appeal to the World: A Statement on the Denial of Human Rights to Minorities in the Case of Citizens of Negro Descent in the United States of America and an Appeal to the United Nations for Redress. NAACP, 1947.
Du Bois, W. E. B. Black Reconstruction in America, 1860 to 1880. Harcourt, Brace, 1935.
Dudziak, Mary L. Cold War Civil Rights: Race and the Image of American Democracy. Princeton University Press, 2000.
Gramsci, Antonio. Selections from the Prison Notebooks. Edited and translated by Quintin Hoare and Geoffrey Nowell Smith. International Publishers, 1971.
Lorde, Audre. “Learning from the 60s.” In Sister Outsider: Essays and Speeches. Crossing Press, 1984.
Malcolm X. “The Ballot or the Bullet” (April 3, 1964) and “Appeal to African Heads of State” (July 17, 1964). In Malcolm X Speaks: Selected Speeches and Statements, edited by George Breitman. Grove Press, 1965.
Mills, Charles W. The Racial Contract. Cornell University Press, 1997.
Newton, Huey P. Revolutionary Suicide. Harcourt Brace Jovanovich, 1973.
Rana, Aziz. The Two Faces of American Freedom. Harvard University Press, 2010.
Rooks, Noliwe. Cutting School: Privatization, Segregation, and the End of Public Education. The New Press, 2017.
Ross, Loretta J., and Rickie Solinger. Reproductive Justice: An Introduction. University of California Press, 2017.
Ransby, Barbara. Ella Baker and the Black Freedom Movement: A Radical Democratic Vision. University of North Carolina Press, 2003.
Von Eschen, Penny M. Race Against Empire: Black Americans and Anticolonialism, 1937 to 1957. Cornell University Press, 1997.
Wells, Ida B. Southern Horrors and Other Writings: The Anti Lynching Campaign of Ida B. Wells, 1892 to 1900. Edited by Jacqueline Jones Royster. Bedford, 1997.
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