Commentary

COMMENTARY: The Agony and Normalcy of Gun Violence in America

When it comes to gun violence in America, it’s go big or get ignored. No one cares about the single victim. Unless there’s some strange twist, it won’t get the kind of media coverage that results in public outrage, with hundreds of people in the streets demanding that politicians take action.

Published

3 years ago

April 28, 2023

Oakland Post

Emil Guillermo is an independent journalist/commentator.

Emil Guillermo

When it comes to gun violence in America, it’s go big or get ignored.

No one cares about the single victim.

Unless there’s some strange twist, it won’t get the kind of media coverage that results in public outrage, with hundreds of people in the streets demanding that politicians take action.

We saw it recently in Tennessee.

And that’s why I want to tell you about the boy known to his mother as “Thai-Thai.”

Thai Khin was a young Asian American you never heard of unless you live in Stockton, California.

Unlike many teens in high school thinking about college and their future, there will be no tomorrow for Khin.

Not like another former Stockton resident who is now the mayor of Oakland.

No, Thai Khin is a 17-year-old with a GoFundMe page — to help his family pay for his funeral.

Khin was shot and killed on Wednesday, April 12 during school hours.

It wasn’t a school shooting. It was school-adjacent.

Khin wasn’t in class at César Chávez High School. He was in a nearby Unity Park playing basketball with a buddy.

That’s when someone tried to rob his friend of the gold necklace around his neck.

The buddy was pistol-whipped; Khin stepped in and tried to stop the fight.

The perp reacted by taking out a gun and putting a bullet into Khin, who died later at a local hospital.

“He had this joy for life. He was always smiling, always cracking jokes,” Jennifer Khin, Thai’s aunt, told the Stockton newspaper. “That’s what he did. If you were around Thai, you were smiling and you were laughing.”

But this was no joke. And now Thai Khin is part of America’s sad legacy.

Another one.

One is a bad number for a gun story. Because a single-victim incident is just a statistic in the Gun Violence Archive.

I reached out to Khin’s family, but I haven’t heard back. I still wanted to write about Khin because an Asian American dying from a gunshot wound shouldn’t be considered normal in America.

And because Khin’s kind of shooting death shouldn’t be greeted with relative silence.

When an Asian American teenager is shot and killed, we all should notice.

But last Monday on the week Khin died, America was already “gunned out” with the Louisville bank shooting, where five were killed.

America paid attention to that.

Yet, how many of the victims in Louisville can we recall a week later?

Or even the Nashville Covenant school shooting on March 27 that claimed three 9-year-olds and three adults in Tennessee?

For that matter, how many of the victims do we remember from the Uvalde school shooting in Texas last year?

Do you recall any of these victims?

There are either too many, or not enough. That’s America’s short attention span.

It appears that the media’s preference is to cover the mass shootings in America. They’re the newsworthy ones.

Single shootings happen so frequently now they are not considered newsworthy.

In other words, it’s what’s normal in America.

When Thai Khin died last week, the Gun Violence Archive, which usually shows deaths within the last 72 hours, listed Khin as the 76th death between April 11 and April 14. I counted 395 people injured. And 104 deaths.

If it were 104 gun deaths in a single event, maybe we’d all finally take notice and force legislators to take action.

But spread the gun deaths out over 72 hours and 104 deaths sound few alarms in America.

Most of the deaths also don’t appear to be caused by a high-powered AR-15 style weapon.

Many were simple handguns.

And that’s why banning assault weapons shouldn’t be the sole remedy as we look for answers. We should be focusing on America’s love of violence.

A gun is just a tool.

We need to talk more about ending violence, period.

How do we do that as a society? Fund public meditation classes? Or public mediation? Teach people non-violent communication skills? And not just for adults but for teens like Thai Khin?

Those paths may be more fruitful than waiting for politicians to defeat the gun lobby.

Consider how this past weekend was the 16th anniversary of the Virginia Tech assault where 32 people were murdered — 27 students and five faculty members in 2007. The Asian American perp also died.

Since then, there has been some legislative action, including background checks, but does any of that really get to the root cause? It impacts the tool. It doesn’t solve the problem. Focusing merely on weapons alone keeps us from the peace we seek as a society.

What if we bypassed the gun lobby and tried to figure out what happens in our personal interactions before a gun, or any weapon, becomes the “go to” answer.

Until we can do that, we won’t solve a thing.

As I write, there were more shootings reported over the past weekend.

The mass shooting was in Dadeville, Ala., where four young people were gunned down at a Sweet 16 party. Corbin Dahmontrey Holston, 23; Marsiah Emmanuel Collins, 19; Philstavious Dowdell, 18; Shaunkivia (KeKe) Nicole Smith, 17. There were 32 others injured. The perp is still on the loose.

In Kansas City, Ralph Yarl, 16, is still alive. But when he rang the doorbell of the wrong house looking for his siblings, why did 84-year-old resident Andrew Lester reach for a .32 caliber handgun? Why didn’t he offer a welcoming hand and say hello?

Lester, white, said he saw Yarl, a Black boy, and was in fear for his life.

How do we fix the implicit bias on Lester’s part?

That’s where our efforts should be.

And it’s not just race. A young white female, Kaylin Gillis, 20, in rural upstate New York pulled into a driveway by mistake. As she left, the white resident Kevin Monahan fired two shots, one killing Gillis. Why was the gun his first and not last resort?

In those cases, at least the perps have been apprehended.

In Thai Khin’s case, the perp got away and is still on the loose.

Justice?

Nobody is even thinking about justice for Thai Khin.

Visit the GoFundMe page for Thai Khin: https://www.gofundme.com/f/thai-khin

NOTE: I will talk about this column and other matters on “Emil Amok’s Takeout,” my micro-talk show. Live @2p Pacific. Livestream on Facebook; my YouTube channel; and Twitter. Catch the recordings on www.amok.com.

Emil Guillermo is an independent journalist/commentator.

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Art

Oakland Director Boots Dazzles Once Again in ‘I Love Boosters’

Riley’s creative output is influenced by progressive ideals. His work, which includes six albums, the 2018 film “Sorry to Bother You,” and the 2023 comedy series “I’m a Virgo,” always shows that the alienation working-class people feel is inevitable under capitalism, he recently told The Guardian.

Published

3 hours ago

June 10, 2026

bpusa-syndication

Naomi Ackie, Taylour Paige, and Keke Palmer star in “I Love Boosters” playing now in theaters. Directed by Oakland resident Boots Riley. Image courtesy of Neon.

“I feel lonely,” Keke Palmer’s character Corvette says in the first few minutes “I Love Boosters,” the new comedy adventure film from Oakland-based director Boots Riley.

“I wish I could feel lonely,” Naomi Ackie’s character Sade responds. “Try having kids.”

“I Love Boosters” teems with kaleidoscopic colors, sharp playful social critique, otherworldly plot twists, and fast-paced action, but it’s grounded in its main characters’ simple and relatable motivations: They want to be less isolated, and more free to pursue their own creative endeavors.

They’d like to design clothes and run a fashion boutique, but, unfortunately, they’re mostly busy surviving. Corvette and Sade, along with Mariah, played by Taylour Page, hustle and scheme through their brilliant scrappy organized crime group, the Velvet Gang. The gang regularly boosts clothes in the Bay Area and sells them at discounted prices.

Riley portrays the gang in a positive light in “I Love Boosters,” echoing the sentiment and title of a song he recorded 20 years ago with his hip-hop band, The Coup, where he praises boosters for providing poor communities with nice clothes they can afford: like a Robin Hood of the ’hood. But while morally righteous, materially, the gang is troubled. Corvette is haunted by unpaid bills and fears getting kicked out of the building where she squats, a shuttered fast-food chicken joint.

One thing that separates Riley’s film from most others about criminal gangs is that the Velvet Gang’s members work for a living. Theirs isn’t a greedy fantasy of becoming filthy rich, or for one last hit: Boosting is a job that still doesn’t pay nearly enough.

Visually, the film is a mix of psychedelia, afro-surrealism, noir, and perhaps a comic book.

The villain, Christie Smith, played by Demi Moore, an evil genius billionaire and fashion designer who runs the expensive clothing company the gang boosts from. She repeatedly appears on the news to put a target on the Velvet Gang members’ backs. When the gang ends up connecting with those who Christie directly exploits –workers here in the Bay Area, but also those in sweatshops overseas– the fight against Christie can commence; and uncoincidentally, Corvette starts to feel less lonely.

I don’t want to say much about that fight, but it’s delightful. Sci-Fi elements (which appear connected to Marxist theory) enter into the narrative to tie what’s become a pretty scatterbrained story together. Grounded by Palmer’s acting, “I Love Boosters” is a total joy and a refreshing break from the typical narratives we see these days. It’s totally over-the-top, but it knows it is.

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Arts and Culture

COMMENTARY: Black Music is the Sound of Black Freedom: Let Us Reclaim Both This Juneteenth

Black Music Month started when Black Music Association members Ed Wright, Kenny Gamble and his wife, journalist and radio host Dyanna Williams were able to persuade President Jimmy Carter to establish the observation on June 7, 1979.

Published

1 day ago

June 9, 2026

Oakland Post

Robert Johnson (1911-1938) is thought of as the godfather of blues music, especially Delta blues. The 29 songs recorded by him during his short life have been of massive inspiration to guitarists and musicians over the last 80 years. Public domain photo.

By Wanda Ravernell

Black Music Month and Juneteenth are inextricably linked – Black music is the sound of our freedom.

From the plaintive moans of the enslaved Africans’ ‘sorrow songs,’ to the fields of Civil War battle where Black soldiers picked up abandoned bugles, to the upright piano played in juke joints on Saturday night and churches come Sunday morning, our ancestors’ innovation in the face of want, fear, degradation, and hopelessness has yielded genres of music imitated ’round the world.

In 2000, Congress made it official. In 2009, Pres. Barack Obama changed the name to African American Music Heritage Month and in 2023, Pres. Joe Biden changed it back to Black Music Month, two years after he declared Juneteenth a national holiday, the result of a movement led by Opal Lee.

Our ancestors battle for freedom over these last 400 years and the music that allowed them expression of their humanity deserved to be honored.

But we may be losing sight of the value of their sacrifices.

‘Sing a Song Full of the Faith That the Dark past Has Taught Us…’

Along with the long-known exploitation of Black musicians whose recordings were stolen by record companies, the commercialization of Juneteenth feels like another kind of theft.

I had never heard of Juneteenth until I moved to the Bay Area from my hometown of Philadelphia. I didn’t know it was one of many freedom festivals celebrated by descendants of enslaved people in the United States.

Emancipation Day was Jan. 1 in Pennsylvania, April 16 in Wash., D.C., May 20 in Florida, and Aug. 8 in Kentucky. But Juneteenth, June 19, has the most renown, known in Texas as the ‘colored peoples’ Fourth of July.’

It was marked by parades, beauty pageants, rodeos, backyard barbecues and church picnics.

Yes, church.

The formerly enslaved began the day praying in thanks for their freedom just as they had prayed for Jubilee – the day of freedom – when they had chains on their feet and hands. They ‘testified’ about their past suffering and how they had managed to overcome.

And they sang.

Although, we will not hold it this year, Omnira Institute’s Juneteenth Ritual of Remembrance recalled this part of Juneteenth with prayers in the languages of the African captives. In the middle of the ceremony, a soloist would lead us in singing “Many Thousand Gone” while we took turns reciting portions of the Emancipation Proclamation, the news of freedom that took more than two years to reach Texas – two months after the Civil War ended.

“Many Thousand Gone” was famously recorded by Black luminary Paul Robeson in 1947:

“No more auction block for me,

No more, no more

No more auction black for me

Many thousand gone.”

Other verses refer to the ‘pint of salt’ and the ‘driver’s lash,’ the realities of enslavement that they had survived.

‘Sing a Song Full of the Hope That the Present has Brought Us’

All of the genres of African American music have at their root songs like that, the essence being, as Stevie Wonder, wrote, “the joy inside our pain.” So Black music is not just music. It is our story, our history, our very strength.

During the Civil Rights Movement, which peaked 100 years after slavery ended, the people testified that it was the freedom songs – based on spirituals – that gave them the heart to march, face attack dogs, fire hoses, beatings, and shootouts with vigilantes.

The music reminded them that power was in the people. That music, our music, can do so again. We don’t have to accept the commodification of the products of our culture.

The power of those songs is showing a resurgence across the South as we battle again for the right to self-determination through the ballot box.

Those songs are the voices of our ancestors, voices forged in their blood, their sweat, their tears, joy and, above all, faith. Those songs, those prayers live in our blood and our very breath.

This Juneteenth, let us reclaim those holy voices expressed in Black music for ourselves. It is our birthright. It can neither be bought nor sold. No more. Never again.

Wanda Ravernell is the executive director of Omnira Institute, sponsor for 18 years of the Juneteenth Ritual of Remembrance and Oakland’s 11^th Annual Black-Eyed Pea Festival, which will take place on Sept. 12.