Fuoriluogo
Fuoriluogo Podcast
Ep. 25 | Profilazione etnica, una questione democratica
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Ep. 25 | Profilazione etnica, una questione democratica

In questo episodio del podcast parliamo di profilazione etnica e di come questa sia pervasiva anche nel nostro paese.

Siamo arrivati al 25esimo episodio del podcast di Fuoriluogo: Leonardo Fiorentini questa settimana vi leggerà il suo articolo sulla profilazione etnica pubblicato per la rubrica di Fuoriluogo su il manifesto del 10 maggio 2023.

La profilazione razziale è un tema purtroppo ancora troppo poco dibattuto nel nostro paese. Proprio per questo ci torneremo sopra con un episodio speciale, così come in uno dei prossimi episodi parleremo di quel riconoscimento biometrico di massa da poco evocato dal Ministro Piantedosi e della campagna per impedirlo grazie alla discussione parlamentare sul regolamento dell’Unione Europea sull’intelligenza artificiale.

Intanto buon ascolto!

Collegamenti

Poesia

Hackney Ain't Innocent
By Yolanda Lear

Hackney ain't innocent
There's blood on our streets from the hands of the police
Remember the name
Rashan Charles
He was killed in 2017
His family still weeps
But Coolie, "The officer was just doing his job"
Nah man, the brudda couldn't breathe
This one's close to home, really broke Hackney,
Still no justice, officer walked free,
There's a murderer out on the streets, and he's still patrolling Hackney,
How can we feel safe, who’s gonna protect us?
My prayers go out to his family,
We must never forget his name
So, say his name, Rashan Charles.
Say his name Rashan Charles, RIP.
Maddest ting is, he ain't the first
In 2002 we was saying R.I.P Kwame
Another death in custody
And it's the same old story, he died of natural causes,
But when he asked for your help
Officers refused, they thought he was faking it
Though he was constantly collapsing, moving round in agony
He should have lived, he had a 90% chance
But they show you neglect, when your skin colour is dark,
Kwame R.I.P, my prayers are with your family
1994 that's the year of my birth
But right before Christmas, the feds left Hackney hurt,
That's another family crying, another brother dying,
An unlawful killing as he struggled for his life
Say his name Oluwashiji
Say his name Oluwashiji
In 1998, there was still no justice for his family
My prayers are with them, as the officers where let free
But hold on wait, ain't the police meant to serve and protect,
So what happened to Vandana
Is that a case of neglect?
In 1991 she seeked refuge in your station
Escaping from her boyfriend, who used her body as a target,
She pleaded for your protection, she didn't want him in the meeting,
But you let him in anyway
And he stabbed her to death,
She was only 21, she should’ve had a lot of life left,
I'm sorry officer, what is your job again
Because it can't be to serve and protect,
As we remember their names
Let's remember their families,
Because nothing makes sense when tryna comprehend these tragedies,
In 1983 Hackney said R.I.P
To a brother named Colin Roach,
Died from a gunshot, in the entrance of the police station
Coroner's Jury deemed it a suicide
Typical, I'm starting to think suicide means "We did it"
Because the amount of suicides in their station
I swear it deserves an investigation,
Colin Roach was 21
His family deserves some justice man,
Do you want me to believe a Black man could walk down the streets of
Hackney, in 1983
With a bag and a shotgun,
And not get stopped by no one,
Only to make it to the station, then turn around and commit suicide?
You'll have an easier job convincing me
That I'm actually white, than me ever believing that lie
And since that will never happen,
I know for a fact that Colin Roach didn't commit suicide
See Hackney ain't innocent
There's blood on our streets
From the hands of the police
And there's some names I didn't even mention
Like Vincent Graham
Tunay Hassan, and Michael Ferreira
All these names and no officers charged
Still no justice for their families
My prayers are large
Coz it do'nt take a bullet to break someone's heart
R.I.P to da fallen, Hackney ain't innocent
There's blood on our streets from the hands of the police.

Fonte: Account Hackney Report

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