Written by Abbas Muntaqim

R/evolutionary love is a transformative energy that has the inertia capable of defeating goliaths multiple times over. It is a love that is a byproduct of love for God—which produces an unshakable faith capable of defeating armies of shaytans. When reflecting on Assata’s life, she is a prime example of someone who embodied r/evolutionary love.

This is a love so deep that it can even reach the unknown valleys of the deep ocean. This type of love is not boxed in by the hollow enclaves of the material world, where individualism, egoism, and consumerism run supreme. Rather, it is a love that is transformed into the material world when spirits, souls, and hearts bond together in unison for a common love of God and the people He created.

It was this type of love that broke the chains of the neo-slave system off of Assata and allowed her to be free. She evaded the noose of domestic colonialism due to the willingness of her comrades to make the sacrifices to get her out—sacrifices powered by such love. The Caribbean Sea, where many of our unknown ancestors became martyrs, merged with the strength of the Cuban Revolution, which refused to give her up. This produced an international revolutionary love that bound the hearts of New Afrikans to the Cuban people, where not even the depths of the ocean could stop the bonds of solidarity—and it allowed Assata to have refuge from the harpoon of imperialism.

Assata was a product of comrades. And comrades too are produced from revolutionary love. There can be no camaraderie without revolutionary love, as it is the basis that fills the foundation. Assata’s life is not an individual one. To be a revolutionary is to accept that you, in reality, are no longer a single being. Rather, you accept that you are a part of a body that moves in harmony, connected by arteries of other revolutionaries.

Assata’s life is one filled with people at various points showing her love and support. Do we think she said, “we must love and support one another” out of thin air? Or is this love and support she referenced one that she received—one that made Assata… Assata.

Assata was and is a product of her comrades. What made her great was her comrades. And she is who made her comrades great as well. She was able to breathe the sea-kissed air for decades because her comrades chose the stale air of prison—so that her skin could be kissed by the sun… while those who freed her, if they were lucky, would get an hour of sun a day, and the most constant light was the artificial one in a cell.

To honor Assata is to honor Sekou Odinga, her beloved New Afrikan Muslim comrade who she joins in the heavens. Assata—who took the name Shakur, which means “the thankful one” in Arabic—was too thankful for her brother Sekou, who allowed her to be free.

To remember her is to honor Mutulu, another member of the Shakur household, where the blood of camaraderie and the spirit of Islam built a beautiful family of revolutionaries.

To remember her is to remember Marilyn Buck and Silvia Baraldini, whose camaraderie extended past the racial line, showing our common humanity.

To remember her is to remember Martyr Mtayari Sundiata.

It is to remember the struggle of Winston Kokayi Patterson.

To remember her is to remember the unknown comrades, whose names we don’t remember but whose spirit lives within us.

To remember Assata is to remember the current political prisoners of war who are still behind bars, like Kamau Sadiki, the father of her daughter Kakuya—who refused to give up information on Assata and is still paying the price for it.

To remember Assata is to remember the political prisoners of war who got their freedom and are still here with us—the likes of Jalil Muntaqim, Sundiata Acoli (who was on the turnpike with her in New Jersey), Jihad Abdulmumit, Ashanti Alston, and Dhoruba Bin Wahad. These are the comrades that made sacrifices, but where is their support? To remember Assata is to support the elders and veterans of the Black Liberation Movement!