By Sammie Lewis
The recent dismissal of felony charges against those of us charged from protesting during the University of Michigan’s Gaza Solidarity Encampment is not just a legal victory, it is a testament to the power of collective resistance and a glaring indictment of the state’s attempts to criminalize dissent. This outcome, celebrated by activists globally, underscores a fundamental truth: when people organize boldly and unapologetically, even the most punitive systems of repression can be forced to retreat.
A Win for the People, A Blow to the State
After failing to justify their overreach, prosecutors dropped felony charges related to the encampment, which stood for a month in solidarity with Palestine. The encampment, like others across the US, was a site of radical imagination—a space where students, faculty, and community members demanded this public institution divest from genocide and apartheid. The state’s decision to abandon its aggressive prosecution reveals its weakness: it cannot sustain the political cost of openly punishing dissent that resonates with millions.
This victory crystallized only after defense attorneys filed a motion to recuse Michigan Attorney General Dana Nessel’s office from prosecuting the case, citing glaring bias and political motivations, a motion that our attorneys believed stood a strong chance of success. The state’s sudden retreat came amid mounting scrutiny over Nessel’s office, which had weaponized its authority to target Palestine solidarity activists, while ignoring far-right violence, as well as the role that both the Democrats and Republicans share in imperialist violence both in the belly of the beast and globally. Nessel and Trump are one in the same.
Additionally, this dismissal followed a brazen attempt by the Jewish Federation of Ann Arbor to directly intervene in the case, urging Judge Simpson to reject the recusal motion and keep Nessel’s office in charge. Their letter exemplified the very bias activists had long denounced: the state’s prosecution was never about “justice” but about silencing dissent to appease politically connected interest groups. The Federation’s interference, an overt effort to sway the judiciary on behalf of the prosecution, exposes how institutional power colludes to criminalize resistance to “israeli” apartheid. By dropping charges rather than risk a judicial reckoning over its bias, the state admitted its case was built on sand. Yet this outcome also reaffirms what movements have always known: when we force the machinery of repression into the light, it scrambles to hide its contradictions.
This dismissal sets a critical precedent. For months, Nessel’s office, the university’s board of zionists, and Ono weaponized the legal system to intimidate, drain resources, and divert organizers from the urgent work of Palestine solidarity. They hoped to exhaust us, to make us fear the consequences of standing for justice. Instead, they’ve exposed their own fragility. This victory must embolden movements everywhere: charges built on repression, not principle, will crumble under collective pressure. The fight to dismiss all remaining charges, and to free every political prisoner, continues.
The Fight Continues: No Rest in the Belly of the Beast
Yet, this moment is bittersweet. While some charges are dropped, the state continues its campaign of retaliation against others. My own case, stemming from the Festifall protest, where I face the same bogus felony and misdemeanor charges as in the encampment case, remains active. This selective persecution reveals the state’s strategy: fracture movements by prolonging legal battles, isolating individuals, and sowing exhaustion. They want us trapped in courtrooms instead of organizing in streets.
Our victory in Ann Arbor is a reminder that we can win, but it is also a call to defend those still in the crosshairs. Across the country, activists face charges for sit-ins, campus protests, and acts of civil disobedience. Many remain incarcerated, their lives disrupted by a carceral system designed to punish resistance. These are political prisoners, not because their charges are explicitly “political,” but because their “crimes” are rooted in the defense of humanity. All prisoners are political prisoners and we must fight for police and prison abolition as part of this struggle as well. We must understand the intersections of all our struggles, that it is all of us against the state, the US, and their allies.
From Palestine to the US: One Struggle, One Fight
This victory cannot be divorced from the global context of Palestinian resistance. As we celebrate, we remember that “israel’s” apartheid regime continues to imprison Palestinians, including children, journalists, and activists held without charge. Their “crime” is existing under occupation and daring to resist. In the US, the same systems that jail Palestinians for resisting ethnic cleansing criminalize us for opposing it. The connection is clear: imperialism abroad feeds carceral violence at home. Our movements are intertwined. The dismissal of charges in Ann Arbor is a crack in the wall of impunity, but the wall still stands. Until Palestine is free, until all political prisoners are released, until the carceral state is dismantled, our work continues.
Solidarity as Strategy: Liberating Us All
This moment demands renewed commitment. We must:
– Protect each other: Raise funds, pack courtrooms, and amplify the cases of those still targeted.
– Escalate pressure: Push universities to divest, cities to cut ties with apartheid, and lawmakers to end complicity. Fight until we destroy this system for once and for all.
– Globalize solidarity: Center Palestinian voices, link struggles from Sudan to Congo to Gaza, and reject compartmentalized justice.
The dropped charges prove that the state fears the tide of moral clarity. But we cannot mistake a battle won for the war ended. As we fight for those still facing repression, in Ann Arbor, in Atlanta, in occupied Palestine, we remember: liberation is not a single victory but a relentless practice. Together, we are ungovernable. Together, we will win.
From the river to the sea, Palestine will be free—and with it, all of us.
Thank you to everyone who supported us in court dates and in the organizing. Thank you to our phenomenal legal team. Thank you to my attorney, Amir Makled, for all you’ve done for me and this movement. Thank you to everyone who remembered it wasn’t just the students, who didn’t infantalize us, or use the state’s outside agitator narrative. Thank you to everyone who maintained militancy and boldness throughout all of this. Thank you to those who continue to struggle, for Palestinian liberation and resistance, and for the liberation of us all. Thank you to Palestine, all of our martyrs, and all those still living, and fighting, thank you for teaching us steadfastness. Thank you to my ancestors, my roots, for giving me strength and power. Thank you to my friends, my nanny families, my community, my partner, who have all listened to me, held me, and embraced me with radical love. Thank you to those who refused to abandon me, and those who truly saw me in my grief and rage. Thank you to the lessons I learned. Thank you to myself. And may we all continue to fight. Be bold. Be courageous enough to not fold in your principles and values.
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