Anonymous submission to MTL Counter-info
On October 23rd, 2024, at 6:50 AM, I was arrested by the SPVM (Service de police de la Ville de Montréal) for allegedly “uttering threats to burn or damage property”. They forced their way into my apartment, and several pieces of my technology were seized. I was interrogated for hours, pushed to the edge, but despite the state’s efforts, the Crown Prosecutor ultimately failed to gather enough evidence to move forward with any charges, even before a pre-trial was conducted. This is a victory, not just for me, but for all those fighting within the movement, and the broader militant community. The sudden dropping of charges is a clear reflection of the over-policing, over-surveillance, that militants within our movement have been experiencing since the huge surge of Pro-Palestine organizing. My arrest came after a wave of repression that occurred across so-called “Canada”, with house raids being issued against militants in Toronto and the sanctioning of Samidoun, a Palestinian Prisoner Solidarity Network. It is clear, that my arrest was apart of a broader strategy to intimidate and demobilize us, to fracture the solidarity and resistance we’re attempting to build. They believed by targeting individuals could disrupt our efforts. But they failed.
What repression at this level does mentally is difficult to explain unless you’ve experienced it firsthand. I’m still attempting to find the correct words as I write this. The emotional and psychological toll is immense. The guilt of “being caught”, of sucking up the little resources we barely have and the overall shame still hangs over me. The weight of knowing you’ve been watched, followed, and targeted takes a toll that is far beyond the physical. The trauma of being detained, interrogated, and silenced for so long leaves scars that don’t just vanish with the dropping of charges. I could not speak publicly until now as legal conditions had restricted me, furthering the violence imposed by the state. For months, my ability to express myself was controlled, and it left me completely powerless.
Repression can provoke a range of reactions that only escalate an already fragile situation. Historically, the tactics used by the police to destabilize movements often lead people to act in ways that harm both those who are arrested and the broader community. It fosters distrust, wastes time on petty conflicts, and diverts attention from our true adversaries. When unchecked egos and harmful behaviour take hold, they inadvertently play into the hands of the state and its goals. Our movement is built on trust—without it, we have nothing, and repression triumphs. In the future, I hope that, alongside thinking about what’s best for the movement, we also consider empathy. I hope we can prioritize creating a community that supports arrestees, without infantilizing them or dismissing them based on the misguided assumption that they are “too traumatized” to make sound decisions.
The overwhelming majority of the community supported me without hesitation. I express my deepest gratitude to those who stood by me through this ordeal. To those who brought me groceries, helped put my life back together or gave me a shoulder to cry on — you are the reason I am standing here today. You saved me during the darkest period of my life. Your support was not just a comfort— it was a life line. Without your help, I would not have survived.
Let me be clear: the movement is far from over. The charges being dropped does not mean that this is the end. This is proof of our collective resilience, it is a sign that the state’s efforts to repress us were in vain. What happened to me is not an isolated incident, but a testament to the overall strength among us all. Repression is a temporary setback, a minor bump on the road, not a nail in the coffin. It will not stop us. It will only fuel us.
We will not be broken. We will keep fighting. We will continue to build a movement grounded in solidarity and resistance. The work we do is far from finished, and this experience will only strengthen our resolve to keep pushing forward. I hope my story, can be seen not as some cautionary tale but rather a ray of hope that there is a life after repression. The threat of jail time, being kicked out of school, losing your job, is not the end, it’s the beginning of the next chapter in our fight.
The black flag is at full mast.
In resistance, in love and in rage,
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