Graffiti is the voice of the silenced. Even after centuries of colonization and genocide, our ancestors still speak through drums, dances, ceremonies, carvings, and paint. These expressions were once declared “illegal.” Practicing our identity was treated as a crime.

This is why graffiti is resistance. For the global empire, the freedom to create art anywhere is dangerous, because true vandalism is the fences, borders, and stolen lands imposed upon us. What graffiti “damages” only reveals what has always been there: I was here. We were here.

Graffiti recognizes no boundary neither in where it appears nor in what it says. A simple mark in an abandoned street can turn into consciousness. The urge to write on walls is instinctive; a cultural memory alive within us, even after our traditions were torn away.

Yet even this expression is vulnerable to assimilation. We use imposed alphabets instead of our own. Traditional images are repeated out of context. Even our attempts to speak for our ancestors pass through colonial filters.

Graffiti defines us as individuals, but it also mourns the loss of our collective tribe. Our ancestors still speak through us but how many of us still speak their language?