so i spent a lot of the night talking about how people who do abusive & violent shit can have the Best Politics and then went on my computer for the first time in a few weeks and was surrounded by People Performing Good Politics all over social media that have done lots of abusive & violent shit
He is taking a course on Marxist ideology.
He says, “The only real solution is to smash the system and start again.”
His thumb is caressing the most bourgeois copy of the communist manifesto that I have ever seen,
He bought it at Barnes and Noble for twenty-nine U.S. American dollars and ninety-nine cents,
Its hard cover shows a dark man with a scarved face
Waving a gigantic red flag against a fictional smoky background.
The matte finish is fucking gorgeous.
He wants to be congratulated for paying Harvard sixty thousand dollars
To teach him that the system is unfair.
He pulls his iPhone from his imported Marino wool jacket, and leaves.
What people can’t possibly tell from the footage on TV
Is that the water cannon feels like getting whipped with a burning switch.
Where I come from, they fill it with sewer water and hope that they get you in the face with your mouth open
So that the hepatitis will keep you in bed for the next protest.
What you can’t tell from Harvard square,
Is that when the tear gas bursts from nowhere to everywhere all at once,
It scrapes your insides like barbed wire, sawing at your lungs.
Tear gas is such a benign term for it,
If you have never breathed it in you would think it was a nostalgic experience.
What you can’t learn at Barnes and Noble,
Is that when they rush you, survival is to run,
I am never as fast as when the police are chasing me.
I know what happens to women in the holding cells down there and yet…
We still do it.
I inherited my communist manifesto,
It has no cover—
Because my mother ripped it off when she hid it in the dust jacket of “Don Quixote”
The day before the soldiers destroyed her apartment,
Looking for subversive propaganda.
She burned the cover, could not bring herself to burn the pages,
Hoped to God the soldiers couldn’t read,
They never found it.
So she was not killed for it, but her body bore the scars of the torture chamber,
For wanting her children to have a better life than she did,
Don’t talk to me about revolution.
I know what the price of smashing the system really is, my people already tried that.
The price of uprise is paid in blood,
And not Harvard blood.
The blood that ran through the streets of Santiago,
The blood thrown alive from Argentine helicopters into the Atlantic.
It is easy to say “revolution” from the comfort of a New England library.
It is easy to offer flesh to the cause,
When it is not yours to give.
…no matter how many books we read, how many ally trainings we participate in, or how sharp an analysis of power we think we have, we can never totally know one another. We will never have a complete knowledge of how not to hurt another human being. We can have a million conversations but I will never know what it feels like to live inside your body and the meanings that are attached to it. You can never truly know what it feels like to live inside my body and the meanings that are attached to it. And if we can never truly know one another, how can we ever truly be good to one another?
The project of being good to one another is, ultimately, a failed project. But we must be good to one another we must try and fail and try again and fail again and try forever more. A performance of political perfection is always already a performance of failure. The so-called politically perfect performance has all the color and distance of José Muñoz’s queer utopian horizon. We are not yet queer, we are not yet liberated, and therefore, every single performance we enact, whether on stage or in the everyday, must strive for political perfection, must move ALL of us closer to liberation
Newspaper headlines over the past month, chronicling Israel’s blood-soaked deception.
This is so important!
I never know what to ask and end up looking like a fool cause I don’t have a question prepared.
Don’t be me.
Do you think every president goes through a awkward first few weeks in office when they’re not sure when’s the right time to ask if aliens are real or not?
oh wow this entire summer has been life changing
brb literally crying a lot right now because of this affirmations circle
Israel puts on a show for the world’s media by reminding them over and over again how they tell Palestinian civilians to “evacuate” (which is an insult in itself since they’re not allowed to leave Gaza due to the illegal blockade), but the reality on the ground is that they tell Palestinians ‘we will kill you no matter where you go - you are our targets’ by bombing all the places they’re taking shelter in - ambulances, hospitals and UN schools.
listening to a playlist now that is “music that has enough of a dance beat that I’ll walk quickly to (my last day of) my internship but is also sad enough that it will fit my sad gay baby mood”
like 50% of it is Robyn songs tbh