When you talk about “comrades,” what do you mean? The faceless mass screaming into the digital void? Strangers? What if it meant my wife, my friend from Omaha whose kids I’ve come to care about, the Romani witch making soup in my kitchen and helping me understand their non-binary identity, the four transwomen running a half-way house in Atlanta we can always hide out in, the Palestinian kid I work with who shoots with me on weekends, the woman with fibromyalgia whose teaching us all how to grow Seminole pumpkins and brew our own beer…and if I know when the shit really hit the fan these people would stand or fall with me, on the battlefield or on the witness stand? That if I must go they can be trusted to take care of my loved ones and children as if they were their own?
Now that, multiplied in cities and towns across the country, would be something to fight for: a leftism that offers something more than endless meetings and the possibility of arrest, one that could stare unflinchingly into whatever horrors the future holds because it would be built on REALITY instead of religious feelings. Not a past we’re trying to re-negotiate but a life…a life in the fullest, most beautiful and awe-inspiring sense. Something you do instead of wait for, something that grows instead of comes.
sand wrote
yes please
damn, i really gotta make new friends