Cindy Milstein (they) on Nostr: These are “queer” times, in the full sense of that word. This liminal moment ...
These are “queer” times, in the full sense of that word.
This liminal moment between election and inauguration is, on the one hand, “odd,” “strange,” “weird” in its uncertainties, in the fears and catastrophizing it elicits. This time, this gap, calls forth an old-fashioned usage too: “sick,” “unwell,” as in there’s a collective sense of feeling queerly about the future—or any future at all.
On the other hand, this time is opening up space for the “eccentric,” “unconventional,” sparking all sorts of “nonbinary,” “trans”gressive ways of struggling together toward “trans”formation.
The pull is simultaneous, conjuring what anarchist Alfredo M. Bonanno—may his memory be a rebellious blessing—dubbed “the anarchist tension.”
One must peer long and hard—as we anarchists always must do, but at present under dire conditions—to see not just walls and roadblocks, not just the brick-and-mortar structures of fascism taking firm hold over state and society, but also cracks, fissures, and even anonymous love notes scribbled across the landscape, gesturing at liberatory lives, at freedom.
Indeed, a week or so ago, I almost missed this tiny tag at the bottom of a five-story brick warehouse-turned-luxury-development: “faggots against fascism,” speaking tenderly to me while I took a walk to try to shake off despair.
That’s the tension, though, or part of it: despair as generative.
This little bit of queer graffiti begged me to see not just fascism but also its counter, anarchism, gearing up. Or rather, anarchists engaged in our own tension in this interregnum: we’re underprepared and yet trying harder to prepare ahead (skill shares, assemblies, mutual aid days, rapid response networks, etc.); we don’t know what to prepare for and yet we’re trying harder to keep in mind that we’re pretty fabulous at instantly springing into solidaristic action when disasters strike.
We are enough and not enough, we “faggots and our friends” who will—and already are—doing our utmost to hold fast against fascism in words and deeds, feeling the weight of responsibility to win and the worry that we may lose a lot (more).
A queer moment indeed. May we hold to our desires and each other.
This liminal moment between election and inauguration is, on the one hand, “odd,” “strange,” “weird” in its uncertainties, in the fears and catastrophizing it elicits. This time, this gap, calls forth an old-fashioned usage too: “sick,” “unwell,” as in there’s a collective sense of feeling queerly about the future—or any future at all.
On the other hand, this time is opening up space for the “eccentric,” “unconventional,” sparking all sorts of “nonbinary,” “trans”gressive ways of struggling together toward “trans”formation.
The pull is simultaneous, conjuring what anarchist Alfredo M. Bonanno—may his memory be a rebellious blessing—dubbed “the anarchist tension.”
One must peer long and hard—as we anarchists always must do, but at present under dire conditions—to see not just walls and roadblocks, not just the brick-and-mortar structures of fascism taking firm hold over state and society, but also cracks, fissures, and even anonymous love notes scribbled across the landscape, gesturing at liberatory lives, at freedom.
Indeed, a week or so ago, I almost missed this tiny tag at the bottom of a five-story brick warehouse-turned-luxury-development: “faggots against fascism,” speaking tenderly to me while I took a walk to try to shake off despair.
That’s the tension, though, or part of it: despair as generative.
This little bit of queer graffiti begged me to see not just fascism but also its counter, anarchism, gearing up. Or rather, anarchists engaged in our own tension in this interregnum: we’re underprepared and yet trying harder to prepare ahead (skill shares, assemblies, mutual aid days, rapid response networks, etc.); we don’t know what to prepare for and yet we’re trying harder to keep in mind that we’re pretty fabulous at instantly springing into solidaristic action when disasters strike.
We are enough and not enough, we “faggots and our friends” who will—and already are—doing our utmost to hold fast against fascism in words and deeds, feeling the weight of responsibility to win and the worry that we may lose a lot (more).
A queer moment indeed. May we hold to our desires and each other.