To My Comrades
I hear a song in you, comrades. I hear your voices in the streets. I hear you all across the country, your chants and instruments of disruption echoing from every corner. May your tune continue to carry, reverberate, and resonate, stirring and rousing others still. May your thunder continue to amplify and distort until the noise of fascism is drowned out completely. You are already proving that silence and injustice would never ring true of us.
What we do now, wherever we may be, matters more than ever. We know this. We know there is much organizing to be done, much protesting to be realized and effected. Let the world look upon our actions and know that we will not repeat the repressive histories of fascist regimes, much less suffer a kakistocracy to snuff us out in our resistance. Indeed, our light shines too brightly amid the darkness.
Know that no one is coming to save us, nor should we expect any other nation to come to our aid. We cannot put our trust in any state. Therefore, we must depend on ourselves despite our individual shortcomings and become something truly greater than the sum of our parts. Let us leverage our differences and our identities and our classes and our bodies. Let the lashes of inequity scar over our body politic as we become a tidal wave to wash away any wickedness that would divide or minimize us. Let us amass and assemble. Let us build.
Remember that we have more than one enemy in this fight, and our individual politics might only serve to divide us. So, we should look to the historical moments of peoples past who collectively soldered together to oppose tyranny and ensure radical democracy for themselves and their posterity. Let us also knit together in solidarity, bound by the fibers of subsidiarity. Indeed, do whatever you can right where you are. Count on your neighbor to do the same, or not, but lead with hope, always. For as long as I can hear you exercising your rights, I will know that there is hope and that that hope is real.
The world is ours to lose, but it is also ours to gain. This is it. This is the moment only we can seize. We are too many to be outstripped by the phantoms of some woefully broken institutions. They would dissolve us, metabolize us, and spit us out like seeds, scattered to die in the sun. But beneath the rotten fruit of the flesh that now envelops us, let us remember that we are seeds, and our stand now shall bear sweeter fruit for future generations who surely deserve it, for no other reason than they should one day exist and take up our mantle and remember the remarkable deeds we will have done, especially in the shadows of repression.
A revolution can hardly stand to count the cost. If there is a price to pay, so be it. Too many have toiled in pursuit of what we have and yet enjoy, which is worth preserving and even expanding. Let this be an inflection point, and let every opportunity be taken. May the poetry of change be written on our hearts in the process, and may we recite our poem together, as one. I look forward to this song and will rejoice with you once it is complete. Then, even its hum shall remind us of what we endured in the process of writing our most operatic piece: the liberation and prosperity of us all.
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