Image Credit: fiadhproductions on Instagram
On Bluesky Thursday, activists Mariame Kaba and Kelly M. Hayes wrote about how the cancellation of Jimmy Kimmell was not about hypocrisy but hierarchy, about who gets to wield power and who doesn’t. Regardless of how you frame it, it’s worth considering some of the context for the latest authoritarian power grab.
That context includes the fact that a peace activist named Heather Heyer was killed while trying to protest American Nazis, and the president of the United States referred to those Nazis as “very fine people.” That same president later told the Proud Boys to “stand by” and pardoned the insurrectionists who stormed the Capitol, an event which led to the death of Officer Brian Sicknick. He also praised vigilante murderer Kyle Rittenhouse, acted like he didn’t know the Minnesota House speaker who was recently killed, essentially said slavery wasn’t that bad, and many more outright violent things that I, apparently like the rest of society when it comes to this man, have managed to block out.
His lackeys continue to demonize entire groups of people, whether that’s our city’s immigrants or an entire population of homeless people that according to one Fox news host, should be involuntarily lethally injected (“Just kill em.”). And in the wake of senseless violence toward an extremist pundit, the president has sought not to ease tensions, but exploit the tragedy and further villainize his opposition. A popular late-night host decides to describe this exploitation, and his parent company, seeking FCC approval on a merger, cancels him.
Credit: Mehdi Hasan on Bluesky
Things are bad, really bad. Certainly, once again the major institutions have failed us, from the FCC and FBI to ABC and the New York Times. Too much has fallen on the shoulders of ordinary citizens working to get by. People with way more power than us are refusing to cede an inch of their comfort, but still in the face of all that, we, the little guys, have some power. We have the power to exercise our first amendment rights while we still have them.
Regarding Jimmy Kimmel specifically, we can follow Resister Cory’s action items or this blueprint shared by Resister Judith. We can show up October 18 and get our friends and neighbors to do the same. Essentially, we can carve out whatever bit of space we can to resist this regime. On our tongues are words like “government harm,” “fascism,” “authoritarianism,” “executive overreach,” and “MAGA extremists” ready to be worked into polite conversation, interrupting the status quo wherever and however we can. Or we can just remind people of our much-revered First Amendment right to free speech. We can also, as Julie writes below, look out for our neighbors, and remember that many people are feeling vulnerable right now, so vulnerable that they don’t even feel they can say it. And to quote adrienne maree brown, we can remember that we have a “right and a responsibility” to look out for one another, to create a better world–for the most vulnerable, for ourselves, for future generations, and for those that came before us in this collective struggle for justice.
(Signs of Solidarity, distributed by Julie & Adelia in Little Haiti)
Know your neighbors
Last weekend, resister Joelle led a group of about 25 of us through a workshop around building what she called a “political home” – a place we go to be with the people we trust to take action alongside us when powerful forces pose a threat to our neighborhood, or city, or democracy itself. Joelle described that foundational trust, once we’ve built it, as a kind of wealth.
By that measure, I think many of us are finding other parts of our lives somewhat impoverished right now. Maybe it’s at work, or in talking with family, or friends, or simply out on the street. We sense that the people around us are not seeing what we’re seeing, are not feeling what we’re feeling, as we slide into a nightmarish world where up is down and down is up, where “Liberals” are dangerous and violent but white Christian Nationalists are “fine people.” In that world, trans people, homeless people, immigrants and university professors supposedly pose a grave threat to our liberty, safety, or country, while a chaotic racist misogynist grifter and his cronies claim to be our “protectors.”
It was from that sense of impoverishment that I posted in a group chat last week. As I’ve mentioned here before, I live in Midwood, a majority Republican neighborhood. After the November election, I’d sought out like-minded neighbors in my 300-unit coop complex. A hastily planned cookie swap led to the creation of a “can anyone recommend a good plumber” type WhatsApp group, and then eventually to a smaller, more politically engaged one.
In that chat, I wrote, “Hi all, wondering if others are losing sleep over the possible arrival of the National Guard and a surge in ICE raids in NYC in the near future.” I went on to suggest a few things we might do some planning around, and invited anyone who was interested to join me for a meet-up.
Image Credit: @fabfeministart on Instagram
A few nights later, we gathered - five neighbors I didn’t know well, all women, and me. I had no good snacks, and no real plan, but I began by inviting each person to introduce themselves and then to answer two questions: What are you most afraid of right now? And what is bringing you joy?
Then we shared. The joys were somewhat universal: time with friends, taking walks, trees, pets, kids. The fears each of us harbored were more distinctly our own. One person said she fears the eugenicist trajectory we seem to be headed down. Someone very close to her, she explained, lives with a severe mental health condition, and while he has been able to manage it well for decades, she worries that he could be “outed,” and involuntarily institutionalized, or harmed in some other way. Another person shared that she’s worked in DEI for years, and is grieving the fact that not only can she not find work in her field, but these days she is afraid to even speak about it.
Ultimately, we got to the last person, whom I’ll call Serena, a mom in her early 40s who I’ve said “hi” to in passing, but never had a conversation with. Serena sat cross-legged on the couch, and took a moment to gather herself before she spoke. She told us that she’d come to this country with a green card when she was 17, with dreams for a better life. She talked about how she’d always believed in this country, and felt grateful for the opportunities it had given her. Now, she feels terrified. She is not white. She has an accent. And while she’s a naturalized citizen, married to a U.S. citizen, she constantly has visions of her child screaming “Mommy, mommy!” as she’s snatched away from him by ICE agents while walking him to school.
Serena says she thinks she’s depressed. She spends her free time researching what country she and her family can escape to, rather than her risking being deported, alone, against her will. And she says she doesn’t understand why no one is doing anything. Why aren’t people outraged? Why aren’t they pouring into the streets, screaming, burning down buildings?
She said a lot more, too, speaking calmly and wiping away tears at the same time. I cried too. I think we all did. It might sound maudlin, but her pain was so palpable.
We talk a lot here about the work we can do to bring people into the resistance – inviting them to fold zines, call their electeds, canvass, donate, or turn out for a protest. This gathering was a very different kind of work. We did not make a plan for WTSHTF. This was about stillness, rather than action. It was about creating a space to reckon with the very real harm that is being done to people not only far away, or some time in the future, but right now, in the apartment down the hall. It was about sitting with the fear and sense of betrayal and disorientation so many people are walking around with right now, and that we ourselves are walking around with. And it was about letting the people who live closest to us know: I see you. I’m scared too. I will try to protect you. But even if I can’t, you are not invisible, and you are not alone.
There are always more things, bigger things, we can and will do. But don’t underestimate the power of a few near-strangers in a living room, daring to tell each other their stories.
Image Credit: @fabfeministart on Instagram
Amplify This
“The Washington Post Fired Me — But My Voice Will Not Be Silenced” Substack post by Karen Attiah (Support her by subscribing or signing up for her class)
Ta-Nehisi Coates writes on the sanitizing of Charlie Kirk’s legacy, and Nikole Hannah Jones’ Instagram post related to the same piece.
Join JFREJ, NYC DSA, Climate Defenders Actions and NYIC for New Yorkers Against ICE next Thursday at Foley Square
(Still) Do not obey in advance.
“Until it’s done”: Zohran Mamdani visits the Girl Puzzle Monument to roll out his mental health plan emphasizing preventative and community care
Join the “Make Billionaires Pay” Rally with the Women’s March this Saturday
There’s merch for WTSHTF (i.e. Trump sends troops into NYC)! And there’s a plan. Stay tuned for more info
Reporting on the horrors in Gaza in a way that captures the public’s interest is challenging. NPR’s Ari Daniel unpacks some of the decisions he made in telling one Gazan girl’s story.
Contact your electeds with this call script for Gaza.
Surprise ICE protest with Jumaane Williams, Brad Lander, JVP, JFREJ, DSA and others at 26 Federal Plaza yesterday.
I scream. You scream. We all scream… in protest with Ben and Jerry's Jerry Greenfield who resigned in protest over a lack of corporate support for the brand's activism roots
If you need a break, this BAM series of Caribbean films looks awesome. Who’s in?
Our assignment, from Rebecca Solnit
Our other assignment, from Saul: make your Oct. 18 No Kings plans, and invite at least 3 other people to join you
Okay, one more assignment: share, subscribe, and follow this newsletter aka “Like we mean it” on Substack
And as always,
‘Til Next Time,
Kate, Julie, & the Messaging Team
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Once again a much needed and welcomed edition of the Messaging Roundup. It is a pleasure for me to pass this on to friends and colleagues. I smiled when I read "good morning to everyone who makes the fascists uncomfortable " As always I knew there would be good writing and analysis to follow. This is my Friday booster to keep resisting.
With gratitude , Cheryl