The revolution will not be hashtagged, know that.
It will require to require those of us with 50-11 degrees to sacrifice this situational privilege that we believe we “deserve.”
It will require identity to become a fluid, optional cultural marker and not a legal or sociocultural designation–or reality–for death dealing.
It will require black folks to truly believe all black lives matter.
It will require black folks to break bread with other people of color.
It will require non-black peoples of color to examine the dynamics of intraracial power and their role in the production and maintenance of anti-blackness as a lifestyle, as a system and as a method of humanization and acquisition of respectability and full “citizenship”…and act accordingly.
It will require white folks to move, or be moved.
It will require the courage to use our facebooks and twitters for more than retweets and (social) capital accumulation.
It will require the courage to leave our computers and take to the streets.
It will require the courage to leave the streets and occupy buildings.
It will require the courage to stop yelling and start rebelling; physically, economically, politically and yes, even sexually.
It will require the questioning of democracy, and whether that can ever work in a country founded on capitalism and racism–that have merged into racial-capitalisms–where the most aggrieved will remain numerically (as black, indigenous, latinx, asian) outnumbered for the lifetimes of all with beating hearts.
It will require alignments and allegiances with othered folks beyond our imaginary borders.
It will require a reckoning with the fuckery in our bedrooms, our boardrooms and yes, those organizing spaces we call radical.
It will require less being #WithHer, and truly thinking about what it means to be #WithUs.
It will require moving beyond two-parties, moving beyond the state as solution, beyond surveillance as safety and beyond prisons and productive punishments.
The revolution will cost all that we have. It will cost our lives, with the ever-elusive promise, that we might transcend the products, producers and midwives of violence we have become.
I’m not ready, but I’m trying to get here.