for little light
March 26, 2009 § 3 Comments
i think. i think we are building a philosophy of radical love. it is here. it is there. it is in and out.
we are writing a new bible of love and war.
how could i have forgotten this for a second. of course of course i have read this.
Here’s what they’re on about: they live in a world where we are monsters. They live in a world that trembles daily, because we snake our faultlines through its foundations and each time we move more crumbles and falls over the yawning edge of the flattened sea. In their world, once near us, their children can be lost to them, and just seeing us represented fills them with the rage of people struck in the face and deprived of their birthrights.
That world needs to end, and we know it. That world will end, and they know it.
There’s a war on. Either we succeed, and their world ends; or they succeed, and ours does. Does it matter that we want them to go on living in our world, that our world has room for them to build cities and parks and futures? Not really. The very act of not getting to define everything for the rest of us is the end, for them. The fact that none of them would actually die, that their children would be fine and their blood unshed, is irrelevant. We can abhor and condemn violence and torture, and this too is an act of war. We can love them depthlessly as people and wish them no harm, but we cannot avoid the implications. If we are considered equals, their world is over. Our lives are the explosives that end it.
that’s it isnt it little light? it is not just our lives but it is that we refuse to let them define us. that is an act of war. that is the rhetoric that matters to them. and if they can’t define us they cant own us. if they cant own us they cant control us. and if they cant control us then they cant make us monstrous slaves in their system. and if they dont have slaves to work for their benefit, then the whole system collapses.
and our refusal to be controlled means:
They live in a world that trembles daily, because we snake our faultlines through its foundations and each time we move more crumbles and falls over the yawning edge of the flattened sea.
and while i know this may sound odd but it is because our love is an act of war, that i refuse to call myself nonviolent.
nonviolence is a tactic. a tactic that requires (as gandhi acknowledged) mainstream attention to be effective. a tactic that requires that alot of people give a fuck that i refuse to fight back. a tactic that requires that i look like the victim and they look like the persecutors.
there is very little sympathy for bodies like mine. this black breeder body. this irresponsible mama body. this body that lives in the wrong neighborhood in the wrong country with the wrong kind of neighbors.
no one gives a fuck (out there with ‘them’) if i refuse to fight back. because my continued existence is already a declaration of war.