“The revolutionary call that Moten and Harney require and that
I’ve been obsessed with is this: they insist that our radical politics, our
anarchic world-building must be ‘unconditional—the door swings open
for refuge even though it may let in police agents and destruction.’ As my
grandmother might quip, what kind of foolishness is this? But it is not
foolishness precisely because the only ethical call that could bring about
the radical revolutionary overturning we seek is one that does not
discriminate or develop criteria for inclusion and, consequently, exclusion.
If the door swings open without a bouncer checking names, it means that
whoever shows up will be let in, unconditionally, without conditions. The
ethical demand here is to be monstrously inclusive, a lesson learned in the
Black Radical Tradition, Black feminisms, and trans activism. Yes, the
Law might send agents to infiltrate our conspiratorial sessions. Or, even
worse, as has happened, our enemy might show up and sit with us in
prayer before gunning us down. But, at the same time, a salvational figure
might show up or, better yet, a fugitive might show up, asking us to
provide her refuge and a safe harbor. And we must let her in—this is what is to be done—we must feed and shelter her, because this fugitive, any
fugitive, might be the one we didn’t know we were doing all this insurgent
conspiratorial work for.” –Ibid.
“What we mean by revolution is an outburst of what today is called ‘evil passions’ and the destruction of the so-called public order.
We do not fear anarchy, we invoke it. For we are convinced that anarchy, meaning the unrestricted manifestation of the liberated life of the people, must spring from liberty, equality, the new social order, and the force of the revolution itself against the reaction.” –Mikhail Bakunin, “The Program of the International Brotherhood” (1869)
“To take praxis seriously, a praxis that has as its never-ending end the
proliferation of nonnormative life and the livelihood of the unemerged, is
to risk what we ultimately come to. We cannot be afraid of what we find in
our critical praxis precisely because, if it commits to the aforementioned,
it will indeed be scary and impossible to prepare for. That is the work of
the monstrous—a liberatory, unanticipated salvation, that troubling
interrogation of gender Susan Stryker finds in the trans; that divine portent
that Derrida would argue is unannounceable, which is to say untamable,
unable to be absorbed into existing logics; that claimable thingliness that
Hortense Spillers says might ‘rewrite after all a radically different text.’ Critical praxis in the undercommons—insurgent work being done by folks
who were let in without paperwork and without vouchers because they,
despite where they came from, got down to work for the revolution—is
work for monsters, monstrous work.” –M. Bey, Ibid.