#activisim

[kropotkindersurprise]

September 20, 2023 - Housing activists and anti-capitalists in Barcelona disrupted "The District", a convention / party for international real estate speculators and other vulture capitalists. The protesters covered many of the attending millionaire scumbag landlords in colourful powder, forcing them to seek safety behind the lines of riot police. [video]/[video]/[video]

[jordzyellis]

Invasion Day on Kaurna Land 2025 🖤💛❤️

[elsieblu]

The Ghorman Pretext: Minneapolis and the Politics of Narrative Control

By Elsie Blackwell

Written January 28th, 2026

Recent federal actions in Minneapolis, Minnesota, suggest a pattern in which the city is being staged as a precedent-setting environment to observe the limits of governmental authority through an orchestrated dance of enforcement, narrative framing, and selective accountability. One might draw a structural parallel between the actions in Minneapolis and the fictional event of the Ghorman Massacre; as depicted in season two of the Star Wars series Andor. While Andor offers numerous points of comparison with contemporary American political conditions, this analysis focuses specifically on the Ghorman Massacre because of the degree of narrative and strategic mirroring observed in Minneapolis.

For those unfamiliar, the Ghorman Massacre is a central plot point in Andor, in which the Empire deliberately targets the colonial planet of Ghorman for its political and symbolic significance. Civilians there were subjected to external military control and gradually provoked into resistance. This resistance was, ultimately, violently suppressed. Once completed, the Empire framed the Massacre as necessary for security and portrayed Ghorman as a hub of insurgent activity, despite the planet posing no real existential threat. The character Dedra Meero, a lead Imperial Intelligence Officer, was tasked with overseeing this operation. Meero was used and later cast aside, demonstrating the Empire’s willingness to use individual officials as instruments for political optics. The outcome of these actions served as a showcase of both the Empire’s power and the consequences of dissent, setting further legal and political precedents for broader mechanisms of control. 

The defining feature of the Ghorman Massacre is not merely that brutal violence against civilians occurred, but rather that the violence was orchestrated. The Empire did not just stumble into the event; it selected the location, introduced Imperial forces under the pretext of order, provoked predictable resistance, and then used the resulting confrontation to justify legal and political consolidation. This is not unlike what we are seeing with the real-world parallel in Minneapolis in 2025 and 2026. If, however, Minneapolis is to be meaningfully compared to Ghorman, we must shift our focus from the brutality of the city's situation (while still addressing it) to the broader picture of what the Trump Administration and the Department of Homeland Security aim to accomplish. 

The first clear parallel appears in the choices of venue and the scale of federal involvement. In Andor, the Empire carefully selects Ghorman because it is politically inconvenient yet symbolically manageable. The planet has a history of dissent and a limited, albeit spirited, capacity to resist imperial framing. Minneapolis occupies a strikingly similar and prominent position in contemporary American political discourse. Since the murder of George Floyd in May of 2020, it was portrayed by various media agencies friendly to the current administration as emblematic of disorder, protest, and contested policing. This symbolic status makes it an unusually effective demonstration site for expansive federal actions. 

The second parallel concerns the deployment of external force. In Andor, the Empire introduces imperial troops into Ghorman under the justification of restoring order, despite the planet’s apparent inability to threaten imperial stability. We see this beginning to unfold with Operation Metro Surge, an extensive immigration enforcement initiative spearheaded in late 2025 by the Department of Homeland Security, which has deployed thousands of federal agents from Immigration and Customs Enforcement, or I.C.E., Border Patrol, and Customs and Border Protection to the Minneapolis and greater Saint Paul area. According to federal testimony, more than 3,000 immigration officers are involved in the operation, with at least 2,000 from ICE and an additional 1,000 from other agencies. This operation appears aimed not only at immigration enforcement but also at demonstrating federal authority over local communities, despite state and local officials' legal objections and concerns about civil liberties. This operation has, to date, resulted in over 3100 reported arrests and multiple high-profile murders - let’s call it for what it is - by federal agents, chief among them currently being the shootings of Renee Nicole Good and Alex Pretti on January 7th and January 24th, 2026, respectively. These outcomes have provoked sustained protests and legal challenges from Minnesota officials who, as previously noted, argue that the deployment violates constitutional limits and disrupts civic life.  

With that in mind, we come to a third parallel, which lies within a carefully woven web of narrative precommitment and provocation dynamics. In Andor, the Empire publicly labels the population of Ghorman as extremist, dangerous, and unstable. When the predictable (and intended) violence occurs, a supporting counter-narrative is already in place. To build to that violence, the Ghorman population is not outright attacked. It is instead placed under escalating pressure: checkpoints, harassment, visible militarization, and engineered confrontations. The Empire’s objective is to induce a response that it can reframe as retroactive justification. The pattern is recognizably similar in form, if not currently in scale, to what we see presently occurring in numerous areas of heavy I.C.E. activity. Official rhetoric preceding and following federal deployments consistently frames the city as uniquely lawless, dangerous, and in need of extraordinary intervention. Heavily armed federal agents are dispatched into densely populated civilian areas. Raids and stops occur in politically charged environments. When civilians are murdered, in the recently mentioned cases of Alex Pretti and Renee Nicole Good, the immediate statements almost invariably assert imminent threat, self-defense, and necessity, even when later documentation emerges that directly contradicts these claims. Top White House Aide Stephen Miller said, regarding Alex Pretti, that he was “a would-be assassin,” and Department of Homeland Security Secretary Kristi Noem claimed he “committed an act of domestic terrorism.” Alex Pretti was an intensive care unit nurse and was attempting to help an injured victim of federal agents. This is narrative precommitment in motion: a standing script into which each new incident is immediately inserted.

Protests inevitably and predictably follow. These tensions mount, building greater and greater resistance, and will, if the Trump Administration’s plan comes to fruition, result in the radicalization of enough civilians to break out in a full-blown confrontation. We see this emerging in Andor through the Ghorman resistance and in Minneapolis through active protesters and social networks that inform citizens about I.C.E. operations. If even one of these networks reaches the threshold of radicalization and acts on that impetus (which I remind you, dear reader, is the desired outcome of the tactics on display in Minneapolis), then the Trump Administration will have exactly what they want: a reason to justify and expand the scope of their power. This is where we reach critical mass: when authorities introduce high-intensity enforcement into a politically volatile environment, the resulting disorder is a foreseeable and welcome product of the strategy implemented by the current administration. 

Once the confrontation comes to a head and the dust eventually settles, we find our final parallel to the Ghorman Massacre: the principle of controlled accountability. Post-Massacre, Supervisor Dedra Meero, although not immediately removed, is ultimately dismissed when her work intersects with information the system deems more sensitive than the Massacre itself. Meero’s removal functions not strictly as accountability; however, it does serve as a means of risk containment. The structure survives by shifting liability to unwitting scapegoats while preserving the policy. The subsequent demotion of Gregory Bovino on January 26, 2026, following the shooting of Alex Pretti, functions in an altered but similar manner. It did not coincide with a suspension of Operation Metro Surge, a repudiation of the agency’s tactics, nor a shift in enforcement doctrines. Federal operations continue unmodified as of writing. This demotion was performative, intending to alleviate political and legal scrutiny. Bovino became a visible point of exposure, and his demotion did nothing to alter the framework that produced the tragedies unfurling in Minneapolis. This is how the Administration exercises control over accountability.

What comes next in the Ghorman Massacre has yet to unfold in Minneapolis, but if allowed to continue, the final parallel will fall into place: the expansion of permissibility. The true political fallout of the Massacre is not about the violence itself. It’s about setting the stage for a shift in legal precedent. Extraordinary measures are normalized, surveillance expands, and protests, no matter how peaceful, are treated as suspect by default. In Minneapolis, each contested deployment, each fatal encounter, and each judicial ruling going forward will incrementally shift the boundary of what is acceptable in terms of federal action against the populace. Practices once considered unthinkable will become desensitized and administratively routine through repeated exposure. The effect amounts to a gradual acclimation to abuse of power.  

This is how orchestration operates within Trump’s America. Through a sequence of engineered crises, managed narratives, selective accountability, and gradual normalization of abuse of power. Minneapolis is at risk not because it has already suffered a Ghorman-scale event, but because it is suffering a Ghorman-scale event. Minneapolis is an unfortunate testing ground and is fast becoming a proven model for how exceptional authority can be normalized and applied across the nation. In Andor, the aftermath of the Ghorman Massacre makes this logic explicit. Imperial broadcasts framed the violence as a lesson in law and order, insisting that “acceptance of Imperial Law is the only way in which ordinary citizens can protect themselves from the dangers and violence of disorder.” 

The tipping point is upon the city of Minneapolis. It hasn’t seen the conclusion of the Ghorman Massacre quite yet, but the warnings lie in the sequence. When enforcement generates disorder, disorder is used to justify expanded authority, and expanded authority narrows the space for dissent. The outcome is not accidental. It is procedural. Minneapolis need not become a real-world analogue of Ghorman. The outcome is not predetermined. Democratic systems retain the capacity to impose limits, demand accountability, and interrupt abusive practices before they are normalized. That capacity, however, depends on collective action.

Some officials have begun to speak out. Legal challenges are underway. Public scrutiny exists. Protests are well underway. However, isolated resistance is not enough. When power is consolidated through fear, narratives of disorder, and selective enforcement, fragmentation is advantageous to those exercising it. Accountability requires coordination: sustained public pressure, political engagement, and refusal to accept abuse as routine. The lesson of Ghorman is not that repression is inevitable. It is that passivity and apathy accelerate it. Minneapolis still has a choice. It should not be remembered as the place where extraordinary authority was tested and quietly accepted. It should be remembered as the city that resisted the growing storm of fascism and stood tall. Do not allow Minneapolis to become our Ghorman.

“And remember this: the Imperial need for control is so desperate because it is so unnatural. Tyranny requires constant effort. It breaks, it leaks. Authority is brittle. Oppression is the mask of fear. Remember that. And know this, the day will come when all these skirmishes and battles, these moments of defiance, will have flooded the banks of the Empire’s authority, and then there will be one too many. One single thing will break the siege.

Remember this: Try.”

- Karis Nemik, Andor, Season 1, Episode 12 “Rix Road”

Works Cited:

“Operation Metro Surge.” Wikipedia: The Free Encyclopedia, Wikimedia Foundation, https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Operation_Metro_Surge. Accessed 27 Jan. 2026.

City of Minneapolis. Federal Activity Updates and Resources. Dec. 2025, https://www.minneapolismn.gov/news/2025/december/fed-activity-updates-resources/. Accessed 27 Jan. 2026.

“2026 Minnesota General Strike.” Wikipedia: The Free Encyclopedia, Wikimedia Foundation, https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/2026_Minnesota_general_strike. Accessed 27 Jan. 2026.

Associated Press. “Immigration Enforcement Intensifies in Minnesota amid Federal Crackdown.” AP News, Associated Press, https://apnews.com/article/immigration-enforcement-minnesota-4d1499fc5962ab880f3816259e04bdbf. Accessed 27 Jan. 2026.

Baker, Mike. “Calls Grow to Impeach Kristi Noem after Minneapolis ICE Shootings.” Time, Time USA, LLC, https://time.com/7358125/kristi-noem-impeachment-calls-grow-minneapolis-ice-shootings/. Accessed 27 Jan. 2026.

Fitzgerald, Kilat. “Minneapolis ICE Shooting: Renee Good’s Death Ruled Homicide by Hennepin Co. Medical Examiner.” FOX 9 Minneapolis-St. Paul, 23 Jan. 2026, https://www.fox9.com/news/minneapolis-ice-shooting-renee-goods-death-homicide-hennepin-medical-examiner-jan-23. 

Miroff, Nick. “Greg Bovino Loses His Job.” The Atlantic, 26 Jan. 2026, https://www.theatlantic.com/politics/2026/01/greg-bovino-demoted-minneapolis-border-patrol/685770/

Fitzgerald, Kilat. “Top White House Aide Stephen Miller Acknowledges Possible Breach of Protocol Before Alex Pretti’s Shooting.” CNN, 27 Jan. 2026, www.cnn.com/2026/01/27/politics/stephen-miller-alex-pretti-trump.

“Ghorman Massacre.” Wookieepedia: The Star Wars Wiki, Fandom, https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Ghorman_Massacre. Accessed 28 Jan. 2026.

Andor. Created by Tony Gilroy, performance by Diego Luna, Lucasfilm, 2022–2025. Disney+.

[lune-moon-nuit]

From Charity to Controversy: What the W Backlash Really Says About Our World

I believe one of the main reasons this event has caused such a scandal — not only in South Korea but also internationally and among K-pop fans — lies in the striking disparity between its original cause and the atmosphere surrounding it. This enormous gap perfectly illustrates how class inequality has deepened worldwide, not just in Korea, and reveals a broader truth: people today, including K-pop fans, have a far stronger sense of class awareness than ever before.

Even if many artists were likely unaware of the tone or nature of the event beforehand, the footage showing millionaire idols — particularly men — dancing and drinking alcohol to a highly sexualized song at a charity gala meant to support women battling cancer was shocking. It became a symbol of the growing disconnect between “the privileged” and “the ordinary people.” In many ways, it was the final straw.

This phenomenon isn’t limited to K-pop, though. A similar backlash emerged recently when Taylor Swift released her new album, which many listeners criticized for portraying her as an untouchable celebrity lamenting the scrutiny of fame from the comfort of her mansion. What once made her music so beloved was the fact that her fans could see themselves in her lyrics — something that now feels lost. Even her most devoted fans reacted by saying, in essence, “That’s cute, Taylor, but I’m struggling to pay rent and put food on the table — that’s what real problems look like.” I’m exaggerating, of course, but that was the underlying sentiment.

And I think the same dynamic is at play here. The outrage toward the artists at this event goes far beyond moral judgment — it stems from deep social frustration. Particularly when you consider that groups like BTS built much of their identity and success on humanitarian and social causes, addressing class struggle and injustice in their songs, partnering with UNICEF, and promoting empathy and unity. Those messages were a cornerstone of why their fans were so deeply devoted to them. So, to now see them at lavish events, champagne in hand, seemingly detached from the very issues they once denounced, and continuing to collaborate with brands financially linked to Israel — without a single word of concern — feels like a betrayal to many (I also wrote a whole post about this that you can read here). And they’re not alone; numerous idols have faced similar criticism in the past two years for their silence or complacency in the face of political and humanitarian crises.

That’s why this backlash feels justified to many. The glamour and glitter of K-pop no longer suffice to distract from the grim realities of the world. We’re witnessing a genocide unfold live before our eyes, the rise of far-right extremism across the globe, escalating violence, and a steady erosion of human rights. Meanwhile, the wealthy — whether in politics, media, or the entertainment industry — seem more determined than ever to cling to their privilege, even as the majority grows poorer and works itself to exhaustion.

In such a climate, watching celebrities flaunt their wealth and ignorance from within their insulated bubbles has become unbearable for people who are suffering daily. This collective frustration builds up over time, until one symbolic event — one “drop of water” — causes it all to overflow.

That’s exactly what happened here. The anger isn’t solely directed at the artists or the W event organizers themselves, but at everything this moment represents on a societal level: a vivid reflection of the growing divide between privilege and reality, empathy and indifference.

I hope I’ve expressed my point clearly, because I truly believe all of this is deeply interconnected. This controversy transcends K-pop — it mirrors a global sentiment, a collective exhaustion with seeing the privileged remain blissfully detached while the rest of the world struggles to survive.

[clau1r9i]

Hey, everyone. Just a little check-in. 💜

I know these past few days have felt heavy for so many of you, especially women and LGBTQ+ folks. If the election results have left you feeling worried, unseen, or even angry, please know that you’re not alone in this. This is a space where you are supported, valued, and loved exactly as you are.

Take time to feel what you need to feel. It’s okay to be hurt or anxious, but remember: there’s a whole community out here that’s got your back. Let’s keep lifting each other up, sharing resources, and finding ways to stay connected and resilient. Sometimes small acts of kindness and support can mean so much, so don’t hesitate to reach out—here or anywhere.

If you know someone who’s had an abortion, it’s best to keep that private. If you know someone is trans, keep that information to yourself as well. And if you know people involved in providing safe abortions, keep their identity confidential too—don’t share it unless you’re completely certain it’s safe. If you’re queer or have had an abortion yourself, only talk about it with people you fully trust.

Remember, being part of a minority doesn’t mean you have to be an activist. If being open about your identity feels risky, it’s okay to keep it private; that doesn’t make you any less valid or authentic.

For potentially sensitive conversations (like discussing queerness, abortion, organizing actions, or protests), use secure, encrypted messaging services like Signal. Stay anonymous online, especially for research or reporting. Avoid using regular internet services for this—consider a VPN (like Mullvad, which is affordable and reliable), use the Tor browser for both onion and regular links, and if you need to whistleblow, look into using a Riseup email account or Notion

Also, consider looking into genetic testing to explore possible eligibility for other nationalities. Adding an additional passport could offer another layer of security, especially in uncertain times.

If you’re thinking about moving to another country, go for it. It’s tough to leave behind everything you know, the people you love, and to adapt to a different culture, but your safety and well-being come first. Patriotism isn’t worth much if you don’t feel secure where you are. Sometimes, starting fresh somewhere else can give you the peace and freedom you deserve. It’s a hard journey, yes, but your life and mental well-being are worth any changes you need to make.

This is not the end. You’ve got so much strength together. Let’s keep moving forward and making your voices heard. You are seen. You are powerful. You are loved. 💪🏳️‍🌈💖

Stay safe, and remember that self-care isn’t selfish—it’s essential. Reach out if you need to talk; I’m here for you. 🌸

Kisses from a girl from Spain, Europe 💜 💜 💜

[the-catboy-minyan]

Random western leftists with no connection to the Middle East really do believe that they are single-handedly ‘freeing Palestine’ by completely refusing to work with Israeli leftists, even non Jewish ones, their most valuable asset because Israelis actually can make much more of an impact than they can (you know, from actually living in the area). They truly think that not eating from McDonald’s and harassing Muslim Starbucks employees by screaming that they’re traitors (a real thing that’s happened, ugh) is… helping? If they really wanted to boycott anyway, they would stop using and buying any technology, seeing as Israel is fucking huge in that area and that laptop they’re using to call for the slaughter of half of the Jewish population has a lot of parts made there. But no, that disrupts their day to day comfort, and obviously activism is supposed to be a side thing that never effects your real life. Meanwhile, harassing random leftist Israelis who are very vocal about wanting a Palestinian state but also don’t want their country to be completely destroyed is easy work, no bother!

↑

[enbymeaning]

Stonewall Was a Riot: Honouring Its Radical, Gender-Diverse Legacy

This weekend marks the anniversary of the Stonewall uprising, a pivotal moment in LGBTQ+ history that ignited a global movement for queer liberation. In the early hours of June 28, 1969, a police raid on the Stonewall Inn in New York City was met with fierce resistance from queer patrons, many of them trans women, drag queens, street kids, and gender-nonconforming people who had long been harassed, beaten, and silenced.

Stonewall wasn't the beginning of queer resistance, and it wasn’t the first riot led by transgender or gender-diverse people. But it was a turning point: a spark that united fragmented communities, radicalised a generation, and demanded visibility in ways that could no longer be ignored.

For non-binary, gender-diverse, and trans folks, especially those living at the intersection of racial and economic injustice, Stonewall was our riot. It wasn’t clean or corporatised. It was led by those who had nothing left to lose but everything to fight for.

At Enby Meaning™, we honour Stonewall not as a historic artefact, but as a living call to action. Today, as queer and trans people continue to face erasure, violence, and systemic neglect, it’s more important than ever to remember that Pride began as a protest. Our rights were not granted; they were demanded by those who refused to be invisible.

This post is a reflection, a reckoning, and a celebration. It’s about reclaiming Stonewall’s radical roots through a non-binary and gender-diverse lens, and reminding ourselves that we’re part of a legacy of resistance, resilience, and joy.

What Were the Stonewall Riots?

In the early hours of June 28, 1969, police raided the Stonewall Inn, a mafia-run gay bar in New York City’s Greenwich Village. But unlike countless other raids, this time the patrons fought back.

As officers attempted to arrest drag queens, trans women, butch lesbians, and queer youth—violently—people refused to be silent. Crowds gathered, coins and bricks were thrown, and for six nights, the streets around Christopher Street pulsed with protest, rage, and defiance.

The Stonewall riots didn’t come out of nowhere. They followed years of state-sanctioned violence: being queer could get you fired, institutionalised, or jailed. In many U.S. states, wearing "the wrong" clothes was a criminal offence. People were surveilled, outed in newspapers, and denied the right to gather in public.

What made Stonewall different wasn’t just the intensity of the resistance, but also the timing and momentum. The world was already changing: Black civil rights, feminist uprisings, anti-war protests, and liberation movements had lit a fire across the globe. The queer community was ready. Stonewall became a flashpoint for organising, and in the months that followed, new groups emerged to fight for the liberation of gay, lesbian, trans, and gender-diverse individuals.

Contrary to many mainstream retellings, Stonewall wasn’t a “gay men’s rebellion.” It was led by some of the most marginalised: street queens, homeless youth, and gender non-conforming people who refused to comply with respectability politics.

Their courage didn’t just open the closet door; it shattered it.

The Intersectional Roots of Stonewall: Race, Gender, Class, and Resistance

To understand the true legacy of Stonewall, we have to move beyond the whitewashed versions taught in (some) textbooks and parades sponsored by banks. Stonewall wasn’t a polished movement led by cis gay elites in suits; it was a messy, radical uprising led by those on the margins.

Among the first to resist were Black and Brown trans women, street queens, butch lesbians, sex workers, and homeless queer youth. Marsha P. Johnson, a Black drag queen and trans rights activist, and Sylvia Rivera, a Latina street queen, are two of the most recognised figures, but they were not alone. The riots were powered by the fury and resilience of those pushed to the edge by systemic racism, police brutality, class oppression, and gender violence.

Many Stonewall participants weren’t welcomed in white gay spaces. They were excluded, policed, and silenced by the very organisations that claimed to represent “homophile respectability.” At Stonewall, they took up space anyway and fought like hell to keep it.

That intersectional legacy is crucial. Stonewall wasn’t just about the right to love; it was about survival. It was about poor trans girls getting kicked out of shelters. It was about Black and Brown queers brutalised by police. It was about immigrants, sex workers, and those criminalised for living authentically. If we forget that, we forget what Pride means.

Liberation is only truly realised when it encompasses all of us, especially those most marginalised from mainstream narratives.

Why Stonewall Matters for Non-Binary Folks

Stonewall’s legacy isn’t just about same-sex marriage or rainbow crosswalks; it’s about liberation for non-binary, gender-diverse, and trans people, especially those living at the intersections of race, class, and disability, that struggle continues.

In 1969, there wasn’t a language like “non-binary” in mainstream discourse, but people existed beyond the binary then, just as we do now. The queens, femmes, butches, and street kids who led the riots were resisting not only homophobia but the violent policing of gender itself. They danced, fought, and lived outside cisnormativity, refusing to fit into a world that demanded conformity.

That’s the legacy we inherit.

For non-binary people today, Stonewall is a reminder that we have always been part of this fight, even when history books erase us. It’s a reminder that our visibility, our joy, our defiance, and our right to exist are acts of resistance. Whether we’re using they/them pronouns, creating queer art, or building mutual aid networks this is our continuation of the riot.

And in a world where gender nonconformity is still criminalised, pathologised, or mocked, Stonewall reminds us we’re not new, and we’re certainly not alone.

We must carry this legacy forward to continue empowering non-binary people not to assimilate, but to thrive. We must honour those who paved the way by creating spaces that reflect the full, messy, beautiful spectrum of who we are.

Who’s Been Erased from Stonewall, and Why That Matters

As Stonewall became mythologised, much of its radical, gender-diverse spirit was scrubbed clean. Media coverage, official monuments, and corporate pride campaigns often centre white cisgender gay men, leaving out the very people who threw the first bricks.

Marsha P. Johnson and Sylvia Rivera were once booed off the Pride stage for speaking about trans rights. Trans femmes of colour, sex workers, and non-binary people have long been pushed aside in favour of more “respectable” narratives. Even in 2025, references to trans and queer people were quietly removed from the U.S. National Park Service’s official Stonewall monument webpage sparking outrage and protests from across the LGBTQ+ community.

Erasure isn’t passive. It’s political.

When we flatten the story of Stonewall, we reinforce the very systems it resisted. We erase the contributions of people who didn’t fit into cisnormative, capitalist, or white-dominated frameworks. We betray the legacy of an uprising that was never meant to be palatable but intended to be revolutionary.

To honour Stonewall is to name those who were there. It’s to remember that the riot began because people were tired of being harassed for how they dressed, loved, or survived. It’s to recognise that non-binary and trans people were not just present; they were central.

How We Can Honour Stonewall

Commemorating Stonewall isn’t about rainbow capitalism or cute slogans; it’s about action, reflection, and remembering that Pride began as a form of resistance. Here's how you can honour the uprising in ways that centre the people it was really for:

1. Support Non-Binary and Trans-Led Initiatives by Donating to Organisations:

The Okra Project

For the Gworls

Tīwhanawhana (Aotearoa-based)

Gender Minorities Aotearoa

House of Tulip

or, us, here at Enby Meaning™

Even a small donation helps support those continuing the legacy of queer survival.

2. Read, Watch, and Learn: Educate yourself and others. Share stories that include the voices of Black, Brown, Indigenous, disabled, and gender-diverse people. Suggested content:

Happy Birthday, Marsha! (film)

Transgender History by Susan Stryker

Podcasts like Gender Reveal or Marsha’s Plate

3. Show Up—But Be Intentional: Attend Pride events that are trans-inclusive, decolonial, and anti-corporate, where possible. Or support grassroots gatherings in your community that honour Pride’s activist roots.

4. Challenge Norms in Your Own Life

Normalise sharing and respecting pronouns.

Uplift non-binary voices at work, at home, and in your networks.

Push back on binary thinking in everyday conversations.

5. Celebrate Queer Joy: Host your queer gathering, wear that outfit you've been scared to wear, or write a love letter to your younger self. Joy is resistance. So is rest.

Enby Meaning™ Spotlight: Carrying the Torch Forward

At Enby Meaning™, we’re choosing to mark Stonewall not just with words, but with intention. By building inclusive content, amplifying diverse voices, and holding space for the messy, complicated beauty of our community, we keep the riot alive.

Everything we create is rooted in the legacy of Stonewall—not as a branding moment, but as a responsibility. We’re not here to sell you an aesthetic. We’re here to build a home for the gender-diverse, non-binary, and queer community that honours where we’ve been and where we’re going.

Our platform exists because so many of us grew up never seeing ourselves reflected in media, in systems, in stories. Stonewall reminds us that change comes when we stop waiting for permission to exist.

Whether we’re sharing non-binary travel safety guides, celebrating queer joy through fashion, unpacking gender identity in our blogs, or creating space for intersectional lifestyle content—you’ll find Stonewall’s spirit in everything we do: radical, unapologetic, collective.

We’re not just here to look back. We’re building what comes next.

This Pride season—and every season—we invite you to be part of that vision. Share your stories. Speak your truth. Connect with others who are walking this path as well. Whether you're newly out or long out loud, there's space for you here.

Stonewall Was a Riot—And Still Is

The Stonewall uprising wasn’t the beginning, and it wasn’t the end. It was a spark—a moment of collective power when those most marginalised stood up and said no more. That legacy lives on every time a non-binary teen finds the language to name themselves, every time a trans woman fights for healthcare, every time we choose community over conformity.

Stonewall was not polite. It was not safe. It was not palatable. It was radical, defiant, intersectional—and deeply human. That’s what we choose to honour.

This weekend, as rainbow capitalism floods your feed, remember who lit the match. Remember Marsha. Remember Sylvia. Remember the butches, queens, hustlers, femmes, and street kids who built this movement with their bodies and their brilliance.

And remember this: Pride is protest. Pride is power. Pride is possibility.

📣 Join Us

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💌 Subscribe to the Enby Meaning™ newsletter for more queer-centred reflections, tips, and stories.

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💬 Comment below: What does Stonewall mean to you in 2025?

Let’s keep telling the full story—loudly, proudly, and together.

Happy Pride. Happy Resistance. And never forget: we’ve always been here.

[trooper1023]

Open Letter to the Record Labels Suing the Internet Archive

Can you spare a minute to help Benjamin Haberman?

Defend the Internet Archive

We, the undersigned, call on the record labels and members of the Recording Industry Association of America (RIAA)—including UMG, Capitol Records, Concord Bicycle Assets, CMGI Recorded Music Assets, Sony Music Entertainment, and Arista Music—to drop your lawsuit against the Internet Archive.