#community accountability

[appalachianfuturism]

The Fictions and Futures of Transformative Justice

Brood: Science Fiction Stories From Social Justice Movements is a collection of 20 fantastical short stories and two essays written by organ

“LEAH LAKSHMI PIEPZNA-SAMARASINHA.— When I was a teenaged survivor of childhood sexual abuse and partner abuse within my family, some of the first places that gave me hope and visions for how violence and abuse could change were science fiction. I read Marge Piercy’s Woman on the Edge of Time, Ursula K. Le Guin’s The Dispossessed and Starhawk’s The Fifth Sacred Thing before I turned 20, and they all had these incredible ideas for how rape culture could change. In their worlds, everyone was trained in self-defense and de-escalation, and there were systems of atonement, reparations and healing when violence did occur.

In contrast, mainstream survivor literature didn’t have any visions for how sexual abuse and partner violence could end. Science fiction was this place of rich prefigurative survivor politics that backed up my dreams of creating and participating in anti-violence politics where my and other survivors visions were at the center of the work, not a side note.”

[driftglazz]

Subcultures are great

For hiding sociopaths

Beware charisma

(Haiku by Astropress)

[funkyqueers]

as much as i appreciate all the “since pwr bttm are cancelled here are some good queer punk bands” posts (and i do because pwr bttm leaves a void in many ways for me personally, too), they give me a weird feeling. because we don’t know. we don’t know what these other ppl have done, who they might have harmed, what they might have said in the past. and while i advocate for holding on to your believe that there are good ppl out there, i also think it’s important to take this situation we are in as what it is. a reminder that we all hold a responsibility to heal and grow into people who don’t violate and harm others and that creating spaces where that is possible is more than declaring your show a “safer space”. i don’t want to say “no one is safe” because that is not true but i want to say “creating safety is hard, introspective, community based, painful, ongoing work”. let this be a call to action to everyone who loved pwr bttm, to be vigilant about safety. to not sit back and think “we have gotten rid of the bad ones” because it’s not that easy. you need to do more than have a quick, one off reaction (even thought that is important in the moment!!!!). don’t think this won’t happen again. it will. it happens right now, probably. let’s put our energy into really, really truly being kind and caring with eachother, healing, growing and coming up with strategies to create a world that does not allow for sexual violence to happen over and over again. this is more than the personal failing of one person, this is a reminder that we all can fail in this way and many have and it needs to fucking stop.

(i’ve been (coincidentally?) reading and thinking a lot about transformative justice and while it gives me great tools to understand this situation, it also complicates it. it’s easier to be like “they are bad, they need to go, now everything is good again” but that won’t work. it just won’t. and i feel energised and completely stunted by that at the same time.)

[itsmythang]

Bishop Talbert Swan @TalbertSwan · 14h Black maga didn’t just cast a vote. They cast a vote against their own people.

They voted for the purging of Black leadership from high-ranking government positions.

They voted for Black women to lose federal jobs and opportunities their ancestors fought to open.

They voted for the criminalization and mass targeting of Black and Brown immigrants.

They voted for the dismantling of the Department of Education while our children are already under attack educationally.

They voted for the rollback of civil rights protections and the continued gutting of the Voting Rights Act.

They voted for maps designed to dilute Black voting power and eliminate congressional districts represented by Black voices.

They voted for the erasure of Black history, as though our struggle and contributions are something to be hidden in shame.

They voted for a political culture that excuses corruption, cruelty, racism, authoritarianism, and the protection of pedophiles and predators.

They voted for white supremacy, white domination, and Black subjugation and dehumanization.

And the tragedy is this: our ancestors marched, bled, prayed, fought, were beaten, jailed, and murdered to move us forward, while some among us willingly voted to drag us backward toward the very Jim Crow systems they struggled to destroy.

History will remember that in a moment when Black people were under coordinated attack politically, economically, educationally, and socially, some people still chose proximity to whiteness over solidarity with their own community.

We must never let them forget what they did. They should never be invited back to the cookout again. They should be shunned, excommunicated, shut out, canceled, ostracized, dismissed, and shamed.

[driftglazz]

Quick shoutout to every shitty roommate, neighbor, and landlord I’ve ever had for giving me practice at being calm and unruffled when my current neighbor takes a turn for the delusional and starts accusing me of really offensive horseshit.

[againstsurvival]

My bitterness says, if all I wanted was pity, I wouldn't have gone through all this because pity is a cheap currency that leaves me hollow and small.

But what if the value of honesty is not determined by how it's received? What if vulnerably revealing myself, exposing my scars, speaking unspeakable pain, unearthing the depth of how my body and personhood have been violated are inherently rebellious acts that cannot be measured by their results? What if speaking the truth in all its messiness and nuances is an act that resists the ways of this world reguardless of whether people choose to listen or be transformed by the truth? What if saying no, even if it's ignored, is an instance that I am human, that I have autonomy, that my body is mine, that I refuse your unwelcome touch?

If my speaking up and facing those who dehumanize me has not changed hearts or minds, if my intentions or desires are not the fruits I get to harvest from my action, does that make silence or inaction better? I should know by now that the answer is fuck no. The arbitrators of my humanity become less arbitrating the moment I speak up and reveal their delusions. It's not their recognition or stamp of approval that makes me human. It's my insistance on my humanity and refusal to comply with their denial of my humanity that makes me human.

Just as the oppressed do not need their oppressors to recognize and codify our status as humans when we already are human and just as we do not beg our rulers to allow us the right to live, we simply do. We live, we exist, we build, we liberate ourselves first and foremost, without care for our enemies' incapacity to see us let alone their fucking permission. We fight anything that gets in the way of our ability to live as full human beings without waiting for our enemies to stop subjugating us. We stop becoming objects of domination the minute we begin to verb. That in and of itself is a liberatory act, no matter the result.

You are far from my enemy. Your refusal to see my humanity or to treat me as such are of no consequence to the fact that I am a human being who refuses to be dominated. It's of no consequence whether my refusal or my expression of pain touch your heart, penetrate your ear cannal, are translated into your brain or inspire you to change. My pain is not something to be consumed for your inspiration. My choices to act on my values and own up when failing to do so are not spectacles. My refusal and standing up for myself and courage to face you are the verbs that make me a subject that you no longer have the power to objectify.

[zooweebaba]

The Secret Joy of Self-Accountability by Shannon Perez-Darby