Last night was my favorite parade. Normally I would have people over and go all out, but the last year has made every season feel a lot less joyful than I can ever remember at any other point in my life. The morning of there was another government sanctioned murder by another fascist. Between the murder, rain, and the approaching freeze warning, I figured it would probably be best to just accept defeat. Maybe just move it to another day when shits not so fucking dark, and every single sign isn’t telling you to just fucking give up. But instead, the city decided that in the spirit of this year’s theme, they would be rolling rain or shine.
When the parade started, you could definitely tell something was off. It was smaller than normal, way less of a crowd than most years, and everything felt a bit forced and just wrong. At first I figured maybe this is just how it has to be, but gradually people just started to remember how to enjoy the music and the community of a neighborhood parade like they were remembering how to ride a bike. Eventually it became contagious, and for a few hours at least, things almost felt like normal. When it was over, I was still sad that it was time to go back to reality, but I didn’t feel hopeless. I felt rejuvenated.
Rebellions are built on hope.
When you refuse to let go of the things that make your home a place worth fighting for, you’re holding on to hope. When you refuse to let go of hope you’re telling the terrorists to go fuck themselves.
Nothing an oligarch has ever done ever made America great. They always try to give themselves credit, but oligarchs did not build this country because they’re incapable of greatness. This is not their country, it never has been, and it never will be. This is our country and our home. Hold on to hope, hold on to what you love, and tell the terrorists to go fuck themselves.
Last night was my favorite parade. Normally I would have people over and go all out, but the last year has made every season feel a lot less joyful than I can ever remember at any other point in my life. The morning of there was another government sanctioned murder by another fascist. Between the murder, rain, and the approaching freeze warning, I figured it would probably be best to just accept defeat. Maybe just move it to another day when shits not so fucking dark, and every single sign isn’t telling you to just fucking give up. But instead, the city decided that in the spirit of this year’s theme, they would be rolling rain or shine.
When the parade started, you could definitely tell something was off. It was smaller than normal, way less of a crowd than most years, and everything felt a bit forced and just wrong. At first I figured maybe this is just how it has to be, but gradually people just started to remember how to enjoy the music and the community of a neighborhood parade like they were remembering how to ride a bike. Eventually it became contagious, and for a few hours at least, things almost felt like normal. When it was over, I was still sad that it was time to go back to reality, but I didn’t feel hopeless. I felt rejuvenated.
Rebellions are built on hope.
When you refuse to let go of the things that make your home a place worth fighting for, you’re holding on to hope. When you refuse to let go of hope you’re telling the terrorists to go fuck themselves.
Nothing an oligarch has ever done ever made America great. They always try to give themselves credit, but oligarchs did not build this country because they’re incapable of greatness. This is not their country, it never has been, and it never will be. This is our country and our home. Hold on to hope, hold on to what you love, and tell the terrorists to go fuck themselves.