How to point at fascists and laugh
Contribute to my eventual bail fund at $2 a pop.
This week’s question comes from me, actually:
How was your trip?
Last week I flew to Oslo to give a talk at Y-Oslo. It was my first talk in five years. It was my first flight outside the US in five years. Let’s mostly blame the pandemic for both because the pandemic deserves most of the blame for both, although not all of it. Some of the blame might also go to being a bit exhausted and my internal clock feeling like a blender at full speed. But mostly let’s blame the pandemic because fuck the pandemic.
Anyway, these nice folks in Oslo were nice enough to invite me right around the time when I was starting to feel like maybe I was willing to do it again. And because it scared me a little bit to say yes, I said yes. And I went, and I did a talk, and it was fine. (You can watch it if you want.) And Oslo is of course an amazing city that I hope you have an opportunity to visit yourself someday. Especially on someone else’s dime. Because it’s also very expensive.
Not having flown for a while I was a bit anxious about the whole thing. I started having dreams about forgetting my passport a couple of months out. I also had to recreate all my little bags of cables and adaptors and tiny toothpaste, stuff I used to have at the ready. But also the national mood had changed. Exiting and entering the country was no longer a given. Especially when you hold a US passport that says you were born in another country.
Before leaving for the airport I took the Gaza pin off my backpack because I wanted to avoid any bullshit going through security. I didn’t like doing it, but it seemed a sensible thing to do at the time. I was optimizing for “not giving them a reason.” Except having a Gaza pin on your backpack isn’t “a reason.” It’s a pin, showing solidarity with a people being erased with the help of our own government. (In this particular case the horror pre-dates Trump). And having it on your backpack does little more than say that you wish people weren’t getting murdered. Which in America is apparently a controversial position. Normally, I have all manner of pins, buttons, etc on my backpack or jacket and don’t give it a second thought. But the anxiety of having to pass through a space controlled by the federal government—and I think in 2025 we need to be honest and call it a fascist government—gave me enough pause that I edited myself. Which was a sign of something… something I didn’t like seeing in myself.
Leaving the United States, even for a few days, turned out to be an amazing experience for many reasons, none the least of which because it was a reminder of what we’re losing every day. Walking the streets of Oslo felt free. I breathed easier. I worried less about what was around the corner. People were going about their day, living their lives, going to work, going home, meeting friends. And yes, I saw some of the same problems that all you’ll find in every city because cities are complex. But it is different to walk around in a city where your government isn’t hunting its own people. It is different to walk around in a city where your government isn’t kidnapping your neighbors. It is different walking around in a city where you can drop your children off at day care and not fear that their teacher is being kidnapped by goons whose salary is being paid by your taxes. It is different to walk into the public library of a city that cares about its people. (Seriously, always visit the library.)
Being outside the United States was a reminder that we’re crabs in slowly boiling water. We’ve normalized so much of the shit going on, thinking that if we make a fuss the chef will turn the heat up. But the result is the same. Dying slowly means dying a little every day.
We know what the big things are, and the big things are big. The kidnappings. The killing. The starving. These are absolutely things to worry about. But I also worry about the little things. Worrying what might happen if you express empathy for the wrong group of people online. Deciding to let something slide at work because you don’t want to make a fuss. Double checking every item on the wall behind you before you turn on Zoom for a work call. Wondering if you should pull a slide from your talk because it says Free Palestine. (I didn’t, but man, I thought about it.) Deciding to be silent when you need to be anything but. That extra little blip of anxiety when your kid makes a new friend that their grandparents are gonna ask a lot of questions about. Suddenly nodding along when your boss says something stupid like he doesn’t want any politics in the workplace right before telling Todd to take the diversity statement off the company website. Feeling the need to remove a pin from your backpack.
The big things raise the temperature in the boiling water by a lot, and while the little things might only raise the temperature by a degree or two, they’re also dangerous because they’re less noticeable and there are a lot of them. Such a minor change. Such a small death. We can accommodate that. It’s not the hope that kills you, it’s hoping that the little things don’t matter that kills you.
We are making ourselves small in the hopes of being able to hide in smaller spaces, but in the end it’s still hiding. And we shouldn’t have to hide. We are too beautiful to hide ourselves.
Coming back to the United States, I had a panic attack landing at SFO. I was legitimately terrified shit would go down at passport control. For a little context, a couple of days earlier ICE had detained a British author, Sami Hamdi, who was on a book tour in the US, for making pro-Palestinian comments during his book tour. This was also at SFO. The airport that I call home. I feared that either I’d get harassed (my passport clearly states I wasn’t born here) or I’d see someone else get harassed. What would I do? Would I come to their aid or would I make myself small by pretending not to see it, or convincing myself it was none of my business? I’m sure other travelers saw Sami Hamdi getting rushed by ICE. Did they do anything? Would I have done something? This is our business. When they come for the brown-skinned person at the airport you go to their aid. Because you’ve read the fucking poem.
I never want to feel that way when I get home. Home should be safe and home should be safe for everyone who calls it home.
We need to get out of the boiling pot because it’s killing us in big ways and in small ways. Plus, we need the pot for the rich and the horrible.
We’ve made it way too easy for people to be horrible. Tim Cook giving a fascist an award should’ve been the end of Apple. Marc Benioff calling for thugs in the street should’ve been the end of Salesforce. Sam Altman’s product killing a kid should’ve been the end of OpenAI. A government not feeding its most vulnerable people should be the end of that government. Armed thugs kidnapping daycare teachers should be the end of those thugs, and lest you think I am advocating violence I would remind you that violence is already here. Looking out for each other is self-defense. Looking out for each other is the whole fucking poem.
On Election Day we got a glimpse of life outside the boiling pot. We—and by we I am mostly referring to the people of New York City—climbed out of the boiling pot and voted for a man who has unapologetically not made himself small. Someone who has decided to take up the space that every human being is entitled to. Zohran Mamdani didn’t become mayor of New York despite his brown skin, despite being Muslim, despite recognizing that what is still happening in Gaza is a genocide, despite being a Socialist. He became mayor of New York because of those things. Because he refused to apologize for any of those things. Because they aren’t things you need to apologize for. They are things you celebrate. Because people needed to see, and believe in, someone taking up space, and celebrating the space they were taking up, and inviting you to do the same. In a shared space you can all call home.
I ended my talk in Oslo with a slide that said GO BIRDS FUCK ICE FREE PALESTINE. As made famous by Hannah Einbinder’s Emmy speech, which I wanted to pay homage to. And as I was making the slide I thought to myself that no one in Norway would get the GO BIRDS part, but they would get the other two parts, and that’s ok because sometimes you toss in treats just for yourself. After the talk, I was sitting in the hallway of this strange student union building, in this foreign European city, when a Norwegian woman I’d never met before came up to me, pulled her laptop out of her bag, and pointed to the Philadelphia Eagles sticker on the cover.
“Go birds!” she said.
“Fuck ICE.” I replied.
“Free Palestine.” we both said in unison.
We do indeed have friends everywhere.
When the fascists try to make you feel small you raise your bike over your head and you get big.
I have no doubt that the fascists will react to last week’s election in the worst way possible. They’ll double down on their atrocities. They’ll double down on the kidnappings. They’ll double down hurting people we love. They’ll double down on making you think that all this, big and small, is normal. It’s not. They’ll be aided in this by democratic leadership telling you that to survive you’ll have to give a little. You’ll have to stop coming to the aid of trans kids. You’ll have to stop coming to the aid of immigrants. They’ll try to get you back in the pot. Instead you should point at all of them and laugh.
Because you read the whole fucking poem.
❤️
🙋 Got a question for me? Ask it! I might give you a convoluted answer!
🎥 Again, here’s How to Draw an Orange. Look, this was my first talk in five years. I’m really proud of it. And when I’m proud of something I made I make it everyone’s problem. Plus, no conference in the US will ever hire me to give this talk. For the very reasons I’m writing about today.
👕 Yes, my talk has merch. How does your’s not? Here’s your holiday sweater. Here’s your holiday zine.
📣 Erika has a Design Research workshop coming up. You should sign up. She’ll teach you good things.
🍉 The ceasefire is a lie. Please support the Palestinian Children’s Relief Fund.
🏳️⚧️ Fuck Gavin Newsom. Protect trans kids by supporting Trans Lifeline.