Cover photo: Lorraine H., Rainy Morning Prints
Our theme for the month of October is “states.”
“There will be times when the struggle seems impossible. I know this already. Alone, unsure, dwarfed by the scale of the enemy.”
I’ve always brought a tincture of cynicism when people get into mini-nationalism. Not, like, big nationalism by country, but mini-nationalism about where you’re from or what city you call home. Of course, I say this knowing full well that I am no different when I talk about being from Asheville, NC (although, perhaps it’s because I moved to Michigan where everything has to be about the damn mitten; get that Michigan-shaped car air freshener out of my face!). There’s a cynicism in how people oftentimes only care about what’s happening right around them in terms of geography, only shifting when their geography has also moved.
“Remember this, Freedom is a pure idea. It occurs spontaneously and without instruction. Random acts of insurrection are occurring constantly throughout the galaxy. There are whole armies, battalions that have no idea that they’ve already enlisted in the cause.”
There is a deep, fundamental irony in the motto you can find on any Washington D.C. license plate, “No taxation without representation.” Most Americans are ill-informed about the predicaments of territories and other non-states, but D.C. is a prime example of what’s wrong. Approximately 700,000 people call D.C. home, yet the nation’s capital city has little autonomy. Much like gerrymandered districts for conning the game of electorates, the will of the people in D.C. has very little to do with what actually happens: congress is happy to levy taxes and other requirements from the citizens but does not return the courtesy by letting us vote or have any substantive representation in the legislative process. While D.C. may elect a delegate to congress, the delegate cannot vote, making them effectively powerless. Nor does the city have any real say in its budget or other items that, while pertaining to the federal government, still take place within the city. D.C. is the only capital of a democratic country with no voting representation in the national legislature.
“Remember that the frontier of the Rebellion is everywhere. And even the smallest act of insurrection pushes our lines forward.”
Despite only having lived here a couple months, the sentiment of the people is clear: we want a say in what happens in our city and we want a say in what happens to the many, many taxes we pay into congress’s coffers. Businesses throughout the city have suffered significantly with government shutdowns and illegal ICE activity. I may have only lived here for a short while, but I’m fucking tired of this circus we’re all forced to play a part in even though we don’t want anything to do with it. The few people we elect may currently be crappy. but they’re the crappy people the city voted for.
“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.”
Voting in a non-odious attorney general like Jeff Jackson doesn’t cancel out the odious state governor in someplace like Texas. So small changes must come first. But here? It feels like we’re drowned out by big changes that are felt immediately. We paste up posters about the National Guard being glorified gardeners paid by taxpayers; we hand out cards with basic legal rights and phone numbers in both English and Spanish; we bang our pots and pans and ring our cowbells and try to alert our neighbours when someone’s being taken by masked and unmarked men. But local restaurants are still failing for lack of business and fear in the community; Smithsonian institutes are closed and cancelling events without funding; furloughed government employees are nearing desperation with no end in sight.
“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 Empires’s authority and then there will be one too many. One single thing will break the siege.” — Karis Nemik, Andor
I’m not a big Star Wars person, per se, but growing up with three older millennial brothers with books and action figures (I think my oldest brother still has his massive box of Star Wars playing cards that he’d pull out periodically to play against his childhood friend), it’s always been there in the background in the same way as LOTR and U2. I remember seeing Rogue One in theatres and commenting that “I liked it; everyone dies.” But now I’ve watched Andor, and everything’s changed. I remain amazed that Disney green-lighted the show, even in supposedly less-tumultuous political times. There’s something both paralysing and inspiring about an intergalactic fiction that’s now the mundane reality in places like D.C.. While the atmosphere and many aspects of Andor’s story are magical and wonderful, Nemik’s manifesto is never far from my mind. Nor, for that matter, is Mon Mothma’s.
“I believe we are in crisis. The distance between what is said and what is known to be true has become an abyss. Of all the things at risk, the loss of an objective reality is perhaps the most dangerous. The death of truth is the ultimate victory of evil. When truth leaves us, when we let it slip away, when it is ripped from our hands, we become vulnerable to the appetite of whatever monster screams the loudest.” — Mon Mothma, Andor
The Pretty Reckless — “House On A Hill”
