I’ve been wanting to get something down for a while. I need to write about things that change me, evolve me and transcend my rigid indoctrination.
I think about sex a lot more than I let on. But, not in a pornographic, gratuitous in-the-moment way, but more in the way of what’s sexy to me. I’m a sapiosexual, straight, and can’t feel heat if I’m not emotionally or intellectually connected. Seeing the kids out there fighting in France turns me on. The unsmiling guy who runs the anarchist book store turns me on. The Proudhon quoting anarchistic college kids playing smashy-smash turns me on in a Mrs. Robinson sort of way (because I’m old enough to be their mother). But I don’t want to sleep with these people because I can only want to sleep with or have sex with someone when I know him personally.
They don’t all have to be young, either. As long as they are intelligent, informed, compassionate, solid about what they want, not smug and oh yea, they have to be critical of the state.
Thankfully I get everything I want with my husband. He’s scrappy with a youthful exuberance that is obviously never going to go away because I’ve met his father. He’s smarter than most men, more in shape than most men his age, an unlimited amount of energy (he’s an avid cyclist, even in the snow), a creative, and wants to smash the state. We flirt, joke around with each other and are pals. I hope you all have this kind of connection with someone. It’s enriching, stabilizing and the shit the state does to piss us off like trying to keep us poor and unemployed doesn’t seem all that ominous when you have someone who gets you like that.
We argue back and forth about the effects of black bloc tactics engaged by antifa. I’m concerned it’s too easily compromised by agent provocateurs. Meaning, it can be infiltrated by police terrorists who could create the chaos that could ultimately take a comrade down. He argues they are necessary tactics in response to state violence that is inflicted on us anyway. In the end, we both agree with what Chris Hedges says “I don’t fight fascists because I will win. I fight fascists because they are fascists.”
Neither of us have actually smashed anything, except maybe accidentally at home when we have a case of the dropsies and a glass breaks or a refrigerator magnet breaks. We are nonviolent first, of course. We’re more interested in building on this ideology of mutual aid and trying different things out until we see what actually works. We’re going to start with a community garden in the Spring first. Then move forward from there.
But the kids need to have sex. The kids are anarchists because capitalism and neo-liberalism keeps dick slapping the planet. They need to meet, or at least read, Mark Bray and get involved with Stimulator of Submedia somehow. These are two popular media anarchists that provide valuable lessons.
The kids need to meet each other and have lots of sex after they have meetings. They need to quote Conquest of Bread and open shops, and have meeting places and make the babies. Kropotkin’s birthday is on December 21. Imagine if his parents hadn’t had sex. Perish the thought. It’s the next generation that is going to kick the state to oblivion in my opinion. Look at France. It’s already started. Little anarchist kids in black, holding up their little black flags, on the shoulders of their anarchist fathers chanting for Macron’s head on the guillotine gives my ovaries a jumpstart.
For the first time in history the generations have closed a gap. When I was 7 I didn’t know what my 57 old grandfather knew. My husband is 55 and can open up his laptop, scroll around on the Internet, compose an email, do a search, make a meme, get into a graphics program, and….so can a 7 year old. The generation gap is closing in this digital age. What’s the point I’m making? We need more kids. We need more anarchist kids having kids. We need more smart kids, libertarian socialist kids living off the land and existing to make the authoritarians in our midst very very uncomfortable. And afraid.
Rebellion is sexy. No one likes a brown noser or a mama’s boy or the kids who get away with everything. We need more of what Charlie Sheen’s character ala “Ferris Bueller’s Day Off” brought to the screen. I spent the entirety of that movie wanting to punch Ferris in the face. It wasn’t until at the very end scene, when the smoldering Charlie Sheen with his anarchist/punk persona was making eyes at Ferris’ sister Jeanie in the police station, did the movie redeem itself.
Sure. Outsmarting the fash is sexy as hell. But only if it benefits the many. Ferris was a sociopath, a selfish prick who just wanted to party and satisfy his own immediate desires. Concerned? This is present day American ideology at its core. One in 10 Ferris’s are in your midst on the daily. Anomie is everywhere, those rotten psychopaths with no sense of morals, no empathy and no societal understanding. If they are having sex it’s for all the wrong reasons. If they’re not having sex it’s because they’re playing cat and mouse with your libido and fucking around with you in an infinitely confusing game of chase. Punch that shit out of your sphere of influence, connect with someone real and have hot passionate sex for the good of the many dammit. You’re better than a game. You deserve that electric hum of pleasure and those regular dopamine hits that can only come when two humans touch.
Anarchists don’t judge or make preconceived judgments on strangers. I was in a crowded restaurant last year with my husband and a friend. I saw a young man about 20 years younger than me eating with his group of friends. He was trim, very fit, blonde and blue eyed with short cut hair the way my husband cuts his. He wasn’t bad to look at. I can’t lie. Then I noticed his “Antifasciste” shirt. Over the din of loud restaurant noise I said , “Hey comrade.” He looked up quickly, startled, and caught my gaze. I pulled my lapel out of the way and showed my small “Antifasciste” pin I had pinned to my jacket. He put down his fork quickly, and raised his fist in the air. I did the same. Having just adopted socialist left anti-representational democracy as my ideology and come out of the closet as an anarchist, this connection with a young comrade, also an antifascist, was exactly what I needed to feel less like an outcast in a town that spoke only Democrat.
Engaging in a rigged electoral system that disengages your own thoughts and forces the state to do all your thinking for you is not sexy. The biggest turn off to me is an “I Voted” sticker. I equate going into the voting booth as wanking off in a nudie booth. Gross, and unfulfilling. The moral depravity of handing over your innate sense of autonomy to a completely compromised and psychopathic elected representative who’s been groomed by the state to felate corporate welfare shows weakness and feeblemindedness. Huge turn off.
Anarchists eat their own food, take care of their kids, don’t mince words, and typically stay fit. They ride their bikes to the protests. They pick up heavy things and throw them out of the way. They pull necessary equipment out of their back pockets and fix potholes in streets, repair buildings, plant shit and help each other out. They’re argumentative, and they push back when a liberal tries to co-opt true socialism, or a dweeby Nazi wanna-be tries to intimidate them. They honor their heroes, even those heroes that have been dead for 1,000 years. Anarchists know no borders and yet live in autonomy with ease. They feel deep compassion toward the indigenous, the marginalized, the targeted, and the forgotten. And when liberals got in over their heads at the Inaugural protests, and didn’t know what to do when the fash police started their beat-down, it was anarchists who ushered their fragile asses, and their Hello Kitty signs, to safety.
Anarchists are sexy. You should be getting with them and having hot sex. Get one pregnant or get pregnant by one. Or, adopt an unwanted child and teach him your sexy anarchist ways.
Then save the world.