Silence Is Not Consent

I haven’t posted here since before Rachael Good and Alex Pretti were shot and killed by ICE.

Not because I didn’t care. There are moments when talking online feels dangerously close to pretending that saying the right thing is the same as doing something.

Where was I? I was sick. My family was sick, weeks of the flu. As our fevers broke, we were left watching the febrile bullshit of government thugs unfold in real time and trying to stay upright enough to keep moving. My wife and I sit in silence each night still, aghast at the day’s news, fists clenched.

Here’s what I want to say, plainly:

If you are not screaming from the rooftops on social media because you are struggling to find the edge of your fury, I see you. If your rage doesn’t fit into a caption. If you don’t know how to begin without turning grief into performance. You are not failing.

Violence like this doesn’t come out of nowhere. It grows where cruelty is normalized, people are treated as disposable, and outrage is farmed for power instead of stopped by responsibility. None of that is undone by a perfect post.

What matters right now is talking to people you actually know. Showing up where you live. Refusing to normalize harm in daily life. Supporting work that sustains resistance over time.

We cannot afford performative anything anymore.

I’ve been putting my energy where it lasts: reworking my poster cart, refining poster workshops, and building tools people can use on their own to speak, gather, and act without needing permission or applause. There is a No Kings March on March 28. Start gathering your friends, get ready to be on the streets together. If you have actions you can take now, take them, tell me what you are doing, I will PM you right back.

I’m not gone. I’m choosing durability over spectacle.

Let’s get out there and do the work.