Activist Art Quotes

Sensitive people care when the world doesn't because we understand waiting to be rescued and no one shows up. We have rescued ourselves, so many times that we have become self taught in the art of compassion for those forgotten.

So many people think that they are not gifted because they don’t have an obvious talent that people can recognize because it doesn’t fall under the creative arts category—writing, dancing, music, acting, art or singing. Sadly, they let their real talents go undeveloped, while they chase after fame. I am grateful for the people with obscure unremarked talents because they make our lives easier---inventors, organizers, planners, peacemakers, communicators, activists, scientists, and so forth. However, there is one gift that trumps all other talents—being an excellent parent. If you can successfully raise a child in this day in age to have integrity then you have left a legacy that future generations will benefit from.

Artists and scientists are activists. They look at the world as changeable and they look upon themselves as instruments for change. They understand that the slice of world they occupy is only a fragment but that the fragment is intrinsically connected to the whole. They know that action matters.

Our charge is not to ‘save the world’ after all,” (activist Courtney Martin)’s written. “It is to live in it, flawed and fierce, loving and humble.

How do I know what I think until I hear what I say? —E. M. FORSTER, NOVELIST AND SOCIAL ACTIVIST E

If I could remove one thing from the world and replace it with something else, I would erase politics and put art in its place. That way, art teachers would rule the world. And since art is the most supreme form of love, beautiful colors and imagery would weave bridges for peace wherever there are walls. Artists, who are naturally heart-driven, would decorate the world with their love, and in that love — poverty, hunger, lines of division, and wars would vanish from the earth forever. Children of the earth would then be free to play, imagine, create, build and grow without bloodshed, terror and fear.

I do not write every day. I write to the questions and issues before me. I write to deadlines. I write out of my passions. And I write to make peace with my own contradictory nature. For me, writing is a spiritual practice. A small bowl of water sits on my desk, a reminder that even if nothing is happening on the page, something is happening in the room--evaporation. And I always light a candle when I begin to write, a reminder that I have now entered another realm, call it the realm of the Spirit. I am mindful that when one writes, one leaves this world and enters another. My books are collages made from journals, research, and personal experience. I love the images rendered in journal entries, the immediacy that is captured on the page, the handwritten notes. I love the depth of ideas and perspective that research brings to a story, be it biological or anthropological studies or the insights brought to the page by the scholarly work of art historians. When I go into a library, I feel like I am a sleuth looking to solve a mystery. I am completely inspired by the pursuit of knowledge through various references. I read newpapers voraciously. I love what newspapers say about contemporary culture. And then you go back to your own perceptions, your own words, and weigh them against all you have brought together. I am interested in the kaleidoscope of ideas, how you bring many strands of thought into a book and weave them together as one piece of coherent fabric, while at the same time trying to create beautiful language in the service of the story. This is the blood work of the writer. Writing is also about a life engaged. And so, for me, community work, working in the schools or with grassroots conservation organizations is another critical component of my life as a writer. I cannot separate the writing life from a spiritual life, from a life as a teacher or activist or my life intertwined with family and the responsibilities we carry within our own homes. Writing is daring to feel what nurtures and breaks our hearts. Bearing witness is its own form of advocacy. It is a dance with pain and beauty.

Activists, like politicians, are skilled in the art of dodging accusations.

be they lawyers soldiers princesses prostitutes actors activists or acrobats on five continents in dozens of countries in the world the women are lying down for the men the men of many museums (in ‘At the musée de l’homme’)

If A Tree Falls (Sonnet) If a tree falls in the forest, but nobody hears it, did it really fall! If children are bombed to death, but it's omitted from the news, did the children really die! If people are massacred by law, but it's not on Netflix, is it really a genocide! If democracy is dismantled piece by piece, but by government decree, is it really illegal! If the world is burnt to cinders, but the privileged castles stay intact, is the world really burning!

Zeena Schreck is a Berlin-based interdisciplinary artist, author, musician/composer, tantric teacher, mystic, animal rights activist, and counter-culture icon known by her mononymous artist name, ZEENA. Her work stems from her experience within the esoteric, shamanistic and magical traditions of which she's practiced, taught and been initiated. She is a practicing Tibetan Buddhist yogini, teaches at the Buddhistische Gesellschaft Berlin and is the spiritual leader of the Sethian Liberation Movement (SLM).

Everyone can be great because everyone can serve. — MARTIN LUTHER KING, JR., HUMAN RIGHTS ACTIVIST

Education is not the answer to the question. Education is the means to the answer to all questions. —BILL ALLIN, SOCIOLOGIST AND EDUCATION ACTIVIST

A true artist is pleased the most by the sight of his or her work at work.

A composer who can lift the spirit of a million people with a song, is a definite force for good.

Someone said to me the other day, 'you speak of peace because you are afraid to fight'. I smiled and replied, you are absolutely right, I am terrified of fighting, you know why, because if I raise my hands at someone, there'll be no trace of them left. It's ridiculously easily to take life, especially for a biologist with martial arts training, but what makes a human is the capacity to give life.

[The ruling class] sees people in the working class as being almost animals. It sees itself as being synonymous with civilization and its cultivation as coming from its natural abilities and not from its wealth and privileged opportunities. It doesn't see that the way in which it monopolizes these things distorts the culture it derives from them and that this makes its culture irrational and an enemy of civilization.

During the first nineteen months of the [AIDS] epidemic, the New York Times wrote about it a total of seven times. During the first three months of the Tylenol scare in 1982, the New York Times wrote about it a total of 54 times. By 1983, AIDS had claimed more than two thousand lives, while seven people had died of Tylenol poisoning.

You never know what will spark a student's interest and feed the flame of learning. For me, all subjects are connected: writing, reading, science, art, music, math, social studies. By presenting myself as a writer with wide ranging passions - for astronomy, volcanology, art, music, history, and community service - I hope to inspire not only budding writers but also budding scientists, artists, activists...

The artist tries to show reason in experience and appearance – and lyric is the daily appearance, the commonplace dress, of reason. It shows us the rational. It makes the epic pattern human. It's the footprint on the pathway. In the epic-lyric the individual and particular are no longer isolated but are placed in a historical, social, human pattern. That's why there's a political way of cutting bread or wearing shoes.

Burlington, Vermont, is an example of a certain kind of small city that David Brooks calls “Latte Towns,” enclaves of affluent and well-educated people, sometimes in scenic locales such as Santa Fe or Aspen and sometimes in university towns such as Ann Arbor, Berkeley, or Chapel Hill. Of Burlington, Brooks writes: Burlington boasts a phenomenally busy public square. There are kite festivals and yoga festivals and eating festivals. There are arts councils, school-to-work collaboratives, environmental groups, preservation groups, community-supported agriculture, antidevelopment groups, and ad hoc activist groups.… And this public square is one of the features that draw people to Latte Towns. People in these places apparently would rather spend less time in the private sphere of their home and their one-acre yard and more time in the common areas.

It's scary, and downing, that I make my best music when I'm going through my depression... At that moment, all i can see is black, darkness and shadows, but in the bigger picture.. it's a blessing. When I look through all my work, my art, I wouldn't change or take away my depression and anxiety for ANYTHING.. because when i get those days of rainbows, and colors.. i know deep down, i'm only honest when i'm at the deepest of the oceans.. so it's like listening to a different side of my mind, that i never realize exists, until i get that little peek through the blinds, and finally see the sunlight.. THEN on those simple moments, even if they only last a few minutes, i know deep down... maybe i do have a talent. Maybe I have got something, a "gift", that some people call... So really, if it wasn't for my depression, i would never, truly believe I have anything worth giving. So I will NOT sit back and wish i wasn't clinically depressed, I will learn to embrace it, live with it, and talk my brain into believing, and fully knowing, I HAVE A GIFT. I AM WORTHY. I DO HAVE SOMETHING TO GIVE THE WORLD. I will not let my depression or anxiety control me. They can live here(in my mind), but they best know, I AM STILL, AND WILL ALWAYS BE IN CONTROL. .. BUT This is my home, and you're just living under it.

The way out of the drama triangle, as many spiritual teachers, therapists and coaches have suggested, is the creative orientation. This is where we exercise full responsibility and accountability. In this, we become artists and activists of our own lives, and focus our attention on the changes that we’d like to bring into being. As we move beyond old habits of blaming, complaining, excuses, and wishful thinking, life begins to open up. This becomes a world of opportunity, power, and freedom.

Pleasure activists seek to understand and learn from the politics and power dynamics inside of everything that makes us feel good. This includes sex and the erotic, drugs, fashion, humor, passion work, connection, reading, cooking and/or eating, music and other arts, and so much more. Pleasure activists believe that by tapping into the potential goodness in each of us we can generate justice and liberation, growing a healing abundance where we have been socialized to believe only scarcity exists.

We, everyday citizens who are increasingly befuddled about what has happened to society and how it happened so quickly, regularly hear demands to “decolonize” everything from academic curricula to hairstyles to mathematics. We hear laments about cultural appropriation at the same time we hear complaints about the lack of representation of certain identity groups in the arts. We hear that only white people can be racist and that they always are so, by default. Politicians, actors, and artists pride themselves on being intersectional. Companies flaunt their respect for “diversity,” while making it clear that they are only interested in a superficial diversity of identity (not of opinions). Organizations and activist groups of all kinds announce that they are inclusive, but only of people who agree with them. American engineers have been fired from corporations like Google for saying that gender differences exist,43 and British comedians have been sacked by the BBC for repeating jokes that could be construed as racist by Americans.

Life is one never-ending edit... In writing about my life, editing is time travel, collapsing, folding, expanding time. Gathering disparate wispy threads into neat chapters and sections. Memories rearranged, pulled apart, de-emphasized. Secrets and fears erased in between drafts only to emerge again as tangents to be deleted or set aside. Invisible track changes that reframe a narrative only to be solidified, trashed, and reborn. Filtering truths until the most essential elements remain. Em dashes that link; ellipses that prolong. A constant telling and retelling until the act itself threatens to weaken the blood and guts of a piece. Editing is a dialogue with demons, ancestors, and the future; a witchy dark art that summons the forces of the universe into legibility.

Power is seeping away from autocrats and single-party systems whether they embrace reform or not. It is spreading from large and long-established political parties to small ones with narrow agendas or niche constituencies. Even within parties, party bosses who make decisions, pick candidates, and hammer out platforms behind closed doors are giving way to insurgents and outsiders—to new politicians who haven’t risen up in the party machine, who never bothered to kiss the ring. People entirely outside the party structure—charismatic individuals, some with wealthy backers from outside the political class, others simply catching a wave of support thanks to new messaging and mobilization tools that don’t require parties—are blazing a new path to political power. Whatever path they followed to get there, politicians in government are finding that their tenure is getting shorter and their power to shape policy is decaying. Politics was always the art of the compromise, but now politics is downright frustrating—sometimes it feels like the art of nothing at all. Gridlock is more common at every level of decision-making in the political system, in all areas of government, and in most countries. Coalitions collapse, elections take place more often, and “mandates” prove ever more elusive. Decentralization and devolution are creating new legislative and executive bodies. In turn, more politicians and elected or appointed officials are emerging from these stronger municipalities and regional assemblies, eating into the power of top politicians in national capitals. Even the judicial branch is contributing: judges are getting friskier and more likely to investigate political leaders, block or reverse their actions, or drag them into corruption inquiries that divert them from passing laws and making policy. Winning an election may still be one of life’s great thrills, but the afterglow is diminishing. Even being at the top of an authoritarian government is no longer as safe and powerful a perch as it once was. As Professor Minxin Pei, one of the world’s most respected experts on China, told me: “The members of the politburo now openly talk about the old good times when their predecessors at the top of the Chinese Communist Party did not have to worry about bloggers, hackers, transnational criminals, rogue provincial leaders or activists that stage 180,000 public protests each year. When challengers appeared, the old leaders had more power to deal with them. Today’s leaders are still very powerful but not as much as those of a few decades back and their powers are constantly declining.”3

Because we are so confident of our beliefs, we experience three reactions when someone fails to share our views. Response 1: Assumption of ignorance. The other party clearly lacks the necessary information. If he knew what you know, he would be of the same opinion. Political activists think this way: They believe they can win others over through enlightenment. Reaction 2: Assumption of idiocy. The other person has the necessary information, but his mind is underdeveloped. He cannot draw the obvious conclusions. In other words, he’s a moron. This reaction is particularly popular with bureaucrats who want to protect “stupid” consumers from themselves. Response 3: Assumption of malice. Your counterpart has the necessary information—he even understands the debate—but he is deliberately confrontational. He has evil intentions. This is how many religious leaders and followers treat disbelievers: If they don’t agree, they must be servants of the devil!

The first time I picked up James Baldwin, I finally saw myself. It occurred to me that I could be an activist from my own source of power—words. It can only make our journey toward justice more robust, more beautiful, when we offer a diversity of paths, a more expansive vision of action. This is not new. This is Detour and Hiero Veiga's graffiti art resurrecting Black faces slain by the police. This is Tricia Hersey and The Nap Ministry creating collective sleeping experiences to reclaim the justice and liberation in rest. This is even, to some degree, some of the words you'll find in this book. Written in holy defiance of what is, and in imagination of what should be. If writing is a calling, I have a responsibility to demand justice in my writing as much as in the streets. When we expand our imaginations for activism, we enter into practices of lament and rage with more particularity, and we begin to realize more nuanced paths to justice.

The authors of Crucial Conversations also remind us that every conversation exists within a frame: What is the purpose here? What are our goals? A frame is the stage on which the conversation takes place. During that panel discussion, we were really having an argument about the frame of our conversation. I saw the culture war as one thing and wanted to analyze it from the detached perspective a journalist is trained to adopt. She saw the culture war entirely differently—as an assault on basic justice. She didn’t want to analyze it from a detached point of view; she wanted to communicate it as an activist in the middle of the fight. In retrospect, I should have stayed within her frame a little longer, instead of trying to yank the conversation back to my frame. That would

dlaurent The Ballad of Johnny Jihad (Down Desert Storm Way). © c. 2001 During the Gulf War (1990-1991), American Pro-Taliban Jihadist John Philip Walker Lindh was captured while serving with the enemy forces. Here is his tale in song and legend. My nowex at the time did not want me to run to the radio station with this, thought I’d look singularly ridiculii. The following, 'The Ballad of Johnny Jihad' is sung to the tune of 'The Ballad of Jed Clampett' (1962), commonly known as 'The Beverly Hillbillies' song, the theme tune for the TV show series starring Buddy Ebsen. (Lyrics, Paul Henning, vocals Jerry Scoggins, Lester Flatt; master musicians of the art of the ballad and bluegrass ways, Lester Flatt and Earl Scruggs). The Ballad of Johnny Jihad (Sung) Come and listen to the story of Johnny Jihad, Who left home and country to study his Islam, And then one day he was shooting at our troops, So down through the camp did the government swoop. (Voice Over): ‘Al Que-da that is, Af-ghani Tali-ban, Terror-ist . . .’ (Sung) Well, the first thing you know ol’ John from ’Frisco roamed, The lawman said ‘he’s a lad misunderstood very far from home.’ Said, ‘Californee is the place he oughta be,’ So they request his trial be moved to Berkeley . . . (Voice Over): ‘Liberals that is, group-ies, peace-activists . . .’ Announcer: The Johnny Jihad Show! (Intense bluegrass banjo pickin’ music) . . . (Sung) Now its time to say goodbye to John and all his kin, Hope ya don’t think of him as a fightin’ Taliban, You’re all invited back again to this insanity, To get yourself a heapin’ helpin’ of this travesty . . . Johnny Jihad, that’s what they call ’im now Nice guy; don’t get fooled now, y’hear? (Voice Over): ‘Lawyerin’ that is, O.J.ism, media-circus . . .’ (Music) . . . end

Little Planet on The Prairie (New Earth Anthem) New Earth is an art of love, not a stain of hateful ignorance. New Earth is a land of promise, not of greed and indifference. New Earth is a blank canvas, we gotta decide what we paint - masterpiece of an inclusive dawn, or a bloody reminder of apish days. New Earth is a better Earth, we no longer thirst after blood. We toil together without divide, to be a gentle beacon in the cosmos. Hijab, habit, turban, all are equal, It's bigotry that is unacceptable. On our New Earth character is supreme, primitive traditions are expendable. Existence here is an art of love, at our planet on the cosmic prairie. New Earth is a celebration of life, not a validation of ruinous rigidity.

Do you resent people with AIDS? Do you trust HIV-negatives? Have you given up hope for a cure? When was the last time you cried?

Though gay white men became the first group of people visibly associated with AIDS, we now know that HIV was first an epidemic among intravenous drug users and communities of color, going back at least to the 1960s and ’70s.

Ballet doesn't tend to produce activists; we're trained too much, too early, in this art form that is the pinnacle of traditional femininity. If you're any good at it, that means you've already bought into the system.

Naskar, The Journey (Sonnet 1540) The journey began with Art of Neuroscience, I was the rookie scholar in the block. Amateurish intellectualism was quite evident, till my voice took charge in the 11th work. Finally yours truly was speaking on his own, without leaning on those who came before. Riding on a whim, along came sonnets, Prose and poetry fused in Naskarean ore. Thus original Naskar started pouring out, as Hurricane Human, Hometown Human 'n more, Martyr Meets World to Mücadele Muhabbet, all as bedrock of assimilation galore. The journey that began with science, soon turned into a humanitarian tsunami. Rooted in love, tempered by reason - I'm the furnace of peace, piety 'n poetry.

Why is it we don’t intervene in the bureaucracy?” asks Chris Bobel, the gender studies scholar, who has noted that many young activists prefer “DIY activism” – making art, changing their own consumer habits, making their own products rather than buying corporate ones. They tell her, “We don’t want to be in bed with the enemy,” she says. “That’s not where change happens. That’s old-school activism. We’re all about DIY’”. Bobel sighs. “A lot of these activists weren’t even registered voters.

For some politics has become a battle ground that allows them to vent their frustrations, while at the same time hide behind the anonymity of the social media. For others it has become a weapon to overwhelm their opponents by the weight of the number of comments sent to the originator of the blog or article. Fair or not, this method of cyber warfare works and could possibly change the course of history. A continuance of this cyber activity is still not totally understood by most bloggers, but certainly can be threatening and intimidating. Recently we have witnessed where foreign countries become involved in the attempt to rig elections by altering the mind set of those receiving overwhelming amounts of mostly altered news. This is certainly presently true in France. In Pakistan a student was murdered by his fellow students, simply because he had a difference of opinion. Art has become a victim of this form of attack, being accused of being a financial drain on the country’s economy whereas it, in all of its forms, is a stabilizer of civilization. Helping and feeding those less fortunate then ourselves also stabilizes a good society. On the opposite side of this topic a destabilizing activity is war, which cost us much more, however it does get us to alter our focus. It is the threat of nuclear annihilation that really gets our attention and may even eventually offer job opportunities to the survivors. I feel certain that the opposing sides of these issues are already marshaling their forces and stand fast to their beliefs. You would think that funding for the arts should be non-political, however I have found it to be a hot button issue, whereas going to war is accepted by an overwhelming majority of people, even before we attempt peaceful diplomatic negotiations. Building a wall separating us from Mexico is a great idea that is embraced by many who still believe that Mexico will eventually pay for it, but our “Affordable Health Care” must be thrown out! What will give our people more bang for the buck? An improved health care Bill or a Beautiful Wall? I’ve heard that Medicare and Social Security are things we can no longer afford, but it’s the same people who still believe that we can afford a nuclear war. These are issues that we can and should address, however I’ll just get back to my books and deal with the pro or anti Castro activists, or neo-Nazis, or whoever else wants to make a political statement. My next book “Seawater One….” will have some sex in it…. Perhaps we can all agree that, that’s a good thing or perhaps not.

There is a contradiction in our desire to be secure in a universe whose very nature is fluidity and movement...If I want to be secure, that is, protected from the flux of life, I am wanting to be separate from life. Yet, it is this very sense of separateness that makes me feel insecure. In other words, the more security I can get, the more I shall want...

Despite what he calls the “paradoxical ascent of social practice art in a socially bankrupt world,” and “an inversion of artistic taste” from the periphery to the center of the art world, small audiences, inadequate funding, and lack of long-term thinking remain obstacles to true florescence. He writes that contemporary art is simultaneously capital’s “avant garde and its social realism.

In a fearful, eroding democracy, it remains to be seen whether art continues to be free to act in the public sphere or is driven underground once more. Too many solutions involve continuing sacrifice by artists bucking the system, who are rarely rewarded for their hard work.

illusionists have to know how to cure someone. The real art in performing such a magic trick these days, is in complying with the various regulations imposed by the Animal Protection activists. We need medical professionals to acknowledge that our families are worth protecting too and not to succumb

The Obama Administration has been trying to indoctrinate the public with its climate ideology in many ways and through a variety of agencies. This includes material on agency websites, advocacy of climate “education,”470 exhibits in National Parks,471 and grants by the National Science Foundation. One example is the $700,000 NSF grant to The Civilians, a New York theatre company, to finance the production of a show entitled “The Great Immensity,”472 “a play and media project about our environmental challenges.”473 A second example is a $5.7 million grant to Columbia University to record “voicemails from the future” that paint a picture of an Earth destroyed due to climate change.474 A third example is a $4.9 million grant to the University of Wisconsin-Madison to create scenarios based on America’s climate actions on climate change including a utopian future where everyone rides bicycles and courts forcibly take property from the wealthy.475 The general approach pursued by the Administration for arts and education-related climate propaganda appears to be very similar to the similar propaganda campaigns by Soviet and Eastern European governments to promote their political ends.

she would indeed like to tell that kind of story, except that it requires a plot, “the absolute line between two points which [she’s] always despised. Not for literary reasons, but because it takes all hope away. Everyone, real or invented, deserves the open destiny of life.” What’s despicable about the absolute line between two points is its danger of becoming a single story. For Paley, there was no “defining” experience of women or Jews or New York or activists or the 1960s, or of one female Russian Jewish activist-writer in New York in 1965. There were stops and starts, inconsistencies, loyalties forged and broken, discordant voices. People made themselves up as they went along. In the meantime, there was daily life to endure.

In 1963 activists demanding racial justice forced President Kennedy to come out for civil rights legislation. Within a year and a half of Kennedy's assassination in November 1963—a shocking act that intensified the pressures for change—reformers in Congress managed to enact a spate of liberal legislation, including a "war on poverty," federal aid to education, Medicare for the aged, Medicaid for the poor, reform of immigration law, creation of the National Endowments for the Arts and the Humanities, and two historic civil rights laws that would have seemed almost unimaginable a few years earlier.

In the words of author and activist Parker Palmer, don’t just tell your life what you want to do with it; listen to what it wants to do with you.3 Here

flight of conservative students from the Ivy League and fancy northeastern liberal arts colleges is not entirely new. The right has persistently leveled charges of elitism against the left for decades. Highly educated cosmopolitans seem to more tradition-minded conservatives to be America’s biggest critics—and least trustworthy leaders. In 1963 conservative activist William F. Buckley famously said, “I would rather be governed by the first two thousand people in the Boston telephone directory than by the two thousand people on the faculty of Harvard University.

Adaptation is care work. Adaptation is survival. Adaptation is a negotiation between the past and the present. Adaptation is a science and art. Adaptation pushes boundaries and creates new futures..

That free time is one of the biggest barriers to activism was, in a way, proven in the summer of 2020, as the protests over George Floyd and the slew of other Black lives lost became the most attended protests in American history. Up to twenty-six million Americans participated, a number that would be unthinkable were it not for the converging COVID-19 epidemic and the unprecedented amount of free time that accompanied it.

The rooms weren't being 'de-baptized,' a spokeswoman insisted - just updated. But nobody was under any illusions, and overnight all the engraved signage announcing the Aile Sackler des Antiquités Orientales and listing the names of Mortimer's seven surviving children - Ilene, Kathe, Mortimer, Samantha, Marissa, Sophie, Michael - came off the walls, and references to the family were scrubbed from the museum's website. "The Sacklers wanted everything that Nan has in terms of the art world," Goldin's fellow activist Megan Kapler said. "And she stepped in and said, 'No. This is my world. You don't get to be in it.

I don’t believe in art. I believe in artists.” This is actually a pretty good method for studying—if you try to devour the history of your discipline all at once, you’ll choke. Instead, chew on one thinker—writer, artist, activist, role model—you really love. Study everything there is to know about that thinker. Then find three people that thinker loved, and find out everything about them.

It ends with me, toxic masculinity ends with me, religious intolerance ends with me - superstition 'n conspiracy ends with me, prejudice and puritanism ends with me - jungle nationalism ends with me, animal fundamentalism ends with me - segregated spaces, both outside and inside, end with me.

That Day I'll Call You Human (Sonnet) I shall call you all human, the day you bring down all borders, like you brought down the Berlin wall. I shall call you all human, the day you abolish all military, like you abolished the SS. I shall call you all human, the day you eradicate fundamentalism, like you eradicated polio. I shall call you all human, the day you ban the oligarchs, like you tackled corona. If you can't be a tsunami, be a flash flood - if you can't be a flash flood, be a garden hose, and wash away the inhumanities around you.

If you can't be a tsunami, be a flash flood - if you can't be a flash flood, be a garden hose, and wash away the inhumanities around you.

Over the years, quite a few sonnets never saw the light of day, because every time I write something radical, I always ask myself three questions - first, is it true - second, is it kind - and finally, is it necessary? And often it's at the final question, that I'm reluctantly compelled to press delete on quite a few texts. Yet I don't regret it, in fact, once I do delete that bit of my creation, I feel a huge load off my back - because, my mission is not mindless radicalism, my mission is mindful humanizing of the world. In the absence of heart, even truth becomes mindless - and the mindless never know they're mindless, they feel like it's an act of courage.

Over the years, quite a few sonnets never saw the light of day, because every time I write something radical, I always ask myself three questions - first, is it true - second, is it kind - and finally, is it necessary? And often it's at the final question, that I'm reluctantly compelled to press delete on quite a few texts. Yet I don't regret it, in fact, once I do delete that bit of my creation, I feel a huge load off my back - because, my mission is not mindless radicalism, my mission is mindful humanizing of the world.

God is a Gypsy* (Sonnet) Kindness is my constitution, selflessness is divine sanity. To be human takes no scripture, living gospel takes humanity. Men of ritual, men of blind worship, will never know the breath of life, which in a way, is animal blessing, to know life is to be restless with light. To know light is to be restless, to know life is to be breathless, only those without life can sit still, for blindness is boon to the savages. The name is *Gitano - Abigitano; accused of freedom by alien hunters. War is legal, human trafficking is legal, genocide is legal, child-bombing is legal, and you call this civilized and religious!

Men of ritual, men of blind worship, will never know the breath of life, which in a way, is animal blessing, to know life is to be restless with light.

Revolution a day keeps corruption away.

Give me ten brains, hearts and spines, I'll give you a planet primed with peace.

Never Serve Your Nation (Sonnet) Educate your children never to serve your nation; to serve the nation makes monkey out of human, killing on the basis of nationality and religion. If you wanna serve your nation, serve through science, serve through art, serve through music, literature, industry, but never through military. However, if you wanna make crime your career, with all the glorious decorations - kill one person, it's murder - kill in bulk, it's patriotism. Soldiers are just glorified webcam models, standing erect to serve political libido. Be the human your flesh appears to be, or go back to the jungle, your mind is suited so. Science, arts, music, innovation, that's how you serve a nation. There is no greater dipsomaniac profession, than militarist infestation.

Science, arts, music, innovation, that's how you serve a nation. There is no greater dipsomaniac profession, than militarist infestation.

I was born of dust, I live as flame, for I choose to be human, not a dead name.

Human is the one who asks no one to kneel; go, walk the earth not to evangelize, but heal.

Emma Sulkowicz, the Columbia University student who made waves as an activist against sexual assault, ended her school year as she began it: carrying a mattress. Ms. Sulkowicz carried her mattress around campus throughout her senior year to raise awareness to her school’s handling of sexual assault. On Tuesday, she brought it with her to her graduation ceremony, and walked with it during the processional. Four fellow female graduates helped her carry the mattress as she walked across the stage to cheers from the audience. Ms. Sulkowicz has said she was raped in her dorm by a classmate who was later cleared of the crime in what she said was a flawed university disciplinary proceeding. She has spent approximately the past nine months carrying her mattress on campus as part of a school-sanctioned art project, “Mattress Performance (Carry That Weight),” vowing to carry it as long as she and the accused student attend the same school. The project sparked debate on and off campus. In January, Ms. Sulkowicz was the guest of New York Sen. Kirsten Gillibrand at President Barack Obama’s State of the Union address. The accused student, Paul Nungesser, and Ms. Sulkowicz both graduated Tuesday. Mr. Nungesser has said he didn’t rape Ms. Sulkowicz and last month filed a lawsuit in Manhattan federal court against Columbia for allowing what he says is sustained harassment against him. As part of the lawsuit, his attorney requested that Columbia bar Ms. Sulkowicz from carrying the mattress at graduation. The school almost did. On Monday, it sent out graduation guidelines that said: “Graduates should not bring into the ceremonial area large objects which could interfere with the proceedings or create discomfort to others in close, crowded spaces shared by thousands of people.” Students saw the guidelines as a reference to Ms. Sulkowicz, they said. But she showed up on Tuesday, mattress in hand. Some students wore red tape on their graduation caps in solidarity with Ms. Sulkowicz, referencing No Red Tape, Columbia’s anti-sexual-assault activist group. Mr. Nungesser’s attorney, Andrew Miltenberg, criticized Columbia. “Once again, Columbia has irresponsibly allowed Ms. Sulkowicz to create a spectacle, the purpose of which is to vilify and humiliate Mr. Nungesser,” Mr. Miltenberg said. “Shame on Columbia for forcing the entire class of 2015 to bear silent witness to the victimization of Mr. Nungesser, on a day set aside to celebrate their academic achievements.” Ms. Sulkowicz, who graduated magna cum laude, and her

Hanging out in coffee shops and talking about one day being a writer or an activist or an entrepreneur is just about the worst thing you can do.

The intelligence professional’s passion to collect everything possible is nicely illustrated in an NYPD report under the rubric “Secret,” and beneath a blacked-out box that may have contained notes from an infiltrator. The censored document declares ominously in large type: “LOCAL ACTIVIST GROUP TO USE ART MURALS IN ORDER TO SPREAD PEACE MESSAGE; GROUP MAY USE DIRECT ACTION METHODS IN CONJUNCTION WITH STREET THEATRE.” It describes the organization as “a collective of artists dedicated to using artwork to spread the word of peace.” It uses “murals, banners, posters, and street theatre during its actions.

In 1919, the year women were first able to vote in Austria, Weininger's ideas on the "emancipation question" were being newly debated; the Christian Socials feared that the polls would be overrun with radicals, while less activist women, more likely to vote conservative, would stay away (they proposed that voting should be obligatory). Weininger thought that women were passive, purely sexual beings - even though they weren't fully conscious of their sexuality - who longed to be dominated. They were therefore not fully in possession of their reason, and not worthy of the vote. He believed that only men were capable of rationality and genius. By transcending sexuality and the body, exercising sexual restraint that women were incapable, men were able to allow these energies to be sublimated into the disinterested realms of art and politics. "Man possesses the penis," Weininger explained, in an aphorism that was to become popular, "but the vagina possesses the woman".

Stranahan kept his home in Aspen and accumulated more property. Also a fine-arts photographer, human-rights activist, philanthropist, beer brewer (the Flying Dog brands), and frustrated delinquent, he was drawn to Hunter and arranged the lease for the three-level house, a smaller cabin nearby, and a stable, and the acreage resting on top of a bluff.

Much of the work of an institution is about holding artists, audiences, curators and other administrators, guards, handlers, writers, educators gallerists and other market makers, donors board members, foundation partners, civic leaders, activists, etc. in a dynamic and productive tension....I'm not going to lie to you. This approach requires effort, it only works for people who are open to a dialogical process, and it requires a strong commitment to two things--total reliance on collaboration and a strong institutional identity--that feel totally contradictory. We {A Blade of Grass] can do this because we have a strong institutional identity--we know who we are. At the same time, we don't assert. We fundamentally accept that the institution is a vessel for the expression of as many different types of people as possible...We helped to make these Two Americas. If we can own that, we get to do something really politically ambitious, like work toward One America. [written by Deborah Fisher]

I am not a prophet, I'm a prototype - I am not an exception, I'm an invitation; undaunted, undeceived, and undivided, we're the road to humanitarian detonation.

Apes in pulpits and parliament halls, chanting bruality as song of the braves - apes who crave war to feel worthy, find honor in pinning medals on graves.

You call it God complex, I call it God consciousness. Apes wait up for a savior to come, human stands savior as vessel of change.

Civilization isn't built by laws, civilization is built by hearts that dare to disobey injustice.

The case for peace is not state vs terrorism, the case for peace is citizens vs states of earth.

If your voice is louder than your service, you are not an activist, you're an actor.

If you think human rights is a political matter, what you think does not matter.

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Servant of the people is samurai sacred.

Way of The Slipper (Bug-Repellent Sonnet) This prehistoric world has an instinctual affinity to black and white, binary concepts. Justice is too grand an exercise to be contained by the binary nonsense of violence and nonviolence. Bullets are an act of violence, silence is an act of bookish nonviolence – but there is a third option – the way of the slipper. Slippers are more effective in fighting bugs, than bullets - slippers strip the bugs of power, while bullets make them martyr. With all your slippers combined, the mightiest of tyrant is bound to fall, be it a state head, court judge or copper, or oligarchs rendering democracy into jungle. When people blow their top, billionaires become bum, and presidents turn tramp. Fetch the household bug-repellent from under your feet, and treat the corrupt and bigoted like your offspring gone bad.

You know what is the real god particle? You are. Every person who refuses to entertain division and discrimination in any form, is the practicing god particle of society.

Gaza is not for sale, Greenland is not for sale, Ukraine is not for sale, Canada is not for sale. Planet Earth is not real estate, to pander to your predatory psychopathy. If you are so hard up for cash, we can all chip in to buy you some good ol shock therapy.

We've evolved from the jungle, violence is in our DNA. That's not up for debate, it's a biological fact. Question is, will we continue to pass on the parasitic traits of the past, in the name of heritage and loyalty, or will we choose the path that deviates from the coward's quo of jungle tribalism into the sunlit valley of valiant peace!

Never be sheep, never be pawn - never let no primate ruin the dawn. Gospel, gov-spell, it's all a front - first and foremost, be a human.

Peter rejoiced to see men do great things and dream great dreams. He wanted them to stretch out their arms to their brothers, because he knew that the surest way to find God, to find the good, was through one’s brothers. Peter wanted this striving to result in a better physical life in which all men would be able to fulfill themselves, develop their capacities for love and worship, expressed in all the arts. He wanted them to be able to produce what was needed in the way of homes, food, clothing, so that there was enough of these necessities for everyone. A synthesis of “cult, culture and cultivation,” he called it, as he tried to give me the long view, the vision.

Be the change, not the caption.

Be The Change, Not The Caption (Sonnet) Do good, don't delegate. Go vital, not viral. Dare the deed, not drama. Be the specimen, not a spectacle. Speak truth, not trends. Carve meaning, not metrics. Plant roots, not rumors. Foster oneness, not optics. Lend a hand, not hashtag. Trigger action, not attention. Stir up lives, not likes. Be the change, not the caption.

When I think of disabled literature and writing, I can think of a breadth of writing that spans decades and generations, that uses the D-word and does not. I think of Audre Lorde—Black Lesbian poet warrior mother, legally blind, living and dying with cancer, whose work shines with the knowledge she gained from living with bodily difference and fighting the medical industrial complex. I think of Gloria Anzaldúa, queer Latinx maestra who started her period at age three and lived with bodily and reprogenital differences, living and dying with diabetes. Some of my work as a disability justice writer has been to look at the legacies and work of those foundational second-wave queer and trans feminist writers and creators of color—Audre Lorde and June Jordan, Gloria Anzaldúa and Marsha P. Johnson and Sylvia Rivera, Chrystos and Sapphire, to name a few—and to witness the disability all up in their work, even if they did not use that word because of any number of factors including the whiteness of the disability rights movement of the time. June's last decade of writing was all about her cancer. Gloria's writing had everything to do with her diabetes and neurodivergence and life-long bodily differences. Marsha and Sylvia were both neurodivergent Trans Black and Latinx activists and creators whose writing, performance, and art was at the center of their lives and activism. Chrystos and Sapphire's Indigenous and Black feminist incest survivor stories and poetry write from spaces of surviving extreme trauma, chronic pain from stripping and cleaning houses, CPTSD, grief, and psychiatrization. "I also think of the deep legacy of disabled writers (some dead, some still living but having done this for a while) who intentionally, politically identified as disabled. Laura Hershey. Leroy Moore. Qwo-Li Driskill. Aurora Levins Morales. Billie Rain. Dani Montgomery. Nomy Lamm. Cheryl Marie Wade. Emi Koyama. Pat Parker. Tatiana de la tierra. Raymond Luczak. Anne Finger. Leslie Feinberg, who died of Lyme disease. Peggy Munson. Beth Brant. Vickie Sears. Writers who are small press, micro-press, self-published, indie press, out of print. Writers I know and cherish, whose names I call when I talk about disabled writing. We are so often kept apart, we disabled people, and kept from knowing each other's names. We are told not to hang out with the other kid with cerebral palsy, told to deny or downplay our disabilities or Deafness or ND. We often grow up not learning disabled history, Deaf literature, or that those are even a thing.

Each of you are the world's remedy, each of you are light to life - breathing testament to possibility, walk, and weave the world civilized!

90 percent of the world's activists would disappear, if there was no camera to broadcast their publicity stunts.

Quite often I'm accused of grandeur, as my vastness feels a threat to narrowness. Sun is the devil in narratives of the rigid, rays of the morning sting nasty on the bigoted. I'm accused of grandeur, for I embody justice - I'm accused of slander, for I embody tolerance - I'm accused of blasphemy, for I epitomize equality - every people, my home, hence, I'm such a nuisance.

Never apologize for standing tall, their rigidity doesn't make you wrong. Double down on your voice of existence, in ominous adversity be unleashed as dawn.

Political art tends to be socially concerned and activist’ art tends to be socially involved.

Not everyone is in the position to be outspoken against all inhumanities, but if you have the guts to call out even some, you have a life-long friend in me.

Turning the other cheek only empowers persecution, giving the impression that prejudice is the truth - Jesus didn't mansplain Mary to turn the other cheek, he revolted at her persecutors, like any decent human being should.

My mission is not mindless radicalism, my mission is mindful humanizing of the world.

Colonials go home, not to England or Europe, but straight to the jungle!

The afternoon of September 26 was chilly and overcast. On the cusp of sunset, several hundred people, most of them white, were milling around the limestone pavilion on the park’s north side. Montaug, that legendary doorman with the soul of an activist, had indeed drawn a crowd. Many had come because of David Wojnarowicz’s eye-catching flyer, which had been plastered on lampposts in the East Village: it depicted skeleton policemen beating a handcuffed Black man. Even Madonna showed up. “Everyone from the neighborhood was there,” recalled Kenny Scharf, who attended the protest with Keith Haring.

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Most important, in late 1980, Yip joined Leonard Bernstein, Arthur Laurents, and Sheldon Harnick at a news conference announcing the creation of a new musical theater program at New York University’s Tisch School of the Arts, a program that has gained international renown.