Americans still have a problem saying the word “capitalism” even though it’s literally killing them. That’s not strange — it’s predictable. Nobody says the name of the gods or the demons. Nobody calls out the boogeyman. Just doing so raises the spectre of panic and terror and fear that our bruised, battered psyches are working so hard to defend us against, just so that we can pretend we function at something resembling a normal level. What we can’t say reveals more than what we do.

Umair Haque on bogeymen.

I mean, I think Americans have a problem with ascribing capitalism as being at fault for anything—they tend to be great at throwing the word around when the connotation is positive—but the point still stands.

We are encouraged—and we often encourage each other—to wear our politics and our analysis like badges, as markers of distinction. When politics becomes something that one has, like fashion, it always needs to be visible in order to function. Actions need to be publicized, positions need to be taken, and our everyday lives need to be spoken loudly to each other. One is encouraged to make calculations about political commitments based on how they will be seen, and by whom. Politics becomes a spectacle to be performed. This reaches its height online, where sharing the right things and speaking the right words tend to be the only ways that people can know each other. Groups need to turn inward and constantly evaluate themselves in relation to these ideals and then project them outward, proclaiming their intentions, values, programs, and missions.

But since one can only have good politics in comparison to someone else who lacks them, rigid radicalism tends towards constant comparison and measuring. Often the best way to avoid humiliation for lacking good politics is to find others lacking in militancy, radicalism, anti-oppression, or some other ideal. One’s politics can never quite match these perfectionist ideals, so one is subjected to constant shame and fear.

 carla bergman and Nick Montgomery on outward patterns.

This is from a longer essay, taken from bergman and Montgomery’s book (Joyful Militancy) and pretty much all of it is pull-quotable so, y’know. Go read it.

Beyond the theft alone, appropriation tends to be ruthlessly destructive to the original performance being absconded with. Why? Because it reimagines the act, the dance, the song, or piece of art as a solitary, disconnected moment in time. Dance is joy in the shadow of oppression. “Constructing the black male body as a site of pleasure and power, rap and the dances associated with it suggest vibrancy, intensity, and an unsurpassed joy in living.” [bell] hooks writes, “It emerged in the streets—outside the confines of a domesticity shaped and informed by poverty, outside enclosed spaces where young male bodies had to be contained and controlled.” This rebellious spirit lives on in the form and motion of the dance, even if it is never displayed on the surface.

But when these dances are turned into to Emotes, their connections with poverty and racism are elided and they are reduced to nothing more than a funny dance, cut off and erased, made vanilla and palatable. This is not simply bad luck, it is the latest in a long trend of omission. In his book, “Everything But The Burden,” Greg Tate points out that “The black body is a desired taboo, something to be possessed and something to be erased…” Shoot becomes Hype, Milly Rock becomes Swipe It. Blackness becomes a grey area, becomes bundles of mocap data, and is made ultimately invisible.

Yussef Cole on rebrand, resale.

From an article about the appropriation of African American dance moves in the videogame Fortnite. Very specifically, it’s about the appropriation and sale of dance moves, in a way that profits the white establishment (i.e. Epic Games), rather than the unremunerated creators…