They will call you "crazyyyy"

What do you say if your convictions weren't just a passing fad?

God help me for commenting on a week-old political debate. In my defense, all discourse is recycled and we’re usually repeating the same arguments, just in different rhetorical clothing.

Case in point. At this very moment, somebody is likely relitigating the summer of 2020. It fried so many brains, that fever dream season where everything was true at once: earnestness; performance; trend hopping; cringe; love; fear; stridency; co-optation; sincerity; insincerity; experimentation; exasperation. We were beautiful and stupid, in person and online.

When we talk about “the summer of 2020” or “wokeness” or “woke 1.0,” we conflate so many things– Covid, Black Lives Matter, #metoo, the conservative anti-trans panic, and a million voices shouting “I don’t know who needs to hear this but…” online. Wild times. America had a reckoning, or at least a simulacrum of a reckoning. Then, right on schedule: a backlash. Trump won in 2024, DEI statements were ctrl alt deleted, and temporarily emboldened legacy institutions slunk into the bushes. What’s that Langston Hughes line about a dream deferred, and how it explodes? You ever wonder what comes next? Apparently, after the explosion, a bunch of people in power get red in the face and mumble let’s never talk about this again.

It’s such a weird trap, the way we analyze social movements ahistorically, how we pretend that flashpoints emerge with no antecedent, and then disappear without a trace. I understand the temptation to erase 2020 from our memory, what with the empty corporate signaling and the self-righteous sloganeering. But social change doesn’t adhere to news cycles. Movement work is mostly seed scattering; you never know when the shoots will sprout. You’ll hear plenty of praise these days for the anti-ICE care networks that sprung up in Minneapolis this past winter. But what often goes unmentioned is how much of that city’s activist infrastructure was first built in that much-maligned summer of hope and rage.

What do we lose, when we pretend that we never meant it?

---

A couple of weeks ago, politics-obsessed figures from across the ideological spectrum directed their ire at Francesca Hong, a socialist politician who at that point was leading the race for Wisconsin governor.¹ Hong’s unforgivable sins, according to the commentariat, were that she (a). said things back in 2020 that are not currently politically popular and (b). when asked about them during her campaign, first tried to express her feelings earnestly rather than doing a slick comms-shop pivot (“the only one who is cancelling Thanksgiving is Donald Trump, what with all this inflation”).

On one hand, how annoying to see all the ways that Hong’s criticisms of police or Thanksgiving were deemed “discrediting” and “insane” by the same pundits who, for months, defended Graham Platner’s Nazi tattoo and rape apologia. As somebody who personally enjoys holidays quite a bit, the fact that the otherwise quite-fun Hong is a self-described “holiday curmudgeon” doesn’t impact my life in any way. But tell that to the cross-ideological chorus that treated Thansghazi as the worst scandal in the history of the Republic. I realize that it’s no longer de rigueur to point out double standards across race and gender lines, but is it “identity politics” to notice the contrast when it’s right in front of our face?

What really got me, though, were attempts by politicians I admire (Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez especially) to rhetorically wipe away half a decade of activism with a breezy laugh. Again, I know this has already inspired a mountain of discourse, but man, what a gut punch. “Woke 1.0 was crazyyyyy,” the Congresswoman declared on the Sunday news show, echoing an empty calorie catchphrase from New York Councilman Chi Ossé. Hahahaaha lol. Totally. So true. But also, huh? What part of it? If you mean, “using language that was overly clunky or academic,” or “being a piece of work on Twitter,” or “that time the maple syrup company changed their name and pretended they solved racism,” just say that. But do you mean ever holding a genuine political opinion, regardless of whether it polls well? Or organizing a mutual aid collective with your neighbors and wondering if it will ever make a difference but staying with it anyway? Or looking at the history of race in America and saying “damn, I think we’ve still got some work to do?” That’s not “crazyyyyy,” that’s literally how social change works.

But here’s where I’m torn. Francesca Hong was running for Governor of my state. I still believe that, if elected, she’d be the best leader we’ve had since Bob Lafollette, but a slim plurality of my neighbors disagreed, in part because of the kerfuffle about her “woke tweets.” And to be sure, “defund” isn’t a popular political stance, including in many working-class communities of color.² That’s fine from a social movement perspective (you should never base your activist stances on which way the political winds blow; the work is in naming the world you think we deserve, and then bringing others in through organizing). But what if we don’t want to wait? What if we want to win elections and govern in the short term? Zohran Mamdani leads a city with a massive police department. His job would likely be untenable if he spent all his time trying to move the Overton window on the carceral state.

I understand why the New York Mayor needs to think strategically about addressing a general audience that doesn’t dream the same quixotic dreams that I do. I also believe we can retain our principles while finding welcoming ways to articulate them. And yet, I still worry about the slippery slope between political pragmatism and abandoning our convictions at the first sign of criticism.

It’s really bugging me, this question. Is it a binary choice? Is it worth the Faustian bargain, to elect candidates who can meaningfully shift the balance of economic power in this country, as long as they don’t talk about any of that “woke stuff?” Does it depend on which “woke stuff” we’re talking about? Does a laid off factory worker deserve defense regardless of the political winds? What about a trans athlete? Or a victim of police violence? Who draws that line? Does a left-wing politician have a moral duty to jettison the 2020-version of themselves under the bus for the sake of Medicare For All? I mean, if the candidate in question never really meant it, I guess the answer is easy.

But what if you still believe the thing that’ll make the pundits call you a kook? What if you didn’t adopt a pose because it was cool, but out of genuine conviction? What if your dreams never dimmed?

---

Since I’m criticizing others’ rhetorical imprecision, let’s use myself as a case study.

I’m not planning on running for elected office (we all have a role to play, and I’m lucky to play mine), but if I were, I’d likely be tarred with the scarlet C for “crazyyy” Blame my religion. God knows I do. I’m a Quaker, which means I’m theologically pot committed to all sorts of eyebrow raising convictions. Because Quakers believe in the inherent worthiness of all people, we’re not allowed to kill, nor send others to war. We also believe in reconciliation and repair, both of which lead to a general unease with mass incarceration and public safety enforced at the barrel of a gun. Quakers didn’t start critiquing prisons in 2020. We’ve been on that one since the 1600s.

Now, there’s a lot of anti-police language that’s never appealed to me. I’m not an “all cops are bastards” guy (again, that pesky Quakerism; I know it sounds impossibly saccharine, but I love every human being too much to think like that), nor do I hold any particular attachment to the specific terms “defund” or “abolish.” Again, I’d argue that giving more people an entry point into our movements matters more than rhetorical rigidity.³

I do believe, though, that we have a responsibility to seek more loving ways of being in relationship with each other (both interpersonally and societally) and it hurts me deeply that it’s currently verboten to ask whether this is the best we can do.

I know full well that my beliefs make me a corny weirdo. But I have a hard time stomaching the argument that they’re so dangerous that they have no place in our political discourse. There’s a time and a season for pragmatism. But also, consider the many historical movements that were also deemed insane in their time. Surely we lose something when we tamp down our imagination based on opinion polls.

---

I’ve had this daydream, ever since one of my political heroes undermined a candidate I love and respect with a laugh and a tossed off “crazyyyy.”

In my dream, a left-wing candidate is being interviewed by a skeptical reporter. I don’t ever learn if the candidate wins. I mean, they probably don’t. I bet there would still be headlines. “Local Candidate Fails to Distance Themselves From Controversial Defund the Police Movement.” But at least, in this scenario, the candidate would lose a single political race, but not the rest of themselves.

The interview goes something like this.

“You’ve associated with the defund the police movement. Do you renounce that slogan?”

I’m running to fund the hell out of every single thing that’ll make our communities safe: schools where every kid is loved; decent, affordable housing for all; showstopper parks and well-appointed social spaces; streets designed for walking, biking and public transit; good union jobs; free healthcare, childcare and college; a robust social safety net for all, but especially when our neighbors fall through the cracks; mental health and addiction services; the kind of social activities and outlets our young people deserve. All of it.

You know, I’ve never heard a politician get asked why they're defunding hospitals, or job programs, or pre-k. That’s what we do, by the way. Every time we give Open AI a tax break for a data center, or subsidize a sports arena so that a billionaire can fill it with luxury boxes. And yeah, every time we buy the police department a tank without them having to justify why they need it. Nobody ever gets called crazy for defunding an addition treatment center. Nobody ever has to walk into a Head Start and tell families where money for their babies went.

So no, I’m not going to come in, guns blazing, and fire the cops. I’m going to be too busy building rec centers and planting trees and listening to teenagers tell us what they wish were in their neighborhood. We’re going to need everybody picking up a paint brush and a hammer, because there’s so much work to do. Want to join me? I think it’s going to be a blast.

END NOTES:

1. For the last few months, I have been lucky to be a part of a group of writers exploring what it looks like to be in solidarity with each other during this weird, tenuous time to do this for a living. Last week, one of those conversants, Hamilton Nolan hosted a live discussion with the very wise rayne fisher-quann and Katie Gatti Tassin. Jeez, it was good. Check it out and, if this all sounds interesting, sign up for more info at The Sub Club (also: hey to the other cool schemers behind this— Lisa Sibbett Sarah Thankam Mathews and Mel Mitchell-Jackson).

2. At the risk of being diving even deeper into the pools of cringe, you want to hear what happens when you decide to become a paid subscriber? I get an email. Sometimes I recognize the name and get to go “oh whoa, an old friend.” More frequently, it’s a stranger, an even bigger miracle. But every time, I spontaneously mouth “thank you." Impossibly cheesy, but I’m being real. None of you have to support this weirdo little internet space, so the fact that you do is still just so wild and so appreciative. I’d love to keep this day job, and the fact that you help means so much.

3. There is SO MUCH going on in Interdependence Relay land. My goal for this week (when my kids are both in day camp, hopefully giving me time to catch up on a professional backlog) is to get a ton of reports from our last six events up on the website. You all, we’ve had such cool stops, so keep checking back. Having gotten to see/hear how great these were, I feel like I’m holding onto a secret that I can’t wait to let out. But also, if you happen to be near Bison, SD on the 27th, you should come to Eliza Blue’s place on the prairie for what promises to be a very lovely community potluck.

4. Oh, and we’ve got another deadline coming up, about a month from now. Kentucky, Tennessee, Mississippi, Alabama, Georgia, Florida, South Carolina, North Carolina: Want to be a host? Your application deadline is September 15th. It’s seriously so fun and I’d love to work with you!

1. Likely unnecessary disclosure: I was, and am, a big Francesca Hong fan.

2. Understandably so, I’d add. I think a lot about how, in far too many communities, every other public service except for law enforcement has already been defunded. No wonder so many of my neighbors are skeptical that government could be a partner in making their communities better.

3. I should acknowledge here that there are many activists and scholars who’d disagree with me here. I’m not making any value judgement about my stance. I love learning from organizers who share similar goals, but different opinions on how we build the world we want to see.