dear a free school,
i write this in the shadow of your liberation. while the loss of your home in the meta/anabolic studios is heavy & fraught with distrust & cruelty, i write to remind you of the beauty with which you all set out with. what you all have created is a sacred space: a free school is not a physical entity. it is the support & community that you all desired—no, needed—and were not given during your attempts at regular, accredited institutions of higher learning.
it is the absolute refusal of the bread & butter offered by the educational industrial complex, a hand held up to stop the assimilationist rhetoric thrown at us.
it is a “no.”
it is a rejection letter to those who’ve rejected us & the thousands of years of knowledge we carry in our bodies, to those who instead tried to ply us with theory instead of feeling, theirstory instead of ourstory.
realize that, due even just merely to the politics of your body—whether brown, queer, however gendered, whatever—you are owed nothing; but in tandem, because of those same things,: you owe nothing.
refuse to fall victim to the complicity of gratitude. youth of color are often subjected to the—while inadvertent—objectifying efforts of white, middle class founded non-profits, usually to “lift” or “empower” us with their tools. those actions also function as “giving back”: but giving what back? after we are threatened with the loss of our homes, as we are forced to adapt to the continued colonization of our neighborhoods, we are relegated to the roles of children, much like peons on a mission. yeah, we can make adobe, we now know how to spin cloth. but for whom?
not for ourselves. refuse internships. be like toypurina, the tongva shaman warrior who refused to allow the spanish to colonize her soul & instead burned down the mission san gabriel—or at least, tried to.
"the best teachers teach you how to kill them." —jackie wang, via her twitter.
a free school is your darling. kill your teachers & protect your darling at all costs, but do so with the understanding that you will eventually be upon the altars of sacrifice yourselves. recognize that your current dissonance will eventually sound melodic, even classical.
reject that martyrdom. spit on the altar, even as you’re upon it.
you all, together, have so much power. now that this eviction has freed you all from being a project, continue to weave your bodies & spirits together like a fist.
you’re not a failure. you are free.
with all the love in my decolonized heart,