I used to call myself a “political person”, a phrase that I now experience clearly as a contradiction in terms. People are, by nature, far more than political, which is a reduction of our limitless ways of being in the world. Anyhow, I called myself a militant, a revolutionary, a third world feminist, a queer woman of color, a comrade. I performed very publicly all my very intimate experiences of oppression, on the stage at the week’s demonstration, facilitating the daily meetings, in the blog posts.

What we unspokenly absolutely required from ourselves was conviction, certainty and a sense that to question or doubt the political perspectives or organization was to show weakness. We were far from being the most dogmatic tendency on the revolutionary left… and yet. With the arrogance of youth and a sneaking suspicion that no one would follow me into battle if I showed vulnerability or confusion, I played the part well. I allowed someone else to be the moral authority, the author, even as I acted the part of the “strong woman.”   (more…)