On Complicity

If we don't fight back against the cruelty, then we are complicit.

Hi,

I have left the United States. But it’s much less dramatic than it sounds.

This is a trip I’d been planning for months, and it has taken me out of the US. I’m in Manchester, here to see my best friend Rosabel who’s working on a project here in the land of Oasis, The Smiths and Joy Division.

This was locked in far before the President of the United States (a criminal, sex pest and conman) illegally called in the National Guard and Israel announced it had launched a barrage of attacks on Iran’s nuclear facilities. Before Democratic Senators were were being wrestled to the ground and handcuffed for asking questions:

Democratic U.S. Senator Alex Padilla was shoved, forced to the ground and handcuffed by security after attempting to ask a question at a press conference on Thursday held by Homeland Security Secretary Kristi Noem about immigration raids.

If that’s happening to a Senator who dares ask a question, what hope do you think the rest of us have?

So while leaving felt like a relief (there is a tension that gathers in your body when you live there), I also felt incredibly frustrated and angsty.

In many ways, this seemed like both the best and worst time to go. On the flight, I imagined what horrors could take place in a week away. What kind of country will I return to? What does it mean not to be down there supporting my friends on the ground, and documenting things for you?