Conversation

"What if I conceived of activism as a palliative endeavor, rather than one guided by a utopic end? ... Something of a ritual, and much of a prayer. Its goal is to ease pains, like a balm after the sun; to cultivate comfort and love among the suffering. How do you help in a world of fire? What do you do when you run out of water? Cuddle and fuck. Aren’t the flames pretty? Let them set the mood. Suck dick. Eat pussy. Build a bookcase. Write a poem for the friend you’re crushing on. Kiss your lover under a rain that pours like nails from heaven; leave your damp clothes on the floor and shower with your bodies held together for warmth like mousebirds. Love one another—because the world sure fucking won’t. Palliative activism is a joyful or, at least, content pessimism. Maybe even an optimistic fatalism. Or fatalistic optimism—I don’t know what words mean anymore. If we are doomed to suffer, maybe we can ensure that there will be love among the suffering."

- Gender/Fucking, Florence Ashley