when we go around insisting “we Africans are all one family”, we put the race contradiction ahead of the class contradiction and engage in idealistic thinking. Like family name, race is a component of the superstructure and emerges from the base. Class must always be primary, including in how we conceive of our political objectives and how we refer to the people we struggle for. There will only be one world communism and the sooner we dispel with this idealism, the sooner we will be able to come together and forge a real and scientific path toward socialism.

the reason for taking up Pan-Africanism is the perceived value of a lost culture and homeland. For colonized people, the re-discovery and development of our language, dress, music and other cultural manifestations is deeply rewarding, and can also be of a revolutionary utility. The rotten bourgeois culture that we have been immersed in must be destroyed, and the more actively we do so, the less susceptible we will be to its various poisons and intoxicants. But we must simultaneously be vigilant and not take a one-sided view of these cultures and practices that we are taking up. 

By training our focus on the African continent and neglecting to wage struggle domestically, we isolate ourselves from the global proletariat and facilitate the fascistic backsliding currently underway in the U.S. In insisting on our unity in isolation and our uniqueness in a global context, we commit fundamental errors of metaphysical thinking that hamper our movement domestically. Simultaneously, we neglect our responsibilities to the international proletariat whom our government continues to slaughter with relatively little effective contest.

read.

there's this unexplainable weight that comes with Sunday, like it's a built-in feature of the day, where simply living through it means i am subjected to feel heavy. maybe it's just me. maybe it's because i hate Sunday. the memories tied to this day leave me nauseous from morning to night. they tell me, yes kidus, you're going to remember everything, and you're going to relive it all in your head. i turned into this regressing wild animal in a sanctuary, like i was face to face with my old poachers. i regress back to Sunday-kidus. now i'm a different animal. i hate the idea of humans trying to feed me and cuddle me with affection and love. i am that hunted and poached animal, back in the wild. sundays are the days when i'm reminded of my own uncivility when i saw everything through a b/w lens. so i stay glued to my bed, a projection of those days playing on repeat, those hot dry days when heavy words were thrown like stones. and they hit everyone, everything. the mental bruises are still fresh, and they renew themselves with every coming Sunday. i sleep the whole day, as if i can escape them. i excuse myself with a six-hour "nap." but then i wake up, and it's still Sunday. still today. tomorrow feels like it's about to cancel on me, leaving me to relive this day over and over. twenty four hours feel like a purgatory i'm trapped in. as if God and the devil are arguing because neither can claim me, or wants to. i haven't sinned enough for hell, nor been saintly enough to see the pearly gates. so what do they do? they keep me in this purgatory they call Sunday.

monday

look what i made

good night

if silence pleases you, then indeed
it pleased the virtuous before you.

and if i have regretted my silence once,
then i have regretted speech many times.

today's watch was

https://ok.ru/video/8227245329040