I Do Not Consent.
Stop what you are doing right now.
January 6th is happening again.
This is an emergency, and you are in danger.
Yesterday, Tim Reid of Reuters reported that Elon Musk and his staff have locked federal employees out of the electronic systems of the U.S. Office of Personnel Management.
I encourage you to read the original report, but the short version is this: an unelected oligarch and an unknown number of his friends, the identities of which we also do not know, have taken over the agency to make undisclosed changes to government databases and payment systems.
This will likely also circumvent FOIA data retention and transparency requirements.
They have installed sofa beds so that they can work constantly, and control who enters and who leaves.
There is a word for what is happening right now. It’s called a self-coup; when a legally elected leader exerts illegal power to ensure they remain there forever.
I’m sure a lot of places are about to report on whatever happens next. You’re going to be hearing about it for a few days, or else the ramifications of it. But there’s one thing that they probably will not say— because it is a journalistic faux-pas to do anything other than observe impartially.
I am going to say that thing anyway, because it is important:
You do not have to accept this.
In fact, you must not accept this.
I remember where I was during the last insurrection. Like a lot of you, I was at work— in my kitchen, rather— sheltering in place from a pandemic.
I was glued to a thread on Slack, as my colleagues posted videos of the attack. I watched windows shatter. I watched them construct gallows. I watched them smear shit on the walls and scream for the blood of Congress.
Within the confines of that message chain, all pretense of normalcy had been dropped. My colleagues shared their fears with sincerity. But click just one screen back, and it was business as usual. Clients, emails, assignments.
Do you remember how weird that felt? To answer emails while our world burned?
You don’t have to feel that way again.
If you can see these words, if I still have your attention, then I probably have about twenty more seconds to convince you to please, get up and help me.
So here goes.
You do not have to just watch this happen on TV.
You are allowed to change the events you see on the screen.
There is something that you can do right now, no matter who you are or what you think you’re capable of.
Anyone can do this thing. It requires no practice, takes less than five minutes, and it is free.
I want you to ask for the resignation of Donald Trump. Wherever you are, I want you to say, out loud, right now:
“I do not consent.”
You can say this to a friend, or to a stranger, or to the internet. Choose whatever feels most accessible to you right now. All that matters is that you find one other person, and say this to them.
Probably, that person will be confused. That’s great; that means it’s working. If you share this essay with them, they might say it, too.
I know that it feels silly, but I am dead serious. I promise you that if you honestly, sincerely do this, it will make the world slightly better.
I’m not naive. I know that Donald Trump and his tech baron cronies will not resign because two people at a bodega asked “pretty please”.
What I’m banking on is that some of you want to do something, you just don’t know what to do yet.
That the biggest hurdle is beginning, and that once you begin, you will want to keep going.
And that if someone sees you begin, they will want to come along.
I feel like we’re all stuck in a trance. Like it’s January 6th again, and we’re just answering client emails, waiting for something important and deadly to work itself out. Because we don’t know what else to do.
Nobody’s moving; everyone is waiting for directions which aren’t coming.
But it ispossible to remove a President from office from office. It has happened before.
And the thing I need you to understand, is that you have the power to move first. You are allowed to make the request. And there are millions of Americans waiting right now for someone else to stand up.
A lot of people have never organized before. It’s probably because they don’t know how to start. I was like that once, and what changed is that I talked to someone. I told them what I wanted, and that I didn’t know how to get it.
When you tell someone you want to change the world, and they agree to help you, you get just a little bit closer to that goal.
If we each throw a single stone into the river, then we can change its course.
Four days ago, video essayist Ian Danskin released “The South Bank of the Rubicon”— the latest entry in an educational series that I quite enjoy, called “The Alt-Right Playbook”.
This one is different from the others. It’s eight minutes long, and I think it’s the most important thing he’s ever made.
In it, Danskin asks you to identify one action you will not tolerate. Your own personal Rubicon— beyond which point there is no return.
He’s asking you to make a promise to yourself. If this thing happens, I will no longer observe, I will act.
It’s a beautiful piece of art; I just think one thing is missing. Every if needs a then. Every promise needs a resolution.
When your Rubicon is crossed, then what? What will you do? What can you offer?
My Rubicon was the construction of a concentration camp. Well, we just designated our first camp, which is set to open this weekend. The one thing I know how to do is write, so that’s what I promised to offer.
I made that promise to myself, and it happened. Now I’m on the hook.
This is my attempt to fulfill that promise.
I do not consent.
Do you?
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