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The Culture of Liberation
Kweku Mandela & Amanda Seales in Conversation
KWEKU MANDELA: How are you?
AMANDA SEALES: I’m fine. I mean, I’m getting death threats, but it’s fine. I’m like, if y’all aren’t throwing a brick through the window with a note, then what are we really doing?
KWEKU: It’s this digital age. I had people come after me earlier this year. We had a big election in South Africa—30 years of democracy—and it’s always chaotic during that time, but this year was more extreme. Still, it renewed my faith in people.
I’ve always believed that for every group trying to oppress or control us, there are hundreds of millions more fighting against that future. They’re the cooks, the waiters, the cleaners, the pastors—the people most wouldn’t give a second thought to. That’s why I think we still have a chance to change the course of the world. I see it in young people, but also in our generation. I used to think we were done for—like, after Occupy Wall Street, we couldn’t seem to materialize protests into real change. But now, I feel hopeful.
AMANDA: I think we’ve had a long stretch of what we thought were “good times.” When things would bubble up, they’d just be “handled.” We got used to that. Now, in the States, people still think everything can just be “dealt with” and go back to normal. They’re always asking, “What’s the solution?” But I don’t think it’s going to work like that. This isn’t a quick fix; it’s not something that’ll just go away.
KWEKU: Yeah, those of us in our 30s and 40s are realizing we need to take responsibility as leaders in every part of life—whether
that’s in your workplace, your home, or your community. We can’t just keep saying, “There are no good choices, no good leaders.” Well, then get involved and become a leader!
AMANDA: There’s a real issue with how people are trained to think they need to follow someone. They believe leaders have to be a certain kind of person, and if you’re not that, then you can’t lead. People come to me all the time, asking, “So what do we do?” And I’m like, I’m the information sharer—that’s my role in leadership. I’m not the organizer.
I’m trying to encourage people to find the leader within themselves. What part of you can lead, and in what way?
KWEKU: True, but leading to what? In modern society, leaders are equated to celebrities. They’re put on pedestals. I saw this with my grandfather, Nelson Mandela. People would say, “He’s not just an African, he’s Nelson Mandela,” or “He’s not a Black person, he’s Nelson Mandela.” They did that to separate him from who he really was. And then, they’d act like he was the only one who did anything, like it’s a hero’s journey. So young people see that and think, “I can’t ever be like that.” But that’s not true.
He always broke that down by staying connected to the people. He’d randomly tell security, “I’m going to that school,” or “I’m going to speak to this group.” He avoided the bubble and kept interacting with people.
Now, though, with social media and movements, it’s hard to know what’s real and what’s not—even for someone like me, who’s pretty familiar with these things! That’s why organizations like Slow Factory are so important; they’re trusted sources for information.

AMANDA: I’ve gotten to the point where I’m resistant to being seen as the trusted source of information. I’m mostly over that idea. I’ve heard plenty of “stick to acting” or “shut up and dribble” nonsense.
We’re in a time where people are having so many different awakenings all at once. Even the idea of celebrity and what people’s relationships with celebrities are, is changing. Fans are questioning, “Do I want to support this person anymore? Do I want to continue propping up their existence as a Creative?” If their character doesn’t hold up, people are making real decisions about that. We’re heading into a new era.
By the way, I wanted to ask you about the recent elections in South Africa. How do you feel? Was there anything different about them this time?
KWEKU: It was a lot different. South Africa is a young democracy, and it’s one where people were enshrined with the right to vote in 1994 — a very substantial step towards freedom, but not freedom as a whole, because the economic levers that run society were still maintained by a group of people. The international community now really had a way to inject itself into South Africa—and there were good parts of that. There were also really bad parts of it. And then oftentimes, in a country like South Africa that has this extreme disparity of wealth, not dissimilar from the United States, there is this idea that we complain all the time.
All of the major indexes talk about the fact that we’ve been able to double the amount of people that have formal housing and double the amount of access to piped water, electricity, and sanitation. These are all massive things that prior to 1994 did not exist for the majority of the population. Those indexes are all over 80% right now, and it’s only been throughout the last thirty years. You think about countries that have had 100 years and didn’t get there, so there’s lots of progress, there’s a lot to be positive about, but sometimes people can’t see that. They’re so prone to looking at the negative.
Obama’s sister Maya Soetoro-Ng said something very powerful a few weeks ago about positive and negative peace. Negative peace is defined by the simple absence of conflict, and positive peace being the presence of nurturing systems of support. And so for me, that’s one of the things I’ve come to when you talk about divesting from celebrity. I’m looking at not only how I can divest from a lot of the ego traps that exist in our world, but how I can make sure my impact is focused on putting positive into it?
AMANDA: I think the biggest issue is education. There’s a huge gap in understanding what we’re even fighting against, and that gap has been intentionally created. There’s been a lot of effort to keep people ignorant. For example, many Americans don’t even know there’s an election happening in South Africa. Global news isn’t a natural part of our news cycle—you have to seek it out. But in other countries, the news is global by default, not just local. So what do you think is needed on the American side of things? And what’s your perspective on the South African side?
I feel like my role right now is to educate people on multiple levels—through art, spiritually, about history, and about systems. I say this as someone who wasn’t educated on these things for a long time. When I started learning about how systems operate, I had to let go of the lies I believed kept me safe. Americans tell themselves that the government is trying its best, and we find comfort in that. But in many other countries, people don’t trust their governments. They’re like, ‘We never trust the government.’ It feels bittersweet to realize that, but also it’s a beautiful awakening. It shows how much power we actually have to affect change.
KWEKU: I love that. The topic here is ‘everything is political,’ and I see that a lot too. When I try to have conversations, people often say, ‘I don’t talk about politics,’ or ‘I’m too busy with work to follow that.’ They instantly shut down. But I always explain that everything we do is political. In South Africa, people like to complain but then avoid responsibility for how things are and place all the blame on the government. Sure, we can critique the government, but we also have to look at the bigger picture—our reality and history. We can’t look at things in a vacuum.
AMANDA: Right now, I’m encouraging people to ask themselves: What would you need help with if the government didn’t exist? Child care? Food security? Healthcare? Elderly care? Education?
If you get to the end of that list and think, ‘I don’t need any of that,’ then ask: What would happen if others didn’t have access? How would that affect you? There’s leadership in just taking charge of how you build resources, not just for yourself but for your community. We don’t have that mindset here. Leadership here is taught as, ‘How do I get into a position to tell others what to do?’ That’s the only version of leadership pushed in America.
KWEKU: We have a different type of leadership here, which is very community-oriented. People come together often to address issues, and we have one of the highest levels of protest—about 2,000 to 3,000 a year. So, it’s hard for our government to ignore that kind of pressure.
AMANDA: So, it’s part of your culture—protesting, rallying, raising the roof?
KWEKU: Yeah, it’s a key part of our culture, undoubtedly. Amanda: Where do you think that comes from? Is it tribal? From fighting apartheid? How is it upheld?
KWEKU: It’s a mix. Part of it comes from our traditions, the way tribes and villages engage. Then, of course, apartheid played a huge role. It was the most sophisticated system of oppression in the world for nearly 60 years. To dismantle it required a massive amount of energy, ideas, and collaboration—not just in South Africa but worldwide. Hundreds of millions of people rallied behind it. People shared information, educated one another, and most did this voluntarily, without any financial incentive. What came out of that was real change. It was a system being dismantled, and people felt their impact. That momentum has carried through, even though things change when money and other factors come into play. The media and institutions influence that too, but there’s still a strong push-and-pull dynamic, and I think it’ll continue for many decades.
AMANDA: I believe it was part of Black culture by necessity during segregation, and I think that’s where a lot of issues with integration come from: integration created a disconnect among us as we tried to access white spaces. What’s going to be crucial now are global connections, right? Like when you said you connect so much with the things behind me on the wall. For some, this is just pop culture, but for many Black people, pop culture is as powerful as culture itself. For example, Claire Huxtable. Claire isn’t just a TV character—she’s a real person to us, while for white girls, Barbie is just Barbie. We needed these spaces to see ourselves because we were constantly being erased. In my work, I try to weave those threads together, reflecting our unique existence.
Many Black Americans feel strongly that, ‘No, We are African.’ While I believe it’s important to acknowledge our African descent and the beauty and significance of that connection, I also think it’s crucial to recognize that Black American identity is unique. It shouldn’t be overshadowed by the historical violence of America or solely defined by our African ancestry. As someone from the continent, specifically from South Africa, I’m curious to hear your perspective on this.”
KWEKU: “I’ll quote the words of Kwame Nkrumah, who said, ‘I’m not African because I was born in Africa. I’m African because Africa was born in me.’ And I think that sentiment resonates with people around the world. It’s a state of mind, a way to approach life. If you look at Africa, it’s one of the least violent continents that has ever existed and the most resilient. There are many virtues and truths in our continent that are essential to the identity of African Americans, and those can never be taken away. It’s up to African Americans to connect with that if they choose to and to educate themselves on it.
But as you said, that connection shouldn’t detract from who they are as their own people, with their own history and triumphs. It’s important to find that balance. However, I believe it’s also crucial for African Americans to connect with their African heritage. It’s a deep part of who they are, and for too long, it has been muddled, challenged, or treated as if it’s a curse or ridiculed in pop culture, as we’re discussing. That has changed over time, which I find really beautiful.
We’ve also seen leaders from the African diaspora — whether from the Caribbean or Europe — who embody the virtues of what it means to be African. But I don’t think it’s helpful to express that connection in a performative way either.”
AMANDA: “It’s really fascinating because it considers Africa beyond just a geographical context. You’re placing Africa in a spiritual context, within a value system, which, to your point and Kwame Nkrumah’s, means you can be from anywhere and still carry those values within you. And that doesn’t undermine the uniqueness of where you are.
My mother is Grenadian. I am Grenadian. I also know that within my culture as a Grenadian, Africa is very present and very clear, and that presence is not hidden or shunned in any way. But it also doesn’t diminish the distinctiveness of what it means to be Grenadian. I want that for Black America, but I feel like we haven’t been able to fully achieve it because we are still within the context of our oppressor.”
KWEKU: Going back to what I mentioned about politicians in this modern era, especially my grandfather, and the idea of putting him on a pedestal — that happens within African American culture too. How do the leaders of that community ultimately dispel that, and instead, instill the understanding that who we are as a people, as a community, exists beyond just one individual’s success, or even a handful of individuals? It’s about the sum total. And I think that’s so important.
And again, all these things really come down to education. If you can educate yourself, then you’ll often discover the truth that’s out there. And it will surprise most; it will shock most.
AMANDA: “When we talk about ‘Everything is political,’ we understand through education that politics is a word — it’s literally just a word at this point for how we exist within a ‘society’ governed by institutions. But if those governments weren’t there, we would still be figuring out how to exist as a society, and the word ‘politics’ might not be the one we use, but we’d still be trying to solve the same challenges.
That’s why I think it’s great that Slow Factory is starting this initiative, and I believe it’s imperative that we recognize education as the key to liberation on all fronts. And how do you get that education? There are so many ways. Personally, I find that my favorite ways to educate are through ranting, interviewing, and art.
Someone asked me the other day, ‘What are you doing for the movement?’ I try my best to give a platform to voices that people might not know about but should, to new ideas and innovation, and also to reiterate important ideas. I wake up every single day thinking about how we can be better, more okay, than we were yesterday.”
KWEKU: I think we have to challenge our existence every day. I’m interested in this idea, that if we stayed the same as we always were—whether that’s when we were born, whether that’s when we were five years old, 10 years old, or yesterday—that’s not truly living, right? We have to adapt and we have to change, but it starts with us. There’s a constant need to engage and also listen. I think far too many of us just don’t want to listen to anybody else. I have to remind myself each day— because at times I do have an ego— how important it is to take a step back and listen to people so you understand them better, which I think is important in this day and age where it’s so easy to tune people out.
Here, in South Africa, we have our first coalition government since 1994 and it’s a unity of different parties with different opinions and votes, but I remain confident that we can pull it together even on our craziest days.
A lot of my friends who are currently in America are disappointed in what’s unfolded and at a loss for what to do. I would love to hear what you think is the way forward?
AMANDA:To sum up, for me, the biggest issue is that Americans, by and large, have put so much stock in their politicians. This government is built on corporations; it’s not built on any level of public servitude in the federal government, right? So, when the culture of America has been propping up our government versus demanding of our government, we have to start from the root —encouraging people to vote locally and in their state elections first and foremost, while simultaneously identifying the organizations that are doing the work.
In Conversation:
Illustration by:
Kweku Mandela, grandson of the late Nelson Mandela, carries on a legacy of liberation and advocacy that runs deep in his family. In this conversation, he engages with Amanda Seales, an actress and activist known for her outspoken support for Palestine and her dedication to amplifying the voices of the marginalized.
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Location:
{
"article":
{
"title" : "The Culture of Liberation: Kweku Mandela & Amanda Seales in Conversation",
"author" : "Kweku Mandela, Amanda Seales",
"category" : "interviews",
"url" : "https://everythingispolitical.com/readings/amanda-kweku",
"date" : "2024-09-20 00:00:00 -0400",
"img" : "https://everythingispolitical.com/uploads/amanda-kweku-thumb.jpg",
"excerpt" : "KWEKU MANDELA: How are you?",
"content" : "KWEKU MANDELA: How are you?AMANDA SEALES: I’m fine. I mean, I’m getting death threats, but it’s fine. I’m like, if y’all aren’t throwing a brick through the window with a note, then what are we really doing?KWEKU: It’s this digital age. I had people come after me earlier this year. We had a big election in South Africa—30 years of democracy—and it’s always chaotic during that time, but this year was more extreme. Still, it renewed my faith in people.I’ve always believed that for every group trying to oppress or control us, there are hundreds of millions more fighting against that future. They’re the cooks, the waiters, the cleaners, the pastors—the people most wouldn’t give a second thought to. That’s why I think we still have a chance to change the course of the world. I see it in young people, but also in our generation. I used to think we were done for—like, after Occupy Wall Street, we couldn’t seem to materialize protests into real change. But now, I feel hopeful.AMANDA: I think we’ve had a long stretch of what we thought were “good times.” When things would bubble up, they’d just be “handled.” We got used to that. Now, in the States, people still think everything can just be “dealt with” and go back to normal. They’re always asking, “What’s the solution?” But I don’t think it’s going to work like that. This isn’t a quick fix; it’s not something that’ll just go away.KWEKU: Yeah, those of us in our 30s and 40s are realizing we need to take responsibility as leaders in every part of life—whetherthat’s in your workplace, your home, or your community. We can’t just keep saying, “There are no good choices, no good leaders.” Well, then get involved and become a leader!AMANDA: There’s a real issue with how people are trained to think they need to follow someone. They believe leaders have to be a certain kind of person, and if you’re not that, then you can’t lead. People come to me all the time, asking, “So what do we do?” And I’m like, I’m the information sharer—that’s my role in leadership. I’m not the organizer.I’m trying to encourage people to find the leader within themselves. What part of you can lead, and in what way?KWEKU: True, but leading to what? In modern society, leaders are equated to celebrities. They’re put on pedestals. I saw this with my grandfather, Nelson Mandela. People would say, “He’s not just an African, he’s Nelson Mandela,” or “He’s not a Black person, he’s Nelson Mandela.” They did that to separate him from who he really was. And then, they’d act like he was the only one who did anything, like it’s a hero’s journey. So young people see that and think, “I can’t ever be like that.” But that’s not true.He always broke that down by staying connected to the people. He’d randomly tell security, “I’m going to that school,” or “I’m going to speak to this group.” He avoided the bubble and kept interacting with people.Now, though, with social media and movements, it’s hard to know what’s real and what’s not—even for someone like me, who’s pretty familiar with these things! That’s why organizations like Slow Factory are so important; they’re trusted sources for information.AMANDA: I’ve gotten to the point where I’m resistant to being seen as the trusted source of information. I’m mostly over that idea. I’ve heard plenty of “stick to acting” or “shut up and dribble” nonsense.We’re in a time where people are having so many different awakenings all at once. Even the idea of celebrity and what people’s relationships with celebrities are, is changing. Fans are questioning, “Do I want to support this person anymore? Do I want to continue propping up their existence as a Creative?” If their character doesn’t hold up, people are making real decisions about that. We’re heading into a new era.By the way, I wanted to ask you about the recent elections in South Africa. How do you feel? Was there anything different about them this time?KWEKU: It was a lot different. South Africa is a young democracy, and it’s one where people were enshrined with the right to vote in 1994 — a very substantial step towards freedom, but not freedom as a whole, because the economic levers that run society were still maintained by a group of people. The international community now really had a way to inject itself into South Africa—and there were good parts of that. There were also really bad parts of it. And then oftentimes, in a country like South Africa that has this extreme disparity of wealth, not dissimilar from the United States, there is this idea that we complain all the time.All of the major indexes talk about the fact that we’ve been able to double the amount of people that have formal housing and double the amount of access to piped water, electricity, and sanitation. These are all massive things that prior to 1994 did not exist for the majority of the population. Those indexes are all over 80% right now, and it’s only been throughout the last thirty years. You think about countries that have had 100 years and didn’t get there, so there’s lots of progress, there’s a lot to be positive about, but sometimes people can’t see that. They’re so prone to looking at the negative.Obama’s sister Maya Soetoro-Ng said something very powerful a few weeks ago about positive and negative peace. Negative peace is defined by the simple absence of conflict, and positive peace being the presence of nurturing systems of support. And so for me, that’s one of the things I’ve come to when you talk about divesting from celebrity. I’m looking at not only how I can divest from a lot of the ego traps that exist in our world, but how I can make sure my impact is focused on putting positive into it?AMANDA: I think the biggest issue is education. There’s a huge gap in understanding what we’re even fighting against, and that gap has been intentionally created. There’s been a lot of effort to keep people ignorant. For example, many Americans don’t even know there’s an election happening in South Africa. Global news isn’t a natural part of our news cycle—you have to seek it out. But in other countries, the news is global by default, not just local. So what do you think is needed on the American side of things? And what’s your perspective on the South African side?I feel like my role right now is to educate people on multiple levels—through art, spiritually, about history, and about systems. I say this as someone who wasn’t educated on these things for a long time. When I started learning about how systems operate, I had to let go of the lies I believed kept me safe. Americans tell themselves that the government is trying its best, and we find comfort in that. But in many other countries, people don’t trust their governments. They’re like, ‘We never trust the government.’ It feels bittersweet to realize that, but also it’s a beautiful awakening. It shows how much power we actually have to affect change.KWEKU: I love that. The topic here is ‘everything is political,’ and I see that a lot too. When I try to have conversations, people often say, ‘I don’t talk about politics,’ or ‘I’m too busy with work to follow that.’ They instantly shut down. But I always explain that everything we do is political. In South Africa, people like to complain but then avoid responsibility for how things are and place all the blame on the government. Sure, we can critique the government, but we also have to look at the bigger picture—our reality and history. We can’t look at things in a vacuum.AMANDA: Right now, I’m encouraging people to ask themselves: What would you need help with if the government didn’t exist? Child care? Food security? Healthcare? Elderly care? Education?If you get to the end of that list and think, ‘I don’t need any of that,’ then ask: What would happen if others didn’t have access? How would that affect you? There’s leadership in just taking charge of how you build resources, not just for yourself but for your community. We don’t have that mindset here. Leadership here is taught as, ‘How do I get into a position to tell others what to do?’ That’s the only version of leadership pushed in America.KWEKU: We have a different type of leadership here, which is very community-oriented. People come together often to address issues, and we have one of the highest levels of protest—about 2,000 to 3,000 a year. So, it’s hard for our government to ignore that kind of pressure.AMANDA: So, it’s part of your culture—protesting, rallying, raising the roof?KWEKU: Yeah, it’s a key part of our culture, undoubtedly. Amanda: Where do you think that comes from? Is it tribal? From fighting apartheid? How is it upheld?KWEKU: It’s a mix. Part of it comes from our traditions, the way tribes and villages engage. Then, of course, apartheid played a huge role. It was the most sophisticated system of oppression in the world for nearly 60 years. To dismantle it required a massive amount of energy, ideas, and collaboration—not just in South Africa but worldwide. Hundreds of millions of people rallied behind it. People shared information, educated one another, and most did this voluntarily, without any financial incentive. What came out of that was real change. It was a system being dismantled, and people felt their impact. That momentum has carried through, even though things change when money and other factors come into play. The media and institutions influence that too, but there’s still a strong push-and-pull dynamic, and I think it’ll continue for many decades.AMANDA: I believe it was part of Black culture by necessity during segregation, and I think that’s where a lot of issues with integration come from: integration created a disconnect among us as we tried to access white spaces. What’s going to be crucial now are global connections, right? Like when you said you connect so much with the things behind me on the wall. For some, this is just pop culture, but for many Black people, pop culture is as powerful as culture itself. For example, Claire Huxtable. Claire isn’t just a TV character—she’s a real person to us, while for white girls, Barbie is just Barbie. We needed these spaces to see ourselves because we were constantly being erased. In my work, I try to weave those threads together, reflecting our unique existence.Many Black Americans feel strongly that, ‘No, We are African.’ While I believe it’s important to acknowledge our African descent and the beauty and significance of that connection, I also think it’s crucial to recognize that Black American identity is unique. It shouldn’t be overshadowed by the historical violence of America or solely defined by our African ancestry. As someone from the continent, specifically from South Africa, I’m curious to hear your perspective on this.”KWEKU: “I’ll quote the words of Kwame Nkrumah, who said, ‘I’m not African because I was born in Africa. I’m African because Africa was born in me.’ And I think that sentiment resonates with people around the world. It’s a state of mind, a way to approach life. If you look at Africa, it’s one of the least violent continents that has ever existed and the most resilient. There are many virtues and truths in our continent that are essential to the identity of African Americans, and those can never be taken away. It’s up to African Americans to connect with that if they choose to and to educate themselves on it.But as you said, that connection shouldn’t detract from who they are as their own people, with their own history and triumphs. It’s important to find that balance. However, I believe it’s also crucial for African Americans to connect with their African heritage. It’s a deep part of who they are, and for too long, it has been muddled, challenged, or treated as if it’s a curse or ridiculed in pop culture, as we’re discussing. That has changed over time, which I find really beautiful.We’ve also seen leaders from the African diaspora — whether from the Caribbean or Europe — who embody the virtues of what it means to be African. But I don’t think it’s helpful to express that connection in a performative way either.”AMANDA: “It’s really fascinating because it considers Africa beyond just a geographical context. You’re placing Africa in a spiritual context, within a value system, which, to your point and Kwame Nkrumah’s, means you can be from anywhere and still carry those values within you. And that doesn’t undermine the uniqueness of where you are.My mother is Grenadian. I am Grenadian. I also know that within my culture as a Grenadian, Africa is very present and very clear, and that presence is not hidden or shunned in any way. But it also doesn’t diminish the distinctiveness of what it means to be Grenadian. I want that for Black America, but I feel like we haven’t been able to fully achieve it because we are still within the context of our oppressor.”KWEKU: Going back to what I mentioned about politicians in this modern era, especially my grandfather, and the idea of putting him on a pedestal — that happens within African American culture too. How do the leaders of that community ultimately dispel that, and instead, instill the understanding that who we are as a people, as a community, exists beyond just one individual’s success, or even a handful of individuals? It’s about the sum total. And I think that’s so important.And again, all these things really come down to education. If you can educate yourself, then you’ll often discover the truth that’s out there. And it will surprise most; it will shock most.AMANDA: “When we talk about ‘Everything is political,’ we understand through education that politics is a word — it’s literally just a word at this point for how we exist within a ‘society’ governed by institutions. But if those governments weren’t there, we would still be figuring out how to exist as a society, and the word ‘politics’ might not be the one we use, but we’d still be trying to solve the same challenges.That’s why I think it’s great that Slow Factory is starting this initiative, and I believe it’s imperative that we recognize education as the key to liberation on all fronts. And how do you get that education? There are so many ways. Personally, I find that my favorite ways to educate are through ranting, interviewing, and art.Someone asked me the other day, ‘What are you doing for the movement?’ I try my best to give a platform to voices that people might not know about but should, to new ideas and innovation, and also to reiterate important ideas. I wake up every single day thinking about how we can be better, more okay, than we were yesterday.”KWEKU: I think we have to challenge our existence every day. I’m interested in this idea, that if we stayed the same as we always were—whether that’s when we were born, whether that’s when we were five years old, 10 years old, or yesterday—that’s not truly living, right? We have to adapt and we have to change, but it starts with us. There’s a constant need to engage and also listen. I think far too many of us just don’t want to listen to anybody else. I have to remind myself each day— because at times I do have an ego— how important it is to take a step back and listen to people so you understand them better, which I think is important in this day and age where it’s so easy to tune people out.Here, in South Africa, we have our first coalition government since 1994 and it’s a unity of different parties with different opinions and votes, but I remain confident that we can pull it together even on our craziest days.A lot of my friends who are currently in America are disappointed in what’s unfolded and at a loss for what to do. I would love to hear what you think is the way forward?AMANDA:To sum up, for me, the biggest issue is that Americans, by and large, have put so much stock in their politicians. This government is built on corporations; it’s not built on any level of public servitude in the federal government, right? So, when the culture of America has been propping up our government versus demanding of our government, we have to start from the root —encouraging people to vote locally and in their state elections first and foremost, while simultaneously identifying the organizations that are doing the work."
}
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"date" : "2025-12-20 10:30:00 -0500",
"img" : "https://everythingispolitical.com/uploads/Cover_EIP_Lockheed_StreetWar.jpg",
"excerpt" : "On December 12, The Business of Fashion published an article titled “The Unlikely Rise and Uncertain Future of Lockheed Martin Streetwear,” detailing the world’s largest arms manufacturer’s entrance into casual apparel.",
"content" : "On December 12, The Business of Fashion published an article titled “The Unlikely Rise and Uncertain Future of Lockheed Martin Streetwear,” detailing the world’s largest arms manufacturer’s entrance into casual apparel.Through a licensing deal with South Korea’s Doojin Yanghang Corp., Lockheed turns fighter jet graphics, corporate slogans, and its star logo into gorpcore staples. Oversized outerwear, tactical pants, and advanced synthetic fabrics sell out at Seoul pop-ups like the Hyundai department store with young Korean consumers chasing the edgy, functional vibe. Andy Koh, a Seoul-based content creator, tells BoF that while arms manufacturing is, in theory, political, he has never encountered widespread discomfort among Korean consumers. “As long as it looks cool and the product functions as expected,” he says, “they seem okay with it.”This trend aligns with a broader South Korean fashion phenomenon: licensing logos from global non-fashion brands to create popular streetwear lines. Examples include National Geographic puffers, Yale crewnecks, Kodak retro tees, CNN hoodies, Discovery jackets, Jeep outdoor wear, and university apparel from institutions like Harvard and UCLA. These licensed collections, often featuring media, academia, sports leagues, or adventure themes, have become staples on online retailers like Musinsa and in brick-and-mortar stores, propelled by K-pop influence and a tech-savvy youth market that make these odd crossovers multimillion-dollar successes.Lockheed, however, is categorically different. Its core business is not exploration, education, or journalism. It is industrialized death, and its arrival in fashion forces a reckoning with how far commodification can stretch.Having spent years in the military, maybe I’m the wrong person to critique this. Or maybe I’m exactly the right one. I know what weapons are for, how they’re used, and the human cost they carry. Lockheed manufactures F-16 and F-35 fighter jets, Hellfire missiles, and precision-guided systems that human rights organizations have repeatedly linked to civilian casualties across multiple conflicts. In Yemen, U.S.-supplied weapons incorporating Lockheed technology contributed to thousands of civilian deaths since 2015, most notoriously the 2018 airstrike on a school bus in Saada that killed dozens of children. In Gaza, since October 2023, Lockheed-supplied F-35s and munitions have formed the backbone of air operations that Amnesty International and other watchdogs have flagged for potential violations of international humanitarian law, cases now under examination by the International Court of Justice.In 2024, the company reported $71 billion in revenue, almost entirely from military contracts, with more than 1,100 F-35s already delivered worldwide and production lines running hotter than ever. That staggering scale is the reality lurking beneath a logo now casually printed on everyday apparel.So why does the planet’s largest arms manufacturer license its brand to streetwear? The answer seems to be twofold: easy money and sophisticated image laundering. Licensing delivers low-risk royalties from Korea’s reported $35-40 billion apparel market with virtually no operational headache. Lockheed simply collects checks while a third-party manufacturer handles design, production, distribution, and deals with all the mess of retail.The far more ambitious goal, however, is reputational refurbishment. Doojin deliberately markets the line around “future-oriented technical aesthetics” and “aerospace innovation,” leaning on cutting-edge fabrics to conjure high-tech futurism instead of battlefield carnage. By late 2025, as U.S. favorability in South Korea continued to slide amid trade tensions and regional geopolitical shifts, the brand quietly de-emphasized its American roots, according to Lockheed representatives. The strategy clearly tries to sever the logo from political controversy and plant it firmly in youth culture, where aesthetic appeal routinely outmuscles ethical concern.Lockheed has honed this kind of rebranding for decades. Their corporate brochures overflow with talk of “driving innovation” and “advancing scientific discovery,” spotlighting STEM scholarships, veteran hiring initiatives, and rapid-response disaster aid. The clothing itself carries the same sanitized messaging. One prominent slogan reads “Ensuring those we serve always stay ahead of ready”, euphemistic corporate-speak that sounds heroic until you remember that “those we serve” includes forces deploying Hellfire missiles against civilian targets. Other pieces feature F-35 graphics paired with copy declaring the jet “strengthens national security, enhances global partnerships, and powers economic growth”. It’s textbook PR varnish. Instruments designed for lethal efficiency, now rebranded as symbols of progress and prosperity.We’ve also seen this trick before: Fast fashion brands that slap “sustainable” labels on sweatshop products. Tech giants that fund glamorous art installations while they harvest user data. Oil companies that rebrand themselves as forward-thinking “energy” players as the Earth’s climate burns. Lockheed, though, traffics in something uniquely irreversible: export-grade death. By licensing its identity to apparel, multibillion-dollar arms contracts are reduced to mere intellectual property; civilian casualties dissolved into, simply, background static.In other words, vibes overpower victims. And when those vibes are stamped with the logo of the planet’s preeminent death merchant, resistance feels futile.Gorpcore has always drawn from military surplus for its rugged utility: endless cargo pockets, indestructible nylons, tactical silhouettes born in combat and repurposed for city streets. Brands like Arc’teryx, The North Face, and Supreme mine that heritage for authenticity and performance. After World War II, army fatigues became symbols of genuine rebellion, worn by anti-war protesters as an act of defiance against the establishment. Today, the dynamic threatens to invert entirely. The establishment itself, the world’s preeminent arms dealer, now supplies the “authentic” merchandise, turning subversion into subtle endorsement.Streetwear grew out of skate culture, hip-hop, and grassroots rebellion against mainstream norms. Importing the aesthetics of atrocity risks converting that legacy into compliance, rendering militarism the newest version of mainstream cool. For a generation immersed in filtered feeds and rapid trend cycles, Lockheed’s logo can sit comfortably beside NASA patches or National Geographic emblems, conveniently severed from the charred wreckage in Saada or the devastation in Gaza. Research on “ethical fading” demonstrates how strong visual design can mute moral alarms, a phenomenon intensified in Korea’s hyper-trendy ecosystem, where mandatory military service may further desensitize young consumers to defense branding while K-pop’s global engine drives relentless consumption.If the line proves durable, escalation feels inevitable. Palantir, another cornerstone of the defense-tech world, has already gone there, hyping limited merch drops that sell out in hours: $99 athletic shorts stamped “PLTR—TECH,” $119 nylon totes, hoodies emblazoned with CEO Alex Karp’s likeness or slogans about “dominating” threats. What’s to stop Northrop Grumman from launching its own techwear line? Or BAE Systems from dropping high-end collaborations?Lockheed already licenses merchandise worldwide through various agencies; broader international rollouts beyond Korea seem only a matter of time. Backlash is possible, boycotts from ethically minded buyers, perhaps even regulatory scrutiny as anti-militarism sentiment swells. Gorpcore’s longstanding flirtation with military aesthetics could calcify into outright fetish, obliterating whatever daylight remained between practical function and state-sanctioned propaganda.Yet, history suggests that in oversaturated markets, “cool” almost always trumps conscience. Lockheed’s streetwear pivot is a stark illustration of how fashion and culture launder raw power, enabling the machinery of war to conceal itself among hype, hoodies, and sold-out drops."
}
,
{
"title" : "Our Era of Insecurity: How Unaffordability and Uncertainty Became Our Monoculture",
"author" : "Alissa Quart",
"category" : "essays",
"url" : "https://everythingispolitical.com/readings/our-era-of-insecurity",
"date" : "2025-12-16 11:56:00 -0500",
"img" : "https://everythingispolitical.com/uploads/Cover_EIP_Unaffordability.jpg",
"excerpt" : "In 2025, I’ve interviewed a number of people who saw themselves as living in “survival mode.” At first, their professions might surprise you. They are government contractors, public broadcasters, and tech workers, formerly safe professions. And some of their jobs disappeared this year due to DOGE “efficiency” cuts, the dismantling of the Corporation for Public Broadcasting, and AI acceleration. They are among the millions now living through an experience that I call terra infirma, a new level of economic and social uncertainty.",
"content" : "In 2025, I’ve interviewed a number of people who saw themselves as living in “survival mode.” At first, their professions might surprise you. They are government contractors, public broadcasters, and tech workers, formerly safe professions. And some of their jobs disappeared this year due to DOGE “efficiency” cuts, the dismantling of the Corporation for Public Broadcasting, and AI acceleration. They are among the millions now living through an experience that I call terra infirma, a new level of economic and social uncertainty.It’s the mood that encapsulates so much of Trump 2.0. A November 2025 Pew study found that almost half of U.S. adults are uncertain about having enough retirement income. When it comes to health insurance, they may be waiting for their ACA health subsidies to sunset or for their partner’s premiums to skyrocket. Addressing unaffordability and uncertainty is even the newest theme song in politics, most recently in the Maine campaign of gubernatorial candidate, oyster farmer and military veteran Graham Platner.Seventy years ago, the critic Raymond Williams used the term “structure of feeling” to describe a collective emotion that is tied to a time and place, as well as social and economic conditions. Today, our “structure of feeling” is uncertainty. You could even take it further, and call “precarity” the last monoculture as it’s a condition shared by so many Americans. As Astra Taylor, author of The Age of Insecurity: Coming Together as Things Fall Apart, says, insecurity is a “defining feature of our time.”As far as mass moods go, “insecurity” is certainly a disconcerting one. The economist Pranab Bardhan writes in A World of Insecurity, that “insecurity, more than inequality, agitates people.” What makes 2025 different from other years, however, is the degree to which we all experienced this precarity. The usual uncertainty level has been turned up from a whine to a 135-decibel air raid scream.What’s happened? Tariffs have raised our costs. Medicaid will be scaled back over the next decade by a trillion dollars. Meanwhile, dozens of Venezuelan fishermen have been exploded by our armed forces. And while two-thirds of Americans are already living with economic insecurity, their feelings about it don’t necessarily involve the discrepancy between their lot and those of the very rich. As Steven Semler, the co-founder of Security Policy Reform Institute (SPRI), explains it to me, these Americans have a mindset that “is more fearful of poverty than aspirations of being a millionaire.”The people of terra infirma do describe such fears. In the words of one, they’ve experienced a “mental health decline and a loss of purpose” and in another, “a serious financial pinch”, because they are their family’s main breadwinner. Uncertainty is the common refrain of the growing number of laid-off software workers, according to Human-Centered Design scholar Samuel So. In addition to feeling destabilized about their professional security for the first time, software workers have experienced disillusionment and alienation from the technology industry’s “military and police partnerships.” Jobs themselves are part of this insecurity, with never-ending hiring processes, the race of automation, and ghost jobs, the twisted contemporary version of the perished Russian serfs of Nikolai Gogol’s Dead Souls, except now professional opportunities are offered that don’t actually exist. People are also nervous about their future, because insecurity is a temporal emotion, as much about the future as the present. Many of us wonder how our security will further erode, as our health plan premiums soar, or as our subways catch on fire, or as ICE comes to our cities. This causes not only stress in the moment, but discomfort about what lies ahead.Of course, it’s not just Trump 2.0 alone that has caused this. The forces behind Trump’s win in 2024—and the anger at the traditional Democratic party—have something to do with this disposition, as well. In the weeks leading up to Trump’s election, people surveyed by the Federal Reserve Board ranked one of their top concerns as pricing and their top concern as inflation. Disparate phenomena—AI slop, job cuts, relentless and confusing cutbacks in crucial academic research—are entwined. It’s as if they were all figures in a paranoiac Thomas Pynchon novel. In a “world of insecurity,” as economist Bardhan writes, instabilities interlink. In other words, what I think of as “informational insecurity”—bots, false ads, fake news—often joins up with economic instability.These different instances of confusion and instability blend into a gnarly color wheel of distress. Economic distress, sure—that is also accentuated by societal, cultural, environmental, and physical examples of insecurity we see all around us, every day.How do we pick apart these knotted-together insecurities? For starters, we can embrace candidates who address economic uncertainty head-on, including New York’s new mayor, Zohran Mamdani, Seattle’s new mayor, Katie Wilson, and Virginia’s governor-elect Abigail Spanberger. These politicians, as Nicholas Jacobs has written of Maine candidate Platner, are “speaking to grievances that are real, measurable, and decades in the making.”Another line of defense is being brave and grasping for community in any way we can. I think of the ordinary people blowing whistles near Chicago to alert their neighbors when ICE showed up in their suburban towns: they were accidental upstanders, refusing to be part of manufactured uncertainty and instability.One traditional definition of security is “freedom from fear.” And while we are unlikely to experience that freedom from fear as long as the populist American Right continues its goosestep, it’s also important to remember that uncertainty, like any “structure of feeling,” is an unfinished emotion.Yes, insecurity shapes us now. But we, as a collective, are so much more than it. Because even if we are living in a time of such negative uncertainty, it won’t necessarily stay that way. We can still redefine ourselves and, most importantly, recognize we are not alone."
}
,
{
"title" : "On the Failures of Mainstream Media: The Rise of Independent Newsrooms",
"author" : "Céline Semaan",
"category" : "essays",
"url" : "https://everythingispolitical.com/readings/on-the-failures-of-mainstream-media",
"date" : "2025-12-15 15:53:00 -0500",
"img" : "https://everythingispolitical.com/uploads/B417273E-EA4A-4BB8-9245-081928282D6D.jpeg",
"excerpt" : "Has it become immoral to be featured in the New York Times? I remember when I first saw my face in the iconic newspaper that for decades was regarded as a global standard‑bearer of mainstream journalism, I felt vindicated. Vindicated because, finally, my Lebanese family stopped asking if I had a real career. Vindicated because they would maybe stop worrying that I had blown my chances (and their immense sacrifices getting me an education), devoting my life instead to art and endless revolution. The New York Times’ legitimacy, now long gone, was regarded as the highest badge of honor, in particular, for immigrant kids who chose a different path than the usual career options afforded to us, and despite their rebellion, found a way to be recognized for it.",
"content" : "Has it become immoral to be featured in the New York Times? I remember when I first saw my face in the iconic newspaper that for decades was regarded as a global standard‑bearer of mainstream journalism, I felt vindicated. Vindicated because, finally, my Lebanese family stopped asking if I had a real career. Vindicated because they would maybe stop worrying that I had blown my chances (and their immense sacrifices getting me an education), devoting my life instead to art and endless revolution. The New York Times’ legitimacy, now long gone, was regarded as the highest badge of honor, in particular, for immigrant kids who chose a different path than the usual career options afforded to us, and despite their rebellion, found a way to be recognized for it.When the headline for the piece read “Refugee Designer Shines a Light on Global Issues,” my mother called me that day, not to congratulate me, but to demand I contact the editor and have them remove the word “refugee” before the word “designer.” I tried, in vain. Little did I know that this form of belittling, discrediting, and choice of words designed to incite disdain and eventually violence was core to the New York Times’ ethos.Over the past two years, increasingly immoral headlines and editorial choices in its Opinion section have eroded that credibility among many readers and contributors, particularly around coverage of the war in Gaza. A growing number of scholars, writers, and public intellectuals have publicly criticized the Times for framing geopolitical violence in ways that align with oppressive power structures rather than interrogate them — a criticism that raises deep concerns about misinformation and manufactured consent of dangerous ideologies.Headlines like “Bondi Beach Is What ‘Globalize the Intifada’ Looks Like” and “No, Israel Is Not Committing Genocide in Gaza” are editorial strategies designed to reshape public understanding of systemic violence to support far-right narratives and the interests of the global military-industrial complex. What happens when mainstream media becomes a mouthpiece for fascism and arms dealers? Where “objectivity” is marketed as truth, but really serves as a code for “obey the rulers” and “ask no questions.”This editorial leadership at the New York Times has sparked significant backlash within the intellectual community and among independent journalists. More than 300 writers, scholars, and former contributors have pledged a boycott of the Times’ Opinion pages, accusing the paper of anti‑Palestinian bias and demanding editorial accountability, including a re‑evaluation of its coverage and calls for a U.S. arms embargo on Israel. Alongside this, peace and justice organizations have condemned their editorial decisions, such as rejecting advertising that simply described Israel’s actions in Gaza as genocide.The larger consequence of these controversies is not simply a reputational dispute; it reflects a broader shift in public trust away from legacy media toward people‑driven platforms that prioritize accountability, lived experience, and political context over corporate interests or geopolitical alignment. As mainstream outlets retreat from confronting systemic violence in favor of the bottom line, audiences — especially younger and more globally connected readers — are turning to independent media for context and truth‑telling that legacy institutions increasingly fail to provide.That’s where platforms like Everything is Political come in. I started this platform because I was fed up with pitching stories to mainstream media platforms and receiving bogus rejections, only to later read the most outrageous takes in their Opinion section, exposing racism and deliberate calls for violence that had real consequences for my people back home. Rather than treating opinion as a commodity or a battleground for corporate narratives, independent media like EIP can center historically grounded analysis, intersectional understanding, and ethical engagement with stories that cover conflict and power. In an age of globalization and hypermediated conflict, how media frames violence matters deeply — not just to who lives or dies on the ground, but also whose stories are amplified, whose suffering is recognized, and whose futures are imagined. Platforms accountable to audiences rather than corporate advertisers and shareholders must emerge to fill a vacuum created by a legacy press that too often places power over people. Outlets like Democracy Now!, The Intercept, BTNews, and countless others are leading the way, reporting accurate news without ever compromising their moral compass."
}
]
}