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Cordelia: a Story of Survival
When war came to my doorstep, I packed my sewing machine and serger, leaving behind my studio, my village, and the life I had built. What I carried with me wasn’t just tools, it was a promise to myself: I would create again.
My name is Sara Rammal, and I am a twenty-two year old content creator and artist. I grew up in Odaisseh, a small village in South Lebanon, on the border of occupied Palestine. Everything I created was inspired by the environment around me, my village, my culture, and my history.


THE PAST
Growing up, I spent my days capturing the beauty of life in the South through photographs. I liked taking photos of myself between flowers, experimenting with props and scenery, but fashion was far from my mind. I didn’t care much about clothes until I turned seventeen.
At the time, I worked at a small phone shop. It wasn’t much, but for my teenage self, it was a good way to save money. One day, I decided to transform my wardrobe to something that matched my personality. I didn’t like the fast fashion pieces that were around; I craved timeless pieces, earthy tones, and things that felt like me.
While searching the Beiruti shops, I stumbled upon a fabric store. Without hesitation, I spent my entire savings on five large bags of fabric. I had no sewing machine, no skills, and no plan— just the determination to create something of my own. I borrowed my grandmother’s sewing machine and began teaching myself how to sew through YouTube tutorials. Piece by piece, I built my wardrobe, experimenting with patterns and learning the art of design. It took me two years to master my craft. During that time, I discovered a love for fashion design that I never knew existed.
I started sharing my creations on Instagram and to my surprise, people loved my designs and some even asked to buy them. I didn’t have the resources to take that step yet— I didn’t feel ready and I lacked the budget for better machines and fabrics.
CORDELIA
At ninteen, I attended an arts and crafts class offered by an NGO in Nabatiyeh, Lebanon. At first, I thought it was just another class, but as I listened to the stories of others turning their passions into businesses, something clicked. I realized I already had the skills, the creativity, and even the clients. All I needed was the confidence and resources to start.
When I told the class that I had made the outfit I was wearing—a sage green corset over an angelic white shirt— they were stunned. I began developing a brand inspired by my love for the “cottage core” aesthetic.
I named my brand Cordelia, after a fictional character from my favorite series, Anne with an E. Anne used to dress up and pretend to be Princess Cordelia to escape her struggles, finding solace in the power of imagination. For me, fashion served the same purpose; it allowed me to escape, to dream, to feel free.
I won that class’ competition in first place. And after getting the funding I needed, Cordelia was born. I created made-to-order dresses and shirts—each piece carrying a part of my soul. People were willing to wait months for my creations, and I poured my heart into every stitch.
THE WAR ON SOUTH
Just as I began to see my dreams take flight, life in Lebanon reminded me of how quickly it can unravel. In October 2023, things changed.
War started, and I was watching and hearing missiles pass by above my home. The life I had carefully built started tearing apart. For my safety and education, I moved to Beirut, leaving behind my home, my studio, and most of my supplies. I could bring only one sewing machine, a serger, and some fabrics. I was preparing for a tote bag collection but I had to leave everything behind.
Instead of sharing aesthetic posts on Instagram, my page became a platform to document the war. I posted in English, hoping to raise awareness about what was happening in both my country and in Gaza as well.
In December, bombs struck near the place my parents were seeking shelter. For the first time since the beginning of the war, they left our village and joined me in Beirut.
I stopped sewing entirely. I couldn’t bring myself to create when everything felt so uncertain. I didn’t have the space nor my equipment. I shifted my focus to media work, learning new skills and surviving day by day. My wardrobe of skirts and dresses was replaced with survival mode clothing: anything that I could evacuate in should something happen. It was a bonus if it was something I could both sleep and go out in.
THE WAR ON LEBANON
For 66 days, Israel bombed every part of this country. During the full scale war on Lebanon, I was living in survival mode. We escaped the southern suburbs of Beirut and went to a house in Mount Lebanon with all my extended family. During that time, I filmed, volunteered, and interviewed people, documenting the human impact of war. I even reached out to people for jobs to keep myself busy and avoid the reality of things. When a ceasefire was announced, we went back to Beirut. We couldn’t go back to my village, 80% of the houses in Odaisseh were bombed, trees were burned, and Israeli forces are still on my land.
THE PRESENT
If war taught me anything it’s that I don’t have to wait for things to be perfect. Life doesn’t pause for anyone, and it’s important to choose your dreams despite the uncertainty.
I found a small apartment in Beirut, a space that I’m renovating to become both my own home and a studio for Cordelia. It will be a place to sew, to dream, and to create. I don’t have all the funds or resources I need yet, but I’m determined to make it work.
Like Anne, I created Cordelia as a way to dream beyond my struggles. Today, it’s not just an escape— it’s my resistance— a stitch of hope in a fractured world. Through my brand, I want to bring beauty into the world, not just for myself, but for others who need it too. I’m designing again, planning collections, and imagining a future where Cordelia reaches people across the globe.
THE FUTURE
The scars of war will always remain, but so will my passion. I’ve lost loved ones, friends, and places that meant the world to me. My village may never be the same, but I carry its strength within me.
Cordelia is more than a brand, it has become a symbol of survival, of creativity in the face of destruction, and the belief that beauty can bloom even in the harshest conditions.
This is not just my story. It’s the story of countless artists who refuse to let war define them. And as I sew the first stitch in my new studio, I know this is only the beginning.


Topics:
Filed under:
Location:
Keep reading:
Global Echoes of Resistance:
Artists Harnessing Art, Culture, and Ancestry
Hanan Sharifa
{
"article":
{
"title" : "Cordelia: a Story of Survival",
"author" : "Sara Rammal",
"category" : "essays",
"tags" : "",
"url" : "https://everythingispolitical.com/readings/cordelia-story-of-survival",
"date" : "2025-02-04 15:33:00 -0500",
"img" : "https://everythingispolitical.com/uploads/cordelia-3.jpg",
"excerpt" : " When war came to my doorstep, I packed my sewing machine and serger, leaving behind my studio, my village, and the life I had built. What I carried with me wasn’t just tools, it was a promise to myself: I would create again.",
"content" : " When war came to my doorstep, I packed my sewing machine and serger, leaving behind my studio, my village, and the life I had built. What I carried with me wasn’t just tools, it was a promise to myself: I would create again. My name is Sara Rammal, and I am a twenty-two year old content creator and artist. I grew up in Odaisseh, a small village in South Lebanon, on the border of occupied Palestine. Everything I created was inspired by the environment around me, my village, my culture, and my history.THE PASTGrowing up, I spent my days capturing the beauty of life in the South through photographs. I liked taking photos of myself between flowers, experimenting with props and scenery, but fashion was far from my mind. I didn’t care much about clothes until I turned seventeen.At the time, I worked at a small phone shop. It wasn’t much, but for my teenage self, it was a good way to save money. One day, I decided to transform my wardrobe to something that matched my personality. I didn’t like the fast fashion pieces that were around; I craved timeless pieces, earthy tones, and things that felt like me.While searching the Beiruti shops, I stumbled upon a fabric store. Without hesitation, I spent my entire savings on five large bags of fabric. I had no sewing machine, no skills, and no plan— just the determination to create something of my own. I borrowed my grandmother’s sewing machine and began teaching myself how to sew through YouTube tutorials. Piece by piece, I built my wardrobe, experimenting with patterns and learning the art of design. It took me two years to master my craft. During that time, I discovered a love for fashion design that I never knew existed.I started sharing my creations on Instagram and to my surprise, people loved my designs and some even asked to buy them. I didn’t have the resources to take that step yet— I didn’t feel ready and I lacked the budget for better machines and fabrics.CORDELIAAt ninteen, I attended an arts and crafts class offered by an NGO in Nabatiyeh, Lebanon. At first, I thought it was just another class, but as I listened to the stories of others turning their passions into businesses, something clicked. I realized I already had the skills, the creativity, and even the clients. All I needed was the confidence and resources to start.When I told the class that I had made the outfit I was wearing—a sage green corset over an angelic white shirt— they were stunned. I began developing a brand inspired by my love for the “cottage core” aesthetic.I named my brand Cordelia, after a fictional character from my favorite series, Anne with an E. Anne used to dress up and pretend to be Princess Cordelia to escape her struggles, finding solace in the power of imagination. For me, fashion served the same purpose; it allowed me to escape, to dream, to feel free.I won that class’ competition in first place. And after getting the funding I needed, Cordelia was born. I created made-to-order dresses and shirts—each piece carrying a part of my soul. People were willing to wait months for my creations, and I poured my heart into every stitch.THE WAR ON SOUTHJust as I began to see my dreams take flight, life in Lebanon reminded me of how quickly it can unravel. In October 2023, things changed.War started, and I was watching and hearing missiles pass by above my home. The life I had carefully built started tearing apart. For my safety and education, I moved to Beirut, leaving behind my home, my studio, and most of my supplies. I could bring only one sewing machine, a serger, and some fabrics. I was preparing for a tote bag collection but I had to leave everything behind.Instead of sharing aesthetic posts on Instagram, my page became a platform to document the war. I posted in English, hoping to raise awareness about what was happening in both my country and in Gaza as well.In December, bombs struck near the place my parents were seeking shelter. For the first time since the beginning of the war, they left our village and joined me in Beirut.I stopped sewing entirely. I couldn’t bring myself to create when everything felt so uncertain. I didn’t have the space nor my equipment. I shifted my focus to media work, learning new skills and surviving day by day. My wardrobe of skirts and dresses was replaced with survival mode clothing: anything that I could evacuate in should something happen. It was a bonus if it was something I could both sleep and go out in.THE WAR ON LEBANONFor 66 days, Israel bombed every part of this country. During the full scale war on Lebanon, I was living in survival mode. We escaped the southern suburbs of Beirut and went to a house in Mount Lebanon with all my extended family. During that time, I filmed, volunteered, and interviewed people, documenting the human impact of war. I even reached out to people for jobs to keep myself busy and avoid the reality of things. When a ceasefire was announced, we went back to Beirut. We couldn’t go back to my village, 80% of the houses in Odaisseh were bombed, trees were burned, and Israeli forces are still on my land.THE PRESENTIf war taught me anything it’s that I don’t have to wait for things to be perfect. Life doesn’t pause for anyone, and it’s important to choose your dreams despite the uncertainty.I found a small apartment in Beirut, a space that I’m renovating to become both my own home and a studio for Cordelia. It will be a place to sew, to dream, and to create. I don’t have all the funds or resources I need yet, but I’m determined to make it work.Like Anne, I created Cordelia as a way to dream beyond my struggles. Today, it’s not just an escape— it’s my resistance— a stitch of hope in a fractured world. Through my brand, I want to bring beauty into the world, not just for myself, but for others who need it too. I’m designing again, planning collections, and imagining a future where Cordelia reaches people across the globe.THE FUTUREThe scars of war will always remain, but so will my passion. I’ve lost loved ones, friends, and places that meant the world to me. My village may never be the same, but I carry its strength within me.Cordelia is more than a brand, it has become a symbol of survival, of creativity in the face of destruction, and the belief that beauty can bloom even in the harshest conditions.This is not just my story. It’s the story of countless artists who refuse to let war define them. And as I sew the first stitch in my new studio, I know this is only the beginning."
}
,
"relatedposts": [
{
"title" : "Culture Must Be the Moral Compass That Geopolitics and Economics Will Never Be",
"author" : "EIP Editors",
"category" : "essays",
"tags" : "",
"url" : "https://everythingispolitical.com/readings/culture-must-be-the-moral-compass-that-geopolitics-and-economics-will-never-be",
"date" : "2025-07-15 16:14:00 -0400",
"img" : "https://everythingispolitical.com/uploads/2025_7_Opposing_Nazism_1.png",
"excerpt" : "The widespread cultural rejection of Nazism in the West did not emerge spontaneously from humanity’s innate sense of right and wrong. It was not simply that people around the world, and especially in the West, were naturally alert and to the moral horror of fascism.",
"content" : "The widespread cultural rejection of Nazism in the West did not emerge spontaneously from humanity’s innate sense of right and wrong. It was not simply that people around the world, and especially in the West, were naturally alert and to the moral horror of fascism.Rather, the transformation of Nazism from a nationalist ideology admired by many Western elites into the universal symbol of evil was a story of narrative engineering and the deliberate construction of collective memory. It is a story that reveals a larger truth: culture has always been the moral compass that geopolitics and economics cannot, and will not, provide on their own.And at this moment, it is crucial to understand and use the power of culture to shift geopolitics, and not the other way around.Understanding this history matters today more than ever. Because if it was possible to turn Nazism into the ultimate taboo, it is equally possible to reposition other violent ideologies and state projects—such as Israel’s ongoing system of apartheid and settler colonialism—as morally indefensible. But to do so requires acknowledging that cultural reckonings don’t simply arrive; they are made.Pre-War Ambivalence: When Fascism Was FashionableContrary to the comforting myth that the world naturally recoiled from Nazism, in the 1920s and 1930s many influential Americans and Europeans viewed Hitler’s Germany with admiration. American industrialists like Henry Ford openly praised Hitler’s economic management and fierce opposition to communism. Ford even funded antisemitic propaganda through his publication, The Dearborn Independent. British aristocrats, including the Duke of Windsor, flirted with Nazi sympathies, seeing Germany as a model of discipline and order.It was only when Hitler’s ambitions clashed with the strategic interests of other nations that fascism became intolerable. And even then, many major US and UK companies maintained their business interests with the Nazis, including Ford, IBM, GM (Opel), Standard Oil (now ExxonMobil), Chase Bank, and of course Coca-Cola, who famously created the brand Fanta so that it could break the boycott and do business with Nazi Germany.This distinction is critical: condemnation of Nazism began not as a moral imperative, but as a political necessity. Germany’s aggression threatened the European balance of power, British imperial security, and eventually, American economic and military interests. The moral narrative would only come later, after the fighting was over.It is important to learn from the past and see that only culture can shift perception, and to use culture to shift the economic realities that would otherwise wait to be shaped by politics.Wartime Shifts: From Enemy State to Symbol of EvilWorld War II did not instantly transform public opinion. For many Americans, the war in Europe remained remote until the bombing of Pearl Harbor in December 1941. Even then, the decision to fight Nazi Germany was entangled with power politics: Hitler declared war on the United States first, effectively forcing Roosevelt’s hand.Nevertheless, the war provided fertile ground for a reframing of Nazism. Wartime propaganda efforts by the Allies recast the Nazi regime as a brutal, alien threat to civilization itself. Hollywood joined in: The Great Dictator (1940) ridiculed Hitler’s delusions of grandeur, while Casablanca (1942) romanticized resistance. Images of goose-stepping soldiers, swastika flags, and shattered cities circulated widely.As the Allies advanced, they encountered the first concrete evidence of the Holocaust: ghettos, mass graves, and emaciated survivors. Yet even then, much of this evidence remained unknown to the general public. It was only after liberation that the full horror became impossible to ignore.Post-War Revelation: The Holocaust and the Cultural BreakThe turning point came in 1945, with the liberation of the camps and the Nuremberg Trials. The images and testimonies from Auschwitz, Dachau, and Bergen-Belsen revealed the industrial scale of genocide. Millions murdered with chilling efficiency. A systematic attempt to erase an entire people. For the first time, the abstract notion of “Nazi evil” was grounded in visceral, visual evidence.Sociologist Jeffrey Alexander describes this phenomenon as the cultural construction of trauma. Atrocities do not automatically generate collective memory; they must be narrated, documented, and ritualized until they become an inescapable moral reference point. The Nuremberg Trials played this role by broadcasting confessions and evidence to a global audience. Schools, museums, and the press reinforced the narrative: Nazism was not simply defeated; it was unmasked as pure, irredeemable evil.Cold War Myth-Making: The Free World Versus FascismThe Cold War further cemented this narrative. To build legitimacy against the Soviet Union, the United States and its allies positioned themselves as the moral victors of World War II, the saviors of Europe from fascism. In reality, many of the same powers—Britain, France, and the United States—continued their own brutal colonial projects and enforced systems of racial hierarchy at home.But the cultural story was powerful: the West stood for freedom; the Nazis had embodied totalitarian darkness. School textbooks, popular films, and Holocaust memorialization institutionalized this story, forging a shared moral identity that could be contrasted against communist “evil.”This process was neither accidental nor purely altruistic. It was a strategic use of culture to consolidate power, project moral authority, and deflect scrutiny of the West’s own violence. The lesson is clear: collective memory is not a neutral mirror of reality. It is built, contested, and leveraged.The Sociological Core: Why Public Opinion ShiftsTo understand how an ideology once admired by many became the universal emblem of inhumanity, we must look beyond military defeat. Several mechanisms combined:Symbolic Association: Nazism transformed from a nationalist experiment into a symbol of mechanized genocide and racial supremacy.Cultural Trauma: The Holocaust became a shared wound that redefined moral frameworks across the West.Visual Storytelling: Images and films, rather than mere text, anchored the horror in the public imagination.State Rebranding: The Allies used anti-Nazism to build a postwar myth of moral superiority, even as they pursued imperial ambitions elsewhere.These insights are not simply historical trivia. They are a roadmap for how cultural shifts happen—and how they can be deliberately engineered.Israel, Palestine, and the Next Cultural ReckoningToday, Israel’s treatment of Palestinians—systematic dispossession, apartheid laws, and repeated military assaults—remains largely protected in Western discourse. Politicians insist on Israel’s right to defend itself. Media narratives default to framing the violence as a “conflict” rather than an occupation. Solidarity with Palestinians is often smeared as antisemitism.Yet history shows that moral consensus is not fixed. With enough sustained exposure, narrative work, and cultural pressure, the global imagination can be reshaped. Just as Nazism’s legitimacy eroded, so too can the idea of Israel as an unassailable “victim-state.”This is not a call to equate the Holocaust with the Nakba—each is historically distinct. It is, however, an argument that the techniques which made Nazism morally intolerable—trauma visualization, reframing language, relentless storytelling—are tools available to any liberation movement.Here is how such a transformation could unfold:1. Narrative InversionIsrael’s founding story must be contextualized: a state born from the trauma of European antisemitism that, in turn, created the dispossession of another people. Exposing this contradiction—survivors becoming occupiers—breaks the simplistic binary of oppressor and victim.2. Visual Culture and TestimonyJust as photographs of emaciated bodies in camps forced an awakening, so too can images of bombed Gazan neighborhoods, amputee children, and anguished families. Digital archives and survivor testimonies can anchor these experiences in collective memory.3. Linguistic ReframingTerms like “apartheid,” “settler colonialism,” and “ethnic cleansing” shift perception from tragic conflict to structural violence. Legal frameworks—UN reports, ICC filings—can fortify these terms with institutional legitimacy.4. Media SaturationBypassing corporate media gatekeepers requires a multi-platform strategy: TikTok clips, Substack essays, livestreamed trials of Israeli policy, viral documentaries. Saturation is what makes denial unsustainable.5. Global RealignmentPositioning Palestine within global struggles—Black liberation, Indigenous sovereignty, anti-colonial movements—expands solidarity. When the Global South embraces Palestinian liberation as part of its own decolonization, moral isolation will deepen.6. Cultural Institutions and EducationJust as Holocaust education became standard in Western curricula, Nakba education can be mainstreamed. Museums, memorials, and fellowships can institutionalize remembrance and scholarship.7. Policy Pressure and Legal ActionPublic consensus is the soil in which policy change grows. Boycotts, divestment, and sanctions, coupled with legal prosecutions of war crimes, transform moral clarity into material consequences.8. Making Occupation a LiabilityWhen supporting Israel becomes politically and financially risky—akin to defending apartheid South Africa—corporate and governmental alliances will fracture. Reputational risk can be a powerful motivator.Conclusion: Cultural Reckonings Are EngineeredIt was not “natural” for the West to reject Nazism. It took defeat, trauma exposure, and decades of cultural labor to enshrine anti-Nazism as a foundational moral principle. Similarly, it is not inevitable that the world will recognize Israel’s oppression of Palestinians as an urgent moral crisis. It will require strategic, sustained, and courageous cultural work.Culture—more than geopolitics or economics—sets the terms of what is morally acceptable. It is the compass that can point humanity toward justice. But only if we are willing to pick it up and use it."
}
,
{
"title" : "Neptune Frost",
"author" : "Saul Williams, Anisia Uzeyman",
"category" : "screenings",
"tags" : "",
"url" : "https://everythingispolitical.com/readings/eip-screening-neptune-frost",
"date" : "2025-07-12 16:00:00 -0400",
"img" : "https://everythingispolitical.com/uploads/netune-frost-movie-poster.jpg",
"excerpt" : "Thank you for all who joined the special screening of Neptune Frost, with exclusive introduction from writer/director Saul Williams. Stay tuned and become a member for our next edition of our EIP monthly screening series.",
"content" : "Thank you for all who joined the special screening of Neptune Frost, with exclusive introduction from writer/director Saul Williams. Stay tuned and become a member for our next edition of our EIP monthly screening series.Multi-hyphenate, multidisciplinary artist Saul Williams brings his unique dynamism to this Afrofuturist vision, a sci-fi punk musical that’s a visually wondrous amalgamation of themes, ideas, and songs that Williams has explored in his work, notably his 2016 album MartyrLoserKing. Co-directed with the Rwandan-born artist and cinematographer Anisia Uzeyman, the film takes place in the hilltops of Burundi, where a group of escaped coltan miners form an anti-colonialist computer hacker collective. From their camp in an otherworldly e-waste dump, they attempt a takeover of the authoritarian regime exploiting the region’s natural resources – and its people. When an intersex runaway and an escaped coltan miner find each other through cosmic forces, their connection sparks glitches within the greater divine circuitry. Set between states of being – past and present, dream and waking life, colonized and free, male and female, memory and prescience – Neptune Frost is an invigorating and empowering direct download to the cerebral cortex and a call to reclaim technology for progressive political ends."
}
,
{
"title" : "Uranus & The Cycle of Liberation",
"author" : "Céline Semaan",
"category" : "",
"tags" : "",
"url" : "https://everythingispolitical.com/readings/uranus-and-the-cycle-of-liberation",
"date" : "2025-07-11 16:25:00 -0400",
"img" : "https://everythingispolitical.com/uploads/EIP_Uranus.jpg",
"excerpt" : "I’m definitely not an astrologer. I don’t even know where Uranus is in my chart. But I do know how to read systems and translate them to the public. What I’ve learned, through years of designing for social and environmental justice, is that history doesn’t just unfold. It cycles upwards. And if we learn to pay attention to those cycles, we can prepare—not just to resist collapse, but to shape what comes after.",
"content" : "I’m definitely not an astrologer. I don’t even know where Uranus is in my chart. But I do know how to read systems and translate them to the public. What I’ve learned, through years of designing for social and environmental justice, is that history doesn’t just unfold. It cycles upwards. And if we learn to pay attention to those cycles, we can prepare—not just to resist collapse, but to shape what comes after.Even if you don’t care about astrology, the timing of these celestial movements provides us a way to examine macro trends that we can learn from. History may not exactly repeat itself, but it does echo.Uranus—the planet astrologers associated with upheaval, rebellion, and technological transformation—entered Aries in May 2010 and stayed there until 2018. That cycle coincided with a surge in political uprisings, many of which redefined our understanding of mass resistance in the 21st century.The Arab Spring began in late 2010, starting in Tunisia and erupting across the Middle East. It wasn’t just about corrupt regimes—it was about reclaiming voice, land, and dignity after decades of foreign interference, neoliberal decay, and post-colonial repression. From Tahrir Square to Pearl Roundabout, these movements were leaderless, fast, and media-savvy.Occupy Wall Street followed in 2011, challenging the violent inequality embedded in late capitalism. In 2013, Black Lives Matter emerged after the murder of Trayvon Martin, later exploding into a global uprising in 2014 and again in 2020. Standing Rock (2016) reminded the world that Indigenous resistance was not only alive but visionary. #MeToo (2017) became an international reckoning with patriarchy and sexual violence, a reminder that personal testimony is political terrain.Across these years, protests were decentralized, digitized, and visual. Social media moved from a personal tool to a frontline of collective witnessing. Livestreams replaced press conferences. Memes became political language. Design itself became a protest, and Slow Factory built the visual language for it.This was not coincidental but archetypal, because Uranus in Aries, even symbolically, tells the story of radical ignition, collective fire, visionary unrest.And yet, none of it was sustained. What followed was a backlash: fascist resurgence, climate denial, propaganda wars, and intensified state surveillance. We saw mass demobilization, media fatigue, and widespread disinformation. Many of the movements that sparked global hope were either crushed, co-opted, or burned out.So now, as Uranus moves through Taurus (2018–2026), the terrain has shifted. Taurus is about materiality, land, value, and stability. It demands we not only rise up, which is crucial, but to build. We are asked to not only critique systems, but replace them. Not just “burn it all down”, but radically imagine what’s next.This is the political and spiritual context I hold as I continue my work.At Slow Factory, we spent the past decade offering free education, cultural strategy, and ecological design rooted in climate justice and human rights. And with Everything is Political, we’re building an independent media platform not beholden to corporate donors or foundation filters—a place where movement memory, critical analysis, and cultural clarity live. If we don’t design the next phase of liberation, someone else will design it for us.This work isn’t about virality. It’s about continuity. We are here to hold political memory. To protect the intellectual commons. To ensure that the next generation doesn’t forget who stood for truth—and who profited from silence.The ask is to build the very systems we are all looking for, and for that we deserve the time, energy and support to imagine, design and co-create as a community. We can’t delegate our liberation to politicians, and we certainly won’t see startups capitalizing on the changes our society needs. Perhaps we will witness the hyper privatization of every single service our communities need, but we must strategize for during and after collapse. Funding structures will have to be challenged, as they are designed to sustain themselves and uphold status quo. However, we are witnessing the collapse of every industry: media, education, banking, all industries we rely on, will be challenged. We are going to need to rely on our creative skills and our ability to build true solidarity across our communities towards a common goal outside of dogma and division. It’s a cultural moment, and we are here for it.Resistance isn’t just about protest. It’s about imagination. And imagination requires discipline, community, and space.We are creating that space right here. And together we can co-create together if everybody puts in effort and care. For now, we are imagining what systems of mitigation amidst systems collapse will look like. Will we outsource our infrastructure to highly funded Silicon Valley funded platforms feeding off of public data feeding ads markets and Ai learning in real time from our work? Or are we truly invested in building sovereign media? I personally invest in the latter, and hope you all join us. Because we are the majority, and truly if we align we are unstoppable."
}
]
}