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Quannah ChasingHorse on Joyful Resistance

Quannah’s joyful resistance embodies the beauty of being the revolution. She embodies strength, beauty, power and we are here for it. Quannah ChasingHorse (she/her) is a Han Gwich’in and Sicangu/Oglala Lakota land protector, climate justice activist, and fashion model from Eagle Village, Alaska, and South Dakota tribes. Born on the Navajo Nation, she grew up in various locations and raised in a subsistence lifestyle with her family, Quannah’s connection to her homelands and people guides her activism. Quannah is a model who uses her platform to promote Indigenous representation and sustainability. She has worked with top fashion houses and appeared on the covers of Vogue Mexico, Vogue China, and has received numerous accolades, including Teen Vogue’s Top 21 under 21, Forbes 30 under 30, and USA Today’s Women of the Year. In June 2022, she premiered “Walking Two Worlds” at the TriBeCa Film Festival, a documentary about her family’s fight to protect their sacred lands and Indigenous representation.
Quannah was in conversation with her Auntie, Princess Daazhraii Johnson, an Emmy-nominated writer/producer of Gwich’in and Ashkenazi descent, who lives on the traditional territory of lower Tanana Dene lands in Alaska. A co-founder of Deenaadàį’ Productions, Princess is dedicated to narrative sovereignty for Alaska Native filmmakers. She serves on the boards of Native Movement and NDN Collective, is a 2023 Grist 50 Climate Leader, and has been deeply involved in protecting Native Ways of Life. With a background as a Sundance Film Alum, SAG-AFTRA and Television Academy member, and credits including the Peabody Award-winning PBS Kids series “Molly of Denali” and HBO’s “True Detective: Night Country”, she is currently developing her first feature film, an adaptation of “Two Old Women,” which she will direct.

Quannah
I really appreciate this platform because it gives us an opportunity to reach out to people, especially within the Native community. Just yesterday, a Native guy got upset with me and Dallas Goldtooth for speaking out about Palestine, the Congo, Sudan, and other places where people need voices right now. He told us we should focus on our own people, saying those others don’t do anything for us. This is what it looks like—connecting, building bridges, and recognizing the similarities in our struggles.
Princess
You’re diving right into the question of what collective liberation really is. I think you’re highlighting a crucial aspect: creating a shared understanding. Given how our histories have been so intentionally suppressed, introducing people to the true histories is essential for reaching that shared understanding and for us to see ourselves in each other. So, I’m curious, what else does collective liberation look like to you?
Quannah
To me, collective liberation looks like what many of us are already doing—looking beyond our immediate experiences and making connections with what’s happening elsewhere. We recognize that if the same events were unfolding in our communities, as they have throughout history, we have a responsibility not just to uplift those voices but to show the world that we stand in solidarity.
Collective liberation means not just standing together but also utilizing tools like social media to access and share information. It’s alarming to see not only uninformed individuals but also political figures spreading misinformation and perpetuating harm, often through internalized racism. Collective liberation is about showing up and doing your part, whatever that looks like. It’s important for people to understand that there’s no one way to show up.

Princess
As you were talking, I was reflecting on a recent trip I took to Arctic Village and Circle, where I had an incredible interview with our elder, First Traditional Chief Trimble Gilbert. We were at a Gwich’in gathering, and I interviewed him about our traditional dances, like the fiddle dances and the rope dance, where everyone ends up holding hands. He talked about how we’ve made these dances our own—how the way we play the fiddle is uniquely Gwich’in, and those dances are uniquely ours. It’s a metaphor for how, in our community, coming from a background of survival, we had to work together and unify.
As someone who is both Gwich’in and Ashkenazi Jewish, and born in the West Bank, I think a lot about borders—physical fences and walls, and how people and animals around the world have been displaced.
Collective liberation is also about our animal relatives, our waterways. If we could take away nationalism, weapons, bombs, and all the things that cause destruction, I think we’d see more clearly that we are in a climate crisis.
Quannah
Exactly. Growing up, I learned not just through words, but by example, that we see ourselves as part of nature—not above or below it, but as nature itself. When we protect nature, we’re protecting ourselves, our bloodlines, and our animal relatives. That teaching is deeply ingrained in me, and it’s hard to comprehend that others don’t see the world that way.
As you mentioned, we need to rematriate society—how we move and show up in this world. The world could truly benefit from our teachings, which are rooted in love. But that’s what’s missing today—humanity and love.
You don’t have to post every five minutes or put your life on the line, but many have, and that’s the strength of our people—we’ll put our lives on the line for what we believe in, for our community’s right to clean water, clean air, and control over our lands.
Being raised in a matriarchy, I was taught to amplify women’s voices and to stand behind strong, knowledgeable women who represent us well. Everything we do is fueled by love. I see that love in you, in my mom, my aunties, and that’s how I navigate the world—with love for my people, my community, our animals, our waters, and other Indigenous communities that need to be heard.
Princess
Yes, everything truly does happen for a reason, and it’s essential to acknowledge that we’re riding the wave of thousands of years of Indigenous knowledge and wisdom. I see our lands, our animals, our mountains—everything we hold sacred. You carry all of this with such care and power, and that’s absolutely vital.
Listening is something we both value deeply, and in a world full of noise, we’ve been blessed to find quiet moments on the land, on the Yukon River, listening to the river’s song, receiving messages from the Creator. These moments ground us and remind us of our responsibility to educate others, to help them see that our liberation is interconnected with the liberation of all beings.
I agree that our Gwich’in worldview brings a unique blend of emotional and spiritual intelligence. This is where our humanity comes in. Each of us has a role, and sometimes it’s not about finding the perfect words but about making connections through storytelling, poetry, or images that resonate with others.
Collective liberation means having the freedom to love as we choose, to love who we want in the way we want. This is especially significant for Indigenous women, given our history—forced sterilization, the removal of our children. To be comfortable and aligned with our power as Indigenous women, to make choices for ourselves, is a profound political statement.
Your words are powerful, and they articulate the deep connections we have to each other, our lands, and our responsibilities.

Quannah
Absolutely. The ongoing crisis of Missing and Murdered Indigenous Women and People (MMIW/P) starkly illustrates how our very existence as Indigenous people is deeply political. The fact that thousands of Native women have gone missing or been murdered, with so many cases unresolved, highlights a systemic disregard for our lives.
This is why you see Native people advocating so fiercely for our communities. We are the ones who carry the weight of these issues, not just because they affect us, but because we have a responsibility to our ancestors, our communities, and future generations. We’ve all witnessed the effects of the climate crisis and that we are truly dependent upon one another. We’ve seen how politics has infiltrated every aspect of our lives, where even the fight for clean air and water, which should be a fundamental right, has become a political battleground. When we feel liberated, when we reclaim our power, we challenge the very foundations of that system.We are still here, and we are more than our struggles.
We are a people of strength, wisdom, and love, and that’s something no system can take away from us.
Princess
It’s mind-blowing to witness the devastation in Palestine, especially in Gaza, where the destruction has created an environmental and climate disaster affecting all living beings in the region.
You mentioned MMIW, and it struck me because violence against the land is intertwined with violence against women—it’s all connected. I think about the extractive resource industry and how deeply it ties into the dehumanization we’ve faced in the media, going back to dime novels and cartoons that depicted Indigenous and Muslim people as less than human.
I want to draw a parallel for our Indigenous brothers and sisters: what has been happening to the Palestinian people for generations mirrors what’s happened to us on Turtle Island. It’s maddening, especially knowing our tax dollars fund this genocide.
In these moments, we have to channel our rage and frustration, stay committed to our love, and hold onto the vision of collective liberation. Even if progress seems incremental, we must keep pushing in that direction.
Quannah
Mic drop.
I think about environmental racism a lot—how it’s playing out in every Indigenous community through extreme forms of extraction. It’s heartbreaking to see the direct impact on our communities and to realize how it’s spreading across the world. You start by thinking about how it affects your people, but then you realize, if we don’t stop this, it will spread like wildfire, and that’s exactly what’s been happening everywhere.
People are missing this crucial point, like with what’s happening in Gaza. Do you really think they’ll stop? They’ve destroyed everything, and yet they continue. “
Princess
I heard a quote from an older man who said, “It’s just a matter of time before we’re all Palestinians.” We have the opportunity to say no, to refuse to allow genocide to happen. The United States could have intervened by not arming Israel, but they didn’t. Now, it’s up to us, the people, to keep pressuring political leaders. Mother Earth can’t sustain much more of this destruction and bombing.

Quannah
Mother Earth can’t sustain much more. Just the other day, on the second of this month, we officially over-consumed to the point where Earth can’t regenerate. It’s terrifying to think about how we keep taking without giving back or fulfilling our responsibilities as a community of humans. Yes, Indigenous people are doing the work—80% of the world’s biodiversity is protected by Indigenous communities. The teaching of considering the next seven generations guides everything I do. Our identities and how we walk in this world are political.”
Princess
There’s also the element of threat—how simply existing can be seen as a threat, especially when you remind others of the deep ties we have to our lands. This is particularly true when standing against big oil or, as I often compare, the Palestinian people. Their very existence is a reminder of the ongoing Nakba, a symbol of resistance against the occupation and extraction of their lands.
I want to uplift the voices of those on the ground working toward peace, even though it’s hard. Peace cannot come without justice. I follow both Palestinian and Israeli individuals who are striving to have these difficult conversations, despite not being popular. It’s essential to try and reach a place where we see each other as full human beings because right now, that’s what’s missing—recognizing each other’s humanity.
Quannah
Social media is a powerful tool, but it can also expose you to hate, especially when you have influence.
It’s vital to support one another, especially when facing such hatred. When we heal ourselves, we contribute to healing our communities. I try to communicate this to our Native men, who may struggle with seeking help. Getting help doesn’t just benefit the individual—it strengthens the community because, as we heal, we naturally give back.
Often, those who express hate are themselves deeply hurt, raised in environments that foster hatred and ignorance. While it’s not our responsibility to help them unlearn their racism, I believe it’s important to approach them with love. I’ve had conversations with people raised in very right-wing, racist households, and by giving them grace and educating them, I’ve seen them change.
Princess
Exactly. What you’re saying is crucial. It’s disturbing how many people, even within our circles, have remained silent on what’s happening in Palestine and Gaza. When we reflect on historical atrocities like the Holocaust, people often say, “How could that have happened? I wouldn’t have acted that way.” But the truth is, many of us are complicit through our silence. We need to examine our relationship with capitalism, money, and the ways in which fear governs us.
Fear is powerful—whether it’s fear of not being able to feed our families, fear of being doxxed, or fear of the consequences of speaking out. But it takes a deep, spiritual perspective to push past that fear and say, “Despite my fear, I need to speak up.”
Quannah
As you’ve highlighted, Indigenous teachings and values are crucial in understanding the broader context of our struggles. Speaking as a Two Spirit, Indigenous person inherently intertwines with these issues, and it’s a powerful testament to our resilience and dedication.
Reconnecting with the land and our ancestors is indeed a profound way to ground oneself and find clarity in advocating for what’s right. Your strength and commitment are evident, and it’s this dedication that drives meaningful change.
Princess
That’s so beautiful, Quannah. I hope that one day we can all come together to help the Palestinian people rebuild and heal. We’ve discussed many intense issues and brought our ancestors into the conversation. Let’s take 20 seconds of silence to honor all those lives that are transitioning.
Moment of silence…

In Conversation:
Photography by:
Topics:
Filed under:
Location:
{
"article":
{
"title" : "Quannah ChasingHorse on Joyful Resistance",
"author" : "Quannah ChasingHorse, Princess Daazhraii Johnson",
"category" : "interviews",
"tags" : "Indigenous cultures, Alaska, collective liberation",
"url" : "https://everythingispolitical.com/readings/quannah-chasinghorse-joyful-resistance",
"date" : "2024-09-20 00:00:00 -0400",
"img" : "https://everythingispolitical.com/uploads/Thumb-QuannahRose_EIP_FILM_087.jpg",
"excerpt" : "",
"content" : "Quannah’s joyful resistance embodies the beauty of being the revolution. She embodies strength, beauty, power and we are here for it. Quannah ChasingHorse (she/her) is a Han Gwich’in and Sicangu/Oglala Lakota land protector, climate justice activist, and fashion model from Eagle Village, Alaska, and South Dakota tribes. Born on the Navajo Nation, she grew up in various locations and raised in a subsistence lifestyle with her family, Quannah’s connection to her homelands and people guides her activism. Quannah is a model who uses her platform to promote Indigenous representation and sustainability. She has worked with top fashion houses and appeared on the covers of Vogue Mexico, Vogue China, and has received numerous accolades, including Teen Vogue’s Top 21 under 21, Forbes 30 under 30, and USA Today’s Women of the Year. In June 2022, she premiered “Walking Two Worlds” at the TriBeCa Film Festival, a documentary about her family’s fight to protect their sacred lands and Indigenous representation.Quannah was in conversation with her Auntie, Princess Daazhraii Johnson, an Emmy-nominated writer/producer of Gwich’in and Ashkenazi descent, who lives on the traditional territory of lower Tanana Dene lands in Alaska. A co-founder of Deenaadàį’ Productions, Princess is dedicated to narrative sovereignty for Alaska Native filmmakers. She serves on the boards of Native Movement and NDN Collective, is a 2023 Grist 50 Climate Leader, and has been deeply involved in protecting Native Ways of Life. With a background as a Sundance Film Alum, SAG-AFTRA and Television Academy member, and credits including the Peabody Award-winning PBS Kids series “Molly of Denali” and HBO’s “True Detective: Night Country”, she is currently developing her first feature film, an adaptation of “Two Old Women,” which she will direct.QuannahI really appreciate this platform because it gives us an opportunity to reach out to people, especially within the Native community. Just yesterday, a Native guy got upset with me and Dallas Goldtooth for speaking out about Palestine, the Congo, Sudan, and other places where people need voices right now. He told us we should focus on our own people, saying those others don’t do anything for us. This is what it looks like—connecting, building bridges, and recognizing the similarities in our struggles.PrincessYou’re diving right into the question of what collective liberation really is. I think you’re highlighting a crucial aspect: creating a shared understanding. Given how our histories have been so intentionally suppressed, introducing people to the true histories is essential for reaching that shared understanding and for us to see ourselves in each other. So, I’m curious, what else does collective liberation look like to you?QuannahTo me, collective liberation looks like what many of us are already doing—looking beyond our immediate experiences and making connections with what’s happening elsewhere. We recognize that if the same events were unfolding in our communities, as they have throughout history, we have a responsibility not just to uplift those voices but to show the world that we stand in solidarity.Collective liberation means not just standing together but also utilizing tools like social media to access and share information. It’s alarming to see not only uninformed individuals but also political figures spreading misinformation and perpetuating harm, often through internalized racism. Collective liberation is about showing up and doing your part, whatever that looks like. It’s important for people to understand that there’s no one way to show up.PrincessAs you were talking, I was reflecting on a recent trip I took to Arctic Village and Circle, where I had an incredible interview with our elder, First Traditional Chief Trimble Gilbert. We were at a Gwich’in gathering, and I interviewed him about our traditional dances, like the fiddle dances and the rope dance, where everyone ends up holding hands. He talked about how we’ve made these dances our own—how the way we play the fiddle is uniquely Gwich’in, and those dances are uniquely ours. It’s a metaphor for how, in our community, coming from a background of survival, we had to work together and unify.As someone who is both Gwich’in and Ashkenazi Jewish, and born in the West Bank, I think a lot about borders—physical fences and walls, and how people and animals around the world have been displaced.Collective liberation is also about our animal relatives, our waterways. If we could take away nationalism, weapons, bombs, and all the things that cause destruction, I think we’d see more clearly that we are in a climate crisis.QuannahExactly. Growing up, I learned not just through words, but by example, that we see ourselves as part of nature—not above or below it, but as nature itself. When we protect nature, we’re protecting ourselves, our bloodlines, and our animal relatives. That teaching is deeply ingrained in me, and it’s hard to comprehend that others don’t see the world that way.As you mentioned, we need to rematriate society—how we move and show up in this world. The world could truly benefit from our teachings, which are rooted in love. But that’s what’s missing today—humanity and love.You don’t have to post every five minutes or put your life on the line, but many have, and that’s the strength of our people—we’ll put our lives on the line for what we believe in, for our community’s right to clean water, clean air, and control over our lands.Being raised in a matriarchy, I was taught to amplify women’s voices and to stand behind strong, knowledgeable women who represent us well. Everything we do is fueled by love. I see that love in you, in my mom, my aunties, and that’s how I navigate the world—with love for my people, my community, our animals, our waters, and other Indigenous communities that need to be heard.PrincessYes, everything truly does happen for a reason, and it’s essential to acknowledge that we’re riding the wave of thousands of years of Indigenous knowledge and wisdom. I see our lands, our animals, our mountains—everything we hold sacred. You carry all of this with such care and power, and that’s absolutely vital.Listening is something we both value deeply, and in a world full of noise, we’ve been blessed to find quiet moments on the land, on the Yukon River, listening to the river’s song, receiving messages from the Creator. These moments ground us and remind us of our responsibility to educate others, to help them see that our liberation is interconnected with the liberation of all beings.I agree that our Gwich’in worldview brings a unique blend of emotional and spiritual intelligence. This is where our humanity comes in. Each of us has a role, and sometimes it’s not about finding the perfect words but about making connections through storytelling, poetry, or images that resonate with others.Collective liberation means having the freedom to love as we choose, to love who we want in the way we want. This is especially significant for Indigenous women, given our history—forced sterilization, the removal of our children. To be comfortable and aligned with our power as Indigenous women, to make choices for ourselves, is a profound political statement.Your words are powerful, and they articulate the deep connections we have to each other, our lands, and our responsibilities.Quannah Absolutely. The ongoing crisis of Missing and Murdered Indigenous Women and People (MMIW/P) starkly illustrates how our very existence as Indigenous people is deeply political. The fact that thousands of Native women have gone missing or been murdered, with so many cases unresolved, highlights a systemic disregard for our lives.This is why you see Native people advocating so fiercely for our communities. We are the ones who carry the weight of these issues, not just because they affect us, but because we have a responsibility to our ancestors, our communities, and future generations. We’ve all witnessed the effects of the climate crisis and that we are truly dependent upon one another. We’ve seen how politics has infiltrated every aspect of our lives, where even the fight for clean air and water, which should be a fundamental right, has become a political battleground. When we feel liberated, when we reclaim our power, we challenge the very foundations of that system.We are still here, and we are more than our struggles.We are a people of strength, wisdom, and love, and that’s something no system can take away from us.PrincessIt’s mind-blowing to witness the devastation in Palestine, especially in Gaza, where the destruction has created an environmental and climate disaster affecting all living beings in the region.You mentioned MMIW, and it struck me because violence against the land is intertwined with violence against women—it’s all connected. I think about the extractive resource industry and how deeply it ties into the dehumanization we’ve faced in the media, going back to dime novels and cartoons that depicted Indigenous and Muslim people as less than human. I want to draw a parallel for our Indigenous brothers and sisters: what has been happening to the Palestinian people for generations mirrors what’s happened to us on Turtle Island. It’s maddening, especially knowing our tax dollars fund this genocide.In these moments, we have to channel our rage and frustration, stay committed to our love, and hold onto the vision of collective liberation. Even if progress seems incremental, we must keep pushing in that direction.QuannahMic drop.I think about environmental racism a lot—how it’s playing out in every Indigenous community through extreme forms of extraction. It’s heartbreaking to see the direct impact on our communities and to realize how it’s spreading across the world. You start by thinking about how it affects your people, but then you realize, if we don’t stop this, it will spread like wildfire, and that’s exactly what’s been happening everywhere.People are missing this crucial point, like with what’s happening in Gaza. Do you really think they’ll stop? They’ve destroyed everything, and yet they continue. “PrincessI heard a quote from an older man who said, “It’s just a matter of time before we’re all Palestinians.” We have the opportunity to say no, to refuse to allow genocide to happen. The United States could have intervened by not arming Israel, but they didn’t. Now, it’s up to us, the people, to keep pressuring political leaders. Mother Earth can’t sustain much more of this destruction and bombing.QuannahMother Earth can’t sustain much more. Just the other day, on the second of this month, we officially over-consumed to the point where Earth can’t regenerate. It’s terrifying to think about how we keep taking without giving back or fulfilling our responsibilities as a community of humans. Yes, Indigenous people are doing the work—80% of the world’s biodiversity is protected by Indigenous communities. The teaching of considering the next seven generations guides everything I do. Our identities and how we walk in this world are political.”PrincessThere’s also the element of threat—how simply existing can be seen as a threat, especially when you remind others of the deep ties we have to our lands. This is particularly true when standing against big oil or, as I often compare, the Palestinian people. Their very existence is a reminder of the ongoing Nakba, a symbol of resistance against the occupation and extraction of their lands.I want to uplift the voices of those on the ground working toward peace, even though it’s hard. Peace cannot come without justice. I follow both Palestinian and Israeli individuals who are striving to have these difficult conversations, despite not being popular. It’s essential to try and reach a place where we see each other as full human beings because right now, that’s what’s missing—recognizing each other’s humanity.QuannahSocial media is a powerful tool, but it can also expose you to hate, especially when you have influence.It’s vital to support one another, especially when facing such hatred. When we heal ourselves, we contribute to healing our communities. I try to communicate this to our Native men, who may struggle with seeking help. Getting help doesn’t just benefit the individual—it strengthens the community because, as we heal, we naturally give back.Often, those who express hate are themselves deeply hurt, raised in environments that foster hatred and ignorance. While it’s not our responsibility to help them unlearn their racism, I believe it’s important to approach them with love. I’ve had conversations with people raised in very right-wing, racist households, and by giving them grace and educating them, I’ve seen them change.PrincessExactly. What you’re saying is crucial. It’s disturbing how many people, even within our circles, have remained silent on what’s happening in Palestine and Gaza. When we reflect on historical atrocities like the Holocaust, people often say, “How could that have happened? I wouldn’t have acted that way.” But the truth is, many of us are complicit through our silence. We need to examine our relationship with capitalism, money, and the ways in which fear governs us.Fear is powerful—whether it’s fear of not being able to feed our families, fear of being doxxed, or fear of the consequences of speaking out. But it takes a deep, spiritual perspective to push past that fear and say, “Despite my fear, I need to speak up.”QuannahAs you’ve highlighted, Indigenous teachings and values are crucial in understanding the broader context of our struggles. Speaking as a Two Spirit, Indigenous person inherently intertwines with these issues, and it’s a powerful testament to our resilience and dedication.Reconnecting with the land and our ancestors is indeed a profound way to ground oneself and find clarity in advocating for what’s right. Your strength and commitment are evident, and it’s this dedication that drives meaningful change.PrincessThat’s so beautiful, Quannah. I hope that one day we can all come together to help the Palestinian people rebuild and heal. We’ve discussed many intense issues and brought our ancestors into the conversation. Let’s take 20 seconds of silence to honor all those lives that are transitioning.Moment of silence…"
}
,
"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."
}
]
}