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Reclaiming a Lost Imagination
For the longest time, I believed liberation was not possible. They seemed too powerful, armed with technology, infrastructure, and institutional control. As a child, I used to daydream about the day Palestine would be free. I pictured people returning to their homes and villages, and borders removed. But as I grew older, these images began to fade. Reality hit me with the endless oppression, and the idea of a free Palestine started to feel distant and unrealistic. I began to view the phrase “Free Palestine” as a romantic dream, unable to see beyond the boundaries the occupation had imposed on my world. My imagination had become limited and occupied.
As Palestinian photographer Steve Sabella wrote in his book, The Parachute Paradox: “Palestinians reached a point where they could no longer imagine they could live in freedom. The colonization of Palestinian land was clear, but what was hidden was the colonization of the imagination.”

The Psychology of Occupation
A cornerstone of this mental colonization is narrative control. Oppressive systems weaponize stories to convince us we are powerless, that our efforts are meaningless, and that nothing will ever change. Constant exposure to such narratives can paralyze us psychologically, emotionally, and spiritually.
In Palestine, occupation isn’t just territorial, it’s psychological. While checkpoints, walls, and territorial control are tangible realities, they evolve into mental barriers that shape how Palestinians perceive themselves and their world. This manufactured sense of powerlessness creates profound stress and erodes our capacity to create, dream, and imagine alternatives.

Oppressive systems, such as colonization and occupation, are deliberately designed to feel unbeatable, conditioning us to stop envisioning different possibilities. Joycelyn Longdon writes in her book Natural Connection: “Colonialism and capitalism are holding our imagination captive. Our loss of imagination, though it may feel like a subconscious act, has in many ways been intentional, resulting from the influence of colonization, industrialization, and capitalism.”
She invites us to reflect on the ways we speak the language of limitation. How might we be unconsciously reinforcing the very systems we hope to transform?
Parallels in the Climate Crisis
The same patterns are also evident in the environmental movement. The narratives are constructed by “doom and gloom.” We’re constantly told the world is heading “in the wrong direction” and that “we only have X years left.” While the urgency is real, it frequently breeds eco-anxiety and paralysis, a sense that nothing we do will be sufficient. It becomes difficult to envision alternative paths or believe our actions can meaningfully shape outcomes. The discourse overwhelms us with statistics and worst-case scenarios.
In his book The Nightingale, Sam Lee writes about how the environmental crisis is fundamentally a crisis of imagination, a failure to visualize what a flourishing world could look like. He contends that to transform behavior, we must first reach the hearts of people.

Imagination as Resistance
What role does imagination play in liberation? Without imagination, there would be no innovation, no dreams, no creation, no evolution. Imagination serves as a gateway, enabling us to envision realities beyond the systems that confine us. To be clear, I’m not referring to naive optimism that overlooks the depth of our struggles. I’m speaking of the imagination that empowers us to reject internalized inferiority, the kind that helps us unlearn what systems of oppression have implanted within us.
We must ask ourselves: Which beliefs are authentically mine, and which were imposed? Which limits my ability to imagine different realities?

This questioning becomes the first step toward mental liberation, a way to reclaim our inner landscape. It represents a refusal to let the occupier colonize our souls and a rejection of the belief that our efforts are ultimately futile. This form of imagination is not effortless, it demands confronting aspects of ourselves shaped by inherited beliefs. It means shedding limiting parts of our identity and undertaking the difficult work of re-rooting in truth. It requires radical honesty.
To paraphrase Longdon, imagination represents one of our most vital capacities as sensing, feeling, and purposeful beings. Imagination is an act of resistance. Colonialism has systematically suppressed indigenous knowledge and way of life. And, yet, enslaved peoples, indigenous communities, and colonized societies have turned to imagination as a survival strategy throughout history. Enslavement ended not only through physical revolt but also through internal narrative transformation, a decolonization of the imagination. What once represented limitation gave way to visions of liberation.
Palestine Today
I write this as we witness genocide in Gaza. In the West Bank, settler violence, settlement expansion, and forced displacement intensify daily. Hope seems impossible. Speaking of imagination here might seem like a luxury. I don’t dismiss the pressing nature of our current moment.
I’ve come to realize that a mindset of limitation, the belief that we’re doomed no matter what, is what oppressive systems count on.
As Sabella suggests, liberating Palestine requires not only ending land occupation but also freeing it from ideological confinement. In other words, imagination forms a crucial component of our collective resistance.

A Closing Invitation
Physically, the system may appear stronger. But spiritually, we possess immense power. While we may feel disempowered, the collective spiritual journey of decolonization can inspire us and reawaken our strength. When, from a place of empowerment, we reimagine a free Palestine or a thriving, just planet, we gather strength to build the reality we dream of.
When we choose to rise above internal despair, when we actively cultivate beauty, hope, and imagination, we resist the system’s grip because occupiers control not only land but also colonize our very being. Liberation is a long and challenging path, but the first step is daring to see it. Imagination can guide us away from systems that exploit and seek power over others. This becomes a radical act of rebuilding and remaking our world, creating space for new ways of living to emerge, starting with our minds.

{
"article":
{
"title" : "Reclaiming a Lost Imagination",
"author" : "Najla Abdellatif Vallander",
"category" : "essays",
"url" : "https://everythingispolitical.com/readings/reclaiming-a-lost-imagination",
"date" : "2025-07-20 17:35:46 -0400",
"img" : "https://everythingispolitical.com/uploads/imagination8.jpg",
"excerpt" : "For the longest time, I believed liberation was not possible. They seemed too powerful, armed with technology, infrastructure, and institutional control. As a child, I used to daydream about the day Palestine would be free. I pictured people returning to their homes and villages, and borders removed. But as I grew older, these images began to fade. Reality hit me with the endless oppression, and the idea of a free Palestine started to feel distant and unrealistic. I began to view the phrase “Free Palestine” as a romantic dream, unable to see beyond the boundaries the occupation had imposed on my world. My imagination had become limited and occupied.",
"content" : "For the longest time, I believed liberation was not possible. They seemed too powerful, armed with technology, infrastructure, and institutional control. As a child, I used to daydream about the day Palestine would be free. I pictured people returning to their homes and villages, and borders removed. But as I grew older, these images began to fade. Reality hit me with the endless oppression, and the idea of a free Palestine started to feel distant and unrealistic. I began to view the phrase “Free Palestine” as a romantic dream, unable to see beyond the boundaries the occupation had imposed on my world. My imagination had become limited and occupied.As Palestinian photographer Steve Sabella wrote in his book, The Parachute Paradox: “Palestinians reached a point where they could no longer imagine they could live in freedom. The colonization of Palestinian land was clear, but what was hidden was the colonization of the imagination.”The Psychology of OccupationA cornerstone of this mental colonization is narrative control. Oppressive systems weaponize stories to convince us we are powerless, that our efforts are meaningless, and that nothing will ever change. Constant exposure to such narratives can paralyze us psychologically, emotionally, and spiritually.In Palestine, occupation isn’t just territorial, it’s psychological. While checkpoints, walls, and territorial control are tangible realities, they evolve into mental barriers that shape how Palestinians perceive themselves and their world. This manufactured sense of powerlessness creates profound stress and erodes our capacity to create, dream, and imagine alternatives.Oppressive systems, such as colonization and occupation, are deliberately designed to feel unbeatable, conditioning us to stop envisioning different possibilities. Joycelyn Longdon writes in her book Natural Connection: “Colonialism and capitalism are holding our imagination captive. Our loss of imagination, though it may feel like a subconscious act, has in many ways been intentional, resulting from the influence of colonization, industrialization, and capitalism.”She invites us to reflect on the ways we speak the language of limitation. How might we be unconsciously reinforcing the very systems we hope to transform?Parallels in the Climate CrisisThe same patterns are also evident in the environmental movement. The narratives are constructed by “doom and gloom.” We’re constantly told the world is heading “in the wrong direction” and that “we only have X years left.” While the urgency is real, it frequently breeds eco-anxiety and paralysis, a sense that nothing we do will be sufficient. It becomes difficult to envision alternative paths or believe our actions can meaningfully shape outcomes. The discourse overwhelms us with statistics and worst-case scenarios.In his book The Nightingale, Sam Lee writes about how the environmental crisis is fundamentally a crisis of imagination, a failure to visualize what a flourishing world could look like. He contends that to transform behavior, we must first reach the hearts of people.Imagination as ResistanceWhat role does imagination play in liberation? Without imagination, there would be no innovation, no dreams, no creation, no evolution. Imagination serves as a gateway, enabling us to envision realities beyond the systems that confine us. To be clear, I’m not referring to naive optimism that overlooks the depth of our struggles. I’m speaking of the imagination that empowers us to reject internalized inferiority, the kind that helps us unlearn what systems of oppression have implanted within us.We must ask ourselves: Which beliefs are authentically mine, and which were imposed? Which limits my ability to imagine different realities?This questioning becomes the first step toward mental liberation, a way to reclaim our inner landscape. It represents a refusal to let the occupier colonize our souls and a rejection of the belief that our efforts are ultimately futile. This form of imagination is not effortless, it demands confronting aspects of ourselves shaped by inherited beliefs. It means shedding limiting parts of our identity and undertaking the difficult work of re-rooting in truth. It requires radical honesty.To paraphrase Longdon, imagination represents one of our most vital capacities as sensing, feeling, and purposeful beings. Imagination is an act of resistance. Colonialism has systematically suppressed indigenous knowledge and way of life. And, yet, enslaved peoples, indigenous communities, and colonized societies have turned to imagination as a survival strategy throughout history. Enslavement ended not only through physical revolt but also through internal narrative transformation, a decolonization of the imagination. What once represented limitation gave way to visions of liberation.Palestine TodayI write this as we witness genocide in Gaza. In the West Bank, settler violence, settlement expansion, and forced displacement intensify daily. Hope seems impossible. Speaking of imagination here might seem like a luxury. I don’t dismiss the pressing nature of our current moment.I’ve come to realize that a mindset of limitation, the belief that we’re doomed no matter what, is what oppressive systems count on.As Sabella suggests, liberating Palestine requires not only ending land occupation but also freeing it from ideological confinement. In other words, imagination forms a crucial component of our collective resistance.A Closing InvitationPhysically, the system may appear stronger. But spiritually, we possess immense power. While we may feel disempowered, the collective spiritual journey of decolonization can inspire us and reawaken our strength. When, from a place of empowerment, we reimagine a free Palestine or a thriving, just planet, we gather strength to build the reality we dream of.When we choose to rise above internal despair, when we actively cultivate beauty, hope, and imagination, we resist the system’s grip because occupiers control not only land but also colonize our very being. Liberation is a long and challenging path, but the first step is daring to see it. Imagination can guide us away from systems that exploit and seek power over others. This becomes a radical act of rebuilding and remaking our world, creating space for new ways of living to emerge, starting with our minds."
}
,
"relatedposts": [
{
"title" : "Black Liberation Views on Palestine",
"author" : "EIP Editors",
"category" : "essays",
"url" : "https://everythingispolitical.com/readings/black-liberation-on-palestine",
"date" : "2025-10-17 09:01:00 -0400",
"img" : "https://everythingispolitical.com/uploads/mandela-keffiyeh.jpg",
"excerpt" : "",
"content" : "In understanding global politics, it is important to look at Black liberation struggles as one important source of moral perspective. So, when looking at Palestine, we look to Black leaders to see how they perceived the Palestinian struggle in relation to theirs, from the 1960’s to today.Why must we understand where the injustice lies? Because, as Desmond Tutu famously said, “If you are neutral in situations of injustice, you have chosen the side of the oppressor.”{% for person in site.data.quotes-black-liberation-palestine %}{{ person.name }}{% for quote in person.quotes %}“{{ quote.text }}”{% if quote.source %}— {{ quote.source }}{% endif %}{% endfor %}{% endfor %}"
}
,
{
"title" : "First Anniversary Celebration of EIP",
"author" : "EIP Editors",
"category" : "events",
"url" : "https://everythingispolitical.com/readings/1st-anniversary-of-eip",
"date" : "2025-10-14 18:01:00 -0400",
"img" : "https://everythingispolitical.com/uploads/WSA_EIP_Launch_Cover.jpg",
"excerpt" : "Celebrating One Year of Independent Publishing",
"content" : "Celebrating One Year of Independent PublishingJoin Everything is Political on November 21st for the launch of our End-of-Year Special Edition Magazine.This members-only evening will feature a benefit dinner, cocktails, and live performances in celebration of a year of independent media, critical voices, and collective resistance.The EventNovember 21, 2025, 7-11pmLower Manhattan, New YorkLaunching our End-of-Year Special Edition MagazineSpecial appearances and performancesFood & Drink includedTickets are extremely limited, reserve yours now!Become an annual print member: get x back issues of EIP, receive the End-of-Year Special Edition Magazine, and come to the Anniversary Celebration.$470Already a member? Sign in to get your special offer. Buy Ticket $150 Just $50 ! and get the End-of-Year Special Edition Magazine Buy ticket $150 and get the End-of-Year Special Edition Magazine "
}
,
{
"title" : "Miu Miu Transforms the Apron From Trad Wife to Boss Lady: The sexiest thing in Paris was a work garment",
"author" : "Khaoula Ghanem",
"category" : "",
"url" : "https://everythingispolitical.com/readings/miu-miu-transforms-the-apron-from-trad-wife-to-boss-lady",
"date" : "2025-10-14 13:05:00 -0400",
"img" : "https://everythingispolitical.com/uploads/Cover_EIP_MiuMiu_Apron.jpg",
"excerpt" : "Miuccia Prada has a habit of taking the least “fashion” thing in the room and making it the argument. For Spring 2026 at Miu Miu, the argument is the apron; staged not as a coy retro flourish but as a total system. The show’s mise-en-scène read like a canteen or factory floor with melamine-like tables, rationalist severity, a whiff of cleaning fluid. In other words, a runway designed to force a conversation about labor before any sparkle could distract us.",
"content" : "Miuccia Prada has a habit of taking the least “fashion” thing in the room and making it the argument. For Spring 2026 at Miu Miu, the argument is the apron; staged not as a coy retro flourish but as a total system. The show’s mise-en-scène read like a canteen or factory floor with melamine-like tables, rationalist severity, a whiff of cleaning fluid. In other words, a runway designed to force a conversation about labor before any sparkle could distract us.From the opening look—German actress Sandra Hüller in a utilitarian deep-blue apron layered over a barn jacket and neat blue shirting—the thesis was loud: the “cover” becomes the thing itself. As silhouettes marched on, aprons multiplied and mutated—industrial drill cotton with front pockets, raw canvas, taffeta and cloqué silk, lace-edged versions that flirted with lingerie, even black leather and crystal-studded incarnations that reframed function as ornament. What the apron traditionally shields (clothes, bodies, “the good dress”) was inverted; the protection became the prized surface. Prada herself spelled it out: “The apron is my favorite piece of clothing… it symbolizes women, from factories through to serving to the home.”Miu Miu Spring 2026 Ready-to-Wear. SuppliedThis inversion matters historically. The apron’s earliest fashion-adjacent life was industrial. It served as a barrier against grease, heat, stain. It was a token of paid and unpaid care. Miu Miu tapped that lineage directly (canvas, work belts, D-ring hardware), then sliced it against domestic codes (florals, ruffles, crochet), and finally pushed into nightlife with bejeweled and leather bibs. The garment’s migration across materials made its social migrations visible. It is a kitchen apron, yes, but also one for labs, hospitals, and factories; the set and styling insisted on that plurality.What makes the apron such a loaded emblem is not just what it covers, but what it reveals about who has always been working. Before industrialization formalized labor into factory shifts and wages, women were already performing invisible labour, the kind that doesn’t exist on payrolls but sits at the foundation of every functioning society. They were cooking, cleaning, raising children, nursing the ill. These tasks were foundational to every economy and yet absent from every ledger. Even when women entered the industrial workforce, from textile plants to wartime assembly lines, their domestic responsibilities did not disappear, they doubled. In that context, the apron here is a quiet manifesto for the strength that goes unrecorded, unthanked, and yet keeps civilization running.The algorithmic rise of the “tradwife,” the influencer economy that packages domesticity as soft power, is the contemporary cultural shadow here. Miu Miu’s apron refuses that rehearsal. In fact, it’s intentionally awkward—oversized, undone, worn over bikinis or with sturdy shoes—so the viewer can’t flatten it into Pinterest-ready nostalgia. Critics noted the collection as a reclamation, a rebuttal to the flattening forces of the feed: the apron as a uniform for endurance rather than submission. The show notes framed it simply as “a consideration of the work of women,” a reminder that the invisible economies of effort—paid, unpaid, emotional—still structure daily life.If that sounds unusually explicit for a luxury runway, consider the designer. Prada trained as a mime at Milan’s Piccolo Teatro, earned a PhD in political science, joined the Italian Communist Party, and was active in the women’s rights movement in 1970s Milan. Those facts are not trivia; they are the grammar of her clothes. Decades of “ugly chic” were, essentially, a slow campaign against easy consumption and default beauty. In 2026, the apron becomes the newest dialect. An emblem drawn from leftist feminist history, recoded into a product that still has to sell. That tension—belief versus business—is the Miuccia paradox, and it’s precisely why these aprons read as statements, not trends.The runway narrative traced a journey from function to fetish. Early looks were squarely utilitarian—thick cottons, pocketed bibs—before migrating toward fragility and sparkle. Lace aprons laid transparently over swimmers; crystal-studded aprons slipped across cocktail territory; leather apron-dresses stiffened posture into armor. The sequencing proposed the same silhouette can encode labor, intimacy, and spectacle depending on fabrication. If most brands smuggle “workwear” in as set dressing, Miu Miu forced it onto the body as the central garment and an unmissable reminder that the feminine is often asked to be both shield and display at once.It’s instructive to read this collection against the house’s last mega-viral object: the micro-mini of Spring 2022, a pleated, raw-hem wafer that colonized timelines and magazine covers. That skirt’s thesis was exposure—hip bones and hemlines as post-lockdown spectacle, Y2K nostalgia framed as liberation-lite. The apron, ironically, covers. Where the micro-mini trafficked in the optics of freedom (and the speed of virality), the apron asks about the conditions that make freedom possible: who launders, who cooks, who cares? To move from “look at me” to “who is working here?” is a pivot from optics to ethics, without abandoning desire. (The aprons are, after all, deeply covetable.) In a platform economy that still rewards the shortest hemline with the biggest click-through, this is a sophisticated counter-program.Yet the designer is not romanticizing toil. There’s wit in the ruffles and perversity in the crystals; neither negate labor, they metabolize it. The most striking image is the apron treated as couture-adjacent. Traditionally, an apron protects the precious thing beneath; here, the apron is the precious thing. You could call that hypocrisy—luxurizing the uniform of workers. Or, strategy, insisting that the symbols of care and effort deserve visibility and investment.Of course, none of this exists in a vacuum. The “tradwife” script thrives because it is aesthetically legible and commercially scalable. It packages gender ideology as moodboard. Miu Miu counters with garments whose legibility flickers. The collection’s best looks ask viewers to reconcile tenderness with toughness, convenience with care, which is exactly the mental choreography demanded of women in every context from office to home to online.If you wanted a season-defining “It” item, you’ll still find it. The apron is poised to proliferate across fast-fashion and luxury alike. But the deeper success is structural: Miu Miu re-centered labor as an aesthetic category. That’s rarer than a viral skirt. It’s a reminder that clothes don’t merely decorate life, they describe and negotiate it. In making the apron the subject rather than the prop, Prada turned a garment of service into a platform for agency. It’s precisely the kind of cultural recursion you’d expect from a designer shaped by feminist politics, who never stopped treating fashion as an instrument of thought as much as style.The last image to hold onto is deceptively simple: a woman in an apron, neither fetishized nor infantilized, striding, hands free. Not a costume for nostalgia, not a meme for the feed, but a working uniform reframed, respected, and suddenly, undeniably beautiful. That is Miu Miu’s provocation for Spring 2026: the work behind the work, made visible at last."
}
]
}