{ "article": { "title" : "Socialist Girl Summer: How Capitalism Spent Billions to Demonize Socialism — And Why That Spell Is Breaking", "author" : "Céline Semaan", "category" : "essays", "url" : "https://everythingispolitical.com/readings/socialist-girl-summer-demonize-socialism-why-spell-breaking", "date" : "2025-07-03 22:00:00 -0400", "img" : "https://everythingispolitical.com/uploads/EIP_SocialistGirlSummer.jpg", "excerpt" : "As the founder of Slow Factory, I design everything you see—every typeface, every framework, every campaign. I don’t outsource the vision. I shape it. And I started Slow with one goal in mind: to rebrand socialism, justice, and environmentalism—not as niche causes, but as cultural movements essential to our survival. Design isn’t just about aesthetics. It’s about power. And I use design as a tool to imagine, demand, and build better worlds.For nearly a century, the United States has spent billions of dollars, media bandwidth, and educational muscle to ensure one thing: that the word socialism would strike fear in the public imagination. That’s not because socialism failed. It’s because socialism threatens power—especially the kind of power that hoards land, labor, and life for profit.But something is shifting. The re-election of Assemblymember Zohran Mamdani in New York—an openly socialist organizer who unapologetically defends tenants, workers, and Palestinians—marks a rupture in that narrative. A new generation no longer flinches at the word. They embrace it. They are building it. They are winning.But before we can move forward, we must understand what we are up against.", "content" : "As the founder of Slow Factory, I design everything you see—every typeface, every framework, every campaign. I don’t outsource the vision. I shape it. And I started Slow with one goal in mind: to rebrand socialism, justice, and environmentalism—not as niche causes, but as cultural movements essential to our survival. Design isn’t just about aesthetics. It’s about power. And I use design as a tool to imagine, demand, and build better worlds.For nearly a century, the United States has spent billions of dollars, media bandwidth, and educational muscle to ensure one thing: that the word socialism would strike fear in the public imagination. That’s not because socialism failed. It’s because socialism threatens power—especially the kind of power that hoards land, labor, and life for profit.But something is shifting. The re-election of Assemblymember Zohran Mamdani in New York—an openly socialist organizer who unapologetically defends tenants, workers, and Palestinians—marks a rupture in that narrative. A new generation no longer flinches at the word. They embrace it. They are building it. They are winning.But before we can move forward, we must understand what we are up against.A Propaganda Empire Built on FearFrom Cold War cinema to first-grade civics books, socialism was rendered as the enemy. Not because it endangered democracy, but because it questioned private property, militarism, and capitalism’s sacred cow: unlimited profit.The U.S. government, backed by its capitalist elite, responded with a sweeping cultural war. The Red Scare and McCarthyism turned union leaders, civil rights activists, and artists into traitors. The FBI surveilled and imprisoned people for organizing against poverty and racial capitalism. Hollywood blacklists sanitized storytelling and sold capitalist mythology as aspirational truth. CIA coups, from Chile to Iran to the Congo, dismantled democratically elected socialist governments because they dared to nationalize oil, land, and education. This wasn’t a fear of failure. It was a fear of redistribution.Why the Spell Is BreakingCapitalism made big promises. But it delivered gig work, burnout, debt, climate collapse, and endless war. A growing number of people—especially Gen Z and Millennials—aren’t buying the myth anymore.According to Pew Research (2023), 70% of younger Americans support some form of socialism.Mutual aid groups, public power campaigns, and tenant unions are taking root in cities across the U.S.And politicians like Mamdani, Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez, Summer Lee, and others are bringing these values to governance—publicly, unapologetically.This isn’t a rebrand. This is a return. A remembering.Designing LiberationDesign has always been political. It’s a tool used by empires—and also a tool of resistance. Every successful propaganda campaign used design to criminalize solidarity and glorify capitalism.Mid-century posters showed socialism as monstrous: Stalin as an octopus devouring the planet. Red flags engulfing American homes in flames. Inspectors peering through windows. These visuals weren’t neutral. They were weapons.But today, we’re flipping the frame.As a designer, I use visual culture to demystify and disrupt these fear-based narratives. We design not just what we see—but how we see. And when we shift that perspective, we make new futures possible.My work at Slow Factory has always been about this: telling stories rooted in care, equity, and ecological justice. Whether through open education, cultural programming, or climate justice campaigns, I’m reprogramming what power looks like—and who it belongs to.Zohran Mamdani and the Future of StorytellingMamdani’s victory isn’t just electoral. It’s cultural. He won while calling for an end to genocide in Gaza, organizing with workers instead of corporations, and speaking openly about the harms of capitalism and imperialism.He won while the establishment poured millions into defeating him.His win is proof: the old script is wearing thin.Reclaiming the Word, Reclaiming the WorldSocialism has always been about care—public housing, free healthcare, universal education, the right to rest and exist without fear. These are not fringe demands. These are the bare minimum for a livable planet.The villain was never socialism. The villain was the empire that told us we didn’t deserve care unless we could afford it.We are entering the Possible Futures era. And it’s being led by people who no longer fear justice—but are terrified of its absence.Designing that future means unlearning propaganda and replacing it with stories of survival, resistance, and imagination. We must reclaim the visual language of dignity—transforming symbols of domination into frameworks for liberation.We don’t just need to rebrand socialism.We need to remember it.And redesign everything." } , "relatedposts": [ { "title" : "Unpublished, Erased, Unarchived: Why Arab-Led Publishing Matters More Than Ever", "author" : "Céline Semaan", "category" : "", "url" : "https://everythingispolitical.com/readings/unpublished-erased-unarchived", "date" : "2025-11-13 10:25:00 -0500", "img" : "https://everythingispolitical.com/uploads/Cover_EIP_Unpublished.jpg", "excerpt" : "At a moment when news of Gaza, West Bank, South Lebanon, and Beirut are slowly disappearing from the headlines—and from public consciousness—Arab writers face a singular burden: We must write the stories that no one else will print. We live in a media landscape that refuses to see us as fully human. A recent analysis from Giving Compass suggests that traditional media skews Palestinian news: seven major U.S. news outlets found that Palestinian stories were 13.6% to 38.9% less likely to be individualized than Israeli ones. Meaning, Palestinians appear as abstractions—statistics, masses, “civilians”—not as people with names, losses, or lives. Meanwhile, reports from the Centre for Media Monitoring (CfMM) show that UK outlets had a fourfold increase in coverage only when Gaza was framed through the lens of “criticism of Israel,” not Palestinian experience itself.", "content" : "At a moment when news of Gaza, West Bank, South Lebanon, and Beirut are slowly disappearing from the headlines—and from public consciousness—Arab writers face a singular burden: We must write the stories that no one else will print. We live in a media landscape that refuses to see us as fully human. A recent analysis from Giving Compass suggests that traditional media skews Palestinian news: seven major U.S. news outlets found that Palestinian stories were 13.6% to 38.9% less likely to be individualized than Israeli ones. Meaning, Palestinians appear as abstractions—statistics, masses, “civilians”—not as people with names, losses, or lives. Meanwhile, reports from the Centre for Media Monitoring (CfMM) show that UK outlets had a fourfold increase in coverage only when Gaza was framed through the lens of “criticism of Israel,” not Palestinian experience itself.Against this backdrop of erasure, the scarcity of Arab women’s voices in publishing is even more alarming. A bibliometric study spanning 1.7 million publications across the Middle East and North Africa shows that men publish 11% to 51% more than women. What’s more, women’s authorship is less persistent, and men reach senior authorship far faster. Arab women are not only under-published but also systematically written out of the global record.This is why Slow Factory has founded Books for Collective Liberation, an Arab-led, independent imprint committed to telling Arab stories the way they should be told: authentically, empathetically, and wholly. We publish work that would never survive the filters of legacy publishing: the political hesitation, the “market concerns,” the fear of touching Arab grief, joy, or its future. Independence is not an aesthetic choice; it is the only way to protect our stories from being softened, sanitized, or structurally erased.Our forthcoming title, On the Zero Line, created in partnership with Isolarii, is a testament to that mission. It stands on the knife’s edge where memory is threatened with extinction—a book that documents what official archives will not. It is a testimony that refuses to disappear.But books alone are not enough. Stories need a home that is alive, responsive, and politically unafraid. That is the work of Everything is Political (EIP), our independent media platform and growing archive of essays, investigations, and first-person journalism. In an era where Big Tech throttles dissenting voices and newsrooms avoid political risk, EIP protects the creative freedom of Arab writers and journalists. We publish what mainstream outlets won’t—because our lives, our histories, and our communities, dead or alive, should not depend on editorial courage elsewhere.Together, Books for Collective Liberation and Everything is Political form an ecosystem of resistance: literature and journalism that feed each other, strengthening each other, building memory as infrastructure—a new archive. We refuse the fragmentation imposed on us: that books are separate from news, that culture is separate from politics, that our narratives exist only within Western frameworks. This archive is not static; it is a living, breathing record of a people determined to write themselves into the future.When stories from Gaza, Beirut, and the broader Levant fail to make the news—or make it only as geopolitical abstractions—the result breeds distortion and public consent to eliminate us. It is a wound to historical truth. It erases whole worlds. We will not let that happen.Independent, Arab-led publishing is how we repair that wound. It is how we record what happened, in our own voice. It is how we ensure that no empire, no newsroom, and no algorithm gets to decide which of our stories survive.Tonight, we gather at Palestine House to celebrate the launch of On the Zero Line, a collection of stories, essays, and poems from Gaza, translated in English for the first time. This evening, we are centering the lived experiences of Palestinians from Gaza who have been displaced in London. I have the honor of interviewing journalist Yara Eid and Ahmed Alnaouq, project manager of the platform “We are not Just Numbers.” Here, we will discuss how mainstream literature and journalism have censored us—and how we can keep our stories alive in response." } , { "title" : "The British Museum Gala and the Deep Echoes of Colonialism", "author" : "Ana Beatriz Reitz do Valle Gameiro", "category" : "essays", "url" : "https://everythingispolitical.com/readings/the-british-museum-gala-and-the-deep-echoes-of-colonialism", "date" : "2025-11-11 11:59:00 -0500", "img" : "https://everythingispolitical.com/uploads/the-younger-memnon-statue-british-museum%20copy.jpg", "excerpt" : "When it comes to fashion, few things are as overblown, overanalyzed, and utterly irresistible as a gala. For instance: hear the name “Met Gala”, and any fashionista’s spine will tingle while every publicist in New York breaks into a cold sweat. While New York has been hosting the original event at the Metropolitan Museum since 1948 and Paris had its Louvre moment in 2024, London finally decided to answer with an event at the British Museum on 18 October this year.", "content" : "When it comes to fashion, few things are as overblown, overanalyzed, and utterly irresistible as a gala. For instance: hear the name “Met Gala”, and any fashionista’s spine will tingle while every publicist in New York breaks into a cold sweat. While New York has been hosting the original event at the Metropolitan Museum since 1948 and Paris had its Louvre moment in 2024, London finally decided to answer with an event at the British Museum on 18 October this year.The invitation-only event drew high-profile guests such as Naomi Campbell, Mick Jagger, Edward Enninful, Janet Jackson, Alexa Chung, and James Norton. With a theme of ‘Pink Ball,’ the night drew inspiration from the vibrant colors of India and walked hand-in-hand with the museum’s ‘Ancient India: Living Traditions’ exhibition, adding a touch of colonial irony à la British tradition.Unlike its always-talked-about New York counterpart, or Paris’s star-studded affair last year that reunited figures like Doechii, Tyra Banks, Gigi Hadid, and Victoria Beckham, London’s event felt less memorable fashion-wise. With little buzz surrounding it - whether due to a less star-studded guest list, unremarkable fashion, or its clash with the Academy Museum Gala - it ultimately felt more like an ordinary night than a headline-making affair.But the event was not entirely irrelevant. In fact, it prompted reflections rarely discussed in mainstream media. Notably, because in spite of the museum’s sprawling collection of objects from other marginalized countries, the event ‘‘celebrated’’ Indian artifacts looted during colonial rule. Equally noteworthy is the institution’s partnership with BP - the British oil giant whose exports reach Israel, a state that, in the twenty-first century, stands as a symbol of colonialism and the ongoing genocide of Palestinians. And, of course, every penny raised went to the museum’s international initiatives, including an excavation project in Benin City, Nigeria, and other archaeological digs in Iraq.Although excavation is often portrayed as a means of preserving the past, archaeologists acknowledge that it is inherently destructive - albeit justifiable if it provides people with a deeper understanding of the human past. As Geoffrey Scarre discusses in Ethics of Digging, a chapter in Cultural Heritage Ethics: Between Theory and Practice, it matters who has the authority to decide what is removed from the ground, how it is treated, whether it should be retained or reburied, and who ultimately controls it. Something that feels especially relevant when discussing the objects of marginalized communities and the legacies of countries shaped by European colonialism, now just laid bare as trophies to embellish the gilded halls of Euro-American institutions.That the British Museum’s collections were built on the wealth of its nation imperialism is hardly news. Yet the institution, like so many others, from the Louvre to the Met, continues to thrive on those very foundations. As Robert J. C. Young observes in Postcolonial Remains, “the desire to pronounce postcolonial theory dead on both sides of the Atlantic suggests that its presence continues to disturb and provoke anxiety: the real problem lies in the fact that the postcolonial remains.”Although postcolonialism is often mistakenly associated with the period after a country gained independence from colonial rule, academics like Young, Edward Said, Gayatri Chakravorty Spivak, and Frantz Fanon acknowledge that our world is still a postcolonial one, with cultural, political, and economic issues reflecting the lasting effects of colonization. Its aftermath extends beyond labels like “Third World” or the lingering sense of superiority that still marks the Global North; it also fuels a persistent entitlement to our art, culture, and legacy.This entitlement can be seen in the halls of many museums worldwide. And though looting may not always be illegal - as in how these institutions acquire those objects - it is certainly unethical. For decades, scholars and activists have debated that these institutions should restitute the legacies taken from other lands, objects stolen through wars of aggression and exploitation. Still, these museums deliberately choose to hold them, artifacts that bear little cultural resonance for their current keepers, but profound meaning for the people from whom they were taken.But these debates are no longer confined to academic circles. Take Egypt, for instance. Its long-awaited Grand Museum finally opened its doors three decades after its initial proposal in 1992 and nearly twenty years since construction began in 2005. Now fully operational, breathing fresh life into Egypt’s storied past through showcasing Tutankhamun’s tomb among other relics of the country, it is demanding the return of its legacy. Egypt’s former and famously outspoken Minister of Tourism and Antiquities, Dr. Zahi Hawass, for instance, recently told the BBC: “Now I want two things, number one, museums to stop buying stolen artefacts, and number two, I need three objects to come back: the Rosetta Stone from the British Museum, the Zodiac from the Louvre, and the Bust of Nefertiti from Berlin.” Beyond the direct call-out, Dr. Hawass has initiated online petitions demanding the return of the artifacts, amassing hundreds of thousands of signatures. Nevertheless, the world’s great museums remain silent, and the precious Egyptian treasures are still very much on display.With African, Asian, and Latin American legacies still held captive within Euro-American institutions, the echoes of colonialism linger well into the 21st century, keeping the postcolonial order intact. Even fashion, an industry that loves to believe it exists beyond politics, proves such. Whether through events that claim to celebrate certain things but end up being meaningless, the current Eurocentrism that still dominates the industry, or how many labels still profit from the aesthetics of marginalized nations without acknowledgment, fashion, much like museums, reproduces the very hierarchies postcolonial theory seeks to expose.Ultimately, the British Museum’s latest event does not celebrate Indian culture or Nigerian history through its excavation in Benin City. Like so many Euro-American institutions, it reinforces imperial power - masquerading cultural theft as preservation.In fashion as in museums, spectacle too often conceals empire - and beauty, unexamined, can become complicity." } , { "title" : "Mirror Mirror on the Wall: The Art That Proves How Queer Iran Once Was", "author" : "Aryana Goodarzi", "category" : "essays", "url" : "https://everythingispolitical.com/readings/mirror-mirror-on-the-wall", "date" : "2025-11-11 11:36:00 -0500", "img" : "https://everythingispolitical.com/uploads/Amorous_Couple_V%D0%A0-1156-d509fb.jpg", "excerpt" : "During a graduate school seminar, my professor asked questions - not about my takeaways from the text or theory, but to check her own. I was almost guest lecturing the seminar with her. Some student was always reciting a reiteration of Foucault or Butler. Theory was invoked to replace thought. In the West, discourse always precedes practice. That night class, I fell into what has since become a two-year love affair with a painting - an imbrication of art, politics, and culture.\\My professor introduced me to one of my favorite pieces of art: Amorous Couple, early nineteenth century. Two androgynous figures are framed with a rich palette of oil strokes that refuses governable gender. It’s an insurgency against the taxonomies of gender, sexuality, and nation. The painting doesn’t beg for inclusion in the queer archive; it exposes the limits of the archive itself.", "content" : "During a graduate school seminar, my professor asked questions - not about my takeaways from the text or theory, but to check her own. I was almost guest lecturing the seminar with her. Some student was always reciting a reiteration of Foucault or Butler. Theory was invoked to replace thought. In the West, discourse always precedes practice. That night class, I fell into what has since become a two-year love affair with a painting - an imbrication of art, politics, and culture.\\My professor introduced me to one of my favorite pieces of art: Amorous Couple, early nineteenth century. Two androgynous figures are framed with a rich palette of oil strokes that refuses governable gender. It’s an insurgency against the taxonomies of gender, sexuality, and nation. The painting doesn’t beg for inclusion in the queer archive; it exposes the limits of the archive itself.Being proud to be Iranian is often thought to be antithetical to queer liberation – the way being a patriotic American is deemed antithetical to queer liberation today. I’ve often felt that these parts of me sit like oil and acrylic paints on a canvas – handled as an impossible pairing, even as they blend. The work – and by “work” I mean our lives – does not plead with, or seek permission from, Whiteness. Art takes us places we would otherwise not be able to access with only words.Art historian Najmabadi, once self-described as art-blind, went to the Brooklyn Museum in 1995, where she “realized doing history only with texts…had actually deprived me of an enormous resource for study, especially for issues of gender and sexuality.” I took in the painting, watching it metamorphose into a mirror. Words have never been able to paint me the way this did.Pieces like Amorous Couple (early 19th century) and A Couple Embracing are not just historical artifacts of queerness, but also a political intervention: an assertion of legitimacy within both art and politics. It takes the allegorical into documentarian. In Qajar era Iran (1789-1925), femininity and masculinity were not attached to gender or sexuality. Qajar Era Iranians didn’t need to “perform” gender in the way Judith Butler wrote about, because gender performance presupposes repeated cultural practices. Those cultural practices weren’t part of Qajar Iran because gender expression or sexual partners did not imply a rigid sexuality. Many paintings make it impossible to tell who is of which gender, or whether their relationship is heterosexual.What was freedom in Iran became a means of oppression in the West. Both Westerners and Iranians were anxious about how their culture would appear to one another. However, Western politicians misread Iranian culture through their own homophobia and influenced how sexuality in Iran is understood. As Michel Foucault might say, the concept of sexuality was not repressed - it was talked about more, politicized, and defined into homosexuality and heterosexuality. Creating these cultural categories expanded the governments reach of power. People have always had sex with the same gender. It wasn’t until the 19th century that they were called “homosexuals,” and put into that category with sociopolitical effects.\Political art simply cannot address tasks that exist entirely outside of the scope of art. Writer Maggie Nelson has said that, “Neither politics nor art is served if and when the distinctions between them are unwillingly or unthinkingly smeared out.” However, art is not apolitical - the archive of cultural production is held by branches tethered to state sponsored social engineering. Curation is an arm of control. It upholds the manufactured illusion that art and cultural institutions are liberal while ensuring compliance with capitalism and censorship. Art takes the allegorical into documentarian. It records, resists, ruptures. When it cannot influence the law, it increases literacy. When it cannot free people, it frees perception. If art cannot legislate freedom but can expand perception, then it is implicated in how freedom itself is imagined. The history of gender in Iran shows that perception is produced by cultural institutions. Najmabadi once wrote that “to be modern was to be gendered.”This production necessitated a “cultural labor” of gendering. This modernization required a labor of gendering – work that constructed and upheld the binary itself. What Najmabadi reveals is that gender was not simply “discovered” or “expressed” but produced. [Gender]queerness was actively removed from literature and the arts. Heteronormalization was also integrated through laws the state enacted. The education system also promoted binary gender through curriculum and school segregation, teaching children the “right” way to be a man or woman. This labor continues in art institutions today, where censorship begins with aesthetics, visually reinforcing the gender binary and censoring cultural institutions.Art and politics have a reciprocal dynamic: art is always one of the first cultural institutions to be censored and defunded. The change in gender aesthetic aligns with the timeline of Iran’s deepening politics with the West. Paintings, like Lovers, began to have one person topless with exposed breasts and another with facial hair. Despite wanting to reject Western influence, the Islamic Republic of Iran (IRI) came to depend on a concept of sexuality corresponding to that of the West more than its own. Along with the art, cultural attitudes began to change, and did so definitively with the 1979 Islamic Revolution. Just as Western influence politicized queerness in Iran, the US’s invasion of itself is rewriting the laws, culture, and curricula it once claimed as part of its freedom.In March 2025, the Trump administration issued an executive order to “Restore Truth and Sanity to American History” by banning art exhibitions involving queerness or gender identities that do not align with the administration’s gender ideology. Trump’s order reads like a decree from the Ministry of Culture – ironically, the kind of censorship the U.S. once condemned abroad. The national gender policy is also transphobic, recognizing only “male” and “female” according to another of Trump’s executive orders. The administration will also pull funding from schools with queer inclusive education.The policies have reverberated through the politicization of art and queerness. In both countries, queerness continues to come up in unquestionably national terms while contemporary politics makes queerness a national threat. There’s a quiet kind of grief that washes over you when you begin to think about the queer/trans families and adults fleeing the country – a country your family fled an authoritarian state for.Trump’s presidency is not a prior condition so much as a confirmation of what has always been. If we lived in a culture that was less homophobic and anxious about the [gender]queer experience, then queerness would be less troublesome - since part of what it’s doing is troubling the assumptions around the construction of sexuality. The US is not yet a gender apartheid, but Qajar era art functions as both witness and warning to countries that claim freedom in the name of patriotism yet repress queerness in the same terms.America is not just a country; it poses a mission: the “free” world. Many queer/trans adults and families are having to choose safety over a sentiment. To be queer in the United States is to be patriotic - because it demands the country invest in its own promise. And criminalizing queerness is not very patriotic when the basis of this country is (supposedly) the unalienable rights of life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. Qajar era art paints a time when queerness was not politicized – destabilizing both the Islamic Republic’s homophobic dismissal of queer history and the West’s hold over queer identities.In both the U.S. and the Islamic Republic of Iran, censorship of queer art[ists] is justified through nationalism. The US is a museum of the “free” world, its galleries and libraries where the nation performs itself. Like Iran’s Ministry of Culture, US cultural institutions are curators and librarians, deciding what belongs on the walls and shelves. To have US laws be like that of the IRI’s makes me think of art like Amorous Couple not as subverting the IRI – that’s part of it – but as primarily revealing Islamophobia. The irony is that the Iran being called upon to address homophobia wasn’t even homophobic. Putting queer liberation in terms of only freeing them from the IRI disregards the actual cause: the US. To address the oppressive politics of transphobia and homophobia includes - no, necessitates - taking apart the Western empire. Addressing the politics of transphobia and homophobia doesn’t stop at critique - it necessitates dismantling the Western empire itself.What happens when art can hold queerness in a way that politics cannot? Does it only succeed as art – or can it enact political and cultural change? If political and cultural change cannot be attributed to the piece, is that a failure on any part of the artist or a failure of broader politics? The paintings may not answer these questions, but it pursues them, deepening possibilities. Qajar era Iran can teach the US about the role of art at a historical juncture where the construction of freedom is positioned against self-determination.There is a Western hold on queerness that once made me feel like I wasn’t as Iranian for being queer and not as queer for being Iranian.The artwork reimagined queerness not as a site of fragmentation but as a continuity – testimony to Western efforts that were never entirely successful. Many have so little concern for how an artwork has been politically, culturally, and artistically conceived that they accept art devoid of politics. When art is treated like a luxury, it’s because a culture doesn’t want it to be a tool for liberation. As show cancellations increase in the United States, uncertainty deepens about whether the supposedly liberal politics of the art world are confined to the walls of exhibitions.Ultimately, Amorous Couple confirms that art is not merely archival - it is a political intervention beyond the reach of culture and law." } ] }