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Systemic Change is Difficult and Dangerous
Working against existing systems inherently causes friction, and the more fundamental or radical the change we are working for, the more intense the pushback. This pushback comes in many forms, from all sides—from within the systems of oppression because the work is threatening, and often even from within resistance movements because of horizontal hostility or activist perfectionism. In fact, sometimes to most vocal and intense criticism comes from those supposedly committed to liberation. Not to mention that it is extremely hard to sustain economically, given that systems change work is powered by people, and people need to eat.
A while back, after receiving death threats from so-called environmentalists of color, I wrote a piece exposing the hardships of doing systems change: Systemic Change is Absolutely Going to Irritate Everyone. At the end of the day, anyone questioning the current system by raising awareness, working on changing the narrative and perception, actively dismantling the system, and reporting back to a large audience with tools and frameworks for collective liberation—like Slow Factory is doing—is going to piss off everyone under the sun: the so-called leftists, the right wingers, the zionists, the police, brands, influencers and everyone actively working to uphold the given systems, which is more people than you would think. Receiving death threats from folks who claim they are doing it for liberation is one of the most absurd things to read and to experience.
Violence seems to be the mode of conduct for most, including in progressive spaces.

The moment we announced we were going to SXSW, little freedom or grace were extended to us, and instead a wave of criticism and later harassment populated our page, our dms and emails. We purposefully didn’t want to announce that we were doing an action there, because announcing it too early would potentially hurt the effectiveness of the action. We had to first take a leap of faith and make an announcement hoping our community knew us enough to extend some grace as we rolled part two of the plan. Sadly, it wasn’t the case. This made the work extremely stressful and at risk for my own safety.
The main reason I ended up going to SXSW alone and conducting the action alone was because, since October 8, Slow Factory has lost almost all of its funders: brands and foundations alike dropped out, saying Slow Factory is now deemed “too political”. When my people are being bombed, simply existing as an Arab is itself political.
Arriving at SXSW’s location, I find out my counterpart, the person I was going to be in conversation with, is directly funded by the Department of Defense; the U.S. Military who are dropping bombs via Israel on my people. This made the decision to refuse to walk into the space ever more clear to me, as I nervously made my way there.
I was walking alone with my team on the phone. The reason we had the budget to only send me and one truck there was because of the funding cuts and the deep desire to defund us to shut Slow Factory down, and the lack of support we receive from our community, to be honest.

We deeply appreciate the donations and support we do receive from small donations from the public, but it’s not enough to run an organization.
I bumped into Chani Nicholas who immediately shared with me how reckless it is of me to be here alone. I hung up with my team to hangout with her and her caring friend group who wouldn’t leave me until more community members show up. As more and more people came around the truck and myself, making a safe bubble around us, my phone began to ring non-stop, the SXSW organizers calling me asking me where I was and why I wasn’t in my room?
An angry white man shows up, with two cops, his zionists views yelled at us threateningly. Peers and friends de-escalating the interaction with the angry person threatening our safety. Again our community is holding us as we are holding our community. As anyone who has done any work resisting violent systems can tell you, our peaceful activities are called violent, while we are the ones subjected to more violence from the foot soldiers of imperialism: cops and angry white men, in the comments and on the streets. Systemic change is absolutely going to piss off everyone, regardless of their ethnic background, change is something that often scares people, even if it’s for their highest good, change requires courage and faith.

To fund this work is a direct pathway towards our collective liberation as it powers this important platform reaching 10M souls everyday, breaking the internet and the algorithm of oppression with intelligent design, journalism and narrative change that is both effective and highly influential. We wouldn’t be here ten years in this game hadn’t we documented our impact and know that our strategies are working. Join us by supporting us monthly, by making a large gift, by investing in our collective liberation.
Our work now is more important than ever.
In gratitude,
Céline Semaan, co-founder and CEO Slow Factory

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{
"article":
{
"title" : "Systemic Change is Difficult and Dangerous",
"author" : "Céline Semaan",
"category" : "essays",
"url" : "https://everythingispolitical.com/readings/systemic-change-is-difficult-and-dangerous",
"date" : "2024-03-11 12:57:00 -0400",
"img" : "https://everythingispolitical.com/uploads/sxsw%20march%2010%202024-15.jpg",
"excerpt" : "Working against existing systems inherently causes friction, and the more fundamental or radical the change we are working for, the more intense the pushback. This pushback comes in many forms, from all sides—from within the systems of oppression because the work is threatening, and often even from within resistance movements because of horizontal hostility or activist perfectionism. In fact, sometimes to most vocal and intense criticism comes from those supposedly committed to liberation. Not to mention that it is extremely hard to sustain economically, given that systems change work is powered by people, and people need to eat.",
"content" : "Working against existing systems inherently causes friction, and the more fundamental or radical the change we are working for, the more intense the pushback. This pushback comes in many forms, from all sides—from within the systems of oppression because the work is threatening, and often even from within resistance movements because of horizontal hostility or activist perfectionism. In fact, sometimes to most vocal and intense criticism comes from those supposedly committed to liberation. Not to mention that it is extremely hard to sustain economically, given that systems change work is powered by people, and people need to eat.A while back, after receiving death threats from so-called environmentalists of color, I wrote a piece exposing the hardships of doing systems change: Systemic Change is Absolutely Going to Irritate Everyone. At the end of the day, anyone questioning the current system by raising awareness, working on changing the narrative and perception, actively dismantling the system, and reporting back to a large audience with tools and frameworks for collective liberation—like Slow Factory is doing—is going to piss off everyone under the sun: the so-called leftists, the right wingers, the zionists, the police, brands, influencers and everyone actively working to uphold the given systems, which is more people than you would think. Receiving death threats from folks who claim they are doing it for liberation is one of the most absurd things to read and to experience.Violence seems to be the mode of conduct for most, including in progressive spaces.The moment we announced we were going to SXSW, little freedom or grace were extended to us, and instead a wave of criticism and later harassment populated our page, our dms and emails. We purposefully didn’t want to announce that we were doing an action there, because announcing it too early would potentially hurt the effectiveness of the action. We had to first take a leap of faith and make an announcement hoping our community knew us enough to extend some grace as we rolled part two of the plan. Sadly, it wasn’t the case. This made the work extremely stressful and at risk for my own safety.The main reason I ended up going to SXSW alone and conducting the action alone was because, since October 8, Slow Factory has lost almost all of its funders: brands and foundations alike dropped out, saying Slow Factory is now deemed “too political”. When my people are being bombed, simply existing as an Arab is itself political.Arriving at SXSW’s location, I find out my counterpart, the person I was going to be in conversation with, is directly funded by the Department of Defense; the U.S. Military who are dropping bombs via Israel on my people. This made the decision to refuse to walk into the space ever more clear to me, as I nervously made my way there.I was walking alone with my team on the phone. The reason we had the budget to only send me and one truck there was because of the funding cuts and the deep desire to defund us to shut Slow Factory down, and the lack of support we receive from our community, to be honest.We deeply appreciate the donations and support we do receive from small donations from the public, but it’s not enough to run an organization.I bumped into Chani Nicholas who immediately shared with me how reckless it is of me to be here alone. I hung up with my team to hangout with her and her caring friend group who wouldn’t leave me until more community members show up. As more and more people came around the truck and myself, making a safe bubble around us, my phone began to ring non-stop, the SXSW organizers calling me asking me where I was and why I wasn’t in my room?An angry white man shows up, with two cops, his zionists views yelled at us threateningly. Peers and friends de-escalating the interaction with the angry person threatening our safety. Again our community is holding us as we are holding our community. As anyone who has done any work resisting violent systems can tell you, our peaceful activities are called violent, while we are the ones subjected to more violence from the foot soldiers of imperialism: cops and angry white men, in the comments and on the streets. Systemic change is absolutely going to piss off everyone, regardless of their ethnic background, change is something that often scares people, even if it’s for their highest good, change requires courage and faith.To fund this work is a direct pathway towards our collective liberation as it powers this important platform reaching 10M souls everyday, breaking the internet and the algorithm of oppression with intelligent design, journalism and narrative change that is both effective and highly influential. We wouldn’t be here ten years in this game hadn’t we documented our impact and know that our strategies are working. Join us by supporting us monthly, by making a large gift, by investing in our collective liberation. Our work now is more important than ever.In gratitude,Céline Semaan, co-founder and CEO Slow Factory"
}
,
"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."
}
]
}