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The Dandy Strikes Back
The Bold Legacy of Black Elegance (and Why the 2025 Met Gala Might Be Its Riskiest Yet)

This year’s Met Gala theme, “Superfine: Tailoring Black Style” could pass for a late tribute or a slick PR stunt, but it’s got way sharper claws: it’s a full-on provocation. We’re living in a time where Black stars dazzle on red carpets but get sidelined in boardrooms, classrooms, and courtrooms. In this climate, hyping the Black dandy is a sly rebellion. It thrusts a figure into the spotlight who’s always been political, always strategic, and always dressed to slay not just with swagger, but with razor-sharp intent.
Let’s keep it 100: Black dandyism isn’t just about serving looks. It’s about serving looks when the world said you had no right to. When society labeled you chaotic, threatening, or invisible, and you stepped out in a suit so crisp it could carve through bias. As DEI gets dismantled and Black studies programs vanish from campuses, the Met Gala’s theme hits less like a festivity and more like a stylish counterpunch.
So, what’s the deal with a Black dandy?
The word “dandy” usually conjures prissy white men from 19th-century Europe, think Oscar Wilde in lush velvet or aristocrats in wigs and buckled kicks. But Black dandyism? It flips that whole aesthetic on its head. It’s not about chasing white refinement; it’s about torching it. It’s wielding style to claim your humanity in a system built to snatch it away.
Scholar Monica L. Miller literally wrote the book on it, “Slaves to Fashion” maps out how Black men across the diaspora used elegance as resistance, turning the dandy from a Eurocentric trope into a global tool of survival and spectacle. The book serves as an inspiration for this year’s theme with Miller guest curating the Met’s exhibition.
Take Frederick Douglass, the ultimate image maestro. One of the most photographed men of his era, every portrait, hand on lapel, lion’s mane, fierce gaze, was a study in defiance. He didn’t just dress well; he crafted a persona that screamed, “I’m not your stereotype. I’m your equal.” In a media world drowning in blackface and minstrel mockery, Douglass turned the camera into a weapon, armed with a tailored suit and an unbreakable stare.
This vibe, Black men dressing to disrupt, carried through the 19th and 20th centuries. In the Caribbean, newly freed men rocked European-style suits to flex their liberty. In South Africa, young Black men called “tsotsis” used tailoring as rebellion and a ladder up, even under apartheid’s weight.
As Monica Miller argues in “Slaves to Fashion”, these weren’t just style choices, they were political blueprints, passed through generations and across continents.
And then came the Sapeurs of the Congo.
The Sapeurs: Style as Post-Colonial Flex
The “Société des Ambianceurs et des Personnes Élégantes” (Society of Ambiance-Makers and Elegant People), aka Sapeurs, kicked off in the 1920s and went wild in the 1960s post-independence era. These Congolese men strutted through Kinshasa and Brazzaville in vibrant, impeccably tailored European suits, often dropping more on clothes than rent. This wasn’t mere vanity, it was sartorial warfare. In a post-colonial world still haunted by European superiority, Sapeurs dressed like Parisian kings, not to blend in, but to outshine.
They turned colonial dress codes into a bold performance, using designer labels to mock and mimic the elite. Sapeurism wasn’t just a look; it was a manifesto that self-worth could rise through elegance, even in empire’s ashes.
Their influence still ripples through global menswear and Black diasporic fashion. Pharrell rocked Sapeur-inspired fits in his “Something in the Water” visuals. Solange gave them a nod in “Losing You”. And now, the Met’s finally catching the wave.
The Harlem Renaissance: Style as Intellectual Swag
In the 1920s and ’30s, Harlem wasn’t just a cultural hotspot, it was a fashion mecca. Black artists, poets, and thinkers knew style was power. Cue the Harlem dandy.
Men like Alain Locke, the first Black Rhodes Scholar and Harlem Renaissance trailblazer, dressed with Oxford-level polish. His style was an extension of his politics, smashing stereotypes of the “Negro intellectual” as primitive or pitiable. Even Langston Hughes, more poet than posh, got the memo. “I wear my gold watch and fob,” he wrote, “and I am proud of that.”
Harlem dandies weren’t just rocking white fashion, they were remixing it, blending Savile Row cuts with African American jazz energy to craft something modern, urban, and unapologetically Black. That energy echoes forward in Dapper Dan’s Gucci-covered Harlem atelier, where logomania meets legacy, and in Beyoncé’s Black Is King, a 21st-century tribute to diasporic elegance that channels Harlem Renaissance glam, Zulu regality, and couture-level pageantry into one glittering sermon.
And it wasn’t just the guys. Women like Zora Neale Hurston and Josephine Baker weaponized style, using fringe, furs, and feathers to defy racial and gender norms. Baker, especially, used her image to rule 1920s Paris, a city that fetishized her even as she bent it to her will.
Civil Rights to Soul Power
By the 1960s and ’70s, Black style went from mimicry to mastery. Picture Malcolm X in his trench coat and glasses, every inch the revolutionary scholar. James Baldwin in turtlenecks and tailored suits, daring you to dismiss him. Stokely Carmichael in a Nehru jacket, channeling Pan-African vibes while preaching Black Power.
Even as Afrocentrism and “Black is Beautiful” took off, the dandy aesthetic didn’t fade, it leveled up. You saw it in Sammy Davis Jr., blurring showman and activist, or Marvin Gaye, whose velvet blazers and silk shirts mixed sensuality with gravitas.
Dandyism wasn’t just a jab at white supremacy anymore; it was a full-blown cultural identity.
The Hip-Hop Era
In the ’80s and ’90s, Black style split and soared. Hip-hop brought baggy jeans, Timberlands, and oversized everything, but the dandy lane stayed open. Think André 3000 in ruffled shirts and suspenders or Biggie Smalls in Coogi and Versace.
This mix of street and suit, rebellion and luxury, still fuels modern Black style. Today, we’re in a dandy renaissance, led by icons like the late André Leon Talley, who spun his Black Southern roots into high-fashion wizardry, owning front rows with fur and flair. Colman Domingo, this year’s Met Gala co-chair, whose bold tuxedos and jewel-toned suits turn red carpets into Black Broadway. LeBron James, whose NBA tunnel walks are runway-level flexes of tailoring and culture. Billy Porter, queering the dandy game with tuxedos-meet-tulle, smashing every gender norm. And now the Met Gala, the place where fashion’s biggest circus meets its richest donors, is finally giving the dandy his due.
Why This Theme Hits Different Now
“Superfine: Tailoring Black Style” drops in 2025, a year of political chaos. Trump’s comeback is real and terrifying. DEI programs are getting shredded. Companies that posted black squares in 2020 are ghosting their diversity vows. The culture war rages on.
So, the Met Gala, a night dripping in privilege and performative allyship, celebrating Black dandyism right now? That’s almost revolutionary. Almost.
This theme’s a sneaky beast. It’s about tailoring, sure, but also history, resistance, and refusing to shrink. It’s about claiming beauty as a right and a weapon.
It’s also about the labor, the Black tailors, seamstresses, stylists, and designers, often nameless, whose craft made others shine while they stayed in the shadows.
The Risk
Of course, there’s danger here. The Met Gala has a habit of aestheticizing without understanding. Of flattening history into looks. We’ve seen it before religious iconography turned into fashion cosplay, punk neutered into couture. And now, the dandy risks becoming just another “inspiration.”
I can already see it: white celebs in zoot suits calling it “homage.” Fast fashion brands throwing kente cloth on everything “diasporic.” TikTokers thinking Sapeur’s a fragrance line.
But I can also dream big.
A gallery of Baldwin’s suits, Baker’s feathers, Talley’s capes. Red carpet looks pulling from Caribbean tailoring, South African street vibes, HBCU homecoming energy, and Harlem ballroom fire. A moment where Black beauty isn’t an afterthought, it’s the whole show.
Black Dandyism Still Snaps
What we wear is never just fabric. For Black folks, getting dressed has always been more than vanity it’s survival, defiance, and joy. In 2025’s messy political climate, that message hits like a thunderclap.
So let this Met Gala be a slay-fest, but also a reckoning. A shout-out to the tailors, the dandies, the disruptors. The ones who stitched rebellion into every seam. The ones who refused to be erased, demanding style and substance. The ones who showed the world:
We’ve always been superfine.
{
"article":
{
"title" : "The Dandy Strikes Back: The Bold Legacy of Black Elegance (and Why the 2025 Met Gala Might Be Its Riskiest Yet)",
"author" : "Louis Pisano",
"category" : "essays",
"tags" : "",
"url" : "https://everythingispolitical.com/readings/the-dandy-strikes-back",
"date" : "2025-05-04 10:13:00 -0400",
"img" : "https://everythingispolitical.com/uploads/black-dandy.jpg",
"excerpt" : "",
"content" : "This year’s Met Gala theme, “Superfine: Tailoring Black Style” could pass for a late tribute or a slick PR stunt, but it’s got way sharper claws: it’s a full-on provocation. We’re living in a time where Black stars dazzle on red carpets but get sidelined in boardrooms, classrooms, and courtrooms. In this climate, hyping the Black dandy is a sly rebellion. It thrusts a figure into the spotlight who’s always been political, always strategic, and always dressed to slay not just with swagger, but with razor-sharp intent.Let’s keep it 100: Black dandyism isn’t just about serving looks. It’s about serving looks when the world said you had no right to. When society labeled you chaotic, threatening, or invisible, and you stepped out in a suit so crisp it could carve through bias. As DEI gets dismantled and Black studies programs vanish from campuses, the Met Gala’s theme hits less like a festivity and more like a stylish counterpunch.So, what’s the deal with a Black dandy?The word “dandy” usually conjures prissy white men from 19th-century Europe, think Oscar Wilde in lush velvet or aristocrats in wigs and buckled kicks. But Black dandyism? It flips that whole aesthetic on its head. It’s not about chasing white refinement; it’s about torching it. It’s wielding style to claim your humanity in a system built to snatch it away.Scholar Monica L. Miller literally wrote the book on it, “Slaves to Fashion” maps out how Black men across the diaspora used elegance as resistance, turning the dandy from a Eurocentric trope into a global tool of survival and spectacle. The book serves as an inspiration for this year’s theme with Miller guest curating the Met’s exhibition.Take Frederick Douglass, the ultimate image maestro. One of the most photographed men of his era, every portrait, hand on lapel, lion’s mane, fierce gaze, was a study in defiance. He didn’t just dress well; he crafted a persona that screamed, “I’m not your stereotype. I’m your equal.” In a media world drowning in blackface and minstrel mockery, Douglass turned the camera into a weapon, armed with a tailored suit and an unbreakable stare.This vibe, Black men dressing to disrupt, carried through the 19th and 20th centuries. In the Caribbean, newly freed men rocked European-style suits to flex their liberty. In South Africa, young Black men called “tsotsis” used tailoring as rebellion and a ladder up, even under apartheid’s weight.As Monica Miller argues in “Slaves to Fashion”, these weren’t just style choices, they were political blueprints, passed through generations and across continents.And then came the Sapeurs of the Congo.The Sapeurs: Style as Post-Colonial FlexThe “Société des Ambianceurs et des Personnes Élégantes” (Society of Ambiance-Makers and Elegant People), aka Sapeurs, kicked off in the 1920s and went wild in the 1960s post-independence era. These Congolese men strutted through Kinshasa and Brazzaville in vibrant, impeccably tailored European suits, often dropping more on clothes than rent. This wasn’t mere vanity, it was sartorial warfare. In a post-colonial world still haunted by European superiority, Sapeurs dressed like Parisian kings, not to blend in, but to outshine.They turned colonial dress codes into a bold performance, using designer labels to mock and mimic the elite. Sapeurism wasn’t just a look; it was a manifesto that self-worth could rise through elegance, even in empire’s ashes.Their influence still ripples through global menswear and Black diasporic fashion. Pharrell rocked Sapeur-inspired fits in his “Something in the Water” visuals. Solange gave them a nod in “Losing You”. And now, the Met’s finally catching the wave.The Harlem Renaissance: Style as Intellectual SwagIn the 1920s and ’30s, Harlem wasn’t just a cultural hotspot, it was a fashion mecca. Black artists, poets, and thinkers knew style was power. Cue the Harlem dandy.Men like Alain Locke, the first Black Rhodes Scholar and Harlem Renaissance trailblazer, dressed with Oxford-level polish. His style was an extension of his politics, smashing stereotypes of the “Negro intellectual” as primitive or pitiable. Even Langston Hughes, more poet than posh, got the memo. “I wear my gold watch and fob,” he wrote, “and I am proud of that.”Harlem dandies weren’t just rocking white fashion, they were remixing it, blending Savile Row cuts with African American jazz energy to craft something modern, urban, and unapologetically Black. That energy echoes forward in Dapper Dan’s Gucci-covered Harlem atelier, where logomania meets legacy, and in Beyoncé’s Black Is King, a 21st-century tribute to diasporic elegance that channels Harlem Renaissance glam, Zulu regality, and couture-level pageantry into one glittering sermon.And it wasn’t just the guys. Women like Zora Neale Hurston and Josephine Baker weaponized style, using fringe, furs, and feathers to defy racial and gender norms. Baker, especially, used her image to rule 1920s Paris, a city that fetishized her even as she bent it to her will.Civil Rights to Soul PowerBy the 1960s and ’70s, Black style went from mimicry to mastery. Picture Malcolm X in his trench coat and glasses, every inch the revolutionary scholar. James Baldwin in turtlenecks and tailored suits, daring you to dismiss him. Stokely Carmichael in a Nehru jacket, channeling Pan-African vibes while preaching Black Power.Even as Afrocentrism and “Black is Beautiful” took off, the dandy aesthetic didn’t fade, it leveled up. You saw it in Sammy Davis Jr., blurring showman and activist, or Marvin Gaye, whose velvet blazers and silk shirts mixed sensuality with gravitas.Dandyism wasn’t just a jab at white supremacy anymore; it was a full-blown cultural identity.The Hip-Hop EraIn the ’80s and ’90s, Black style split and soared. Hip-hop brought baggy jeans, Timberlands, and oversized everything, but the dandy lane stayed open. Think André 3000 in ruffled shirts and suspenders or Biggie Smalls in Coogi and Versace.This mix of street and suit, rebellion and luxury, still fuels modern Black style. Today, we’re in a dandy renaissance, led by icons like the late André Leon Talley, who spun his Black Southern roots into high-fashion wizardry, owning front rows with fur and flair. Colman Domingo, this year’s Met Gala co-chair, whose bold tuxedos and jewel-toned suits turn red carpets into Black Broadway. LeBron James, whose NBA tunnel walks are runway-level flexes of tailoring and culture. Billy Porter, queering the dandy game with tuxedos-meet-tulle, smashing every gender norm. And now the Met Gala, the place where fashion’s biggest circus meets its richest donors, is finally giving the dandy his due.Why This Theme Hits Different Now“Superfine: Tailoring Black Style” drops in 2025, a year of political chaos. Trump’s comeback is real and terrifying. DEI programs are getting shredded. Companies that posted black squares in 2020 are ghosting their diversity vows. The culture war rages on.So, the Met Gala, a night dripping in privilege and performative allyship, celebrating Black dandyism right now? That’s almost revolutionary. Almost.This theme’s a sneaky beast. It’s about tailoring, sure, but also history, resistance, and refusing to shrink. It’s about claiming beauty as a right and a weapon.It’s also about the labor, the Black tailors, seamstresses, stylists, and designers, often nameless, whose craft made others shine while they stayed in the shadows.The RiskOf course, there’s danger here. The Met Gala has a habit of aestheticizing without understanding. Of flattening history into looks. We’ve seen it before religious iconography turned into fashion cosplay, punk neutered into couture. And now, the dandy risks becoming just another “inspiration.”I can already see it: white celebs in zoot suits calling it “homage.” Fast fashion brands throwing kente cloth on everything “diasporic.” TikTokers thinking Sapeur’s a fragrance line.But I can also dream big.A gallery of Baldwin’s suits, Baker’s feathers, Talley’s capes. Red carpet looks pulling from Caribbean tailoring, South African street vibes, HBCU homecoming energy, and Harlem ballroom fire. A moment where Black beauty isn’t an afterthought, it’s the whole show.Black Dandyism Still SnapsWhat we wear is never just fabric. For Black folks, getting dressed has always been more than vanity it’s survival, defiance, and joy. In 2025’s messy political climate, that message hits like a thunderclap.So let this Met Gala be a slay-fest, but also a reckoning. A shout-out to the tailors, the dandies, the disruptors. The ones who stitched rebellion into every seam. The ones who refused to be erased, demanding style and substance. The ones who showed the world:We’ve always been superfine."
}
,
"relatedposts": [
{
"title" : "Socialist Girl Summer: How Capitalism Spent Billions to Demonize Socialism — And Why That Spell Is Breaking",
"author" : "Céline Semaan",
"category" : "essays",
"tags" : "",
"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."
}
,
{
"title" : "Who’s Profiting from Genocide?: What Francesca Albanese’s Report Reveals—and Why It Matters for the Climate",
"author" : "EIP Editors",
"category" : "essays",
"tags" : "",
"url" : "https://everythingispolitical.com/readings/profiting-from-genocide-what-francesca-albanese-report",
"date" : "2025-07-02 18:33:00 -0400",
"img" : "https://everythingispolitical.com/uploads/EIP_Francesca_Report.jpg",
"excerpt" : "Let’s be clear: genocide is never just a military operation. It’s an economy.",
"content" : "Let’s be clear: genocide is never just a military operation. It’s an economy.This week, UN Special Rapporteur Francesca Albanese released a groundbreaking report—“From the Economy of Occupation to the Economy of Genocide” naming dozens of global corporations complicit in and benefitting from Israel’s genocidal war on Gaza. The report makes what many of us have long known impossible to ignore: multinational corporations are not just “doing business” with Israel—they are profiting from displacement, resource theft, and mass death.And it’s not just harming people. It’s killing the planet.Albanese’s report lays out how corporations across defense, tech, finance, construction, and agriculture are directly enabling Israel’s assault on Gaza. This is not indirect. This is not abstract. These companies are not passive observers—they are profiteers. Weapon Manufacturers like Lockheed Martin, Elbit Systems, Boeing, BAE Systems, and General Dynamics are supplying the bombs raining down on hospitals and refugee camps. Tech Giants like Google, Amazon, Microsoft, IBM, and Palantir provide the cloud computing, AI surveillance, and targeting software that power Israel’s military intelligence. Construction Firms like Caterpillar, HD Hyundai, and Volvo provide bulldozers used to demolish Palestinian homes—often paid for with public funds or foreign aid. Hospitality Platforms like Booking.com and Airbnb list vacation rentals on stolen Palestinian land, laundering settler colonialism into leisure. Financial Institutions including BlackRock, Barclays, Citigroup, JPMorgan, and Deutsche Bank fund Israeli military bonds and invest in all the above sectors. This is what an economy of genocide looks like: global, profitable, and deeply entrenched in the status quo.Genocide and Ecocide Are Two Sides of the Same CoinThe same companies enabling genocide are actively destroying ecosystems. This isn’t a coincidence—it’s a pattern.Caterpillar, already infamous for displacing Palestinian families, is a major contributor to fossil fuel extraction and mining projects that poison Indigenous lands in the Global South.Palantir, which boasts about using AI to “optimize” military surveillance, is also deployed by ICE in the United States to track, detain, and deport climate refugees and migrants.Netafim, an Israeli irrigation company profiting off stolen Palestinian water, is celebrated as “sustainable innovation” in the ag-tech world—masking eco-apartheid as green tech.In short: genocide and ecocide share a supply chain. And we need to cut the cord.Elbit Systems, an Israeli weapons manufacturer, supplies drones and surveillance tech to police at the U.S.-Mexico border—and to ICE.HP and Google provide AI and cloud infrastructure for the Israeli military while also marketing themselves as “green tech” leaders.Chevron and ExxonMobil continue to fund and extract from the Eastern Mediterranean, leveraging Israel’s military occupation to secure infrastructure.This is greenwashing meets genocide—a deadly symbiosis between environmental harm and militarized violence.What This Means for UsThis moment calls for more than statements. It calls for a total redefinition of what sustainability means—because there is nothing sustainable about silence in the face of genocide.If you are a brand, an artist, a designer, a policymaker, a curator, or a student: you are being called in. Your work, your budget, your institution may be entangled—knowingly or not—with the companies Albanese has exposed. Now is the time to do the work.What We Must Do—Now1. Follow the MoneyStudy the companies listed in Albanese’s report. If you work with—or fund—any of them, ask questions. Divest. Cut ties.2. Demand Institutional AccountabilityMuseums, universities, nonprofits, and sustainability conferences are often quietly sponsored by companies profiting from Israeli apartheid. Push for transparency. Refuse complicity. Call it what it is.3. Connect the StrugglesThe fight for Palestinian liberation is not separate from climate justice. This is all one system: extraction, occupation, militarization, profit. As we say often: everything is political—because everything is connected.4. Build and Invest in AlternativesMutual aid, abolitionist design, food sovereignty, fossil-free infrastructure, and Indigenous stewardship—these are not just buzzwords. They are the way forward. Center Global South leadership. Fund frontline communities.5. Say PalestineRefuse the pressure to sanitize. Refuse the pressure to stay neutral. In the face of genocide, neutrality is complicity. If your liberation practice does not include Palestine, it is incomplete.A Propaganda Crisis, TooThese companies aren’t just selling tools of war—they’re shaping narratives. They sponsor art exhibitions, climate conferences, design summits. They greenwash occupation and brand apartheid as “security innovation.”The most dangerous lie today is that “sustainability” can coexist with genocide. It can’t.No climate justice without Palestinian liberation. No sustainable future while apartheid is profitable.So What Can We Do?DivestCampaign for your workplace, university, or city to divest from the companies named in the report. Check your retirement funds. Audit your donors. Pull the receipts.ExposeIf your favorite brand or cultural institution is collaborating with Amazon, Palantir, or Caterpillar—say something. Publicly. Email them. Call it what it is: complicity.Cut the Narrative LoopRefuse to use language that normalizes occupation: “conflict,” “both sides,” “retaliation.” This is genocide.Build AlternativesSupport community-owned energy, Palestinian agricultural cooperatives, and local solidarity economies. Join land back and degrowth movements—they are connected.Organize for PolicyPush for legislation that bans military trade with apartheid regimes and prohibits companies from profiting off human rights abuses.Tell the Truth, ConsistentlyUse your platform to amplify the names, the facts, the systems. Share this report. Write your own version. Make the invisible visible.The Link Between Genocide and Climate HarmWe can’t talk about genocide without talking about resource theft, land colonization, and environmental destruction. The same weapons being used to bomb hospitals and schools in Gaza are being manufactured by companies who also profit from climate collapse—polluting ecosystems, propping up fossil fuel economies, and creating the conditions for displacement that militarized borders are then built to contain.We must hold the line. Genocide is not inevitable—it is designed. And anything that is designed can be dismantled. If we want to build a just, livable future, we must start by divesting from the machinery of death—and investing in life.Let this be the beginning."
}
,
{
"title" : "What Trump’s “Big Beautiful Bill” Really Means",
"author" : "EIP Editors",
"category" : "essays",
"tags" : "",
"url" : "https://everythingispolitical.com/readings/what-trumps-big-beautiful-bill-really-means",
"date" : "2025-07-02 11:21:00 -0400",
"img" : "https://everythingispolitical.com/uploads/EIP_bbb-00eaee.jpg",
"excerpt" : "Let’s be honest: the “One Big Beautiful Bill” isn’t beautiful at all. It’s dangerous. It’s a massive attack on our rights, our environment, and our ability to live with dignity—no matter how they try to sell it to us, we all know it’s bad.",
"content" : "Let’s be honest: the “One Big Beautiful Bill” isn’t beautiful at all. It’s dangerous. It’s a massive attack on our rights, our environment, and our ability to live with dignity—no matter how they try to sell it to us, we all know it’s bad.This is the kind of policy that sounds good on cable news, but when you look closely, it’s a disaster for people and the planet. So let’s break it down, plain and simple.What Is It?Trump’s “Big Beautiful Bill” (yes, that’s really what it’s called) is a sweeping package of tax cuts, spending shifts, and policy changes that would: Cut taxes for the rich by over $1.5 trillion over 10 years1, with nearly half of the benefits flowing to the top 1%2. Slash social services like Medicaid and food assistance—proposing $2 trillion in cuts over the decade3, including: $900 billion from Medicaid and the Affordable Care Act3 $200 billion from SNAP (food stamps)3 $25 billion from Supplemental Security Income for disabled people3 Give more money to ICE and the military—$800 billion in new military spending4, and $25 billion for expanded ICE operations, border walls, and detention centers5. Roll back climate protections and expand fossil fuels—$100 billion in subsidies and tax breaks for oil, gas, and coal companies6. Criminalize poverty and deepen surveillance of immigrants.It’s one big gift to billionaires and fossil fuel CEOs—and one big punishment for everyone else.How Does It Hurt People? More people will lose healthcare. The bill adds new “work requirements” to Medicaid, meaning if you’re not working enough hours (or can’t prove you are), you could lose your coverage. Up to 10 million people7—many of them women, disabled folks, and people of color—could be pushed out of the system. Food assistance is being cut. Adults aged 55 to 64 would lose access to SNAP (food stamps) if they don’t meet new restrictions. This hits low-income people who are already struggling—especially elders. Family separation and deportation will increase. The bill pours $25 billion into ICE, deportation forces, and border militarization5. It turns migration into a crime, rather than a response to global injustice, climate collapse, or colonial borders. Electricity costs will go up. By rolling back clean energy incentives and increasing reliance on fossil fuels, the bill is projected to raise electricity prices for U.S. households by up to 15% over the next decade8. This especially burdens low-income families and seniors living on fixed incomes. What About the Climate?This bill is a disaster for the planet: It cuts support for solar, wind, EVs, and home energy upgrades—slashing $80 billion in incentives9 over the decade. It opens up public lands for more oil and gas drilling—projected to generate $100 billion in giveaways and lease sales to fossil fuel companies6. It silences climate monitoring—especially in schools and marginalized communities.It’s not just a step backwards. It’s a full sprint toward climate collapse.Who Wins? Who Loses?Winners: Oil companies, who will receive $100 billion in new subsidies and tax breaks6 Weapons manufacturers and defense contractors Landlords and billionaires, reaping hundreds of billions in tax cuts1 Private healthcare and prison contractors benefiting from societal painLosers: Working families, who will see $2 trillion in cuts to basic services3 Climate organizers Disabled folks, elders, undocumented communities The Global South The Earth itselfThe Bigger PictureThis bill is not about economics. It’s about power. It’s about reshaping the country so that rich people have fewer obligations and more control—while everyone else has fewer rights and more surveillance.It’s designed to distract, divide, and destroy. And let’s be clear: this is part of a global pattern. From Gaza to the U.S.-Mexico border, from Lebanon to Louisiana, we are watching the violent expansion of authoritarian policies masked as “law and order” or “economic growth.” These are tools of white supremacy and colonial capitalism. And they are killing us.What Can We Do?This is a fight we can win—but only if we organize, locally and globally. Here’s how: Educate your community. Break down this bill in simple terms. Talk about who benefits and who suffers. Share this piece. Host teach-ins. Pressure lawmakers. Call your reps. Tell them to reject this bill and any cuts to Medicaid, SNAP, climate protections, or immigrant rights. Build alternatives. Support mutual aid, public power campaigns, climate justice organizations, and local cooperatives. Design what could be. Tell the story. The people in power want us to believe this is normal. It’s not. Speak truth. Use your platform. Name what’s happening. Center care, not capital.This bill is a blueprint for an empire in decline. But we don’t have to go down with it. We can write a different story—one rooted in solidarity, in justice, and in collective imagination.This is not the end. This is a beginning. If we want a future, we’ll have to design it together. Tax Policy Center, Distributional Analysis of the Tax Cuts and Jobs Act, 2017–2027 (link) ↩ ↩2 Congressional Budget Office, The Distribution of Major Tax Provisions in the Tax Cuts and Jobs Act, 2018 (link) ↩ Center on Budget and Policy Priorities, Trump’s Budget Cuts Would Cause Severe Hardship for Millions, 2020 (link) ↩ ↩2 ↩3 ↩4 ↩5 Congressional Budget Office, Analysis of the 2020 Defense Budget, 2019 (link) ↩ Migration Policy Institute, Funding for Immigration Enforcement and Border Security, 2018–2020 (link) ↩ ↩2 Friends of the Earth & Oil Change International, Fossil Fuel Subsidies in Trump’s Budget, 2019 (link) ↩ ↩2 ↩3 Kaiser Family Foundation, Estimated Medicaid Coverage Losses Under Work Requirements, 2019 (link) ↩ Energy Innovation Policy & Technology LLC, Analysis of Proposed Rollback of Clean Energy Incentives and Consumer Energy Costs, 2020 (link) ↩ Congressional Research Service, Energy Tax Policy and the Tax Cuts and Jobs Act, 2019 (link) ↩ "
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