Are You Radical Enough?
Creating gently subversive space; repairing the whole rather than canceling and casting others aside
For the past two years, while working on a degree associated with leadership roles, I have thought a lot about what it means to lead—or organize others around an idea—in this era of turmoil and acute divisiveness. Anyone paying attention knows that suspicion and animosity, as a means of relating to one another, especially around political issues, is not a behavior limited to right versus left. Our communities reveal countless versions of conservative and centrist and liberal and progressive, varied beliefs constantly splintering off and pushing against each other. To me, this feels especially true among progressives, where one question permeates our conversation: Are you radical enough?
The question of being radical enough among progressives is a litmus test for gauging whether or not another person believes the right things and takes appropriate action to support those beliefs. It seems especially present among those who are very online, where it is easy to erase, subtract, or cancel another human because they do not use the words another person thinks are right, or engage social media in the way another has deemed appropriate, even if they believe mostly the same things and are making a good-faith effort to support the movement. But the ease with which we perform political superiority by rejecting others who are essentially with us, not against us, without even having a conversation, prevents progressives from gaining momentum.
The ease with which we reject others who are essentially with us, and not against us, without even having a conversation, prevents progressives from gaining momentum.
Rejecting each other from our own circles keeps us from uniting and expanding around the core of the progressive movement, which—let us be very clear—is love! When we constantly get mad at each other over finding the correct way to love others, we limit our ability to embody the fullness of that love in a collective sense and organize around our desire to make it manifest. Put simply, the answer is YES, pay living wages and provide housing and abolish the carceral state and, and, and. The answer is not to cut one another off at the knees before any of that can happen.
Our tendency to dismiss and cancel each other is most troubling because of its associations with the very systems that formed and perpetuate the things we are fighting against. Western individualism, rooted in ideologies of whiteness, shaped by colonial capitalist mechanisms of land and body dominance, is what makes us believe we can cut off an appendage rather than open our arms and hearts and call it towards us. Oppressed groups do not have the privilege of choosing individualism as a viable path. Likewise, traditional ways and indigenous wisdom center repair of the whole rather than casting aside.
That tendency, to cut one another off at the knees, to cancel and cast aside and dismiss, is most troubling because of its associations with the very systems that formed and perpetuate the things we are fighting against.
These past two years, I engaged with some difficult moments in my community that brought disagreements about language, about who should be included in something and why, and about ways to move towards safety, justice, and liberation in various contexts. The situations were not easy, so I spent many hours, some sleepless nights, and phone calls with trusted friends thinking about how to move through them in a way that felt true to my moral convictions and commitments. The thing about hard times, I find, is that they often clarify our values.
In those difficult periods, I realized that for me, it feels important to bring my most radical, freedom-seeking spirit not just to the front lines of sequestered progressive offshoots—but into real, diverse groups of people. One struggle is that in those spaces, there will likely be disagreement. People may not understand why I am anti-this or anti-that unless I learn to talk to them about it a little bit differently. Sometimes exploring an issue from an unexpected or compassionate angle in conversation reveals shared values no one knew were there.
I realized that for me, it feels important to bring my most radical, freedom-seeking spirit not just to the front lines of sequestered progressive offshoots, but into real, diverse groups of people.
Through several scenarios, I wondered how I could bring my most radical beliefs into community while still creating spaces where those who do not fully share those views might join me in conversation, advocacy, or mutual aid efforts. Is it possible, I wondered, to weave ideas and people together rather than draw lines in the sand that keep us apart?
In the interest of weaving edges together rather than deepening divides, I asked myself what it means to create gently subversive space. Subversive spaces, gatherings that defy the present order and explore a different way of being, do not have to be aggressive, monotone, or singularly representative in their appeals. Inviting people into a space that centers connection, listening, and safety, rather than screaming, has become a radical act. It is an act that, in some circles, can get you canceled.
The interesting thing is that in scenarios where canceling becomes a risk, I am usually on the side of those who might want to cancel me. When screaming is warranted, screaming is warranted! When violent overthrow is necessary because of ongoing state-sponsored abuse and death, violent overthrow is necessary. It is never, and I mean never, my intention to “call people to civility” in the face of violent injustice. The notion of “civility” is a privilege for those who can afford to stop screaming, because they are not dying.
Inviting people into a space that centers connection, listening, and safety, rather than screaming, has become a radical act.
Calling people to “civility” in the face of terror like organized police violence, or genocide, or racialized oppression fundamentally suppresses the path to justice. In the face of death, we must say what we see. For me, there is no question that we are called to stand beside and organize around others as they do the same.
In relationship to this, I asked myself how gently subversive space can remain safe for those who have something to scream about, how it might support and facilitate that screaming, perhaps even in a way that creates an opportunity for voices to be heard by those who, otherwise, might not step foot near a progressive corner where the conversation has become one-note and singular—even performative.
What I learned through these experiences is that there are many ways to scream. We need all of them to counter the dominant culture and survive. Expanding the progressive movement, and solidifying its success, will require us to demonstrate the same love and open-heartedness to each other that we would like to see expressed in the structures that hold and organize our lives. We need people on the front lines, screaming that death is unacceptable. But we also need those who communicate in other ways.
Is it possible to weave ideas and people together rather than draw lines in the sand that keep us apart?
I am interested in having hard and honest conversations that do not require anyone to flatten their ethical commitments. I believe it is possible, but it requires grace, extra empathy, and even more emotional maturity. It requires us to intentionally create safe containers for those conversations. What I am describing is one way of embodying change that goes beyond performative progressivism.
It is way easier to cancel someone than it is to actually create something meaningful. And doing hard things—building new ways of living together that are based in safety and mutual care—will never get easier. Thus far, I have not found answers. I have only found more questions:
Where do care and justice intersect, and where must they diverge? Is risking public judgment or misunderstanding worth moving towards a vision for defying our present order? How is the underlying question “are you radical enough?” fundamentally shaped by performative white politics? Is the truly radical thing in this culture actually to forge connection? How does one resist state violence and state-sponsored institutions while also accepting their funding, attending their classes, and reaping their benefits?
It is way easier to cancel someone than it is to create something meaningful.
Asking more questions is always wiser than claiming you have answers, so I am content staying in this place. But the only answer I need for now arrived last week. I had just finished a myofascial release session, which I scheduled to recover from an intense year in academia. My practitioner said he did not know quite what to do with my lower back, so he followed his intuition.
“I don’t have the answer,” he said, “but I do have the courage to get in there and try.”
Having the courage to get in there and try is often, actually, one answer. Cultivating that courage in a moment fraught with performative white progressivism, cancel culture, and online warring is no small feat. But it is necessary! No matter where you find yourself, I hope you feel bolstered to take courageous stances against injustice, whether they are quiet or loud, even when it means risking being misunderstood. In my experience, the non-negotiable tools for doing hard things are sleep, movement, and most of all, a trusted cluster of people who will swim beside you when the water gets choppy.
If you are aiming your life towards justice, keep subverting the norm and screaming against violence. Keep telling people about the softer future we can see. If you are like me, continue creating spaces that center radical care and safety and listening, even if the risk feels great. Fold each other into the whole before tearing one another apart. No matter your style, let love lead the way.
Dear friends, how’s it going? This summer, I am intentionally recalibrating after an intense two years with a combination of movement, sleep, reading, and fun! It feels amazing to prioritize my health and have low-pressure time with my family.
I also published a bonus essay about what it feels like to be a woman in a body moving through time. If getting older feels like it might mean giving up potential, or you wonder about (cis, age-related) hormone shifts, this one is for you.
Let me know what you think about creating subversive, counter-cultural spaces that center care and safety while never veering away from the truth. When you think of repairing the whole, rather than excommunicating, what comes to mind? It would mean so much if you forwarded this to one person who holds a leadership role or thinks about how to support others in community.
I’ll see you back here in two weeks. Take care out there! <3 LM
WE’RE ALL FRIENDS HERE is written by Lauren Maxwell. Can you help us grow? Send this to a friend and ask them to subscribe. Share it on Instagram and tag @lauren_only. If you enjoy this space, please consider becoming a paid subscriber to support more essays like this one. Thank you so much for being here!