It may be a little-known fact that I don’t want to spend the rest of my days in a punk house. At my ripe old age of twenty, I seem to have already outgrown the archetypal dream of maintaining a rad house. I’m kind of tired of living in squalor. I’m kind of tired of strangers appearing on my couch and floor the night after a big ol’ house show and, by default, after-party. I want to live without cockroaches in my kitchen and bedroom (which would probably be facilitated if people cleaned up after themselves, and we well know that punx aren’t into that); I want a clean bathroom with a shower curtain that doesn’t smell like balls (not that I’m impugning the smell of balls, but there’s a time and a place, people; a time and a place). I want walls covered in something other than three CrimethInc gender-subversion posters. (I quote a visitor to my former house: “Yep, it just wouldn’t be a rad house without the CrimethInc gender poster.”) I want a backyard for my dog-friends to run around in. (There’s nothing sadder than a dog with no space to be a dog.) I want room to grow catnip and spearmint and fruit trees (and passionflower, if it could survive). And I want to live with my friends (actual friends, people I can say “shut the fuck up” to if they’re screaming outside my bedroom door at one in the morning), and I’m kind of tired of living with strangers, and I’m kind of tired of shows (and therefore tons of strangers) at my house. I feel like I’m abandoning the anarchist dream so fast. It’s weird. But at the same time, I balk at the idea that this even
is some cock-eyed anarchist dream. It annoys me when radical kids talk about how anxious they are about the prospect of one day “settling down” and owning matching silverware or other “nice things.” Obviously mindless consumerism and materialism is something that contributes to excessive waste and environmental degradation, and is therefore not something that I’m crazy about, but honestly, what’s wrong with having nice things? What’s wrong with wanting to furnish your house and “owning” things in the process?
Of course, this begs for a discussion on class politics, and really, a consideration of how effective the voluntary poverty of anarchism may be. Is our eschewing material items and non-shitty housing contributing to some non-hierarchical, anarchist-allusive class war; honestly, are we making a difference and leveling the distribution of resources, or are we just making a statement? Are we trying to act in solidarity with those who cannot afford to live in houses without cockroaches, who cannot afford a house with a nice backyard, who cannot afford to take care of a dog? Have we actually had conversations with these folks with whom we are trying to act in solidarity, or are we just assuming that our prescriptivist bullshit somehow makes them feel better about the fact that capitalism has fucked them over? It may be worth noting that “minimalism” and anti-materialism have become big neo-yuppie movements in the past few years. I guess it’s cool that people are a little bit self-reflective about their consumption and the fact that capitalism is a big ol’ unsustainable bubble full of waste and septic Mother Culture exploitation. But as a friend of mine recently said, “It’s easy to reject the value of money and ‘things’ when they’ve always been handed to you.” And yeah, when you have the means to acquire them, “things” lose their value and are easier to shrug off, CrimethInc-style. I always think about that
Hey Arnold! episode where Gerald sells watches, makes a lot of money and lives the plebian life for a while until expenses add up and he’s only left with a dollar, illustrating that character-building cliche about learning the value of a dollar. As much of a blanket statement as I’m making, I feel like it’s legitimate to call out the whole anarchy straw-man illustration of the ~*kind of person*~ who wants nice things (ie. yuppies, hipsters, Monopoly-men, etc). Fuck it, here it is: sometimes we all want nice things.
I don’t steal from stores, because I’m a white female who can usually get away with it: a direct benefit of my white privilege. I’ve been criticized (by a white anarchist) for tokenizing people of color by maintaining an aversion to shoplifting (as an act of solidarity with those who cannot easily get away with ripping off the capitalist system). I’ve been told that whether or not I steal, capitalism still exists, and white supremacy still exists, so my decision to not shoplift is pretty much just inaction; shouldn’t I at least take advantage of this privilege that I have and try to fuck over capitalism as much as I can with that privilege? I’m not sure how I feel about that idea, because it’s a lot more complex than just “steal and contribute to the fall of capitalism.” Most large businesses subsume their losses in profit by taking that difference away from their lowest-paid workers;
that is a fact. (I’m pretty sure that some insurrectionist swaggerbag on Anarchistnews said something about how that’s not true, or maybe it was my ex-partner, but guys, it’s true. It’s true.) And therefore, from an anti-capitalist standpoint, how could that be any better than not stealing? Aren’t I supposed to be acting in solidarity with workers? Obviously it’s fucked-up that the top of the corporate pyramid can decide to fuck over lower-paid workers just so that the head-honchos can maintain profits, but that’s not something that’s going to change without a massive paradigm shift. And it’s certainly not something that shoplifting is going to change.
I guess that my point is, just like other supposed “anti-capitalist” decisions (such as stealing), voluntary poverty doesn’t negate one’s class (or race, et cetera) privilege. The CrimethInc idea of being poor or homeless and having fun with that status is nauseatingly privileged (which we all know has been very well established), and honestly, a fucking token if there ever was one. If I hear one more person talk about how evil and counter-revolutionary getting a job is, and how traveling and hitching and dumpstering and stealing are ways that we can survive in this society without one and be free, I am going to fucking blow a valve. People need to take care of their health. A lot of folks out there are not physically well enough to go hitch-hiking and train-hopping for long periods of time; they have doctor’s appointments, prescription refills, and conditions to monitor, conditions that are often debilitating. Many other folks have mental health issues that they cannot handle without having a stable means of income as well as having to “stay put” most of the time for appointments and stability (myself included). Tons more simply do not have the physical ability nor the energy to be part of this ‘young and free’ milieu, due to disabled bodies or just bodies that are getting older. Some people have kids that they need to take care of. Some people have animals that they need to take care of and make the very responsible decision to
not bring their dog train-hopping. Honestly, there’s a pretty fucking small population of folks who have the privilege to be able to drop everything and quit their job and live off society’s scraps. I’m sick of anarchists making me feel shitty and oppressive for needing money and having money, and by extension needing a job and having a job. And it’s also worth mentioning that most of the CrimethInc “ex-workers” have jobs and ‘normal’ lives, as well.
Yes, it sucks that the capitalist system necessitates that bosses get to call the shots and take away 70% of the capital and fuck over their workers. It does. And it sucks that rich, mostly-white professionals move into lower-class communities and drive up property values and displace the neighborhood’s original residents and then whine about how fucking Prince George’s County is the mouth of hell. It sucks that most of us don’t have any choice but to kowtow to a lot of society’s pressures that could be termed as oppressive or reinforcing hierarchies, solely so that we can maintain a living. There’s that saying, “You don’t have to fuck people over to survive.” I think that’s pretty inaccurate, because last time I checked, every fucking transaction made in this society leaves blood on our hands. I’m pretty sure that most loggers and coal miners are not heartless, malicious earth-haters; they’re trying to make a living, and they’re not the ones deciding to remove mountaintops and clearcut old-growth forests to make more money, money, money. I’m pretty sure that not everyone who opens a bank account is so much into funding civil wars and supporting mercenary governments in third world countries. And I’m pretty sure that not everyone who eats chicken eggs from the grocery store believes that animals are lifeless, money-producing machines. I suppose that this paragraph points to that insurrectionist argument that lifestyle politics don’t change anything; lifestylism is usually based on consumerism. I hate to spout the whole “anti-reformist” bullshit, but dropping out of society and not buying things is not going to undermine the systems of domination. Do I think that smashing windows and setting cop cars on fire at a mass mobilization will? No, I don’t think that, either.
Granted, I still think that being conscious about our consumer (and “reformist”) choices is valuable, if not for anarchy paradigm shifts then to at least stay close to the sources of our belongings. My former housemate said of a barbeque to benefit the local infoshop, which he highly disagreed with: “There’s something to say about the futility of lifestyle veganism, but that doesn’t mean that we still shouldn’t care about what we decide to support.” In this case, giving money to a barbeque restaurant to benefit what we’d like to see as anarchist action seemed a little fucked-up. I know that choosing to buy produce at the local farmer’s market over Harris Teeter doesn’t really change the fabric of capitalist society, but it allows me the opportunity to engage with where my food is coming from and make choices that at least marginally reflect my values (it’s also cheaper). And I don’t have the privilege or the desire to partake in needless spending on a regular basis, and I try to buy from thrift stores and go trash-picking and take away from the waste stream, and I like to do punky DIY things as much as the next obnoxious posi kid, but that doesn’t mean that I should be condemned for wanting what I consider to be nice things in my house. And I can try to hang out with my neighbors and go to community (as in, real community, not anarchy community) events and advocate for proper treatment of everyone in this town regardless of class or race background, but that doesn’t mean that I have to live in punk-squalor. And I can help my friends with rescuing and fostering animals, and tell people to donate dog beds to the animal shelter and to spay and neuter their pets because I love and care about animals, but that doesn’t mean I have to be vegan. You see? I feel like taking action is always preferable to sitting on one’s high-horse, making lofty statements about where one should live, what one should (not) eat, and what one should (not) own. (So I’m, y’know, gonna write an essay about it.)
Of course, this is a somewhat flawed philosophy, but I think that one of the first rules of anarchy is that you can’t win every battle. Sometimes you have to compromise, and sometimes you have to (god forbid) be reformist. Is what I’m saying somewhat problematic? Yes, I know it is, because picking battles means settling, and sometimes settling for really shitty, oppressive things that fuck other people over. Are my ideas tokenizing? Possibly. Do they just not make sense? Maybe. Am I simply projecting my hatred of traveler kids, as well as my hatred of authority, onto anyone who tries to say something about what anarchists should and shouldn’t do? I don’t know. I hope so. This is a complex issue. Where is the line between the freedom and happiness and life without authority that anarchists strive for, but also being responsible and accountable and maintaining our dedication to fighting oppressive structures, which sometimes means not being free in the sense that we’d like? There’s the rub.
No one knows this, because it’s not very punx, but I’ve always maintained an affinity for the Mount Vernon and Alexandria area of northern Virginia. Like Falls Church, Arlington, and other nearby cities, it can dart between being polished and suburban, immaculate and dignified, and suddenly swerve into an urban-sprawl replica of Washington, DC, all Potomacky and riddled with crime. Capitalism at work, folks. I almost mustered up the courage to talk to my ex-partner about my wanting to live in Alexandria, because it’s
not DC (thank god at times) but also kind of is, and I definitely wouldn’t have ever used the word “ambience” as a synonym for its atmosphere (yuppie mistake). I feel like a pile of ass for harboring this secret taste for Alexandria, because eighteen years of living in the DC suburbs yielded a shit-ton of profanity (see, I’m doing it again just thinking about it) and frustration and me delving into anarchy and punk-rock just to mask my woebegone suburban teenage years. Why would I return? By the way, some 15-year-old Graybird clone is going to be very happy when Metro opens its
Silver Line. Just sayin’.
I guess that I want to keep secretly hoping that one day I’ll make it back to the DC area. One day I won’t give a shit about unsupportive people and snide glances at parties; one day I’ll have better things to dwell on (or maybe not dwell on at all). One day I’ll realize that years of wanting DC back should probably negate the petty circumstances that have repelled me. One day I will understand that I want to go back to where I came from, that as much as I consider Lower Allston a part of me, it’s all going to be swallowed by Harvard in several years – no more train tracks, no more out-of-place-but-so-appropriate industrial enclaves, no more working-class families, no more of my friends, no more fucking for warmth in a 45-degree house, no more trademarked Allston Shittiness that I loved so much. You can’t go home again, but DC I keep visiting. DC will always be fluid to me. My friends are gone. They
have been gone for some time now. My childhood house has been renovated. I can’t walk my dog down the street anymore. It changes. It has changed. It will continue to change, and all of that is okay with me. But living in Boston was such a flash, a quick snapshot of my life, something that will always remain fossilized in memory: the evenings on rooftops, the shitty parties, organizing for mobilizations, the intimate discussions with people whom I don’t talk to anymore and the beautiful people who have all gone their own ways. That’s why I don’t want to go back to Boston. Or at least not Allston.
(I kind of also like Annandale, but that’s enough talk of Washington, DC suburbs for one day.)
Further reading:
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Most of this entry was written with a focus on the people whom I know best; these folks are mostly white, from middle-upper class backgrounds in very affluent areas of the United States, folks who decide that they don’t want to go to college simply because it’d be ‘joining society.’ I have not seen much dialogue between these folks and those who are less privileged. Of course, there are plenty of anarchists and radical people out there who do not have a class-privileged background and who probably live in punk houses out of necessity. But the large majority of punx I have engaged with seem to be going through some adolescent
Fight Clubby phase of not wanting to live in suburbia like their parents (oh goodness, that was a loaded, inflammatory statement), and this is mostly the crop of folks I am referring to in this post.
