Day 1

Arrive in Malpensa airport. Six hours til my bus to the outskirts of Milan arrives. Navigate a quick roundtrip train ride to the center of the city to kill some time. Made my way to the train terminal only to find out trains were not running due to a strike. Pause to celebrate Europe’s esteem for the cause of labor…and to lament the fact that this also enables them to be lazy and for their public works to be inefficient and unreliable.

Lunched on subpar airport pizza and peach EstaThe. Checked the label, fearing the globalization of America’s use of artificial ingredients had reached Italy: sucralose (sigh), but no high fructose corn syrup or artificial peach flavoring (relief). Airport full of hijabis and their husbands and numerous children. Bus to small town.

Lodging at 17th century Franciscan friary complete with courtyard, cloister garden, halls lined with baroque-ish original paintings, high-ceiling bedroom devoid of air conditioning (alhamdulillah) with antique prie-dieu and sketch of the crucifixion.

Dinner at caffe bar staffed by Peruvians while a mix of recent reggaeton hits (Rauw Alejandro, Mike Towers, Bad Bunny) plays in the background. I guffaw at the fact that they only charge 4 euro for a glass of red. Followed by vegan gelato.

This globalization of consumer culture, of libertinism and tolerance—and the subsequent idolatry of “development” or progress for its own sake—engendered a new monoculture whose control was totalizing. It absorbs not only political ideologies but also the particularity of cultural differences, making them, as Pasolini put it, “perfectly homogenized and acculturated.” Its alleged tolerance and freedom “conceal a decision to reconfigure everything so ruthlessly as to be without historical precedent,” and thus “represents no one.” Its “imposition of hedonism and joie de vivre” is “a deadly form of fascism.” Unlike the old forms of fascism which blatantly made known their ideals and goals, the new fascism is deceptive: It “has no outstanding qualities at all: it is not rhetorical in a human way, it is pragmatic in the American style. Its goal is the brutally totalitarian reorganization and homogenization of the world.”

Day 2

Morning in Porta Garibaldi neighborhood of Milan. Say a prayer in the Cimitero Monumentale and roam around the streets. Pop into a church after telling gypsy at the door I don’t have any money. It’s ok, she tells me. I can give her the money on my way out. Streets full of Arabs, Africans, and Latinx…much more than I saw last time I was here back in 2024. Very few indigenous Italians.

I find myself uneasy at having such a knee-jerk reaction to the proliferation of migrants in my motherland. My inner millennial SJW is disgusted at myself for thinking thoughts that far-right populists and ethnonationalists think. But then I remind myself that it’s ok—being disturbed by mass migration in Europe is more justifiable than feeling so in the US, where a steady flow of migrants has always been a key element of the foundation, of the cultural fabric of the national identity. In Europe, on the other hand, cultural homogeneity—the passing on of a distinct cultural legacy through the ages—is more of a thing. Thus waves of migrants pose a real challenge to Europe’s stability—for cultural and metaphysical as well as political and economic reasons.

I compensate for my “problematic” train of thought by insisting to myself that ethnonationalism and right-populism are—on top of being morally depraved—politicall impotent. They are mere reactions that pose no real challenge to the expansion of globalization. They posture themselves as the antidote to globohomo, while in reality functioning as a mere reactionary performance, a simulation of “tradition” and pride in the particular. As Trump has proven, right populists have little to no real commitment to protecting local agency and cultural patrimony, and thus act in collusion with the very evils they set themselves in opposition to.

Besides, I reassure myself, it’s not the immigrants’ fault. It’s globohomo’s fault. It’s neoliberalism’s fault. Colonialism’s fault. I think of Pope Leo XIV’s insistence during his Apostolic visit to Spain that while people have the right to migrate, they also have to right to stay put in their home country…and more should be done to aid the nations from which natives feel compelled to flee.

Then I remember that had Europe not given up it’s Christian heritage, they wouldn’t be caught in this deadlock between globalist, diversity-coded neoliberalism and xenophonic ethnopopulism. Had they maintained their roots, they would’ve had a host culture to welcome and integrate immigrants into. Europe’s rejection of its roots renders them vulnerable to waves of migrants. I think of Pasolini, who understood the value of local cultures…of Simone Weil who understood the need for roots, of Fr. Arizmendiarrieta who understood that the Church’s vision for society stood apart from capitalist liberalism, nationalist fascism, and socialism.

Years before modern globalism emerged, nationalism was already eroding local cultures and institutions. You could even say that the nationalism that Vance praises—embodied by figures such as Theodore Roosevelt and Otto Van Bismarck—paved the way for the internationalist outlook he so openly disdains. By undermining the power of local community, nationalism weakened the most natural and deeply rooted ties individuals posses. After such ties have been cut, the ethical argument propounded by numerous religions and philosophies—that all humans are one community regardless of place—was able to exert its influence without substantive opposition.

Champions of rural America must reject reactionary nationalist attempts to rewind the clock back to the 1950s. They need a totally new solution to rural malaise—one that combines the localism of the past with the values of the open society that will likely dominate the coming century. This is not an easy task; it asks us to combine two things that have not historically gone well together. Yet it is the only real hope for rural America.

-Jeffrey Tyler Syck

Days 3-7

Off to the Alps for a retreat. [top secret]

For the record, I hate nature. I despise being removed from civilization. When I travel, all I want to do is pop into every single church I pass, eat, smoke, dance, and engage in cultural anthropology (observing the culcha and then writing/[shit]posting about it). Sure, you can see the hand of God in the natural world, but I see perceive his handiwork more keenly when watching humans—the apex of his creation—and the stuff they do/have created. In nature’s defense, it’s not as bad as suburbia…where there’s nothing sacred at all, and where there’s nothing to do at all.

Day 8

Arrive at Venizelos Airport, Athens. Impossible to get a taxi. I’m immediately forced to reconsider all my clamoring against the toxicity of America’s cult of efficiency and utilitarianism. My shockingly cheap hotel, which is in walking distance from basically everywhere I planned to go in the city, also happens to be in the neighborhood where Athenians go to buy drugs. The neighborhood’s Bangladeshi restaurants and businesses are interspersed with dilapidated abandoned buildings and lots.

My feelings about cultural cohesion and mass migration are confirmed. I think back to the time my friend in college showed me a Vice News video about the Golden Dawn, a neo-nazi-adjacent, ultra-xenophobic movement in Greece that would go around terrorizing immigrants. At the time, I dismissed them as lunatics. But now I understand the very real problem they are trying to address, albeit with hatred and, ultimately, with stupidity: on top of being morally concerning, ethnonationalism is a hollow solution to the erosion of national identity…only capable of constructing an artificial, simulated version of it, rather than tradition in its dynamic, “living” form—which is capable of both maintaining a strong, cohesive culture as well as receiving foreigners into it.

Once again, back to square one: where has Greece’s Christian heritage gone? I saw a poll on IG reporting that Greece is the 4th most religious country in Europe. 59% of Greek believe in God. 55% say religion is an important part of their lives. 38% go to church at least once a month and 29% pray daily. But much like Luigi Giussani observed about Italy in the 1950s, Christianity is viewed more as a cultural institution or a “natural” religion—treated like a source of morals, magic, and superstitions—rather than an actual “proposal” that ontologically shapes the way you view and live within reality. I came across a handful of deeply pious people (mostly old ladies, the who made up the majority when I attended church services) and a couple of atheistic rebels, but the vast majority view faith as nice background music—which is to say it is a welcomed presence, but not deemed an integral part of how one lives their life.

Surely, this has to do something with the deeply mystical and relatively static nature of Eastern spirituality and Orthodox ecclesiastical governance, with its basis in monasticism rather than in social, political, educational, or missionary/charitable endeavors.

-Geronda, we’ve heard that they are thinking of replacing the Greek alphabet with Latin characters.

-Forget it! That will not work! It will not work. We are lucky that God always makes good out of what is crooked and evil. Otherwise, we would all be lost. Our Tradition and language were not lost back then when everything was recorded in hand-written manuscripts and there were no photocopy machines or other ways to preserve them. Nor will they be lost now that we have so many means of preserving them. Have you noticed how Pontian refugees from Russia have kept their customs? It helped that they spoke Pontian Greek and were able in this way to keep their Tradition alive. And even though they were given a little freedom, they still chose to leave Russia in order to be truly free. With only the little freedoms they were given, they were like birds taken out of the cage and left to fly freely in a room. Wouldn’t they feel sorrow there, too? How could they have been happy with this kind of freedom? Imagine how hard their lives must have been!

Some individuals are trying to wipe out this Orthodox nation. Do you know what this means? An Orthodox Christian nation today is a matter of great importance. In the old days, we had philosophy. Saint Catherine used philosophy to silence the philosophers of her time. The ancient philosophers paved the way for Christianity.

The Gospel was written in Greek and spread around the world. The Greeks then enlightened the Slavs. There are those who stand to lose if Greece continues to exist. “She is doing us harm,” they say; “We must destroy her.”

[…]

I will urge individuals that I know in higher education to establish a few more universities in Greece, so that our children will not have to go abroad to study. They should study here. In this way, no children will remain abroad; nor will their parents have to spend a lot of money, and the country will save on currency.

I always say to young people who are going abroad to study, “Go if you want to, but be careful not to lose your faith; take only their expertise. And most important-ly, don’t forget to come home, to our Homeland. Greece is waiting for you. You owe her your help. Stay close to the Greek people. Help all those poor souls who would otherwise have to go overseas to find a doctor or a specialist. Be very careful not to let your hearts grow cold The Europeans are cold people. And the United States is only for becoming wealthy in material goods and becoming spiritually bankrupt.”

-Elder Paisios, With pain and love for contemporary man

Day 9

We roamed around the streets, passing fliers in Bengali, numerous malnourished cats, graffiti of various political persuasions [Antifa, pro-Palestine, “death to America,” pro-LGBT, Christian], and more dilapidated buildings…which I must admit brought back memories from my time in the West Bank. I am reminded of the time that King George II referred to Greeks as “orientals.” Despite being the “cradle of Western Civilization” and belonging to the EU, the lack of order and rationality—thanks in part to its Byzantine and Ottoman patrimony—reminds us of Greece’s “exotic” eastern flair that so allured the likes of Byron.

After dodging tourist trap restaurants and asking locals for where we can find traditional fare, and breathing a nicotine-laced sigh of relief upon being permitted—even encouraged, by the ashtray awaiting me on the table—to smoke while eating (33% of Greeks still smoke, making it #9 in all of Europe), we made our way to Mass at the Roman Catholic Cathedral of Saint Dionysius the Areopagite. Mass was said in modern Greek by a Greek-born priest of Syrian ancestry, with a choir of Filipino children, and a congregation mostly consisting of tourists, Filipinos, and a few east Asians, Latinx, and Africans. Behind me sat a Basilian (Byzantine Rite) monk from Lebanon who, after introducing myself, told me he’d pray for me for my feast day.

This stark example of globohomo didn’t hit me with the same sensation of horror as I felt while roaming the streets…perhaps because this parish provided an ethos of cultural—and metaphysical—cohesiveness. There was a spiritual—and perhaps also—cultural proposal to participate in and belong to, something generative, capable of uniting these people of different backgrounds and fostering harmony rather than chaos. An oasis of hope in a swamp of globohomo-induced nihilism.

Day 10

Taxi to Piraeus to take the 7:15 am Blue Star ferry to Ikaria. I anxiously await the dude with the giant belly and booming voice who sells halva and loukoumi (Turkish delight) to board once we dock at Paros.

I roam the deck, where the groups of Balkan-maxxing young men decked in cut-off Ts, mid fades, Oakley-adjacent sunglasses, jean shorts, with fannypack across their chests are sitting with their frappes and iQos cigarettes in hand, some playing backgammon with each other.

I indulge my craving for kefalograviera cheese, Amita “Motion” fruit punch, and Lay’s Oregano potato chips…only to find out they started adding MSG to the latter. Globohomo strikes again.

I disembark from the ferry hoping to find a taxi, only to find out they are all booked. I begin my 25 minutes walk to the Airbnb carrying 3 bags under the noonday sun, texting the host that I’ll be getting there late since I have to walk. As I sweat profusely, I relish the aroma of figs and symphony of cicadas chirping in the air. Halfway there, the host beckons us into the car and graciously drives us the rest of the way. I plop myself onto the bed, overjoyed to find a ceiling fan and blackout shades. Heaven.

We walk over to a secluded little beach where a woman clad in only a bikini bottom is tanning while her dog takes a dip in the Aegean. A mountain goat watches from the ledge of a cliff hanging over the water. I make my way over to the cafe to get a freddo cappuccino and ask the barista where he recommends we go to dinner. The best place is about a 45 minute walk. Knowing there are no taxis, we resolve to do the grueling walk. It will be ok because we’ll work up an appetite, we tell ourselves.

The waiter is the epitome of European customer service—or the lack thereof. Extremely kind, in a genuine way…because he actually enjoys being nice and not because he’s working for a tip. But also extremely inefficient. We have to remind him 3 times to bring us more water. And serves us the wrong kind of salad. But all with a smile. We ask him if he knows of any taxi drivers who can bring us back. He says no, but offers to drive us on the back of his vespa. Apparently his boss has no problem with him taking 20 minutes to drive customers to their Airbnb and back…but then again it’s common for waiters to take 20 minute cigarette breaks. It is despite, or perhaps because of, their inefficiency, that European waiters can be so genuinely kind.

The loss of (spontaneous, reciprocal, symbolic) human relations is the fundamental fact of our societies. It is on this basis that we are seeing the systematic reinjection of human relations -- in the form of signs -- into the social circuit, and are seeing the consumption of those relations and of that human warmth in signified form. The receptionist, the social worker, the public relations consultant, the advertising pin-up girl, all these apostles of the social machine have as their secular mission the gratification, the lubrication of social relations with the institutional smile.

Everywhere we see advertising aping intimate, intimist, personal styles of communication. It attempts to speak to the housewife in the language of the housewife next door, to speak to the executive or the secretary as a boss or a colleague, to speak to each of us as our friend or our superego or as an inner voice in the confessional mode. It thus produces intimacy where there is none -- either among people or between people and products -- by a veritable process of simulation. And it is this, among other things (though perhaps this above all), which is consumed in advertising.

-Baudrillard, The Consumer Society

Day 11

After a full day on the island, one begins to understand why Ikaria is a Blue Zone. People are both extremely self-reliant and extremely interdependent. They know how to DIY, but have no problem asking a perfect stranger for help. People build and fix things themselves. But they have no qualms with hitching a ride with a perfect stranger. (It also helps that there’s no crime on the island…like, at all.) To a New Yorker, this is bizarre…ridiculous. But for Ikarians, this is common-sensical. This random guy needs a ride, needs help with cutting a tree, with fixing his car…why wouldn’t I help him? Wouldn’t I want him to help me if I were in his shoes?

They cook their own food from locally sourced ingredients. A tomato tastes like a tomato. Cheese tastes like a slice of heaven. They walk everywhere. They nap and dance and have sex frequently. Kids have a healthy balance of work and play, of peer and intergenerational interactions. The 9 year old son of the bakery owner takes my order and rings me up, asking mom for a price check on my bread. While parents eat dinner at a restaurant, kids play with each other in the streets. No helicopter parenting, nor babysitting the kids with iPads.

Even the teenagers seem stress-free. They work non-bullshit jobs—at a restaurant, at a store, in a mechanic shop—part of the day, and hang out at restaurants and parties with their peers while surrounded by babies and octageneraians the rest of the day. They take pride in their appearance without obsessing over it, without making “a thing” out of it. They have social media, but seem unconcerned about the likes and comments. They drink, but not for the sake of getting drunk.

They don’t have identity crises because they know exactly who they are: They know, enjoy, and take pride in their cultural heritage. They know what village they come from, what family they come from. Their identity is founded in something solid, something meaningful and generative. They conceive of themselves as being in relationship with reality, with “the world beyond their head,” rather than in opposition to it. Their point of reference when thinking of themselves are not abstractions, the machinations of their own minds (or the minds of corporate execs). Rather, their point of reference is the concrete limits, contours, and surprises of reality itself. Their identity is molded by the interplay of tension and harmony with the real, with society, with their relationships, rather than by their own schemes and efforts.

I’m awestruck by being in the presence of kids who are genuinely happy, who are not perpetually anxious, fighting against something, who are not desperate for approval or trying to construct their “best life” or sense of self artificially, but for whom identity emerges organically from their relationship with the real. They are not plagued by the infinity of options presented to them by the liquid-like limits of “The Market.” Reality doesn’t make them anxious or restless. They are at ease with the world around them as it is.

Day 12

Lunch at the other place the barista recommended. Waiter is extremely friendly, and inattentive to the point that it’s almost amusing. Across from us, there’s a group of young men in Balkan-maxxing attire.

The homosocial culture in Greece is striking. Men go around in packs, exuding a strikingly natural, effortless brand of masculinity: neither hypermasculine/performatively macho nor wimpy/effeminate. They take pride in their appearance, but not in a guë way. They are virile and clearly take pleasure in the hot girls passing by, but not in a lecherous way. And they enjoy being in each other’s company…they enjoy the bond that they can only share with fellow men.

Homosociality among women is less pronounced, more subtle. But they similarly exude an effortless femininity. Utterly gorgeous, done up—hair, makeup and outfit to the nines—more out of a desire to take pride in their appearance than to gain the approval of others. In part out of a desire to attract male attention, but not in a desperate way. Indeed, they are sexy, but without being slutty—emanating a natural rather than forced, anxious kind of beauty.

I begin to wonder where the actual homosexuals are. I notice a couple of butchy women here and there. The only effeminate man I noticed in Greece was the flight attend on the way here. Despite all the leftist graffiti, I’m surprised by the lack of a prominent LGBTQIA++ subculture. Then again, Greece remains an “oriental” culture…it retains its antiquated eastern aversion to “western” innovations like the normalization of homosexuality. Even the communists—who literally run the island [it’s where all the leftists were exiled during the civil war]—voted against gay marriage, for fear of turning children into a commodity.

I text a Greek friend asking what’s up with the Greek gays. She tells me that most of them are on the DL, dating women while snooping around on Grindr. But even the DL gays will tell you they’re straight. They retain the old school dictum—it’s only gay if you bottom. Surely, there’s nothing commendable about homophobia. Yet there’s something somewhat relieving about their holding onto the old school model of gay. Keep heterosexuality as the norm, and keep your naughty (gay) business in the underground…and never turn it into an “identity” marker. Don’t present as femme in public either (unless you become an Ottoman court eunuch). And only pursue gay sex for the sake of sex alone. Don’t pursue a romantic partnership—romance if for hetero pairings, homosexuality is strictly sexual, transactional. Romance between men constitutes a friendship, not a “romance” in the conventional sense. Besides, the secrecy keeps things spicier, on top of maintaining social order.

Day 13

Feast of the Transfiguration. The priest begins the liturgy while simultaneously trying to fix the air conditioner in the sweltering little chapel that overlooks the port. The old ladies with little kids file in, most of the men wander out for a cigarette break, pausing to show reverence to the priest as he incenses outside the doors of the chapel. I love how they segregate the pious from the nominal believers—so natural, so accommodating. The chanter’s 6 and 11 year old sons join him at the paslterion to help him out. At the end, one of the old ladies begins cutting up and distributing the artoklasia—blessed bread—which is still warm from when she took it out of the oven that morning.

Church in the US feels so “processed,” so “developed” as Pasolini would say, compared to this. It’s a production, a consumer commodity—designed to please the customer so they leave a good Yelp review. Some parishes might be nice, but they leave you feeling empty in the end…like after going on a shopping spree or drinking soda with high fructose corn syrup or aspartame. The put-on nature of it doesn’t fill your soul the way reverence shrouded in informality and spontaneity can.

We walk over to a shop that makes fresh spanakopita. The man before us orders a sandwich. The owner tells him she’s out of bread, so she’ll just run over to the baker to get some to make his sandwich. She jumps on her Vespa…while we impatiently wait in line to order.

Quick swim, then back to the Airbnb to get ready for the panigiri—the village feast in honor of the Transfiguration. Panigiria are truly the culmination of everything I’ve ever yearned for: run by the villagers, these festivals—which date back to antiquity—feature fresh homemade food and wine, concentric circles of people—from 3 year olds to 90 year olds—dancing from sunset to sunrise to folk songs that have been passed down through the centuries played by a live band.

We are handed a flier for a communist festival hosted by the youth division of KKE as we walk in, and are barraged with cigarette smoke and the sound of the Ikariotiko being played on the violin. At least 50 tables surround the church, whose doors are wide open for when people want to take a break from dancing, eating, drinking, and smoking to light a candle.

I immediately join the dancers, doing the Ikariotiko, then the kalamatiano, then the balos, until I sweat through my shirt…then taking a break to dry off while puffing on a Greek Lucky Strike. I hop back into the circle…people squeeze in, and the circle gets too big as people start to bump up against the tables. I take the initiative to break off and begin the inner spiral. After 5 minutes I get tired of leading and try to get the Balkan-maxxing dudes next to me to take over, but to no avail. I wave over a middle-aged butch, and she gladly takes the lead.

My heart surged with a burst of revelry and pride. I feel myself to have roots, a foundation, a heart, balls—to be fully a man, fully a human being, in this moment. I’m participating in a tradition, a form of culture, of joy, that has been passed on through millennia…knowing that I belong to so great a people as the Greeks. A pride that those living in homogenized, deracinated monocultures—however much “diverse”—will never know…yet that neither will the reactionary ethnonationalists, with all their clamoring about “tradition” and “national identity.”

Indeed, this is the kind of tradition, of cultural institution, that no one can invent artificially. It is too beautiful, too dynamic, too lively to be “constructed,” but can only be passed down through the ages, shared out of gratitude and joy. Indeed, it is this kind of “living” cultural pride that is capable of receiving outsiders, of offering something of substance to participate in and become part of.

I think of how much Pasolini would’ve loved this, this pride in the particular. In a people who smell and taste like something distinct, with flavor, with chutzpah—who are not bland “like a piece of toast.” I think of my grandparents, filled with gratitude for all that they passed down to me. I’m grateful for having had the opportunity to care for them on their deathbed, even with all the sacrifices that entailed. I’m grateful to my mom for forcing me to go to Greek school against my will, where I learned the language, history, culture, religion, dance, music, literature of my people—which gave me dignity, which gave me hope in the deracinated hellscape I called home.

People from the motherland wonder why their brethren in America are so proud, why we wave our flags and constantly remind people of our heritage. They wouldn’t understand…when your grow up in the cradle of global homogenization, without roots, without a clear identity…you hold onto to whatever remnant of roots, of substance, that you can (it’s the same reason Americans are prone to inventing identity categories like non-binary, neurodivergent, and Republican).

One of the main characteristics of this equality of lived expression, besides the fossilization of verbal language (students speak like printed books, street kids have lost all colloquial inventiveness), is sadness: joy is always exaggerated, ostentatious, offensive. The physical sadness of which I speak is profoundly neurotic. It is based on social frustration. Now that the social model to be attained is no longer that of one’s own class, but the one imposed by power, many people are no longer in any position to attain it. And this is horribly humiliating.

Allow me to offer a very modest example. At one time the baker’s assistant, or cascherino, as he is still called in Rome, was always, constantly cheerful: it was a real joy, which sparkled in his eyes. He used to walk down the street whistling and cracking jokes. His vitality was irresistible. He was dressed much more poorly than his contemporary counterpart: his trousers were patched, and even in good times his shirt was often hardly more than a tattered rag. But all of this formed part of a model that, in his village, had a value, and a meaning, and he was proud of it.

And, in short, what counts is that this person, this man, was cheerful. Isn’t happiness what really matters? Is it not for happiness that one fights for the revolution? The peasant or sub-proletarian condition was once able to express, in those persons who lived it, a certain “real” happiness.

Today, this happiness—with the coming of Development—has been lost. This means that Development is by no means revolutionary, not even when it is brings reform. It only generates anxiety. Today there are adults my age who are so aberrant as to think that the (almost tragic) seriousness with which our contemporary bakers hand us their package wrapped in plastic, with their long hair and moustaches, is better than the “silly” joy of the past. They think that to prefer seriousness to laughter is a virile way to face life. In fact, they are happy vampires, happy to see their innocent victims transformed into vampires, too.

Seriousness and a dignified demeanor are horrendous duties that are imposed on the petty bourgeoisie; and the petty bourgeoisie are therefore happy to see the poor people become “serious and dignified”, too. It never even occurs to them that this is real degradation: that the poor people are sad because they have become aware of their own social inferiority, since their values and their cultural models have been destroyed.

-Pier Paolo Pasolini, Lettere Lutterane

Day 14

Last day. We hang around on the beach, behaving like obnoxious Americans: talking loudly, drinking, dancing, making a scene…and taking pride in it all. We are the center of the world, and we know it. The Ikarians are eating up our brazen American superiority complex. The young man collecting the fee for umbrellas lights up when we tell him we’re from New York. He always dreamed of going there. He tells us about life on the island, how he rides dirt bikes, and asks to follow us on IG. We make nice with the bartender—Stavros, which means “cross.” My friend asks him if he’s religious, he tells us he goes to church regularly, and that he’s a boxer. Strikes me as much more genuinely chadded than any of the American Orthobros who post about their OCA church and BJJ gyms on X.

I overheard a Greek-American family next to us—the son, about 12 years old, proclaims that the panigiri last night was “the best night of his life,” as he “never had so much fun before.”

At our last supper, I see more people who were at the panigiri, including the lovely butch with whom I danced, and then overhear two women with heavy Noo Yawk accents. I lean over and ask if they’re from Astoria or Bay Ridge. Bayside, they tell me. Close enough. The brief whiff of Noo Yawk makes me nostalgic for home.

Day 15

Back to NY/NJ. I start thinking how much I’ll miss the island life, the people, the food, the music…but then I remember I live in the center of the world. Where I can go down the block to one of the numerous Greek restaurants or markets to get authentic Greek food…or Italian, or Palestinian, or Korean, or Dominican. And I can drive up to Astoria to hear real Greek music, and down the shore to see the sea.

New York truly is the perfect combo of eveything: globalization and ethnic rootedness, corporate power and local communities, efficiency and messiness, tradition and progress, sacred and profane.

I’m glad to be home.

Some of you have asked what order you should read our essential influences in. Try this:

Lastly, a trick question:

It was all kinda weird to me, considering that NYC parishes like St. Paul’s and St. Francis of Assisi (and several others) have been doing this for ages. This is literally old news (our friend Sebastian wrote about this years ago). Alas, trads will take any opportunity to project their rage into the ether (not that libs are any better!).

Anyway, I just wanted to take up my role as the resident contrarian and argue that trads who whine about things like this miss out on how much these cringelibs have in common with themselves—namely, the extent to which they are both deeply puritanical.

If you follow cracks in pomo faithfully, you already know that we are very much in favor of the “both/and” moral framework. On one hand, there are certain eternal moral ideals that we are all called to strive toward. But on the other, human being will always fall short of said ideals—and some will struggle to do so more than others.

This is why we are very pro-the concept of “Bad Catholics,” and are more partial to the moral outlook of Mediterranean and Latin cultures, and take issue with the Irish and Anglo (WASP) ones. This is also why we have no problem with queer culture, provided it remains contained within the seedy “demimonde” and spaces of “anti-structure,” and does not enter into the realm of “respectable” society. [This is why it’s such a shame that writers like Aaron Taylor have disappeared from the face of the internet!]

Anyway, the whole concept of a “Pride Mass” that aims to make people who are prone to a very specific set of sins feel embraced and welcomed is something that is unique to America’s bizarre religious and moral landscape.

Americans are obsessed with moral purity. We are desperately afraid of being damned, of being on the wrong side of history. This is why we virtue signal. This is why we feel compelled to tell everyone how much we hate those who are on the wrong side of history. I am a conservative, thus I hate all the libs and condemn all the evil things they say. And vice versa.

Within the both/and moral framework, a person of faith who can’t seem to shake off the temptation to indulge certain sins would say “hey, as much as I don’t want to abandon my faith, I humbly accept that my flesh is really weak and will continue sinning but with my head down [ie not announcing it to the whole world], and pray to one day to be able to give myself to God fully/be healed of my wounds etc.”

But within the very puritanical American either/or framework, this person ends up trying to convince themselves that their pet sin is actually not a sin…and must convince all those who still falsely believe this to be a sin that they are wrong, and that they must accept their behavior…and grant them their approval for it.

Americans can’t bear the idea of anyone saying—or even thinking—that they or even their behavior is immoral.

When the reality is that yes, you often are behaving immorally. Sometimes you are not in a state of grace. You are a dirty sinner. Join the club! God still loves you anyway, and you can go to confession at some point. Just don’t receive communion til afterwards…and don’t create a whole liturgy predicated on making you feel “proud” about your sinful proclivities.

The trads are not [that much] better. As much as they may be more doctrinally consistent, a lot of them expect everyone to conform to the moral ideal 24/7, or leave. They also struggle to embrace the concept of the Bad Catholic, who still indulges in their vices while affirming their faith and its doctrines. The Church ought to have space for people who are currently not in a state of grace like the prostitute and sodomite, though they should abstain from receiving the Eucharist—as did Andy Warhol.

This very all-or-nothing mentality is deeply American, and is very foreign to people living in the Worldwide Latina Belt.

Of course, I’m being very hyperbolic just to get a rise out of you all. I understand that the logic behind Pride Masses revolves more around embracing people’s “identities,” and they don’t [always] explicitly endorse sinful actions. But the very concept of “identity,” as we all know, makes us here at cracks in pomo very squeamish.

Identity is a product of late-phase capitalism, and is thus very fake and cringe [and yes, very guë]. Nobody cares about how you identify. You are not that important. Please pick up a copy of Lasch’s The Culture of Narcissism and deal with your problems and stop projecting them onto other people.

Also, the drive to force people to accept your “identity” is deeply puritanical, all stemming from this American moral anxiety, this need to be told that you are good and that people approve of you, and that you are on the right side of history.

NO. You are not good. Only God alone is. You are a sinner. Just like me. You are not always right. It’s ok to sin. Again, just go to confession at some point.

Also there’s a lot of weird Freudian dynamics going on here revolving around the lack of a solid ego—and the subsequent clash between the id and superego, and the fixation with soothing maternal and approving paternal figures (ie f*g hags and pro-gay HR-coded bureaucratic policies, respectively).

Besides, Pride Mass sounds dreadfully boring—even more boring than the Pride parade, which is overrun by sinister global corporations and insecure [narcissistic] straight women. If you wanna have a good time, either go to a very reverent Mass, or go cruising at a very debaucherous underground rave.

To close on a serious note, I totally get the trads who feel the need to “call a spade a spade” and express their concerns about how Pride Masses give scandal. But be very, very careful not to partition yourself off into the “trad” camp, away from the evil “libscaths.” Keep in mind that the devil (and “the powers that be”) loves the spirit of division, especially when it contaminates the Church—”divide and conquer,” as they say. You can express your concerns charitably and frankly, but don’t beat the devil to it by creating further fractures in Christ’s body. You should always be going out of your way to sow seeds of unity (as does cracks in pomo!).

As we all know, it is the month of June. And cracks in pomo is your best source for edgy, outside-the-box takes on all things sexual identity-related (to the point that Stephen has been bestowed the title “the Ayatollah of identity and sexuality”). Thus, we are posting this primer aggregating our most important queer-related content.

Top 10 Substack posts

1. Welcome to the post-gay era

2. The Post-Pride Reading (& Watch) List

3. Pride is now passe (at least in culturally-relevant cities like NYC)

4. How str8 girls ruined pride

5. Conversion Therapy vs. Bisexual Responsiveness

6. The great gays are gone

7. The Return of the Homofascist

8. The Year of the Eunuch and the Abolition of Queer Spaces

9. The Trad to Gender Queer pipeline

10. Our definitive post on all things trans

Pod eps

• Baby, you were [possibly not] born this way w/ David Dudrick

• Ex-gays, Homof@scists, & Pansexual Zoomers w/

• Our interview with and , the editors of Inversion: Gay Life After the Homosexual

  • On that note, you should pick up a copy of Inversion, read the excerpt of my chapter in Compact, and watch my reel about it:

Top 10 articles elsewhere

1. We are all gay now, First Things

2. The New Ex-Gay, Compact

3. The Cognitive Dissonance of Rainbow Capitalism, Catholic World Report

4. ACT UP and the future of AIDS, Compact

5. The Impossible Object of Queer Desire, First Things

6. The case for Bad Catholics, Spectator

7. Queer Anti-Colonialism, Compact

8. Secular humanism is ruining drag, Spectator

9. Andrea Long Chu, Quentin Crisp, and Raffalovich, Catholic World Report

10. Donald Trump: Gay Icon?, The Critic

I have expressed on numerous occasions that I find it to be extremely rude and intrusive when people ask you about anything having to do with your “status.”

Your status is tied to your vocation, your God-given calling in life—or at least your attempt to discern it. Your calling is the most sacred thing in your life. It is the purpose for which you were created, your raison d’etre. It’s the specific way God is asking you to serve him and humanity. It is the most intimate aspect of your relationship with him.

Thus, it should be regarded with much caution and discretion. It’s a pearl that you can’t afford to carelessly toss to the swine. Should you divulge such sensitive information with the wrong people, you put it at risk of being trampled upon…not just with people spreading your personal info, but with your understanding and experience of it being clouded.

When you share info about your discernment path with the wrong people, they start to give you their input. “You shouldn’t be with him, he’s not good for you.” “You should definitely be a priest/nun.” Excuse me, but are you God? You don’t know what’s best for me. The more those voices get in your head, the harder it is to figure out what God’s actual plan is for you.

The same with talking about anything tied to sexuality. Again, sex is—needless to say—a deeply intimate matter, a sacred matter. It’s the way you give your body and soul to someone. This is why sexual wounds are so painful. Best to only share info about your sexual desires/experiences with trustworthy people.

Discretion is not only spiritually and morally valuable, it also keeps things more interesting on an aesthetic and cultural level. Subtle sensuality is always spicier than straight up depictions of sex and nudity. It leaves more room to the imagination. If you publicly share info about your sexual desires/and experiences—especially if you create an “identity” out of it—it makes you more boring as a person. It leaves nothing to be read between the lines of your life. It squashes the mystery, flattens out the mystique.

This is why I never ask people:

• Are you seeing anyone

• Are you married

• Do you think you’ll become a priest/monk/nun/consecrated person

• Are you gay

When people ask me any of these things, I just reply: “and don’t you wanna know…”

So intrusive! I got business to take care of, people. So mind ya own! Brew some tea and drink it, because I’m not spilling mine!

Kinda shocked you guys liked the abortion/immigration piece so much. It’s now the most popular post on no pomo. And I thought you were all gonna cancel me for it…

Anyway, I wanted to offer you a follow up to it, focusing on the value of only relying on logically consistent (and morally coherent) arguments to further your positions.

Too many of you people will just repost (and regurgitate) any and every argument that furthers your position—even if it’s a bad or unfair argument. Those of you who do this are dreadful utilitarians. You don’t stop and ask, “hmmmm…does this argument actually hold up? Is it accurate? Is it fair? Does it respond adequately to the objections of my ops? Does it fairly characterize the position of my ops?” Rather, all you think about it trying to shout down your ops, even if what comes out of your mouth is totally incoherent and makes you sound like [or reveals that you actually are] an imbecile.

On top of being morally and intellectually problematic, your utilitarian approach will only get you so far. It may win you some points in the here and now, but it won’t get you far in the long run. Logically incoherent and morally bankrupt arguments/tactics are not sustainable, and will lose you the respect of the public.

As I said in the other post, it may be true that fetuses have a right to live and that immigrants should be treated with at least a minimal modicum of respect. But that doesn’t justify your idiotic musings about how women who get abortions are murderers, and how everyone who is worried about waves of mass migration from “developing” (*cough* 3rd world *cough*) countries are wicked xenophobes.

We’re big fans of our friend Justin E. Giboney’s advice to attempt to find 5 strengths in your opponents’ POV that you might actually respect if not agree with, and 5 weaknesses in your own. It will make it easier to communicate with people who disagree with you, as well as doing more to serve the common good…as opposed to demonizing everyone who disagrees with you and fomenting tribalism and social division (thus making ALL OF US less powerful and further eroding the little agency we have left).

I thought I’d leave you with one of my favorite examples of this approach: Camille Paglia’s hot takes on abortion.

In addition to being logically consistent, her argument demonstrates her moral integrity. She takes pro-lifers seriously on their own terms, and is not afraid the call out the idiocy of her fellow pro-choicers. This is because her priority is not the utilitarian advancing of her cause by any means necessary. Rather, it is dedication to truth and the common good [even though I think she massively misunderstands how her position negates truth and the common good]. But even as much as I disagree with her position, I can respect it for its consistency. As a good pagan libertarian, it totally makes sense that she supports access to abortion—which she acknowledges is indeed a form of killing. But alas I’m neither a pagan nor a libertarian.

Anywho, here’s her hot take from her essay “No Law in the Arena” from her 1994 book Vamps and Tramps (if you haven’t read the essay, please hurry up and do so ASAP).

The campaign for abortion rights, which has polarized America, was systematically mismanaged by feminist leaders, partly because of their refusal to acknowledge the violence inherent in any termination of life. The same people who opposed capital punishment ironically fought for abortion on demand, showing a peculiar discrimination about whom to execute. Squeamishly sensitive about their humanitarian self-image, feminists have used convoluted casuistry to define the aborted fetus in purely material terms as inert tissue, efficiently flushed.

My views are more consistent: I support the death penalty for outrageous crimes, such as political assassination or serial rape- murder, and I am fervently pro-abortion — the term 4 ‘pro-choice” is a cowardly euphemism. Women’s modern liberation is inextricably linked to their ability to control reproduction, which has enslaved them from the origin of the species. It is nature, again, that is our real oppressor. Men’s contribution to conception and gestation is minimal, compared to the burden borne by pregnant and nursing women. Patriarchy, routinely blamed for everything, produced the
birth control pill, which did more to free contemporary women than
feminism itself.

The vicious stereotyping of abortion opponents as “anti- woman” or “far right fanatics” has been one of the most deplorable habits of the feminist establishment. For years, mass mailings of the National Organization for Women were filled with hysterical rhetoric that repelled and alienated even abortion supporters like me. With their propagandistic frame of mind, feminist leaders never admitted that their opponents could be equally motivated by ethics. In fact, the ethical weight may be on the other side in this debate. We career women are arguing from expedience: it is personally and professionally inconvenient or onerous to bear an unwanted child. The pro-life movement, in contrast, is arguing that every conception is sacred and that society has a responsibility to protect the defenseless.

Among the most memorable moments in my career as a public speaker occurred in September 1992, when I pressed this issue during my lectures at the University of Washington in Seattle and at the Herbst Theater in San Francisco. It was risky: feminist orthodoxy had jelled around abortion rights, and challenge was not brooked. But as I, from the position of abortion advocacy, dramatized the injustice of feminist contempt for the pro-life position, an eerie silence fell over the crowd. It was as if we all felt the uneasy conscience of feminism.

…

The problem with the abortion rights crusade is that it is locked in a secular mind-set of me-first entitlement. Religious objections to abortion are based on devout study of the Bible, understood by believers as the word of God. “Be fruitful, and multiply” (Gen. 1:28): it is not enough to respond that this admonition to a small, struggling ancient people may no longer be applicable to an overpopulated world of dwindling resources. Theologians are not grocery managers taking inventory. For the faithful, God’s plan is beyond human understanding, and one cannot pick and choose among his commands.

Unlike the feminist establishment, I recognize that abortion is killing. But slaughter and harvest — symbolized by the sickle crescent of the moon goddess (which appears as a castrating blade in Picasso’s Les Demoiselles d ‘Avignon) — are the record of human sustenance and survival for ten thousand years. A pagan vision, like that of Tennessee Williams’s Suddenly, Last Summer, will see the terrifying mass destruction in nature’s procreative plan. Nature scatters a billion seeds to the wind. We must philosophically strengthen feminist theory so that it can admit that abortion is an aggressive act, that it is a form of extermination. Modern woman has become an agent of Darwinian triage. It is or should be ethically troubling: abortion pits the stronger against the weaker, and only one survives. The feminist coat-hanger symbol, prophesying the return of back-alley butchery if abortion is regulated or banned, is dishonest. A small number of women may die in botched procedures, but in successful abortions, the fetus death rate is 100 percent.

As a libertarian, I support unrestricted access to abortion because I have reasoned that my absolute right to my body takes precedence over the brute claims of mother nature, who wants to reduce women to their animal function as breeders. Women who want to achieve are at war with nature, as is shown by the hormonally disordering effects of career stress or extreme athletic training. In the Seventies, women runners, developing amenorrhea and calcium-related shin splints, were the first to realize that nature is hovering over us, ready to shut down our systems if our fetus-feeding fat reserve drops below a certain percentage of body weight. In other words, in nature’s eyes we are nothing but milk sacs and fat deposits.
Women inspired by the Uranian Aphrodite to produce spiritual progeny should view abortion as a sword of self-defense put into their hands by Ares, the war god. Government, guaranteeing freedom of religion, has no right to interfere in our quarrel with our Creator, in this case pagan nature. Under the carnal constitution that precedes social citizenship, women have the right to bear arms. The battlefield is internal, and it belongs to us.

As a Catholic, I whole-heartedly embrace the Church’s moral understanding of the nature of abortion and immigration, and take seriously its suggestions regarding policy surrounding these issues. But again, the Church—as an apolitical institution—does not presume to replace my conscience, and allows me the freedom to discern which policy positions are most likely to further to common good.

And of course, I understand that abortion and immigration have distinct moral implications…and can’t be totally likened to each other. That being said, my reservations toward conventional “pro-life” discourse are very similar to my reservations toward “pro-immigration” discourse.

As much as I agree that abortion is not a good thing, and that it would be ideal to make it illegal, I fear that pro-life discourse suffers from a severe lack of realism. Pro-life advocates tend to ignore the complex cultural and economic factors that lead couples to seek out an abortion. Their lack of realism, naivete, and ideological zeal—on top of doing little to promote a culture of life and to enact policies that limit legal access to abortion—risk radicalizing the opposition, making them even more fervently pro-abortion.

The worst is when pro-lifers demonize women who abort their babies as “murderers.” Come on. You can’t say that in good faith. Sure, some women abort their babies out of pure selfishness. But most of the women I know who aborted their children did it out of desperation—because their baby daddy abandoned them or pressured them into it, or because their family shamed them, or because they lack the funds to provide for a baby, or because they were raped. None of these factors justify an abortion, but nor do they make the woman a murderer.

When pro-lifers over-moralize the issue and reduce it to an ideological battle, they end up talking past the opposition and make it harder to accomplish realistic goals that concretely further the common good. If you’re going to be pro-life, you need to take all of these factors into account. The way you speak about the issue needs to be more measured if people are going to take you seriously.

I see something similar happening with pro-immigration Catholics. (Again, abortion is objectively and intrinsically a sin. Whereas hospitality to immigrants is a conditional ideal, and deportation is not intrinsically evil in se). In its typical both/and fashion, the Church acknowledges the right of a nation to secure its borders, as well as the obligation to welcome migrants—in part because of the deeper theological implications of the experience of migration…and because Jesus himself was a migrant.

But too many left-leaning Catholics downplay the part about the need to secure borders, and like to over-moralize and idealize the issue, resorting to demonizing anyone who has concerns about the threats that mass immigration poses to a country as a “hateful xenophobe.” A lot of people are indeed hateful xenophobes, but that doesn’t make their concerns illegitimate—the same way people who support abortion rights have very legitimate concerns about women’s rights.

Pro-immigration Catholics have this rosy image of the poor migrant escaping hardship in their native country, ignoring much of the facts that don’t fit into their simplistic and idealistic narrative: Some immigrants are indeed dangerous people. Some have no intention to integrate into or contribute to our society. Many get into the country by paying sinister coyotes (and turning a blind eye to illegal immigration implicitly endorses this practice). Then there are the liberals who sentimentalize the issue of immigration in order to push their globalist agenda, where borders and roots mean nothing anymore, and where it’s easier to exploit workers who have no rights—who you don’t have to pay a stable salary with benefits, who you can abuse at whim.

The worst are the libs who virtue signal about how pro-immigrant they are, while benefitting from undocumented slave laborers by patronizing corporations like GrubHub, Amazon Prime, and DoorDash. It’s hypocritical to advocate for immigrants while benefitting from services that enable you to have a cushy salary/lifestyle with disposable income while the people providing these services are scraping for pennies. Also, the steady supply of cheap labor makes it harder to maintain stable working class jobs with which citizens/legal immigrants can sustain their families and live a decent life. Instead, the rich will keep getting richer, as their salaries go up, while the poor keep getting poorer, as there is no incentive to pay their workers adequately. Also, very easy for people not living in areas that are overcrowded with undocumented immigrants—and who have to suffer none of the challenges that comes with it—to over-simplify and moralize the issue.

Anyway, because I’m Catholic—and for several other political reasons I won’t get into right now—I’m sympathetic to the plight of undocumented immigrants. And think we need to find ways to allow people into this country that offset all of the issues I mentioned above. I don’t think that these problems that mass migrations brings with it means we should demonize immigrants and start doing mass deportations. But I am in no way naive about the troubles mass migration brings…and wouldn’t demonize people who have concerns about it, especially not if they are the ones who have to pay the consequences that I—with my cushy bourgeois lifestyle—don’t have to. The same way, I don’t like abortion and would prefer for it to not be legal, but I’m not going to demonize people—especially women—who have very real concerns about the consequences of restricting abortion access.

Thus, if you’re going to be pro-immigrant, stop simplifying and moralizing the issue. Acknowledge that globalists are co-opting it to further their agenda, which is anything but humanizing…and which certainly is not Christian. And be prepared to respond adequately to the very real concerns that lower class citizens raise about the consequences of miss migration—which they will have to deal with, and you as a nice bourgeois progressive will likely not have to. And if you’re going to be pro-life, same thing. Don’t demonize pro-abortion people, take their concerns seriously, and be prepared to respond to their very real needs.

In other words, it’s fine to be pro-immigrant and pro-life, but not in the gay way.

No judgement against divorcees. But I feel the need, once again, to harp on the fact that divorce is an injustice to the children of the couple. What is worse than divorce is when one or both parents start bringing people they’re dating around

My issue is that divorce and remarriage are always framed in terms of the needs/interests of the adults. Sure, they say it’s better for the kids to not grow up in a dysfunctional household…but more times than not, this is a copout. And studies show that kids who grow up in unhappy intact families fare better psychologically than kids who grow up in happy broken families (spousal abuse is another story, of course).

Anyway, divorcees really ought to try to consider what it’s like for a child to have to spend their time with some adult they don’t know, who presumes to be a part of their family. I experienced it as a violation, as an infringement on my safety and sanity. It is deeply unnatural for a child to have to treat some random guy or lady as if they are part of the family, if not also a mother or father figure. What’s worse is when parents demand that their child be nice to the person they are dating, and get mad at the kid if they have an attitude around the partner.

A child has absolutely no obligation to roll out the welcome mat for some random adult you are allowing to enter into their life and home. How utterly presumptuous!! Who are you to demand that I allow you to destroy my life and then—to add insult to injury—let some stranger invade it?

Of course, I am being hyperbolic. I love my divorced parents, and I love my step-parent. I just want divorcees to understand how unfair it is to demand that a vulnerable, defenseless child go out of their way so that you as the adult can live your best life.

So if you absolutely have to get divorced, and you absolutely have to start dating people, then do NOT impose on your child. And do NOT gaslight them into thinking there is something wrong with THEM for not wanting some random stranger to become part of their life.

Chris Brown aka Chris Breezy and Chris Brownies has played a major role in my journey. It all started when I was a wee 13 year old. Chris Brown dropped his first single “Run It!” in 2005. It was a “crunk&B” banger, which was very much in style for commercial R&B artists back in the mid aughts (Ciara, Omarion, Lloyd, T-Pain, Cassie, et al).

Back then, I was still in my singles-only era. I rarely ever listened to a full album. But by the time his sophomore album Exclusive dropped in 2007, I was craving more than just the singles. Exclusive was the first album I did a deep-dive into. I listened to all the songs on repeat and learned all the lyrics. The album was far from a masterpiece. But it was well-produced commercial hip hop-tinged R&B. And Breezy is a decent tenor. The music awoke a longing in me…a desire for beauty, for art and culture. But it also felt cool to be part of a fandom. It made me crave more and more. I ended up going to the concert and buying all the merch. Then I started listening to more and more full albums and doing deep-dives into other artists’ catalogues.

I mainly listened to R&B albums, in part because that’s what was popular in Top 40 at the time…but also because my parents raised me with R&B: my dad listened to a lot of Motown, Whitney, and Mary J. Blige, and my mom listened to Disco, Sade, and Mariah (she was also big on Red Hot Chili Peppers and Annie Lennox…but I wasn’t really into that sound). I found that R&B spoke to a longing in the depths of my soul…which is kinda why they also call it soul music (which is in part because it derives from Gospel and Negro Spirituals). More on how R&B spurred my religious journey here. But eventually I started exploring older forms of R&B like post-disco, funk, New Jack Swing, 90s R&B, Hip Hop Soul, and neo-soul.

But through it all, I continued to listen to Breezy. Even after the Rihanna thing happened (which, of course, I have many “theories” about), I continued to listen to him. My dad was scandalized: “we don’t support abusing women!” And I was like, I can still enjoy his music without endorsing domestic violence. The fact that he is immoral doesn’t change the fact that his songs are objectively well-produced and that he has a nice voice. That’s the other thing. My female friends stopped listening to him not just because they didn’t want to support a wife-beater, but because they felt that his songs “were all a lie.” I never listened to his love songs as if they he were singing to me. In fact, I rarely paid attention to the lyrics of songs. I mainly listen to the production.

After Rihanna-gate, he did a brief pivot into dance-pop and electronically-driven R&B…which was the trend in the early 2010s (will.i.am and other producers were trying to get R&B singers to drop electro-tinged singles….which were lowkey kinda cringe). You got songs like Forever, Turn Up the Music, Yeah 3x. But after that, he started experimenting with trap, drill, and Afrobeats (starting with a few singles produced by DJ Mustard…who monopolized hip hop and R&B in 2014-2015).

Thematically, the songs got much darker. They were more blatantly sexual, but in a kinda sadistic, dehumanizing way. I started to see that maybe he really did lack respect for women…and that the Rihanna thing wasn’t just an isolated incident. Again, the production was banging. Despite the morally reprehensible lyrics, the beats were siiiiiiick. And he continued to dance better than any other mainstream singer (except maybe Ciara).

Anyway, I decided to see him when his Breezy Bowl tour came to NJ…which would mark 18 years since I saw him on the Exclusive Tour back in 2007. In addition to being excited to sing my heart out to all those old songs from back in the day and to watch his killer dance skillz, I was filled with an existential nostalgia. Breezy’s music accompanied me during a crucial moment in my spiritual journey, and was a catalyst of sorts for my relationship with Jesus. Thus, going to the Breezy Bowl was something of a pilgrimage…I mean, not really but kinda. If anything, it was an opportunity to reflect on how far God has brought me on my journey in the span of 18 years. (Also, I went to the concert with 2 friends who have played a crucial role in my spiritual journey.) I almost cried while singing my heart out to deep album cuts from Exclusive, as it brought me back to that time when I was a little 15 year old in search of meaning, hope, purpose—and was bowled over with gratitude for how far God has brought me in my journey.

And yet, this is why the tour made me kinda sad. It had become clear to me that Breezy has not really grown in that span of 18 years. Just a month before the tour came to Jersey, he got arrested for beating up a guy outside a bar in London. During the concert, he was grinding on his backup dancers (who were more like strippers). It all just felt so sad…like his aggressive, angry behavior stemmed from an inner emptiness, a lack of joy. The only times he seemed happy during the concert was when he was doing actual dance routines—which he continues to excel at.

I also saw this sadness, this raunchiness born of an inner emptiness in the people in the crowd. For lack of a better term, the people were ratchet af. The girls were dressed like heauxs—and not in a cute, classy manner, but in a trashy, distasteful manner that indicated they didn’t really have much respect for themselves. The dudes were mostly high and/or drunk. And there was a point when the DJ started shouting out to the crowd, “where my bad bitches at!?!?!” and “which ladies wanna go home with Breezy tonight?!?!” And I was like, damn, you wanna sleep with a man who has a history of abusing women?

I just got the vibe that these people, and Breezy, don’t have a sense of being loved, of being valued and having dignity. And I couldn’t help but pray that they could have encounters like the one I had with God and the friends who sent me which made me aware of my dignity…and made me want to carry myself in a more dignified way. (Feel free to accuse me of being judgemental, classist, and a slut shamer. But objectively, I am correct. And no, I’m not being racist because a considerable portion of the ratchet people were mayo people!).

My surface level analysis is that Breezy and many of his fans, on top of lacking a relationship with the Lord, lack a relationship with a true authority (father) figure in their lives. But my deeper analysis is that Breezy was not called to be a singer…a pop star. I think God wanted him to be a dancer. And because you can’t really get famous or make a lot of money as a dancer, his best bet was to become a pop star who also happens to dance. And then I think his spirit got crushed by being forced into a career/vocation that he wasn’t called to, and that—even for the people who are called to it—crushes their soul because it demands so many inhumane things of them (including the “price of their souls”). I think he would’ve been much happier, and would’ve matured more, if he were just a dancer.

Anyway, just felt like sharing my Chris Brown chronicles with you all.

People keep asking me to write more about Rosalia’s LUX…but honestly, I don’t have much to say about it. Surely, it’s interesting, it’s creative, it’s moving. But I don’t think it’s as profound, as culturally important, and spiritually loaded as MOTOMAMI.

It disappoints me that people seem not to recognize how incredible that album was. IMO, we should still be talking about it, rather than making a big fuss about LUX.

First of all, MOTOMAMI was more of a cracks in pomo album than LUX. Yes, it’s nice that she discovered her Augustinian restlessness…but all mature adults should discover this as some point in their life. In MOTOMAMI, she did what very few pop artists are willing or able to do: to explore the paradoxical intersection between the sacred and diabolical, high and low culture, the classical and the commercial, postmodern and traditional art/thought. Indeed, MOTOMAMI emerges straight out of the cracks in postmodernity.

As I wrote in The Iffy:

By bringing reggaeton, dembow, jersey club, R&B, dancehall, experimental house, and indie rock into conversation with more traditional styles like flamenco, jazz, bachata, and bolero, MOTOMAMI expands this legacy to new horizons.

Rosalía’s synthesis highlights the parallels between the old and new worlds and the realms of high and mass culture. She name checks Lil Uzi Vert and Italian baroque composer Tomaso Albinoni in the same line, and goes on to make allusions to a wide array of cultural references: reggaeton pioneers Daddy Yankee, Plan B, Tego Calderon, and Wisin Y Yandel, flamenco singer Manolo Caracol, Salsa greats Willie Colon and Tito Puente, dembow artist Haraca Kiko, Super Mario, a variety of sushi seasonings and Kawasaki motorcycles, Apple exec Tim Cook, Lil Kim, Naomi Campbell, Carla Bruni, Vivienne Westwood, Versace tracksuits, art film directors Almodovar and Tarkovsky…and to top it all off, she emulates Botticelli’s Venus on the album cover.

Much like Lady Gaga’s ARTPOP, the eclectic set of references in MOTOMAMI brings pop culture into dialogue with high art, thus elevating it to canonical status. Further, her incorporation of contemporary Caribbean music into this synthesis proves that it’s not mere party music–it’s art of cosmic proportions. This demonstration of artistic genius hasn’t stopped the Twitteratti from having a meltdown every time she won a Latin Grammy (she’s won eight), which makes us wonder where they were every time the equally Spanish but less talented Enrique Iglesias won.

The way she merges sounds comes from her perceptive recognition of parallels in the melodies and rhythms (take the syncopation of the dembow rhythm with flamenco handclaps in “Linda”), reminding us that Latin America and Southern Europe are not as culturally distant as historically inept poststructuralists would have it (they seem to have forgotten that you don’t get “Latin America” without the “Latins,” a term which used to refer more broadly to peoples who speak Romance languages).

The perceptiveness of reggaeton-flamenco fusion songs like “Linda” speaks not only to rhythmic parallels but also to spiritual ones. Of course, this doesn’t appear on the radar of her critics–beyond their historical and aesthetic ineptitude is their dreadfully banal metaphysical consciousness. In his 1933 lecture on the performative device known as the Duende, Federico Garcia Lorca alludes to the earthy, dionysian tension that can be heard in both flamenco music as well as in afro-Caribbean syncretic religious music (from which reggaeton’s percussion patterns derive).

This hints at the undercurrent of pagan spirituality that flows through most of the musical genres she blends. The gypsy, West African, Roman, and indigenous Caribbean manifestations of polytheistic fertility cults share similar convictions about the relationship between humans and the spiritual cosmos. Critics display their ignorance when calling Rosalía out for citing undebel, the gypsy name for god. Who knew transcendent entities were the property of any particular ethnic group?

She goes on to incorporate the Spanish Catholic mysticism of St. John of the Cross (whose poems Lorca cites as a Christianized rendering of the dionysian energy), having put to music one of his mystical poems and including a painting of him in one of her music videos. Her embodiment of the Venus archetype on the cover taps into the tension between the dionysian and apollonian elements of her syncretic pagan ethos.

The album’s title itself evokes this tension, and hints at themes of masonic dualism: “moto” refers to woman’s capacity for sexual adventurousness and violence, while “mami” refers to woman’s maternal, nurturing instinct and emotional introspectiveness. The whole album, she says, is “structured around binaries, two types of contrasting energies.” The recurring dualistic themes, including the caterpillar/butterfly motif in her lyrics and the interchange of red and white-colored clothing and sets in her videos, are reminiscent of occult initiation rites.

They may call her a colonizer and cultural appropriator. But what other artist has engaged with reggaeton so seriously…bringing it into dialogue with classical forms of music. This isn’t a sign of her “disrespecting” reggaeton, but of her deep respect for it. Few other artists think about reggaeton—or any other form of commercial music—on such terms.

It’s all the stuff of pure genius.

Anyway, I still believe she’s too stuck “in the matrix” for me to take her “conversion” seriously. While LUX is sonically beautiful and soul stirring, MOTOMAMI disposed me to contemplate that which transcends this realm…or rather the paradoxical God-man, the son of God who dares to enter into this broken, postmodern world.

More on MOTOMAMI in my notes on Rosalia:

Cracks in Postmodernity

Notes on Rosalia

Notes on Duende continued…

Read more

3 years ago · 1 like · Stephen G. Adubato

Since everyone is posting their opinion about what the pope has had to say about Trump, I decided to repost an excerpt from what I wrote a few years back about reactions to Pope Francis.

At the end of the day, the pope is not a politician. Much more is asked of you than to agree or disagree.

Besides why do you think anyone would care about your opinion? Who are you, God??

(Fortunately), there is much more to the petrine office than what we happen to agree or disagree with…what we like or dislike. No, the pope is not a politician, and the Church is not a democracy. Nor is the Church an institution that exists only to safeguard certain moral precepts, ideological values, or rituals and cultural practices.

The Church, rather, is “the universal sacrament of salvation,” by which Christ is “at once manifesting and actualizing the mystery of God’s love for men.” This is to say that the Church is an ontological, metaphysical reality before it is a moral, political, or cultural one.

My relationship with the papacy has been informed very much by the ecclesiology of Luigi Giussani. In his book Why the Church, Giussani indicates that ecclesiastical authority is an ontological reality whose nature is primarily paternal. Approaching the topic from his characteristic phenomenological, experience-based lens, Giussani claims that clerics are called primarily to “generate,” to foster the growth of those whose care is entrusted to them. If the Church is “the human reality, chosen by God, as the existential instrument of his self-communication,” then the Pope is the primary vessel through which Christ communicates Himself and His will to the community of believers.

While his office, his capacity to communicate God’s will, is in part manifested through his teaching authority (on matters of faith and morals), it is also manifested “osmotically.” Our obedience to him is not solely a matter of rationally choosing to adhere to his teachings, but is in “affectively” choosing to adhere to him on an interior, spiritual level—to “abide in him”…it is to ask the Spirit to sanctify us, to help us grow in holiness and in deeper intimacy with Christ, through our closeness to the Pope.

I think of the numerous Francis critics who posted photos on the internet of Francis’ special Ubi et Orbi blessing on March 27th 2020 during the height of the Covid pandemic, expressing that despite their reservations about him, they recognized in that moment just how much they needed his fatherhood. They needed the consolation of the Holy Father on a very real, experiential level…their hearts ached for the presence of Christ that was mediated to them in that moment through Francis.

The Mosaic exhortation to honor our parents is not meant to be followed blindly or categorically, per se, but rather is a matter of affirming an ontological principle—it is a descriptive “is” before it is an exhortative “ought.” Our being is inextricably linked to the people who brought us into the world. Thus to affirm our own lives implies having reverence for our parents.

Sometimes our parents do things that are deeply immoral…perhaps they’re even abusive. Similarly, popes can be (and have been) pretty horrible [though Francis may have his flaws, I think placing him in the same category as the Borgia or Medici popes would be quite a reach]. Of course, we shouldn’t celebrate or emulate the errors of people in authority. At times, it may be necessary to distance ourselves from our earthly parents, and ecclesial authorities may merit fraternal correction. Yet we are called to never forsake our respect for them, to kill off the bond of charity with them in our hearts, or to cease willing their good.

In the case of the pope, we must reckon with the fact that the Holy Spirit chose him as the vicar of Christ on earth. Without him, we lose our link to Christ…we lose the catalyst that generates our growth in intimacy with Him and our conversion of heart.

To say we owe him our obedience is not to say we must blindly celebrate every single thing he says or does (as some shockingly newfound Ultramontanist progressives might tell us). Obedience, rather, implies asking how the Spirit is using Peter to lead me closer to Christ…how It is bringing about my conversion of heart through him. Thus, the most essential matter is not one of static opinion or ideology—whether I agree or disagree, but instead is an open and dynamic question.

Putting opinions into perspective, accepting correction

Of course, we are all entitled to our opinions. Because of our particular temperament, personality, and set of life circumstances, we are prone to being partial to some things someone in power says and not to others. It’s completely natural. Yet, when facing the pope, we have to take a step back and remind ourselves that he isn’t a politician, he isn’t a representative of an electorate, nor is he a representative of a particular set of moral or ideological convictions. We don’t have to agree with or like everything he says. Even Jesus (despite being sinless) may have said or done things we don’t like or agree with. But our opinions need to be put into perspective. We need to learn to let them take a back seat at times in order to listen to what the Spirit is trying to say to us through the Pope.

Take the infamous Pope vs. Trump feud. Francis criticized Trump’s mission to “build a wall,” saying that “one who thinks only about walls rather than bridges is not a Christian.” Surely, CST teaches us to offer a preferential option for the poor and to be mindful of the plight of migrants and refugees. Francis has a duty to remind us of this. Yet, that doesn’t mean a faithful Catholic is in a state of mortal sin for voting for a candidate who enacts policies that fortifies borders and curbs illegal migration. Deciding who to vote for is a matter of prudential judgment. The pope does not have the authority to tell us who to vote for–only the values we need to take seriously when voting.

And so while I don’t have to agree with the Pope’s personal opinion about Trump’s border policy, I still ought to take his critique of Trump seriously. If I am indeed someone who is fixated on building walls and cares little to build bridges, I need to allow myself to be corrected by the spirit, the principle of what Francis is saying. I don’t have to like the way he said it, but I need to consider how the Spirit is trying to foster my growth through it.

While the Pope’s political comments didn’t rile me up too much, there are plenty of other things Francis has said that I’m not a big fan of (there were also plenty of things Benny and JP2 said that I didn’t like, for the record). And though I still stand by some of my critiques, I’ve seen how his words were a necessary correction for me…a call for my conversion, to open my eyes and “see the light.”

Continue reading here:

Cracks in Postmodernity

Beyond the pro/anti-Francis paradigm *UNLOCKED*

Due to popular demand, and in honor of the 11th anniversary of Francis’s papacy, we unlocked the pope piece. Share widely (but you should still get a paid sub anyway…

Read more

2 years ago · 8 likes · 3 comments · Stephen G. Adubato

You may also want to check out my reflections on Francis’s papacy, and on Leo’s election:

Cracks in Postmodernity

85% percent of Catholics are unhappy*

Order your copy of the zine vol. iii here. And RSVP for the launch party on 5/22 here…

Read more

a year ago · 19 likes · 7 comments · Stephen G. Adubato

Cracks in Postmodernity

I don't want a liberal or conservative pope

Order your copy of the zine vol. iii here. And RSVP for the launch party on 5/22 here…

Read more

a year ago · 14 likes · 8 comments · Stephen G. Adubato

So I wanted to take a moment to clarify some things I’ve said about ecumenical and interreligious stuff.

First off, I implied in my First Things piece on Orthobros that it is very difficult for people who aren’t born into Eastern Orthodoxy to comprehend it—in part because the ethnic/cultural element is inextricably intertwined with the spirituality. I sometimes joke that it’s impossible for someone to convert to Orthodoxy. Of course, I’m only being half serious. That’s between you and God. I can’t be a judge of whether you’re truly Orthodox or not.

But while I’m playing devil’s advocate, I wanted to bring up the story of when a Jewish girl who got involved in the (Roman Catholic) Communion and Liberation movement told Fr. Giussani (the leader/founder) that she wanted to convert to Catholicism. Rather than getting excited, he told her that she should first explore Judaism…and if it didn’t answer her needs/questions in life, then she could consider becoming Catholic.

Giussani was very big on emphasizing that a religious experience always begins with God’s initiative, rather than ours. To focus too much on our ideas or our efforts—however noble—risks reducing religiosity to a self-referential experience. The whole point of religion is that you follow the promptings of Another, you adhere to what God places in your path. Thus, we have to begin with our history, the concrete “facts” that God has placed in our path. If God allowed you to be born into a Jewish family, it’s better to “verify”—to engage seriously with—Judaism first, testing to see if it can offer you a total answer to your deepest human needs.

If from there you find it doesn’t completely lead you to the Truth, then you move onto whatever else He is placing in your path—which for this girl, was Catholicism. Also key here was the fact that her interest in Catholicism was sparked not by her own “scheming”—reading books, reddit forums, watching reels—but by encounters with people God placed in her path, whose way of life attracted her. Again, the emphasis is on God’s initiative, not on our efforts, theorizing, inventions, moralizing, calculations, etc.

This is literally what I did. I earnestly “tested” out Orthodoxy, and found that it didn’t fully answer my need for Truth (ie Jesus). I prayed that God would lead me toward the true faith, toward the community through which he wanted me to be in relationship with him. I visited several Protestant and non-denominational churches and groups, as well as Catholic ones. Then he sent me several Catholics and a Catholic community which totally “clicked,” they brought me to see Christ much more fully—thus, it only made sense that I follow them and become (fully) Catholic (once again).

Thus, before converting to any religion, better to test out whatever you were raised with…even if it was atheism, agnosticism, secular humanism, or faith in the bourgeois American Dream. Go all the way to the depth of it, and see if God meets you there. If not, ask Him to send you what you need, to point you in the right direction. But again, the emphasis should be on His initiative, His plan for you, and not you “trying” to find or “create” the correct path. You can read all the apologetics and come to the conclusion that Catholicism is the true religion, but still have no idea who Jesus is…since your experience of Catholicism remains self-referential and theoretical, rather than concrete and fleshy.

The other thing I wanted to clarify is that I am not a syncretist, relativist, or pluralist. Contrary to what the many neocons and trads who read my article on Ramadan in the WSJ thought, I am not a “libt*rd” trying to fight Islamophobia. I am in no way naive about the potential threats that Islam poses, and I am indeed afraid [phobic] of them. I do not believe Muhammad is a prophet, and I do not believe the Quran was written by God. As a man-made religion, I recognize that Islam as a religious system is erroneous, and thus is prone to violence.

Thus, I don’t think Islamophobia is a problem in se. My issue is when you reduce Islam to its dark side, and stop there. Just because it’s not a revealed religion, it doesn’t mean there are zero hints of Truth in it…it doesn’t mean that the Holy Spirit can’t use it to bring people closer to God. And obviously, not all Muslims are terrorists. I also take issue with the libs who pretend that Islam “is a religion of peace,” as well as with the conservatives who say it’s an evil religion that promotes terrorism. The reality is, of course, much more complex and nuanced.

Whether we like it or not, Muslims are going to be part of society. You’re not going to convert them all to Christianity (or to bourgeois secularism). Thus, better to learn to get along with them…which is more likely to bring out the best of Islam and to temper the more dangerous elements.

On that note, I wanted to point out that there are 2 kinds of Christians who are passionate about ecumenical/interreligious dialogue. The first is more of a relativist/syncretist, who downplays differences and plays up similarities. This position, on top of veering toward heterodoxy, is extremely superficial—and I’d dare to say condescending. It fails to take the faith and beliefs of people of other religions seriously.

Refusing to call a spade a spade is not charitable. If you respect me, you’re going to tell me what is true. You’re not going to sugar coat the truth. The problem with most religious conservatives is that they think charity amounts to calling a spade a spade and stopping there. No, real charity engages with both realism and idealism. It calls out error, while being willing to recognize bits of truth within it. It looks at the whole picture, and recognizes that God—in his infinite mercy and creativity—can work in the life of someone who is in error if he so chooses.

Thus, the second kind of ecumenist is the kind who is so in love with Jesus, that he can’t help but recognize and celebrate the little bits of truth within the faith/life of the person of another denomination and religion. It’s completely organic and spontaneous, it’s not forced or performative in the manner of the relativist ecumenist. The second kind is not afraid to tell the person about their disagreements, but these disagreements co-exist with their joy to see the presence of the divine working in the other’s path—not out of some sense of “tolerance” or “diversity,” but because the speck of truth benefits them in their own path…it encourages them to dive deeper into their relationship with Christ.

Thus, as much as I have very strong objections to Anglicanism, Pentecostalism, Islam, Orthodoxy, etc, I deeply value my friendships with people in those religions, because I see God at work in their lives, which is a huge help and encouragement to me.

Read this for more:

Cracks in Postmodernity

all religions are the same*

So yes, we heard what the Pope said about all religions being the same. Thank God, most of his go-to-critics have given him the benefit of the doubt, expressing that he isn’t a heretic, but that as someone who isn’t an intellectual, he tends to articulate doctrine in a manner that is often unclear and misleading…

Read more

2 years ago · 5 likes · Stephen G. Adubato

I once had a supervisor who was a very standard, script-following 2nd wave Gen X feminist. She was hellbent on convincing the men in the office that women were just as competent and rational as men. Any time a man dismissed something a woman said as irrational or ignored her, she made a big stink about it.

The problem with my dear supervisor’s agenda was two fold:

• The fact was, several of her female coworkers were prone to hysteria, and thus, were at times quite irrational (that’s not to say the men were never irrational1).

• And she seemed to think female hysteria/irrationality was a bad thing, a mark of weakness rather than a sign of genius.

Further, I always felt bad for this supervisor, who tried with all her strength to suppress her deeply feminine emotionalism, for fear of being written off as irrational. I wanted to tell her that her repressing her biological urges—the gifts bestowed upon her by God…or by Mother Nature—was just further fueling the notorious patriarchy. I wanted to say, “gurl, just let it loose! Release all that pent-up female irrationality! Let it fly free from the cage of phallic rationalism you’ve trapped yourself in!”

Of course, I’m only being half-serious. I’m trying to get you to chuckle. In all seriousness, I do want to reexamine Zizek’s claim that it is precisely women’s tendency toward hysteria that indicates they indeed are smarter than men.2

Hysteria, he claims, is a sign of human subjectivity—self-awareness—at its purest and most intense. The woman is driven to hysteria not by her lack of intelligence, but by the overflowing of her intelligence. The woman is so aware of the human dynamics at play, of her own emotions, that the information overload causes her to short-circuit and explode.

What men call our “rationality” is really a cover for our limited scope of knowledge. Bare facts, dry objectivity—tunnel vision. It may be easier for the man to hone in on the details and get the job done without letting his emotions get in the way. But this doesn’t mean he’s more “intelligent.”

Indeed, Paglia argues that men are quite simple [if not, at times, straight up dumb].

“Men are very, very simple beings. They just want approval and attention. You pat them on the head and they go and conquer the North Pole. But they are desperate. They are exiles from the world of intimacy…Their confidence is utterly frail . They need daily maintenance.”

Our demonstrations of great physical strength are not a sign of our greater intelligence, but rather are attempts to mask the fact that we are insecure about the fact that we are not so smart after all. We lack the self-awareness that women have, the capacity to take in and process knowledge, which is born of their capacity to receive and gestate life internally. She goes as far as arguing that the patriarchy is not the product of men conspiring to keep women down, but rather of women conspiring to protect men from their weakness (or to trick us into thinking that they aren’t as smart as they really are).3

“The man may be the head,” as Maria Portokalos—the Great Mediterranean Mother of My Big Fat Greek Wedding—concedes. “But the woman is the neck. And she can turn the head any way she wants to.” In the scene below, the powerful woman feigns stupidity in order to slip in and manipulate the man’s “headship,” unbeknownst to him.

“Men watch,” as John Berger quipped, “and women watch themselves being watched.” Women’s pure subjectivity places the cards in their hands. The trick is to learn to play them the right way. She holds the reins, if she manages to pick them up, that is.

The hysterical female, the woman who loses her shit, is not idiotic—she has just temporarily dropped the reins. The woman scorned by unrequited loved, by adultery, by jealousy—Soraya in Maria La Del Barrio, Lucia in Mujeres al borde de un ataque de nervios—is barraged with an information overload, allowing her psyche to momentarily derail from its track toward superior intelligence.

But the same raw material that festers into hysterical nonsense can easily be rerouted, bringing her intellect to soar toward the heights of other-worldly knowledge, even toward unity with the Divine. Indeed, Teresa of Avila—in her state of ecstatic rapture—is the counterpart to Soraya and Lucia.4

Of course, most mainstream feminists—with their naive materialist worldview, bourgeois individualist priorities, and utter aversion to anything that whiffs of Freud—can’t comprehend this. “It’s so easy to make men wilt—if feminists don’t realize that,” asserts Paglia, “they are stupid.” All they see if raw power, devoid of its metaphysical underpinnings. Women’s liberation can only come from suppressing that which makes woman who she is, and emulating men…from whining about victimhood and demand the policing of behavior and language.

The subtle power that comes naturally to women is thrown by the wayside in order to grasp at the ephemeral, hollow power of girlbossery. She fails to understand that it is not the woman “who don’t need no man” who dominates, but the woman who feigns “dependence” on her man, while subtly calling the shots. [In all seriousness, its the generative woman, the woman who gives life out of love—whether biologically or spiritually—who dominates…like Mary!]

Ladies, stop complaining about men and playing victims. You hold all the cards. Learn to play them!

[also, you’re welcome for letting me mansplain femininity to you!]

Subscribe now

So I wrote about Ramadan and Lent in the WSJ.

In several of my writings and pods on Islam, I’ve cited my esteem for sufism. Sufism is the mystical branch of Islam which existed since the time of Muhammad and was popularized later on in the 12th-13th centuries by poets like Rumi and philosophers like al-Ghazzali. Because it’s unconventional approach to Islamic discipline and spirituality, it’s been suppressed on and off when more legalistic (often Sunni) Muslims have been in power. After being suppressed most recently by Wahabi fundamentalists, it’s seen a bit of a resurgence thanks to efforts by al-Azhar University in Cairo and Zaytuna College Berkely, as well as by recent English translations of Rumi’s poetry and its appearance in Ramy Youssef’s Hulu series.

I just wanted to briefly spell out why I think it would be worthwhile for both Muslims and non-Muslims to revisit the sufi tradition:

• As a form of mysticism—which places great emphasis on God as mystery—sufism has an aversion to “dry legalism” or moralism. Much like the mystical, charismatic, and evangelical movements in Christianity, sufism places focuses on the interior, subjective aspect of being in relationship with God…which involves more than just following rules or going through the external motions. Rather, it emphasizes the disposition of one’s heart, of one’s desire for God and God’s desire for us, and thus in fostering one’s personal relationship with him. Thus, there is more space for the engagement of one’s emotions, as well as an emphasis on God’s mercy on and tenderness for our humanity—in all of its fragility and grandeur.

• A PIME missionary stationed in Algeria recently pointed out to me that of the 99 names of God in Islam, “love” is not one of them. Once again, the sufis are the exception here. The fact that they do recognize that God is loving makes it easier for him as a Christian to enter into dialogue/share his experience with sufis than with other Muslims. Because of the sufi emphasis on the purification of the heart and one’s interior spiritual disposition, there ends up being a greater emphasis on God’s mercy and love than is found in other iterations of Islam. Sufism fosters this symbiotic relationship between the sufi’s awareness of the impurity of his own heart and the greatness of God’s loving mercy, which together generates a true humility, gratitude, and an impassioned joy.

• Sufis understand well that sanctity doesn’t come from forcing yourself to follow rules more strictly by your effort alone. Rather, it’s a journey, a process that comes about through deepening his relationship with God, inviting God into his heart. This isn’t done in isolation, as it requires a relationship first and foremost with a spiritual guide, a sufi master, to walk you through that journey, as well as a community (lodge) for mutual support. This emphasis on relationality offsets the risk of voluntarism and nominalism that some branches of Islam are prone to falling into.

• As much as Islam insists that God cannot become a man…that he can’t take on a human face, and that Jesus is only a prophet, I can’t deny having seen God at work in the faces of my Muslim friends. While my sufi friends reject the incarnation, they understand what I’m trying to get at when I say this. They understand this experience of God working through human beings, even if they reject the belief that God became an actual human.

• Because it it less pessimistic about human nature, and trusts God’s grace is capable of transforming it, sufis have been known to become great philosophers, musicians, artists, and poets. Their exaltation of human reason and affectivity, the mind and the heart, have breathed life into numerous Islamic societies.

But the fact that Islam lacks centralized authority (as well as belief in God’s incarnation) means that this focus on subjectivity/desire—as good as they are—often risk going off the rails and veers into heresy. Specifically, some forms of sufism end up becoming kinda esoteric to the point that they function as Islamicized forms of gnosticism. We see this especially in the new age versions of sufism that talk about ego death while engaging in self-indulgent stuff like psychedelic drug use and “free love.” Some sufis allow their focus on subjectivity and on God as mystery as an excuse to ignore the objectivity of Islamic law…and of reality itself. Also one’s relationship with a sufi master can risk forging a manipulative cult of personality—which can happen in any religion, but it’s harder in Islamic contexts because, again, there’s no centralized authority to call it out.

Even still, in a time where Islam has been overtaken by legalistic fundamentalists who are hostile to the use of reason and human subjectivity, we need the wisdom of [orthodox] sufis now more than ever. And as Ramy depicts, sufism responds to the “signs of the times” in decadent Western societies—where we are told to embrace our subjectivity, to pursue our desires and consume whatever we think will fulfill them, but then are left alone to face our brokenness and woundedness.

This esteem for human subjectivity, God’s love/mercy, and relationality make sufism that branch of Islam where Christians can find we have the most in common. Thus why we should being looking for ways to enter into dialogue and share our respective journeys.

If you want to learn more about sufism, I’d suggest you start with Hamza Yusuf’s Purification of the Heart, then read Rumi’s poetry, then al-Ghazali’s The Alchemy of Happiness, then watch Ramy.

Subscribe now

As I continue to get old, I’m noticing how crucial it is to have friends who aren’t afraid to call me out and help me own my shit. And as a Laschian narcissist with a micro-following, it’s really, really important to have friends who will keep me humble and remind me that I am in fact NOT hot shit. These kinds of friends save me from myself.

Here are a few specific examples that flesh out what I’m talking about.

Friends who make you feel average

In high school, a classmate once remarked that I was the smartest of the dumb kids. Though I was offended at first, I was like “wait, he’s actually right.” In all honesty, I’m not intelligent, nor am I hard-working. I am creative, insightful, and passionate. My creativity and insight enable me to say intelligent things sometimes, and my passion can drive me to work hard. But I’m not actually intelligent or hard-working. This is why I end up around smart, driven people, despite being nowhere near as competent as they are.

I’ve come to realize that this is actually a good thing. I like hanging out with both dumb/underachievers/crazy/immature people, as well as successful/driven/overachievers/well-adjusted people. They make me feel normal, average…the dummies remind me of what I should avoid and the smarty-pants remind me of what I should aspire toward. But on a serious level, it’s good to have well-adjusted friends to turn to as points of reference/mentors, and to have struggling friends to be able to help.

Writers and other people who share their opinions with other people for a living:

Perhaps as a writer/content creator, sometimes you might make some important points. But at the end of the day, you are not God. Your opinion is not that important. While it’s nice to have friends who kiss your a*s and fawn over your hot takes/accomplishments, you need friends who will congratulate you on your accomplishments then move on…and remind you of your responsibilities, like having to attend to your duties, care for your family and friends, and wash the dishes.

Better yet, find friends who, rather than saying “good job” when you publish/present something, will say “I found this part in particular to be thought-provoking/useful/confusing/incomprehensible/stupid” (big difference between complimenting someone’s work and commenting on a particular aspect of their work, keeps the response objective…about the work itself rather than the person producing it). Furthermore, I need friends who will mock me, poke fun at me, and (lovingly) trivialize my importance.

People in positions of authority/leading vulnerable people

When you’re in a position of authority, there’s always the risk that you project your complexes/needs onto the people you’re leading. This is especially dangerous if you’re a particularly insecure person, and if the people you are leading are particularly vulnerable. This is why you need to surround yourself with friends who can meet your needs and who aren’t going to be afraid to call you out when your complexes are interfering with your ability to lead/serve others.

Crazy people with an unhinged temperament

People like us need to learn how to channel our kookiness in creative and generative ways. This is why we need friends who know where to establish guardrails with us,1 where to lay the boundary so that we aren’t forced to repress (and then eventually unleash) our craziness, and so that we don’t let our craziness get us into trouble. This is easier said than done. But if you have an unhinged temperament, it is super crucial that you find friends like this.

Boys

And as I wrote here (and in the note above) boys need friends and mentors (especially other male ones) to help them when they’re jobless/dissatisfied with their career…to both remind them that God loves them, and to get their asses moving.

Anyway, you are responsible for selecting and cultivating such friends, and for actually heeding their advice and their correction. People who are isolated, or who surround themselves with friends who don’t have the balls to call them out, usually end up in bad places.

Really tho, boys need father figures to look up to and show them the ropes—otherwise we will stay stuck in the womb forever, living in constant fear of being devoured by maternal figures. And no, manosphere influencers don’t count!

Humor

One of the best penances a priest gave me was to look and the mirror and make a stupid face at myself and laugh. He said most of my sins came from the fact that I take myself too seriously. He was so right.

Developing a self-deprecatory sense of humor can help you be more frank about your limitations—rather than internalizing them, and feeling ashamed about them or being in denial about them. When in doubt, laugh at yourself! You’re pretty r-worded!!

So I went on the Compact podcast to discuss the EU's war against conversion therapy.

And I thought I’d take the opportunity to go through my hot takes on the topic.

• As much as I agree with our friends like who wrote for us about (and who came on the pod to discuss) how conversion therapy can be spiritually and psychologically damaging, I assert in this piece that the main problem with conversion therapy is that it’s “fake and gay”…which is to say that it naively presumes that one can use therapy to “fix” oneself (which is not what therapy is meant to do) and that sexual orientation exists in the first place. On top of being psychologically suspect, it’s also based on theologically/spiritually shaky presumptions.

  there’s something extremely atheistic about creating a “project” of “changing” your “sexual orientation.” You are not God. You do not determine the course of your own life. Rather, you were designed to obey his will. Obvi, Allah does not will you to sodomize others. But clearly his permissive will allowed you to have whatever sexual/emotional issues you have. Thus, rather than trying to “change” your given lot in life, offer it to him, humbly asking Him what He wants you to do. Life is not about advancing your personal agenda or trying to “fix” your problems—it’s about receiving God’s merciful, healing love and following the path he’s set out for you to share said love with others.

  Furthermore, most people who go into conversion therapy do so because they are deeply immature and insecure, and need to work on developing their personality (their roots, their b*lls) before trying to sort through their sexual issues.

  When we say that many pursue change because they are unimaginative and uncool, we mean to say they likely view the world in terms of simplistic/moralistic binaries, are deeply insecure, don’t have a strong sense of who they are, and lack confidence and personality.
  

  In our opinion, it’s much more important that you develop a sense of confidence and build up your imagination…that you become a strong, passionate, fun human being…one with deep roots, ties to community, culture, and place, with a true joie de vivre, and who is willing to fight and die for something substantial, than that you “fix” your faulty “sexual orientation.”² Therapy might be able to turn you straight, but it can’t make you cooler.
  

  In fact, if you become a cooler, stronger, more passionate human being, it’ll be [a little] more likely that you’ll be able to overcome whatever is blocking your ability to develop erotic desire for the opposite sex.
  …
  You should also seek to become a cooler person. Get some culture in your life. Join a sports team. Become a power lifter. Learn BJJ. Learn how to build stuff. Learn how to dance. Learn how to paint. Learn another language. Learn how to play the piano. Read fascinating books. Learn how to cook. BE ETHNIC. Be involved in your neighborhood or a civic organization. Join a lay movement or go to a parish run by a religious order. Visit people in prison. Get dafuq out of the suburbs! Learn how to love life.

  

• As much as we’re not pro-conversion therapy, we are pro doing what you can to “slide down the Kinsey Scale”…which is to say to develop bisexual responsiveness—a Paglian position we built on in this piece.
  
  Being a 6 on the Kinsey Scale is neither normal nor healthy. Exclusively pursuing sex with people of the same sex—and worse, trying to model your same sex relationship on a hetero marriage—is not a thing people have ever done in history.
  
  And “inverts” who are dyed-in-the-wool, born-this-way gay who have no hope of ever becoming bi have always pursued “alternative” vocations like being court eunuchs or monks…or becoming debauched deviants.
  
  Thus, you should do all in your power to work through whatever is blocking your opposite sex attraction, and to alleviate whatever wounds/complexes are spurring your same sex attractions (provides that’s where they are stemming from). Also, we aren’t against heteros developing bi responsiveness. There is indeed something [moderately] healthy about this capacity to recognize beauty and develop deep bonds of affection for people of the same sex.

• This is kind of my magnum opus on conversion therapy: my series of interviews with people who developed opposite sex attraction without using conversion therapy.

  I recently spoke to several men and women in their 20s and 30s who are turned off by both the “born this way” account of identity and by conversion therapy. These people all thought of themselves as exclusively gay during their early adolescence, but have since then developed attraction to people of the opposite sex to varying degrees—and for varying reasons. Their stories don’t fit neatly into pre-existing ideological categories as they are resistant to—as one person put it—having “a label slapped on” their sexuality.
  

  Some started exploring opposite-sex attraction due to bad experiences with the same sex, or due to their frustration with the progressive ideology that they felt treated them as political footballs. Others were creative types who were curious to explore the other side. Some had moral reservations about homosexuality. But all of them welcomed the changes they experienced in their sexual attractions—none of which were the result of conversion therapy.

  …
  The people I spoke to had a variety of views on the moral nature of homosexuality. Though Nathaniel is fed up with “queer ideology,” he indicated that he’s not morally opposed to homosexuality itself, but rather to its being normalized. Sven thinks “gays can play an important role in society and should be allowed to live freely and in peace (in private), but they should not be celebrated.” And while Jason believes gay sex is “intrinsically disordered and sinful,” he also thinks it’s “tragically cool and fascinating.”
  

  While the legal battle over conversion therapy rages on, much of what’s happening on the ground is more nuanced and harder to categorize. Perhaps it is time for us to begin making space in the public discourse for those whose experiences don’t fit into conventional “pro-gay” or “ex-gay” boxes.

Anyway, I think people should do like Simon Kaggwa Njala and ask themselves, “why are you gae?”

So I’m a strong believer in Fr. Gustavo Gutierrez’s thing that if you say you love the poor, you should be able to name them…which is what drove Dorothy Day to start going to St. Joe’s on 6th Ave for early morning Mass after leaving the Hell Hole bar down the block—her radical pals would sit there talking about the poor, but she wanted to be with the poor…thus why she started following them into Mass.

Anyway, I get very annoyed with “progressive” people who talk about “advocating” for the poor, homeless, immigrants, minorities, etc, but who don’t regularly interact—or have friendships—with said people. Stop posting infographics and go “share life” with these people. Very easy to love people as abstractions, much harder to love actual human beings.

This is why you should be regularly involved in inter-class spaces like churches or charitable organizations—better yet, move into a multiclass neighborhood.

Anyway, enough ranting. I wanted to write about what it’s like to be the kind of person who is always surrounded by people who are either richer or poorer than me:

As I entered into my young adulthood, I found that about half of my friends had a lot less money than me, and the other half had a lot more. Very few where within my own spending range. Ultimately I think this is a positive thing. But it’s also a tricky thing to deal with.

Subscribe now

Here are some examples:

Around your poor friends:

• they decline going to a restaurant that will cost them more than $15 for a meal…or decline going out altogether because they’re “broke” (which I have a hard time believing…it’s probably a way out of saying “I don’t wanna go, thanks tho”).

• Say they’ll Venmo you back, but never do

• Or worse, they just assume that you’ll pay for them and don’t even ask or tell you they need you to spot them…nor do they thank you

• they ask you for a loan…which is always awky because that introduces an uncomfortable power dynamic into the relationship

• When you agree to split the bill, but they nitpick over a few dollar because you ordered the more expensive drink

Around your rich friends:

• Assume that you’re good with going to a place that’s going to cost $80+ per person

• When you say you want a nice meal, they assume that means a 5 star restaurant, when in reality you meant a meal from a place that serves tasty, authentic ethnic food that comes out to about $25-60 per person.

• When you let them pick the place but it’s super expensive and you don’t wanna pay, so you play the game where you make it look like you’re about to grab the bill but you do it slowly so that they get to it first and say “allow me,” and then you’re like “oh, no…you can’t….oh, well thank you that’s so kind of you…”

• When they expect you to go to their destination wedding, and you’re like uhhh…yeah no I don’t got it like that.

Anyway, you should foster interclass relationships. Stop living in a silo. Learn how the other side lives.

Subscribe now

“One of the qualitative differences between black and white worship,” claimed Reverend Forrest Pritchett, “is that for blacks, the sacred and secular are fused. Religion is lived not just while in the church space, but in everyday life,” whether that be in the home, at work, on the streets or at celebrations. “For us, everything is spiritual.”1 The Black American religious sensibility is born of an integral cultural experience. Spirituality, aesthetics, tradition, and communal bonds together form a foundation upon which a person is empowered to face adversity and injustice with courage and hope. Such an “enchanted” political consciousness, as the philosopher Charles Taylor might refer to it, stands in stark contrast to more individualistic and mechanistic narratives of racial justice that have gained significant traction in recent years. While said narratives may help people from historically disadvantaged communities to successfully make their way up a ladder of achievement in one’s given career path and attain enough financial stability to live a materially comfortable lifestyle, they also run the risk of leaving them atomized and rootless, dis-embedding themselves from a substantial sense of purpose and belonging.

Rev. Pritchett, rather, presented an alternative narrative where the person’s fulfillment extends beyond the individual, reaching back to their spiritual origin and looking forward to their ultimate destiny, and where their sense of self is bolstered by a rich cultural legacy and strong communal ties. In this paper, I will examine the ways that spirituality, the arts, and relational interdependence have undergirded the Black American struggle for justice, and together provide a model for one to begin to bring about peace “from the inside out.”

“The enchanted world,” asserts Charles Taylor, “was one in which [spiritual] forces could cross a porous boundary and shape our lives, psychic and physical.” Building on Max Weber’s thesis of disenchantment under capitalism, Taylor contrasts the individual living in modern secularized Western societies from the “porous selves” that preceded the shift toward privatized religiosity and spirituality. The modern “buffered self” lives “with a much firmer sense of the boundary between self and other.” While the “porous self” is subject to the spiritually charged forces–both holy and demonic–of objects outside of herself, the buffered self’s rational mind imposes meaning onto reality, and thus preserves her from the unpredictable forces of the external world. Thus, when a modern person calls themself “religious” Taylor insists that they tend to construe religiosity as a matter of internalized beliefs and private practices, rather than a matter of running up against external spiritual forces within everyday life.2

Subscribe now

Yet for some communities, the boundary line between the spiritual and the everyday remains quite porous. Unlike those who consider themselves to be walking into a spiritually “neutral” world after stepping out of the doors of a house of worship, said communities tend to be more conscious of the fact that even something as mundane as going shopping, sitting in class, or even watching a TV show can constitute what James KA Smith calls a “cultural liturgy.” These “liturgies” have the capacity to operate as a “formative pedagogy of [spiritual] desire.”

“A God who does not pertain to man’s activity…is at best a waste of time,” says Luigi Giussani. “If the sacred is irrelevant to the concrete domain of our daily efforts… human reality is left to itself.” In other words, a faith that only manifests in the space of a church building or in one’s moments of private prayer is of little use to a people who continuously find themselves facing injustice and death.3 As Rev. Pritchett commented, Black Americans have tended not to have the luxury to hide from the corruption of State power, the limitations of the human will, and the inevitable reality of death. Such conditions have propelled Black communities to foster a profound dependence on God and to recognize his presence in all aspects of life. “Dread and powerlessness,” writes James H. Cone, “in the face of the ever-present threat of death on the lynching tree impelled blacks to cry out from the depth of their spiritual being.”

Cone goes on to highlight the dialectic between despair in the face of suffering on one hand, and hope in a God who keeps his promises on the other, that permeates all of black life, especially in black music.4 The Black American aesthetic consciousness finds inspiration in biblical figures like Job who called out to God in the midst of his suffering, awaiting his response with hope. But this dynamic of call and response–which informs much of the lyrical and vocal arrangements of spirituals and Soul music–goes both ways. God also calls his followers to take up their crosses and carry them in unity with his own.

why i'm a garvey-ite

The imperative to carry one’s cross with Jesus “gave birth,” claims Cone, “to the black freedom movement.” Music played a crucial role in the civil rights era of the 1960s and 70s: “The spirituals were the soul of the movement, giving people courage to fight, and the church was the anchor, deepening its faith in the coming freedom for all.” The blues, while relying less directly on religious imagery, was penetrated by the same aesthetic consciousness, preparing people “to fight for justice by giving them a cultural identity that made them human and thus ready to struggle.”

In an essay on the broader history of Afro-American music, Cornel West insists that “the black church…is the fountainhead of the Afro-American spiritual-blues impulse”–whose traces he finds in funk, R&B, and hip-hop. “Without the black church, with its African roots and Christian context, Afro-American culture…is unimaginable.” What’s at stake, then, when dealing with less “enchanted” narratives of race and social justice is the downplaying of the totality of human needs, desires, and experiences that the Black American legacy testifies to.

Share

Multiple scholars of various cultural backgrounds have critiqued the narrowing of the scope of discourse on personhood, identity, and society. Take, for example, the literary and art critic Camille Paglia, who has frequently called into question the ways French poststructuralism and Enlightenment humanism–which she argues make little space for the roles that metaphysics and aesthetics play–have shaped discourses on matters of race and ethnicity in academic settings.5 Similarly, Michael Novak, in an attempt to shed light on the diminishing nuance with which identity markers are construed, distinguishes between the postmodern celebration of diversity and the humanistic ideal of the great American “melting pot” (which idealizes cultural assimilation).

Novak argues that both outlooks, despite their good intentions, tend to uproot people from greater cultural legacies and spiritual ideals. This uprooting may afford the person greater autonomy, thus freeing them to pursue their own goals while increasing their wealth and political agency. Yet this increase in one’s individual freedom runs the risk of severing one’s ties with members–past, present, and to come–of both one’s given community and with the transcendent, rendering one’s cultural heritage a merely monolithic identity category with only economic and political significance.6

Cornel West similarly has critiqued what he calls “atheistic,” “neoliberal,” and “individualistic” approaches to racial justice which have upstaged prior ones that started from a more substantial spiritual and moral basis and have thrived on the “loss of existential mooring due to the collapse of family structures and supportive networks” like churches and other forms of community. The “roots of the Afro-American spiritual-blues impulse are based on the supposition that somebody–God, mom, or neighbors–cares.” He contrasts this with the expansion of a neoliberal, capitalistic view which holds that “racial groups are homogeneous and freedom is individualistic...”

At a certain point during his lecture, Rev. Pritchett reminisced about the stories that his grandmother used to tell him about his family’s history. As he matured, he realized that there were some stories that his grandmother intentionally avoided recounting. Upon asking about the deaths of certain family members, she strongly rebuked him. In that moment, he understood how painful the mere memory of racial violence and oppression can be for those who witness it firsthand. This anecdote highlighted the essential role that intergenerational dialogue plays in the passing down of traditions, moral values, and faith for a given culture. The work of establishing and nurturing one’s roots is not without toil and, at times, agony. But to forgo this labor renders a people fragile, disconnected, and disenchanted.7 To face the struggle for justice without the greater web of relations that unites an individual person with God and others, and which points their efforts in this world toward the hope of reaching a meaning whose scope is eternal, robs the person of the internal sense of stability needed to foster peace within their relationships and the society they belong to. Worse, they are rendered impotent in the face of the violence and evil that humanity–ourselves included–is capable of perpetrating.

Subscribe now

Be sure to also check out my essay on SoG Augustus Tolton.

New Jersey-based grassroots organizer Lawrence Hamm–a follower of Amiri Baraka back in the 1970s–once shared with me how transformative the Black Power message was when he first encountered it in James Brown’s 1968 song “Say it Loud (I’m Black and I’m Proud)”. For Hamm, the song’s message was a much needed antidote to the anti-black sentiment he had come to internalize, and would go on to motivate his lifelong efforts to advocate for the needs of Black people in Newark, NJ.

Unlike for today’s libertarian right and identitarian left, for Pan-Africanism, the material and political were not divorced from the aesthetic and metaphysical, but were intertwined with each other…which is perhaps why we suffer from a loss of great art in today’s age. Black power messaging can be found in the music of countless musicians of decades past–Bob Marley, Buju Banton, NWA, Public Enemy, Eric B. and Rakim, Nas, Erykah Badu, Sounds of Blackness, Marvin Gaye, Mtume, McFadden and Whitehead, Lauryn Hill…just to name a few–ranging from the more militant and separatist to the more “ecumenical,” spiritual, and even the explicitly Christian.

The Black Power slogan–first popularized by Stokely Carmichael in 1968–took on a variety of iterations during the Civil Rights era, from separatists like Malcolm X to universalists like Martin Luther King. Though quick to condemn its excesses, King went on to express greater esteem for Black Power-rhetoric as his life neared its end–thanks in part to his growing relationship with Malcolm X (who also expressed more openness to universalism and integrationism thanks to his relationship with King, and largely to his pilgrimage to Mecca, as witnessed by his conversion from Black Islam to traditional Abrahamic Islam).

Malcolm X’s insistence on the need for Blacks to hold firmly to their sense of dignity and, when necessary, to defend themselves, is echoed in King’s clarification of the relationship between love and power in his 1967 speech “Where Do We Go From Here?”. Taking up Nietzsche’s claim that Christians too easily allow the exhortation to love one’s enemies to lead them to forego any sense of their self-respect, King insists that his call to non-violence should not be read as a call to let people “walk all over you.” And that while power alone corrupts and leads to violence and division, power when joined to love leads to productive change and reconciliation between enemies.

This clarification highlights the incontrovertible fact that one cannot love others if one does not love him or herself–not in a sentimental sense, but in the sense that one recognizes one’s existence–one’s Blackness–is good, a gift to be cherished and valued. Put more concisely, one cannot love others if one does not recognize that “Black is Beautiful,” as Servant of God Sister Thea Bowman, a Black American nun, proclaimed in front of a meeting of the US Catholic bishops in 1989.

Since the 1960s, numerous other non-Black Christian social justice activists similarly recognized the value of ethnic identity as both a locus of cultural enrichment and political organizing, including Daniel P. Moynihan, Nathan Glazer, Father Geno Baroni, and Michael Novak, the latter of whom eloquently wrote that our roots “are our material, our concrete limits, our purchase on a finite, real, earthy earth–our liberation from the land of pure spirits, disembodied presences, and gnostic hoverings…every human being is ‘rooted,’ and that each one’s social history is important. Each of us is born from the womb of a single woman into a particular segment of human experience, at a time, in a place, within a language and a particular set of cultural symbols, beliefs, rites, gestures, emotional patterns, and a not-universal sensibility.”

Gloria Purvis on the pod

And despite the monopoly poststructuralist identitarianism currently holds over public discourse, there are plenty of original voices who speak to a more multifaceted understanding of the role of race in public life. Take Dr. Cornel West, Albert Thompson of the American Solidarity Party who writes about race through a localist, distributist lens; Justin Giboney, the founder of the &Campaign which advocates for bridging the divide between progressives and traditionalists; and Gloria Purvis, a media personality who brings attention to the beauty and richness of Black American history in the Catholic Church.

In our rootless, disenchanted age, neither the highly elitist, bureaucratic program of liberal identitarians, nor the bootstrapping rhetoric of colorblind libertarians–both steeped in materialist individualism–provide a way out of our social deadlocks. While Black radicalism may have plenty of pitfalls, it offers us a nuanced vision of the polyvalent elements that make up society–and above all, envisions society as fundamentally rooted in something greater than the atomized individual. If we insist on being “colorblind,” then let us refuse to be cultureblind, because culture is beautiful. As Dostoyevsky famously quipped, “beauty will save the world.” Consequently, a world bereft of substantial aesthetic underpinnings is beyond salvation, let alone “liberation” from oppression.

Subscribe now

As I’ve written many, many times, we are now in the post-gay era. Sexual orientation is no longer a thing (in elite circles). Fringe lunatics have become weird sexualities like poly, omni, and otherkin (for progressives) or homesteading tradwives and manosphere-adjacent, homoerotic neopagans (for trads). Normies straights are now a little more queer-coded and normie queers and bicurious…which is to say people no longer adhere to these strict, rigid categories. Paglia’s dream of normalizing bisexual responsiveness looms on the horizon.

Straights are no longer homophobic. Nor are they “supportive allies.” They’re cool with the gays, in part because they have come to terms with their on latent homoerotic proclivities, but also because they have developed the emotionally maturity (as well as the virtue of charity) to respect the gays.

The same way str8s must pass through their (very natural) homophobic stage1 in order to develop genuine respect for gays and gays must pass through their victim and wanting-to-turn-the-str8s phases in order to hang with the str8s, society had to pass through the LGBT/Rainbow flag/Pride phase in order to reach this phase where people are more chill about sexuality. It was a necessary stage in our evolution toward basedness.

You cannot become based until you have gotten all the cringe out of your system first.

On a similar note, I’m realizing how much my analysis of our entry into the post-gay, and thus post-woke, era mostly applies to people in elite cosmopolitan bubbles. People in non-elite institutions, the working class, and people living in cultural backwaters have yet to go through their woke phase and still need to get it out of their system…which is not such a bad thing given how horribly homophobic (and sexist and racist they can be).

As we all know, culture is downstream from NYC. Therefore, it will take a while for NYC’s post-wokeness to trickle down to the rest of society.

wrote about this as it pertains to feminism: a society must first go through feminism, even enduring its excessive forms, before it becomes based. Otherwise, it risks being genuinely misogynistic.

I see this in my working class friends. They still unironically believe woke platitudes since they were late to the game, and have yet to get it out of their systems. Working class gays have just learned to accept their homosexuality and are pursuing gay marriages—while elite gays think gay marriage is cringe and prefer to become volcel trads or to enjoy themselves as pre-Stonewall-adjacent decadent, deviant sodomites. I have to hold my laughter when millennial and zoomer working class gays tell me they are getting gay married (and refrain from saying, “ok, boomer…”).

More on this here:

Cracks in Postmodernity

[Anti-]Wokeness: ideology or psychological deficiency?

So yesterday at no pomo (which you ought to subscribe to already), we posted some thoughts on the current vibe shift in which it has become acceptable—now that wokeness is losing traction—for based people to embrace some woke platitudes…

Read more

a year ago · 6 likes · Stephen G. Adubato

But alas, thus is the natural process of evolution. One day they’ll get it out of their system. They’ll realize that all of this stuff is fake and gay, and will join the rest of us in celebrating the joys of being based.