Capitalism and its allies (racism, queerphobia, ableism, and patriarchy, just to name a few) have turned what aught to be a time of rest and celebration at years end into the mess we know as “Christmastime”. These systems of abuse and exploitation that we struggle against are in fact so deeply embedded into the “traditions” surrounding Christmas that their removal would render this so-called “holiday” totally unrecognizable. Without the atomization, the abuse of laborers and the gross consumerism fueled by the violence of empire… what would be left of what was once called Christmas?
The true War on Christmas lies not in saying “seasons greetings” or “holiday tree” but in the battles we wage for the liberation of all mankind.
Happy holidays comrades, a better world is possible.
The image (which is tight as hell) is a commemorative poster by Vladimir Menshikov depicting Ded Moroz, a Russian/eastern slavic cultural figure similar to Santa Claus, as a partisan in the Great Patriotic War. The poem in the bottom left (roughly) translates to:
We have settled our score with the invaders: To the executioners who barely survived, Our partisan raids, fierce and relentless, Still haunt their dreams at night.
Image and translation credits to Propagandopolis on twitter (its an xcancel link).
I was too busy with the nonsense to produce an actual effortpost so this is what we’re getting this week lol.
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family shit, rambling
I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.
The Christmas zoom call was SO ass. It was horrendous. No one gave a fuck about my name or pronouns. I’ve written a letter to my family and asked my sibling if it was fair and they said yes. I still don’t know if I should send it.
The whole reason I zoomed instead of visited in person was because I didn’t want to be trapped there around so many people I despise, with no way of leaving. It’s great to know I made the right choice, because not only did I not hear my name basically at all (except for once from my sibling), but my dad was actively an asshole to me. I guess he simply couldn’t help it.
I wore my favorite dress, did my nails all nice, had my name on the zoom set to my name and pronouns. I did everything. No one forgot. No one cared.
I find out from my sibling today that while they were there in person, any time my grandma tried to bring anything up about my gender transition, my dad would shut her down by saying “please, let’s just have a good day.” So it seems like everyone may have been to afraid to ruin my dad’s favorite holiday, so I was the sacrificial lamb. “Let’s have a good day.” Amazing how I didn’t have one of those.
Every single bone in my body is telling me never to talk to my dad ever again and just cut ties. I desperately want to be able to. He is an irredeemable asshole. I genuinely hate him. The only thing keeping me from just doing it is the knowledge that my grandma lived with him. Shes 90 years old and if I ever want to see her again in person, I have to put up with the family nonsense.
It’s also a thing where I’m scared of cutting off from pretty much the only family I have left, even if they’re bad for me.
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I think it’s that I’m running out of people who claim to care about me. Even though my dad doesn’t actually care about me, he says he loves me. And I kind of crave that.
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I feel like I’m just allowing myself to be taken advantage of just cause he says the words. But the feeling is so strong. Even though I hate his guts