Tony Chiado

The river is many things at once. It is young as it is old. It’s as calm as it is violent. It flows as it dams. It bends around some stones, and it crashes over others. It is shallow and deep. Why do we insist it be one thing when it is many? Any attempt to limit the character of the river is a misunderstanding of nature as complex.

In the same way, resistance against fascism is many things at once. It, too, is young as it is old. Old Grandma’s with clever signs must share the streets with Black Bloc. At some moments resistance should divert to avoid obstacles, and at others it must reject the obstacle’s authority in a given space. The most committed antifascists must march alongside the people who have only just become upset about what fascism has done to their retirement portfolio.

In the panic that something must be done to combat fascism, we fixate on “right” and “wrong” ways to fight the fascists. The most important thing, above all else, is that we commit to fighting. If our fighting spirit is mutual aid, beautiful. If our fighting spirit is emails to senators, beautiful. If our fighting spirit is yelling in the streets, beautiful. If our fighting spirit is militant, beautiful. The fight is beautiful, whatever form it takes, because to fight fascism is to fight for humanity.

The river finds its way by being many things. So, too, must any resistance against fascism.