Liberatory Imagination with Tiffany

(Photos of the camping trip of incredible mountains, trees, body of water. And on the right, I created a piece inspired by the view with watercolors and charcoal - I used the water from Lake Louise for the watercolor.)[ Scroll to the bottom to watch the visual version of this post ]In September 2016, I went on a 10 day camping trip with friends through Glacier National Park to Banff National Park…it was so epic. We pitched our tents at a new location every night. I remember waking up to the scent pine trees, forest dirt, and fresh rain. The smell was intoxicating. Love the rain, but it’s hard to set up camp during rainfall and it’s not really fun when you’re cold and wet. It was way colder than we expected, and I was unfortunately a little unprepared for that part. On top of that it was kinda rough to depend on park showers and bathrooms every single day. But it was so worth the adventure being amongst such awe-inducing nature.(Photos of me making art in my apartment soon after that trip.)Something I revisit weirdly often is the euphoric experience when I got back. The first 24 hours back in my studio apartment were out of this world. It was like I was high! The first hot shower in a clean bathroom. The first night in my fluffy warm bed. The first change into clean clothes. The first skincare routine not from travel bottles. The first day without having to talk to anyone. I was having an out of body experience. Pure bliss.The novelty of my being at home was so visceral for me that I can almost feel it right now 10 years later.In that same era, I learned about hedonic adaptation (or treadmill), which is the human phenomenon of always needing to “up” our experiences to get to our previous level of enjoyment.For example: the first time going to the lake was so magical…I felt like I could do it every day and not get sick of it. So the next time, I brought my favorite chilled drink and loved it, but sitting there, I already knew that I wanted to bring a camping chair next time. So then, I do that…and then it would be cuter if I also had food. So suddenly, the magic of being by the lake without anything doesn’t exactly have the same shimmery feeling, because I need the other elements. There’s nothing wrong with bringing a drink or snack to the lake, but it demonstrates how fast our sense of awe or gratitude can evaporate.Another way to see it is this chase for novelty, and by definition, novelty can’t really be experienced in repetition. The only way to combat it is to create a contrasting experience. In this example, to not go to the lake for a while, and enjoy level 1 again. Or go back to level 1 and intentionally invite the feeling of gratitude and awe.Back to my camping trip, I felt euphoric in my apartment, because I was experiencing novelty. My norm for the past 10 days was setting camp in the rain, really cold uncomfortable nights, a hard sleeping mat, dirty bathrooms, cold showers, and constant socializing. So coming home of course felt like heaven. I moved my baseline.I think our bodies, our nervous systems, our psyche, are always looking for a balance of safety through routine and novelty.We want to feel settled in day to day life and not have to use our executive thinking all the time, because decision fatigue is so draining. AND we also want to feel like we are alive and can use our agency in experiencing new things.For some of us, we might gravitate towards seeing the mundane as dangerous…like it’s a sign that we are getting complacent in life. The repetition of life could almost feel like our agency is taken from us. That is especially true under capitalism when most of us are forced to labor in order to have a roof over our heads. So much agency is stolen from us with that piece alone. It could feel so suffocating and depressing.While for others, we might see novelty as threatening to our safety. Taking risks and experiencing the unknown could feel completely outside of our capacity. When life is already so unknown, it sometimes doesn’t feel worth shaking up everything without a certain outcome. This could play out with big life decisions, but it can also show up in small ways. Like saying yes to hanging out with a friend. Or finding a new hobby. This could induce feelings of anxiety and wanting to hide away.Either way we are always doing the math on whether something is worth it or not (mostly subconsciously). If the balance is off, our bodies will feel off.It’s so hard, because arguably for all of us we carry a physical and spiritual lineage of data…of what is safe versus dangerous. I carry what my maternal great-grandfather experienced when he was here on Turtle Island when the railroads were being built. I carry what my paternal grandmother experienced under my abusive grandfather in HK. I carry so many stories that are unsaid that it both haunts me and gives me unexplainable strength.So as I’m figuring out how to live with integrity while also finding some equilibrium in my body, sometimes I feel lost. Intellectually, I know all the things…how important it is to take care of myself and to witness and grieve…and my body feels wobbly. Compared to a year ago, I have come really far in finding stability mentally and emotionally. And I never want to take that for granted. AND there are days like today when I’m bleeding heavily, I’m feeling tired, and my body feels shaky. This round I feel like crawling into my bed and not wanting to experience anything novel for a bit.I came across this tiktok of the late Andrea Gibson reciting a few things on their bucket list:To see through the lens of my spirit, and not the bruised and clouded eyes of my wounds.To wear my heart on my sleeve, and never grow out of that shirt.To be what Mary Oliver called a bride married to amazement, and to not file for divorce from amazement when my life is hard.To know exactly what parts of me are comforted by other people’s approval and comfort those parts myself instead.To know shame can’t live in the light, and let the light fall wherever I am hiding.To reckon with my trauma until it is a poem no longer written in blood.To love my body as if it were my soul’s silhouette.To break the vows I have made to my suffering.To interrupt my judgments, criticisms, blames knowing they are almost always trying to distract me from my own pain.To be guided by giving instead of getting.To live in a bungalow of kindness.To know every leaf, every river, every sunrise is a child saying, “Watch me! Watch me! Watch me!”To live like I’m kissing the universe on her temple.That feels like the novelty I want to embody more.There’s a sense of awe that is woven into the most profoundly simple things. There is novelty in the bravery it takes to truly meet myself. There is novelty in being soft enough to receive kindness. There is novelty in having my arms open for the possibility of deeper love.Capitalism has instilled in our collective intuition that the easiest way to satisfy our novelty craving is to spend money. And oh baby am I sucker for retail therapy. The hit of buying things after a breakup feels healing lol! But the truth is…that kind of novelty is so cheap. A vacation, a fun night out, a splurge isn’t wrong.But the question is: have we been intentional in carving out feelings of novelty? That helps us heal from capitalism. To help us be reminded we have agency. To give ourselves the jolt of excitement of what is possible. To provide the relief that we aren’t stuck.(an image of a very cute wholesome breakfast spread from pinterest.)I want to find novelty in having a slow abundant breakfast with coffee with my honey. Even if it’s every sunday morning.(a gif of baby peter rabbit being tucked into bed by his mama after a sip of something warm.)When it comes to finding safety in the familiar, we all need a base of predictability to feel safe in our bodies. When we can find patterns, it’s easier to know how to move. Even if the predictable is somewhat harmful, our systems eventually adapt. Like how our attraction could be based on undesirable traits of our parents, because it feels familiar and predictable (even if the behavior is toxic).In this corner, surprises are a big no-no. Trauma is something that happens too fast and too big for our bodies to process and digest. It is a shock, a surprise, an unconsensual experience. It makes sense that sometimes we want to crawl into a hole and close off our senses. Everything feels like too much.Where it goes wrong is when we accept that our window of tolerance is small…and don’t try to expand it with patience. It goes wrong when feeling safe all the time becomes the goal. For white people, I see this way too often, and it’s infuriating. Keeping their peace becomes very very dangerous for Black and Brown people. And any attempt to call out or in…white people’s tears, anger, guilt becomes the center. Their dysregulation becomes the center. It’s exhausting.How we interpret our body’s signal for danger is KEEYYY! People like saying (aka I like saying) things like “trust your body” or “trust your intuition.” And truuuee our bodies do have alot of wisdom and we do have valuable intuition, but ONLY if we interpret the sensations accurately. Most of the time, our feelings of threat aren’t us physically being in danger. They probably come from the fear of betrayal, feeling shame, being isolated, or playing on a worst possible scenario, forgetting that there are a thousand steps for that to happen. And a tiny percentage of the time, our feeling of danger is right on.Because I have a history of being serially cheated on, my partner could turn around to walk to the kitchen and my spidey senses would go up. And see it as a “sign.” My brain is so good at coming up with scenarios and predicting the future from one trigger. So then my wiser brain needs to turn on, and talk to my lizard brain…and say “ok you’re feeling activated. Let’s let this sensation pass. And then we can talk about it…between you and me. You know your history, and it makes sense you’re ultra sensitive. But keep it together for a few more minutes.” After that, the sensation passes and I keep on living my life.Wanting to feel safe is so natural and human, but we get to choose how we relate to discomfort, threat, and danger both perceived and real. We deserve to allocate our energy with precision and not just by default. Life is unpredictable and change is inevitable. Danger is inevitable too, sadly. Allocating our energy intentionally so that we can build the world we want to see and arriving resourced when danger is at our doorstep…or at our neighbor’s doorstep is the goal.Back to finding safety in the familiar, how I want to embody this is by checking my compass. Where am I going with my liberatory community? How can I strengthen my window of tolerance so that I can take big risks and do scary things that align with the world I want to see?I went to Nat Vikistreth’s (@comebacktocare) book launch at Women and Children First bookstore the other evening. Raising Change Agents is written for guardians and caretakers of children, and it’s about how to raise young ones from an abolitionist and liberatory lens. I kept on tearing up, because it was so hopeful how Nat was talking about children and what they deserve. I’m tearing up right now thinking about how it filled me so much emotion thinking about how kids deserve to live in a liberated world. Nat talked about how they are our future, and it’s our responsibility to raise them to be able to resist empire and to build the world free of it.She shared a framework that she uses with guardians with their kids, but I also think it is so applicable to us as adults. It’s getting down to the child’s level when they are about to make a choice…and ask whether it is liberation-smart or survival-smart. She explains how liberation-smarts is collaborative and finds ways where everyone can get their needs and desires met. That way is usually slower and needs negotiating. And survival-smarts are ways we have to behave to survive in the world as it is now. That could look like teaching a kid to be punctual with colonial time, because being on time to school or for their future job is important to survive.Nat explained how both are important, but at home the goal is to lean more into liberation-smarts as often as possible. It isn’t usually the most convenient or quickest choice for everyone, but it upholds the values we want to instill in children and it positions them to be respected in all of their dignity.I raised my hand during Q+A, and I asked Nat: How do you navigate the importance of routine (that provides the child with a felt sense of stability) when there might be resistance to keeping the routine (and not wanting to force them into compliance)?She answered with the example of a bedtime routine that has 3 parts. She said that 2 of the parts should be steady and non-negotiable, but the third part can change based on the child’s preferences. So it’s giving them the agency of changing up the third part that can give them the safety of routine while also giving them some independence.I loved her answer, because that question was for me. I sometimes go back and forth between being very rigid with myself and then letting it all go to feel free. But her answer reminded me that there is a way to be more thoughtful to give my system safe rhythms while also just enough novelty…so I can land on somewhat of an equilibrium.I can’t wait to read the book! I’m sure I’ll be sharing more thoughts about it later.What does Liberatory Imagination spark in me today?We must find internal grounding so that we can do things that stretch outside of our comfort zone, because resisting empire is very uncomfortable, very dysregulating, and inevitably very dangerous. Coherence with our integrity and what we want to see in the world is the challenge. It is an honor to get closer to aligning it all.I just read “The Hand That Will Testify” by Mohammad Mustafa:(the image is a dusty hand of a martyred woman in Gaza, and on her finger is a prayer clicker.)Look at this photograph. Look at it the way you would look at a mirror. A woman’s hand, gray with the dust of her own home, emerges from the wreckage. And between her fingers still warm with the rhythm of repetition and dhikr. You will see a tasbeeh. She was counting the names of God when they killed her.Subhanallah. Subhanallah. Subhanallah.I believe this as a description of how the world actually works. And I believe it not despite the photograph but because of it. Because the photograph contains, in a single frame, both the case for despair and the answer to it. The rubble is the case for despair. The tasbeeh is the answer. The rubble says look what they can do to you. But the tasbeeh says look what they cannot take from you.Dhikr: Remembrance of Allah Tasbeeh: Islamic prayer beads, and sometimes it comes in the form of a clicker like in the photo Subhannallah: Glory be to AllahIn the face of such evil, Palestinians are steady in their devotion to God. That kind of faith confronts me with the call to never forget why I need to stay steady, work with my body, and work with aligned people so that we can show up for what actually matters.We must be grounded in the repetitive act of remembering what this is all about. We must never forget our agency and our collective power. From our lives inside our home to global movement, it is our responsibility to never lose sight of what this is all about. Coherence. Some of our seasons will look very quiet (doing the low-to-the-ground work of gaining strength and relational endurance) and other seasons will be very much above ground and action-heavy. It takes faith to take a forward step every day fine-tuning our rhythms and our agency.How to support me (thank you in advance):* Buy me a cup of coffee. Every bit counts! You can venmo me at @tiffanywongart with note “From substack!”* Check out my visual podcasts Get full access to LIBERATORY IMAGINATION at tiffanywongart.substack.com/subscribe

References:EnneagramBook: Dear Senthuran: A Black Spirit Memoir by Akwaeke EmezeBook: Care Work: Dreaming Disability Justice by Leah Lakshmi Piepzna-SamarasinhaTiktok about Portland Protestors Get full access to LIBERATORY IMAGINATION at tiffanywongart.substack.com/subscribe

Get full access to LIBERATORY IMAGINATION at tiffanywongart.substack.com/subscribe

Get full access to LIBERATORY IMAGINATION at tiffanywongart.substack.com/subscribe

/ To watch this post via video, scroll to the bottom! And more adlib commentary /Imagine a door, and behind the door there’s a simple dark room with nothing inside. Before you go into the room, you have to lay these things outside the door:* All your achievements (school, career, creative projects, goals achieved, etc.)* All the things you do that you’re proud of (being a loving partner/parent/sibling/child, spiritual growth, acts of service, generosity, studiousness, ways you’ve sacrificed etc.)* What people love about your personality (humor, charm, boldness, etc.)* Desirability (how you are perceived from a conventional standard)And the inverse:* All of the achievements you don’t have and the goals that aren’t realized* All the things that you are not proud of (mistakes, betrayal towards yourself and others)* What people don’t like about your personality* Ways you don’t fit under desirability politicsLay each item on the ground outside of the room. Stack them up. Unload it all.And then I invite you to open the door and enter the room. Where all you’re met with is the stripped-down you.As you sit with this version of you:How do you feel?Are they familiar to you?What is it like to be in their presence?What sensations do you feel in your body?Observe and take note.All the things outside the door aren’t necessarily you or not you, but in this room you are met with nothing to point to…no plus or minus points that indicate your value. There’s nothing that you can stack to make a case to prove to yourself that you’re a good person or bad person. There’s no math you can do.So what does it feel to really sit with yourself? What does being in your own presence feel like?Is it uncomfortable? Does every second feel tense? Do you feel like getting up and exiting the room?Does it feel amazing to not have all the stuff distracting you from you?Does it feel void?Does it feel like a mix of comforting and confronting?We all love talking about how it’s important to love ourselves. And how we can tell if other people love themselves or hate themselves. And how people’s partners reveal how much a person loves themselves.But can we be honest with ourselves? Without all the evidence of our sainthood or depravity, do we actually love ourselves unconditionally?Can we afford ourselves the nuance of being human, where we free ourselves from being net positive?The energy of getting to net positive ruins the whole damn thing.There’s nothing to net positive to! That comes from a deeply punitive Christian god (or at least that’s where it stems from for me) where it’s this constant proving or performance of being a righteous and dutiful human.The thing about proving is that it cancels out the authenticity of a good deed. It nixes the chance of a soulful generosity. It robs us of acting from a deep root of liberation and love.It’s like giving a gift expecting something back. It robs the giver of the pleasure of gifting from joyfulness, because there are strings attached…and resentment is around the corner if the other person doesn’t obey according to the unspoken rules.Ironically, if we are going to do the math of our actions and hope to be net positive, the act of trying to be net positive is a negative!I just came back from 3 weeks in Thailand, and it’s given me an opportunity to look at my life from a different angle. I’m taking inventory.As I’m witnessing the horrendous attacks in Iran and the murder of so many children and adults, as I’m witnessing the violence against Black and brown people here in the belly of the beast, as I’m watching US/Israel commit mass murder through Palestine and Lebanon and Iran and the list goes on…it’s so clear. The path is totally unknown to me, but the clarity I feel in my body is unshakable. Imperialism and systemic greed is destroying everything physically and spiritually, and nothing is more important than opposing it and painstakingly carving out a new way.As long as my eyes are fixed on the north star, my role in the broader movement towards liberation for all is fixed. All I have to do is get low to the ground, stay rooted, and make decisions from a place of deep love. (Ew I’m throwing up writing this, but I mean it!)My true self love where I don’t exist to prove my worthiness or goodness, allows me to generously step into my part (even though it’s murky right now). It gives me permission to do it quietly or boldly or loudly or invisibly…it doesn’t matter, because I’m not doing the math from an internal or external level. What an honor to practice functioning from a place of possibility.Those things outside of the room are really important. It IS important for us to try our best to be responsible for our time here on earth, to be accountable, to cause as little harm as possible, to do art that shifts perspectives…all those things are what makes up a life. AND where my motivation and drive come from will determine the texture of my path.I always come back to this, but how are we supposed to have longevity in our communal effort for local and global liberation…if we can’t stand our own presence? The consequence needs to be held with weight. If we are leading from a place where we can’t be in the same room with ourselves, it means that the accountability, the boundaries, the wisdom, the care is off. We have the honor of doing things messily, and I’m not discounting that. There is no perfect moment where we are all healed enough to be in community. But we have to try to do our part.Self accountability means that you have to go into that room even when no one is watching. No one will affirm you or shame you into it…It takes drawing from our root to do practices in private so that when we are in relationship and community, there’s more possibility for true care and reciprocity. We need this more than ever right now.A phrase that keeps on circulating my system after coming back from Thailand is “I’m exactly where I should be right now.” I am exactly in the right place both physically and spiritually.When I go through that door after I slogged off all the stuff, I feel light. My presence is like sitting amongst a cute swirly airy cloud and my body is firmly rooted to the ground. I don’t always feel like this, but right now I do.Feeling deep soul peace in the middle of such empire violence is bizarre. I hope to protect this rootedness with my life and for it to guide my every move.I have so many other thoughts about how truly loving yourself will attract people who want to outsource their worthiness…and also how jealousy looks like love bombing at first. But that’s for another time!What does Liberatory Imagination spark in me today?A liberation that isn’t a far-off abstract idea. I want to see the full thing. The small ways it radiates in how I speak to myself, my chosen family, my community. In seeing strangers walking down my sidewalk and knowing they have everything they need. In witnessing the blooming of plant life in my neighborhood. I want to see it SO BIG! I want to know in a house across the oceans where kids are getting ready for school that they are generously afforded a vast future of creativity and discovery. I want to see systems that are put in place not to make the elites richer and more powerful, but truly for the people, where their health is prioritized and their future is abundant. I long to see it and right now I need to be attuned to what is asked of me.How to support me (thank you in advance):* Buy me a cup of coffee. Every bit counts! You can venmo me at @tiffanywongart with note “From substack!”* Subscribe for free (all my posts will be available to the public), but set up a monthly or annual recurring payment with me directly on venmo - @tiffanywongart. Attach the note “Recurring substack subscription.”LIBERATORY IMAGINATION is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber. Get full access to LIBERATORY IMAGINATION at tiffanywongart.substack.com/subscribe

/ To watch this post via video - scroll to the bottom!/The thing about being able to see your own inner child and younger parts, is the ability to see other people’s. I can see when their inner children are scared, insecure, ashamed, and ultimately wanting to be seen and loved unconditionally.LIBERATORY IMAGINATION is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber.To be in relationship with other humans, whether it’s in friendship, partnership, or in shared spaces, is bizaaarrrre. It’s universes colliding together, bumping into sharp corners and finding soft landing spots. It’s touching atmospheres and seeing if it will blow up everything in a 10-foot radius or create the most spectacular connection. It’s constant rotation with gravity pulls from different sources.It’s a miracle that any universe collision works. Especially over time.I was born into universes. The universes had so many desires and dreams about the direction they wanted to go towards. And my mini universe was in instant orbit. So natural and so easy.All I needed was physical care and the most infinite and expansive love.Love that had no bounds.Love that wasn’t transactional.Love that transcends history.Little did I know that colliding with universes isn’t as easy as that, even though every new universe deserves it.One of my coping mechanisms is the collection of knowledge and escapism through reading. IF I knew enough, I would be protected. IF I went far away into another world, I would be protected from this dimension. And for a second, it does!That knowledge has helped me understand myself so much, and is such a great jumping-off point. And the worlds I escape into teach me to expand my imagination to what is possible. But when I close that book and click off the essay, I’m left with the present elements and what is in my orbit…and all the other universes I am in relationship with and the universes I am witnessing.Right now one of the books I’m reading is What My Bones Know by Stephanie Foo, which is about healing from complex PTSD. Reading it is almost spooky. It’s about Stephanie, who is a child of Chinese Malaysian immigrants in the Bay Area. The child abuse she survived feels so familiar…too familiar. Stephanie is brutally honest about how confusing it is to figure out what was real, how severe things actually were, what was normalized, and how much of it has been embedded into her personality.In college, I went to therapy for the first time. I spent the first month or two recounting my childhood, which was in a haze. I barely remembered anything, and it slowly started coming back to me in bits and pieces. At one point, my therapist stopped me and said, “Do you realize you keep on saying, ‘but it wasn’t a big deal’ over and over again after you tell me an alarming story?” I’ll never forget that moment, because I started to hear myself say that all the time. My nonchalance was embedded deep into my personality, and I still see it all the time to this day. One time I was having lunch with friends at college, and I mentioned something violating happening to me on the train - my friends stopped me in my tracks with concerned faces and asked why I was laughing while telling that story…I was just assaulted. It didn’t even occur to me that it was anything, because it wasn’t a big deal.Just like it wasn’t a big deal, because I knew other immigrant kids having muuuuch much stricter and angrier parents.I watched a tiktok recently that was so basic, but resonated deeply. They basically said that we can respect a person’s dignity and have compassion for all that they have experienced - AND choose to do it from afar relationally.If you were conditioned as a woman, you were taught that love is self sacrifice. ESPECIALLY if you’re dealing with a man. We were taught that there is virtue in seeing the soul of a person beyond their defensive mechanisms. We were taught that our love can transform people (times 100 if you were a Christian…because you were also taught that God’s love through you can change people.) I CALL B******T.We were groomed to be abused and to bear it. By men. By authority figures. By work. By empire.Can I write a paper about how this and that happened to this person, and this is why they do this and that? YES. They are a universe! And that doesn’t entitle anyone to be in relationship with me. (Community is another thing, and I’ll elaborate on that another time.) I’m not only talking about abusers, but people who have poor boundaries and are energetic vampires.This orientation applies not only to the people above, but also to the people I DO choose to be in close relationship with. The more I love and know my people, the more I see the landscape of their universes. And the more they see mine. It’s a scary thing to be known and loved and possibly rejected. Yet we try, because loving connection is one of the most fundamental human needs.When I’m witnessing my boo in dysregulation, I see her inner child. I can SEE her. When the inner child makes her way out, I see the baby hairs and the bangs. I see the dark watery eyes. I want to scoop her in my arms and hold her. Tell her I’m here and everything will be ok. Give her sweet kisses on the cheek and ask her if she wants to play a game.Sometimes I see her inner teen. I see the rage against injustice and wanting autonomy. I see the platform boots and torn black tees. I see through the stomping and can recognize her deep longing for tenderness and respect. I want to say F**K THIS S**T! Go slash those tires and burn the house down while you’re at it.But I can’t and I shouldn’t.I know what it’s like to want someone to come into my life and say, “I got it from here. All your healing. Just give it to me. You’re finally safe, and I’ll never leave.” That was a fantasy I was fed since I was a little girl about my future husband. EW. THE PROPOGANDA!!!Even though I know that’s unrealistic from anyone, there’s truth that we actually do heal through relationships. The key is how we do it. It’s not fair to hand over my triggers and trauma over to someone and say, “LOVE ME FOREVER” without self-accountability. No one owes me unconditional love, but my parents and myself. Actually someone saying they unconditionally love me is a red flag…please have some boundaries.So when I see my boo’s younger selves, I’m invited to ask myself: how can I love her - the present adult version of her - so that she can reparent her inner children well? My role is to support her to show up for the inner children by making mature adult decisions…not from reactivity of the younger parts. Reparenting means giving our inner children stability in the present and love while acknowledging their big feelings. It means respecting their boundaries and building trust.Ultimately, my inclination of wanting to reparent other people’s inner children comes from conditioning and is also a mirror to myself.It pulls me to ask myself: you care so much about other people’s inner children…what about your own? How have you let your younger parts run the show? How attuned are you to them?It’s so much easier to see someone else’s universe and be like: I can solve all of your problems if you just do xyz. Haha! I love the audacity!It’s so much harder to look within myself and hold myself accountable. Recently, I feel a bit neglectful of my inner children. I’ve been lethargic in my bed a lot…very reminiscent of depressive episodes my mom had when she was my age. From just a couple of bits of what I know about my mom, it makes perfect sense how she behaved and coped. AND it was still wrong to treat children like she did. I can hold the complexity of her universe and feel compassion and condemn abuse.Not all hurt people hurt people. Just because we are all traumatized doesn’t mean that we have the right to traumatize and abuse.What does Liberatory Imagination spark in me today?Deep honesty with ourselves. How can we build and invest in a liberated world if we don’t know our own internal landscape - our own universe? If we don’t heal intentionally and do the hard painful work it takes to deepen our love, how can we expect it to work out when our universes collide with other universes? Let me tell you, it doesn’t work! It might work short-term, but actually building people power takes interpersonal maturity and self-accountability. Without this, it’s just liberatory fantasy…a fictional image without any chance to become reality.How to support me (thank you in advance):* Buy me a cup of coffee. Every bit counts! You can venmo me at @tiffanywongart with note “From substack!”* Subscribe for free (all my posts will be available to the public), but set up a monthly or annual recurring payment with me directly on venmo - @tiffanywongart. Attach the note “Recurring substack subscription.”LIBERATORY IMAGINATION is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber. Get full access to LIBERATORY IMAGINATION at tiffanywongart.substack.com/subscribe

/ To watch this post via video - scroll to the bottom!/12.5.24 Journal entry“I feel the lowest I have since starting my SSRI. It’s freaking me out. I feel so lost. I’m afraid of losing my resiliency, my boo, my sense of self and drive, my purpose. I feel like I’m just here floating. I hate it. I’m so lucky to have everything I need and more, but I’m struggling. Struggling.My spiritual spark is gone. I don’t recognize myself anymore and I can’t believe it’s come to this place. I feel like people are just moving on and achieving things and I’m left behind.”I felt this nagging in my spirit, and it didn’t make sense until I pulled out my journal from a year ago. It’s boring how we all say our bodies remember, but it suuuure does. At this point, it barely feels consensual! Every f*****g month my body remembers a trauma from 1, 2, 3, 5, 35 years ago. God damn being alive is exhausting.As I read my journal entries from last december, my body involuntarily ached right behind my sternum and a sob rose up. I forgot. I forgot how deep in the grief and sadness hole I was. I forgot what it was like to look in the mirror and see a shell of a person. Not one ounce of motivation within a 100 mile radius.Witnessing genocide in Palestine broke me in ways I had no idea were possible. The documentary-worthy betrayal and violation that my ex committed against me…who even knows how it has changed my DNA. It baffled me that anyone was able to get up in the morning and do work and take care of kids and have fun.I surrendered to the waves washing me further into the sea. That was the only thing that made sense.Underneath it all, I remember so vividly that I knew for sure that things would change. I knew change was constant. I couldn’t feel it, but I knew my purpose here on earth in this lifetime. I knew the cold fact that I (and I believe all of us) have the responsibility to do our part in demanding the dignity of all humans, where no one is left behind. While I was drowning, I knew where the water would lead me.I’m about 2 or 3 here in this photo. The feeling of excitement at that age is like champagne bubbles traveling up to the surface so fast the container might not even make it in one piece! All I can do is jump up and down flapping my hands.“I don’t remember the last time I was excited,” my mom said this right before a family trip, and it has crystallized into a core memory.As a young kid, I learned that paying the cost of excitement towards something I was looking forward was too costly. Like clockwork, important dates like birthdays, holidays, and trips were high risk days. I could almost predict that something would set off my mom, and things would be canceled. Even if things weren’t canceled, the tone of the day was probably tense. In the miracle chance things weren’t canceled and she was in a good mood, I would hold a tense smile braced from it all falling to s**t at any moment.Every day was a negotiation, a bartering, a betting if it was worth feeling excited about.Being braced and then bored that things didn’t work out has been seared into my body. Every time the other shoe drops, it deepens the track.Fast forward to now, my body remembers and is braced.For the past 15 years, I’ve been slowly working on healing my nervous system to be open to the possibility that things could actually work out. I could actually experience safety within myself and in relationships.Slowly working on my capacity to receive true care and love. Slowly working on showing up for myself first. Slowly working on separating things not working out from it being some kind of punishment.Talking about punishment, one way christianity has really fucked with me is carrying the weight that everything bad that happens to me is some kind of lesson from the heavens. Somehow, if I were more obedient to God or more faithful to the bible, things would work out more often. That’s such a sad and twisted way to see things, being that the people don’t choose to be poor, unhoused, or have their land colonized. God is so much more expansive than being a bully waiting to teach me a lesson.Sometimes after enjoying a few days with my boo, I look around as we are dozing off…astonished and terrified that things are working out. It’s a miracle. I mean, it is a miracle our souls found each other, but the fact that we both have chosen each other out of love for ourselves threatens so much of my wiring.It’s an offront to my baby-me assumption that nothing is worth being excited for.It’s offensive to this deep body wiring that I have rooted and safe friendships where I feel seen and known.It erodes the assumption that being bored of things not working out is better than hoping.My besties, my boo and I try to get out of town a few times a year, and EVERY TIME there’s a part of me that freezes. My inner child is like “you won’t get me this time…it won’t work out and I’m already over it.” And then when we are almost home after a cute time away…I’m confronted with how it turned out exactly how I dreamed. The first time, and then the second…the third time too. This kind of love and connection with soul-aligned people stretches my imagination of what is possible.When they say love heals, I had no idea how treacherous it would feel. The battles that I had and have to fight in order to feel at home and at ease in my body are dramatic…like a sword fight where you gasp at every movement because you can’t tell who will win. And sometimes I lose to the fear and the potential loss. But sometimes I win and I get the satisfaction of feeling settled in my body even if it’s for 30 mins.I have been fighting for my life in order to feel safe within myself…let alone in the company of other people. What a wonder.Free falling last year into not knowing when things will change was healing. I let things fade away trusting that change is constant. I let go of trying to smile my way through the crumbling. I let go of trying to hold onto the semblance of myself. In turn, I squeezed out of that version of me and revealed a translucent skin me that is more vulnerable to different possibilities. Things haven’t all worked out and they will continue to defy my wishes, but all I know is that it won’t be every time.The next time I’m called to fall back into the water, I’m going to surrender quicker.Not out of doom, but out of deep trust.What does Liberatory Imagination spark in me today?I wrote this in my substack “Today my Body Remembers,”A future where we can be soft puddles. Where tenderness is abundant and afforded to everyone. Where vulnerability is respected and honored. Where ingenuity and creativity aren’t spent on how to survive, but on art. Where a leisurely pace is just the default. Where communion with the land is a common delight.Yes! And where being braced converts to being alert for more possibilities.One thing I have learned is that our nervous system reads stimuli in a very unbiased way, whether it is dangerous or not. The stress of running away from danger and the stress of running for fun read similarly to our bodies. The stress of confronting someone is similar to the stress of flirting with a crush.Liberatory imagination sparks in me the ability to discover more possibilities. I don’t need to deny my body, my lived experience, or my defense mechanisms. I just need to get rooted in who I am and what life is about, and jump off tracks I’ve grown out of.How to support me (thank you in advance):* Buy me a cup of coffee. Every bit counts! You can venmo me at @tiffanywongart with note “From substack!”* Subscribe for free (all my posts will be available to the public), but set up a monthly or annual recurring payment with me directly on venmo - @tiffanywongart. Attach the note “Recurring substack subscription.”LIBERATORY IMAGINATION is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber. Get full access to LIBERATORY IMAGINATION at tiffanywongart.substack.com/subscribe

/ To watch this substack via video recording - scroll to the bottom!/Loneliness comes in so many shapes and textures. I remember sitting in my bedroom I shared with my sister when I was 7, and I was praying to God for help. The bedroom was (and still is) purple. My sister and I shared bunk beds - the top was mine and the bottom was hers. In the corner of the small room was a desk with one of those deep drawers people used to file papers. In that drawer, I hid my diary where I wrote out so many cries for help. My mom’s nervous system was as sensitive as a mouse trap. It took basically nothing to set her off, and then your day was over.As I prayed, I felt a kind of loneliness that was suffocating me. There wasn’t anyone whom I could talk to or run to. There was no way out. The air in that room was so thick. The people who were supposed to protect me were the ones hurting me, and they told me it was my fault. That I was the problem.Fast forward to a few years later, when I was 12 or so…I dreamed of a boyfriend coming into my life and saving me with tender kisses and soft tones. He would say, “Don’t worry about anything, I've got it from here.” How I daydreamed of that moment!I spent most of my childhood daydreaming about scenes of other timelines. Daydreaming about being light as a feather, floating around without a worry. Daydreaming about relationships that were full of softness and passion. Daydreaming about conversations that were present and understanding.Above is a screenshot of a video my parents sent me recently. I’m probably 4 years old in this photo. I’m in a daze…probably somewhere else in my head.I just watched this tiktok, where the creator talked in a very honest way about loneliness. They share how they don’t have a best friend, and when they do try to make friends, it doesn’t feel reciprocal or the other person is mean to them. They go on about how it’s so hard to trust people when the track record is so bad. And then they see these toxic people have all these friends who have their back…in contrast, they have no one. The only times they felt seen were when they had romantic partners.This video hit a nerve for me, because it felt so deeply human and familiar. The comments are all these people saying they feel like this too. So lonely. Trapped and suffocating from the human need for connection not being met.It’s so ironic how there are so many humans around, and yet we can be so isolated and hungry for human presence.It made me think about how the empire is grinning.Loneliness is such a great way to disarm the collective. If collectivism and people power threaten the empire structure, loneliness and isolation will strengthen empire.Cults know this well. Isolation is one of the most effective ways to manipulate people. When you take away a human need, you can then use that need to lure them into behavior you deem fit. We all want belonging, to be seen, to be loved. And we should all have access to those things! That’s the juicy part about being alive.White supremacy and capitalism are a cult. In the same way christian nationalism is a cult.How does empire want lonely people to cope? Buy stuff. Spend money. Spend more money to dull the pain. Create parasocial relationships through social media. Be obsessed with getting married and having kids.It is strategic for empire to block us from the necessary resources towards beautiful relationships. It is strategic that we were fed the message that romantic love is the purpose of life. It is strategic that we were taught that having kids is the only way to ensure that we will be taken care of in old age. It is strategic.It’s a threat! Do you know how many times people have told me (especially in the christian church) that I should consider more angles of [fill in the blank] topic? Consider more people’s opinions and standpoints. I shouldn’t be so quick to write people off…WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT? They are a homophobic/transphobic/bigoted a*****e/etc. WHY WOULD I WANT TO BE FRIENDS WITH THEM????The threat is that if I keep being strong on my “stances”, I’ll have no one. My mom was advising me not to be so harsh, because I would have no one left. She told me friendships are so much harder to make and maintain when you’re older. I believe it, and in a way she’s not wrong that friendships are hard to maintain. But I resist being friends with certain people at the expense of other people’s dignity.I’m doubling down.From my lived experience, the clearer and stronger I am with my values and integrity, the stronger and more tender my relationships become. There are fewer of them for sure! But I’ve never had such resilient and beautiful relationships in my life as in this moment.I’m not saying that when you’re confident in your values, you will automatically have loving people in your life. Nothing is a given. But what I am saying is not betraying ourselves and our integrity is worth betting on.I don’t believe that people are disposable, but there are standards on who gets to have close proximity to me.The standard isn’t perfection, it’s alignment.I need to be strategic with my relational energy. With consistent low capacity, I need my inner circle to have the same emotional/spiritual maturity as I. And honestly, even outside of my inner circle, there are standards. This oppressive colonial world is pressing down on me so hard, and my energy needs to be used intentionally. No one can convince me that watering down my standards will protect me from being lonely.I know how it feels to be surrounded by people who say they love you, but be completely alone and isolated.In contrast, I also know the joy of being physically alone and so content in my relationships.This past month, I read Love in a F*cked Up World by Dean Spade and Adult Children of Emotionally Immature Parents by Lindsay Gibson. It is so important that we figure out how to be in relationship with each other as the world is on fire. We need to learn how to be honest with ourselves and one another in tenderness. We need to learn how to keep OURSELVES accountable (thankful for teachers like Mia Mingus). We need to practice breaking relational cycles of fear and past resentment however unfair and unjust.That’s the only way we can forge a new path towards the world we want to build. We cannot do it alone.The tiktok made me think about how so many people do not have the tools or opportunities to have healthy relationships. We all have so much trauma both systemically and personally. Even in the examples the creator gives, I can hear that those people who mistreated them also want belonging, but they lack introspection and personal integrity.In the organizing space, it’s no different. People usually come in with good intentions, but with the combo of little practice of introspection + self-accountability and weak personal integrity…it goes to s**t. It sets off a ping pong of reactions and other people’s triggers. The mission of the space is derailed once again.We should have access to FREE support around relationships from a decolonial lens.(Prayyyying that I could be instrumental in that in the future.)I wish I could transport myself and materialize to little Tiffany and say: You have so many loving people in your future. Relationships you can’t even dream of. You will learn how to love and be loved in such a tender way. You will redefine family in a way that will be so freeing. God will always be with you and for you. You will always have me, and I will fight for a beautiful chosen family for you.What does Liberatory Imagination spark in me today?A world where belonging and being truly loved is as ordinary as air. Best friends are abundant. Working through conflict and tension is a given and even a little boring. A world where the responsibility of caring for children and the elderly is so shared that there are no definitions like “biological family.”I pray that the Sumud Flotilla will safely arrive in Gaza and that the food will be delivered without any killings.How to Support Me!I’m going to try something new! For those who don’t know, I run a shop called More Liberation. I’ve been trying to experiment with more ways to figure out how to make rent. So here it is! I’m going to be posting a sticker here every time I write, and you can buy it from me directly.The vinyl stickers are perfect for water bottles, laptops, notebooks, and light poles.This Land Back sticker is aprox. 2.5x2”Cost (shipping included): $5 - domestic. $6 - international.If you want this sticker:* Email me [ [email protected] ]:* Your mailing info: Name + Address* Design name: This one is “Land Back”* Venmo me at @ tiffanywongart(Also, feel free to buy me a cup of coffee through venmo (@ tiffanywongart)!)Thanks for tuning in!LIBERATORY IMAGINATION is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber. Get full access to LIBERATORY IMAGINATION at tiffanywongart.substack.com/subscribe

/ To watch this substack via video recording (and also a fun sticker idea) - scroll to the bottom!/Celebrating birthdays is such a cute ritual, where we gather once a year to say YAY another year around the sun! We eat cake, blow candles, make wishes and hope to do it again the next year.LIBERATORY IMAGINATION is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber.This photo above makes me emotional. I’m squished between my mom and dad as they blow out my one-year-old candle on top of a chocolate cake…as I look at it mesmerized. To this day, my parents still wear those tops! The yellow collared shirt my dad is wearing is threadbare in his closet right now.I feel something stir in me as I look at myself 12 months awake to the world, and I’m here 36 years later writing to make sense of that same world. I feel sad that the world she should have grown up in doesn’t exist. I feel angry for the pain and heartbreak she will experience. I feel thankful that she had parents who loved and cared for her the best they could. I feel relieved for her that she will find her way towards liberation for herself and others. I feel grief. Grief that transcends myself.I was talking to my friend Chi Nwosu about how every month I think about wanting to come to more peace around my death from a holistic ancestral place. I want to feel connected to my death in the same way I want to feel connected to my life. Chi encouraged me to do just that! Dedicate some time once a month to explore Dignified Death from the Chinese perspective. So I’m doing it, starting with this piece.I honestly don’t know that much about how my people positioned themselves in relation to death. My parents and my grandparents are/were Christians in the post-colonial era in Hong Kong, so most of my memories of talking about death are from a Christian perspective. Since leaving the Christian world, I’m really not that interested in carrying forward that perspective. I’m more curious about all the other generations before my grandparents.One of the reasons I’ve put it off is because doing research about China is really hard. There is so much anti communism propaganda, and it’s exhausting to weed it out. But I’m going to try! Bite size pieces. (Also if you know of trusted sources, please let me know. I am not a seasoned researcher and I know alot of you are!)Happy Funeral: Tearless Farewell By Majorie ChiewDEATH is a sad, grim affair but when it comes at the ripe old age of 100, apparently it’s a different story altogether. The Chinese do not mourn when an elder who has lived for almost a century passes on. Instead, a quaint funeral rite or siew song (Cantonese for "happy funeral") is held in his honour."It is regarded as a happy funeral because the elder is considered lucky to have lived to such an old age. No mourning or crying takes place,” says Ong Seng Huat, vice-chairman of the Federation of Malaysian Taoist Organisations.According to Chinese custom, three years will be added to a person’s age when he dies. So an elder who was 97 would be regarded as being 100 years old.After clicking through 30+ links around the topic, I found this random article/pdf that’s mentioned above. It goes on to spell out how Chinese folks traditionally wear white to grieve the dead, but when it comes to “happy funerals,” friends and family wear red. If you’ve been to Chinese festivals or weddings, you know red is a color of celebration and good fortune. The article ends with this note:"When a happy funeral takes place, the elder is assumed to have died happily for he has completed his mission in life with five generations to the family line. So he can leave this world in peace, "adds Ong.That’s Dignified Death! Death that happens after a long purposeful life that followed their elders and ancestors, who also had long and purposeful lives.Every day I’m witnessing unholy death. Undignified death. Death that is a result of killing, stealing, torture, and man-made inhumane conditions. Genocides. Lynchings. Every. Day. It’s as if empire doesn’t care to hide its true face anymore, and is training us to be numb to it all.How can we wrap our minds around 380,000+ babies being slaughtered in Palestine? 300,000+++ parents, grandparents, aunties, teachers, doctors, journalists, artists…Undignified Death.Ever since I saw the footage of Gisma Ali Omer being lynched by the RSF in Sudan, it has been added to the collection of unimaginable horror that will live with me until the day I die. The things that come across our news feed and the things that don’t.This is a poem by Sudanese poet + activist Emtithal Mahmoud:Undignified Death.Isn’t it so clear?? Nothing matters but building connections, networks, infrastructure, relationships, and ecosystems for Dignified Life and Death.When I think about how so many people of the global majority are stripped of basic dignity, it makes me want to implode from rage!!! The way people are disregarded and thrown away without a shred of humanity is vile.The truth is that the empire air we are breathing trains us to be ok with it: That it is inevitable. We gotta step on people’s necks to get to the top to feed our family. “War” has always been and will continue. Just accept it.TFFFFF?!?!!! No f*****g way am I using this life to accept that. I uphold my own dignity too much for that!!**DEEP BREATHS**Look at baby Tiffany trying to eat a juicy orange. Dignity. She deserves a life full of dignity and purpose. She deserves a gentle death after a long life of dignity and purpose. She is no different from the toddlers in Palestine… doe-eyed long lashed angels. They deserved a long life of dignity and purpose. It’s so unjust to be here fighting for something so basic.What does Liberatory Imagination spark in me today?I dream of dignified death afforded to everyone. Grey hair softly lay on a fluffy pillow. Handcrafted quilts of greens, blues, and pinks. The sunshine illuminates floating particles in the air like any other day. The air is like velvet. Someone is cooking a savory soup on the stove in the kitchen. Soft murmurs and bursts of laughter fill the house. Cheek still warm from a kiss.How to Support Me!I’m going to try something new! For those who don’t know, I run a shop called More Liberation. I’ve been trying to experiment with more ways to figure out how to make rent. So here it is! I’m going to be posting a sticker here every time I write, and you can buy it from me directly (f**k etsy fees.)The vinyl stickers are perfect for water bottles, laptops, notebooks, and light poles.If you want one or more, follow these directions:* Venmo me (@tiffanywongart) $5 for each sticker - that includes shipping* For an international address, it will be $6 for each sticker* In the Venmo Note, include:* Mailing info: Name + Address* Design name: This one is “People Over Profit”* How many + what color(s)? (Orange, Pink, Green)Example of Venmo Note: Tiffany Wong 1234 Oak St. Chicago, IL People Over Profit 1 Orange, 2 Pink (Venmo me $15 for the 3 stickers)The stickers will be on their way to you in 1-3 days after your venmo!Feel free to email me [ [email protected] ] if you want to set up another form of payment.LIBERATORY IMAGINATION is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber. Get full access to LIBERATORY IMAGINATION at tiffanywongart.substack.com/subscribe

I had the honor to have a conversation with my dear friend and faithful comrade peregrine about shame. Peregrine inspires me daily in the way they move with so much intention, playfulness, and wisdom. It was fun to record a snippet of how many of our conversations usually go! Listen to our podcast episode about our relationship with shame and real life examples of how we maneuver through it.Connect with Peregrine:* Website* 1:1 Herbal consultations* Patreon (subscribe for free to get on the email list)* InstagramDuring the podcast, we mention the “I Make Mistakes!” Virtual Intensive for BIPOC that is coming up on September 14. Registration is open! Get full access to LIBERATORY IMAGINATION at tiffanywongart.substack.com/subscribe

/ To watch this substack via video recording - scroll to the bottom! /Look at me there! I was probably around 16 in the early 2000’s right at the start of an iconic era both personally and contextually. It’s such an interesting experience looking at photos of my high school days, because I spend so much more time with my inner child who is under 10 yrs old. When I look at this photo, I remember how self conscious I was and how my music practice was my whole life (besides for church.) I lived and breathed the satisfaction that came from performing and killing it. The ability to look fear in the eye and spit in its face was a high like no other.LIBERATORY IMAGINATION is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber.I started piano when I was 5 yrs old. (Sweet little baby! That’s me at my childhood home piano where I’ve spent thousands of hours practicing.) By the time I was 10, I decided that it was my thing. It felt like something I could channel my emotion into and something I could practice autonomy with. In a household where I felt trapped in many ways, reading and music were two escapes that were fundamental to my existence. Looking back, I think it saved my life.Once I hit high school, I was accepted into the tutorage under a very respected piano teacher, Mrs. Loo. I haven’t looked her up in decades, and I just found a CBS news feature on her from this April! Her piano studio was small - she only invested in around 6-8 students at a time, and she put everything into them. I was over at her house multiple times a week and most weekends. One of my favorite memories was eating ramen in her kitchen with the other young people in her studio.Especially leading up to competitions, she would host recitals for family and friends at her beautiful house in the Oakland hills every weekend. How it worked is that every student had to put in money into the pot (I think it was around $10) and at the end she would rank every student from #1-#8. You got the most money if you were near the top, and you lost money if you were near the bottom. Also, every “semester” every student would learn the same piece so we could be fairly ranked as well as learn from each other’s interpretations.ALSO every lesson would be a betting game.(I made up an example of how Mrs. Loo would write out the lesson notes.)For my individual lessons, next to each task, I would either win or lose x amount of money dependent if I nailed it or not. Then at the end of the lesson she would add up the +/- to see if I’m in the positives or negatives. EVERY LESSON. Walking away from a lesson with a negative was so demoralizing. So I made sure I worked my ass off to get in the positives, and I also wanted to place at least middle or high at the recital.There was not only competition between me and my studio mates, but also competition with myself. Damn…it all really really worked if the goal was to practice hard and perform at a high high high level.I remember the first time I won a gold medal for performing a Bach piece. Exhilarating. I remember hearing Mrs. Loo tell my parents that my performance was the best I’ve ever done. With all the extreme pressures and all the nerves, I came out on top. OMG I looooved that feeling! My self confidence grew immensely throughout my highschool years. I felt like I had everything in me to excel with anything I put my mind to. The tangible ways of seeing the fruit of my labor was so satisfying.There was this distinct moment, where it really clicked for me about how to attain perfection in a piano piece. You had to practice with intention. It’s not enough to play something over and over again - the mistakes cannot make its way into the repetition. The way to correct a mistake is to zoom in, and play it correctly so that the memory is embedded into my muscles. So technically, if I put in the time and correct practice technique, I will be able to perform anything beautifully and accurately by memory.(I’m going to save the story of why my mom pulled me out of that piano studio…for reallyyyy unfortunate and sad reasons.)I just turned 36, and I’ve been reflecting a lot about my behavior in the present day around competition and internalized supremacy.For August through October, I made tangible business goals for myself. In the few weeks leading up to August, I noticed myself pushing to get one of the biggest goals for the three months done before it starts. And then I did just that! I felt this burst of energy to come up on top…a very familiar energy. I felt competitive with myself.I rarely feel like that towards other people, because I know it doesn’t align with my values and what I believe. BUT with myself…it’s way harder to catch and also seems harmless. What’s wrong with self motivation and getting things done?What is supremacy?It is an increase of perceived value compared to its counterpart.It is the movement away from the thing itself and then deriving value from hierarchy.Supremacy is innately power over.Being conditioned as an Asian femme, I know this too well. Entering a room that is predominantly white with a few other folks of color…we (all the POC’s) felt the tension. White people want to see us to be desperate for their attention and approval. There can’t be TWO asian people in the mostly white friend group. Only one token asian person allowed!Model minority myth was like treading in mud growing up. The message was: be thankful, because if you behave - we won’t treat you like Black people. The anti-Black “pull yourself up by your bootstrap” indoctrination was and IS strong! White supremacy beckons and bets on the supremacy within Black and brown communities. Within our own communities and between the communities. So clever, because it’s effective.If my worth is derived from being better than other people, I’m in deeep trouble. At the exact same time, I can always find people I’m “better” than morally, materially, artistically, etc. AND I can also always find people that are better than me in every category! So then what? I should keep on trying to climb the supremacy ladder? Yes. Exactly. That’s what they (the colonizers) want.I reject having to place myself and my work on a “top 50” list in order to have its value validated.I reject displacing the energy to other sources in order to trust that I and my work are good.I reject that we have to live our lives at the expense of Congolese, Sudanese, Palestinian, displaced/poor/Black+Brown people’s lives.I reject the whole damn thing.And yet, I catch myself with internalized supremacy.I find myself catching it…why did I do that? Why do I have this compulsion of beating myself? And don’t even get me started with internalized supremacy in relationship to learning about emotional intelligence and trauma related things.I have nothing to prove! I have nothing to one up. It is a disgrace if I try to do that. (And I say that with much love.)I’m healing and reconditioning from the dopamine hit of “winning.” I am all for growth and expansion, but I know the difference. No one else can tell, but I know. That discerning is the integrity that grounds me and makes deep joy + fulfillment possible.I want fulfillment and satisfaction that supremacy can never give me.I hold young teenage Tiffany with so much tenderness. There is so much nuance to her journey! It was so FUN to really excel at music with other young people. She was so delighted to discover how capable she can be. Her creativity, musicality, and determination are such super powers.As an adult, my job is to mature those desires and skills to match what we truly value.What does Liberatory Imagination spark in me today?Freedom from capitalism that yells in our ear that our little pleasures have to be at the cost a millions of lives. F**k supremacy - all of it. So sick of billionaires forcing it down our throats. Liberatory Imagination sparks rage in me. Witnessing Palestine feels so hopeless even though my spirit knows there is always hope.Please join me in sharing the rebuild of Bahri Hospital in the capital of Sudan - initiated by SAPA. The forced starvation, the genocide, the lack of basic resources is unfathomable…we can’t wrap our minds around 25 million people. Donate + Share.How to support me (thank you in advance):Currently, I’m in between jobs and would appreciate any support you can afford.* Buy me a cup of coffee. Every bit counts! You can venmo me at @tiffanywongart with note “Happy Birthday from substack!”* Subscribe for free (all my posts will be available to the public), but set up a monthly or annual recurring payment with me directly on venmo - @tiffanywongart. Attach the note “Recurring substack subscription.”LIBERATORY IMAGINATION is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber. Get full access to LIBERATORY IMAGINATION at tiffanywongart.substack.com/subscribe

/ To watch this substack via video recording - scroll to the bottom! /This is so embarrassing to say out loud. When I was in conservative christian college, I took a class that required the students to do street evangelism. For those who aren’t familiar, it’s when you go up to strangers on the street to tell them about the “good news” aka that Jesus died on the cross for them and if they accepted him into their hearts, they will go to heaven and not hell.I couldn’t even tell you which class it was or what I learned, because my mind has completely blocked it all out…almost. I do remember this assignment. Basically, we had to use these strategies of getting strangers to be interested in christianity. I remember the teacher saying that it was our role to plant seeds in people’s minds so that one day they can pledge their life to Jesus…and if we are lucky, we might be able to reap the fruit right then and there. The strategy I chose was to look like a canvasser with a clip board and ask people questions for the survey. What a brilliant trick!So I go to the water tower mall, which is in the heart of downtown Chicago, and I go for it. I’m not nervous AT ALL.I walk up to this guy smoking outside the mall and I ask him questions for my “survey.” I straight up ask him “what do you think happens after you die?” I don’t remember any details of that chat, but I do remember thinking I had an upper hand to most of my classmates. I wasn’t a weird socially awkward christian like them. I was a cute girl that was up on the fashion + pop culture trends and had social awareness. I thought that “secular” people (people who didn’t believe in Jesus) probably thought that christians were ugly weirdos, but I was there to prove them wrong. Christians could be cute and normal! lollllllMore than 13 years later, I still cringe. I was EXACTLY what people assumed christians were like…insufferable and so self assured.Leaving that cult was one of the bravest things I’ve ever done.(a photo of me from 2010 while I was at the conservative christian college as a sophomore.)My journey of wanting to prove people wrong didn’t end at graduating from that christian college. I went head first into the arts right after school to prove that I can go against the grain of what people deemed as a good asian woman. My parents wanted me to get a secure job in the medical field or at least make good money teaching piano. I said no. “I’m going to prove everyone wrong about their assumptions of me by being a poor artist. Get that!”And boy did I nail it. Still a poor artist to this day!I just watched the american apparel trainwreck documentary on netflix, and I got major 2010’s flashbacks. Other than being a poor artist, being a quirky hipster was VERY important to me. There weren’t a lot of asian hipsters, and I had to represent. That era was mostly me lusting over Lita’s by Jeffery Campbell, anything from american apparel, and anything Jenn Im from Clothes Encounters (youtube channel) wore - see Jenn and the glorious shoe below.I think it meant a lot to me to be seen as Jenn, because she was the antithesis to the asian nerd with greasy hair and an accent to me. That feeling was a mix of (taught) self hatred and also discovering what being a diaspora asian person could be. I was taught to see my people through such a narrow and limiting lens. From that place, I could see why proving everyone wrong felt resonant, and I have compassion for that.If you’ve read other posts I’ve written, you know that I grew up in a predominantly Chinese community until middle school. Entering social circles that were mostly white was a shock. I almost saw what the white people saw when they looked at my family and I…I didn’t like that. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t right. And I felt like I wanted to prove them wrong by being cooler and smoother than they expected.The truth is: the more I spoke, move, and dress like my white counterparts, the more pathways opened up to me. But at what cost? For what? Social acceptance? Belonging? Security?I would later discover that it was a scam to my soul, but the privilege of proximity is real (until it crosses the invisible line).I don’t want to diminish real life punishments of not bending to white supremacy. I truly truly get it. I get how asian americans feel like they have to sell their souls to stay under the radar. I get it! But I know it’s not worth it. Nothing is worth our soul.(a photo of me from 2013 fully decked in an all american apparel outfit.)During the 2010’s, I learned about the enneagram, which the christian church loooooved. I identified as type 4 “the individualist”, which deeply values being seen as unique. Learning about it felt freeing, and it started to make me really question that desire…for what? For whom does it serve for me to be seen as special? What am I trying to prove exactly?The enneagram (not endorsing it - but it is interesting at the very least) says that the more you heal, the less you become these avatars. Healing those core childhood wounds will free us from stuffing ourselves into these small boxes of who we are.Just two days ago, my girlfriend was mentioning how it’s cute when my bangs are a little longer - and my immediate response is that I’m afraid to grow them longer because I would look “norm-core.” She said there’s no way I could look norm-core with my bleached eyebrows and just how I present generally. We laughed about it, but it did make me think about this deep seeded desire of mine. It’s still there!I’ve been simmering on what pressures do I feel right now? What assumptions do people have about me that I might want to prove wrong? What do I want to prove to myself?I feel like I want to prove to myself I can be a productive leftist who know’s her s**t and gets s**t done. In trying to take care of myself mentally and spiritually through the onslaught of continual overwhelm, I feel shame knocking at my door telling me I’m not doing enough. When that happens, I usually go to the door and speak through it saying, “let me be…I don’t want to have a mental breakdown like last time. The internal and spiritual work I’m doing is also work.”To bear witness to the genocide of Palestine, alligator alcatraz, ICE kidnapping people, losing medicaid + SNAP, trying to make ends meet every month, the attack on Iran…I am constantly trying to stay grounded in truth and love for what is possible. Constantly trying to survive, practice my gifts towards our North Star, bear witness, and stay connected with my people. I have nothing to prove to myself or anyone.I only have to focus on embodying my values and principles.I only have to look at the day and ask “what is possible?”How can I invest in my spiritual, physical, and relational health so that I can be present in this reality?This is an area I don’t feel the pull to prove people wrong: that I am too rigid and stubborn about my political beliefs.You think I’m too rigid? Ok. You think I’m too sure about xyz? Sure. Ok.No one is ever going to convince me that I need to see the other side of genocide/colonization/imperialism/prisons-slavery. I’m very familiar with the other side. My whole life is drenched in the other side through propaganda and indoctrination.The freedom I feel in accepting how people may or may not perceive me when it comes to my principles is deeply healing.When I think about how I have changed and grown in my world view, it gives me hope. No one had to debate with me or humanize my viewpoints for me to change. I was the one who went out of my way to learn and witness activists and artists who stood strong in their principles. I was the one who looked for answers. Even through the indoctrination I had from birth, there was space for me to lean into changing my mind.I truly believe that the deeper my roots are - call it rigid or stubborn - the closer we all are to a world where everyone has their needs met.Call it whatever you want! I know that I am rooted in love.What does Liberatory Imagination spark in me today?Death to the IOF.How to support me (thank you in advance):Currently, I’m in between jobs and would appreciate any support you can afford.* Buy me a cup of coffee. Every bit counts! You can venmo me at @tiffanywongart with note “coffee from substack!”* Subscribe for free (all my posts will be available to the public), but set up a monthly or annual recurring payment with me directly on venmo - @tiffanywongart. Attach the note “Recurring substack subscription.”LIBERATORY IMAGINATION is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber. Get full access to LIBERATORY IMAGINATION at tiffanywongart.substack.com/subscribe

\ To watch this substack via video recording - scroll to the bottom! \ Paper Daughter Tiffany Wong 1882 Chinese exclusion act The first explicit immigration law To ban people solely based on race or nationality To entering the “land of opportunity” 1906 San Francisco rose up in flames Burning it all down and birthing whispers of “this is our chance” “this is our ticket” Rising from the ashes came paper Proof. Proof that: I am the son of (fill in the blank Wong - who is an American citizen) I am the daughter of (fill in the blank Chan - who is an American citizen) Proof that: If I wave this piece of paper Fabricated or not…who knows I might be able to stay Might be able to stay Might be able to let out a breath To feel the weight of my agency Ground me to the land that grieves Ground me to what could be Might be able to stay with my loved ones Might be able to stay Might be able Might be 2025: burning The mirage of stability has evaporated the dazzle of stuff is gone We are born to burn We are born to birth What could be into reality We were born to burn We were born to resist For true peace For true rest We were born to burn F**k ICE F**k the police Free all prisoners Free all detained F**k this empire Free Palestine Free Sudan Free CongoMy story begins long before my existence, before my first birthday, before coming into soulful consciousness.It wasn’t too long ago that my mom told me that we immigrated here through clever means. The term “trickster mobility” by Akwaeke Emezi keeps on coming to mind. The way “trickster” sits in my body feels steady and strategic. It doesn’t feel devilish or deceptive. Well, I guess it is deceptive to the empire. The empire that defines what is legal and who is legal. The same empire who steals lands and commits genocides.My mom casually mentioned that my great grandfather was in San Francisco as a laborer during the 1906 SF earthquake that resulted in days long fires across the city. The fires burned down everything including papers and documentation. Trickster mobility! The Chinese laborers including my great grandfather saw their opportunity to forge paperwork. They claimed to be sons and daughters of Chinese American citizens. And then, subsequently, their sons and daughters and their sons and daughters were also citizens. Thus the term paper sons and daughters. (Here is an excellent articled titled “My Father was a paper son” by Steve Kwok.)But let’s back up even more.The Chinese Exclusion Act (“the Act”) was passed on May 6, 1882 and was the first U.S. federal legislation that explicitly prevented the immigration of a particular nationality by prohibiting Chinese laborers from entering the United States. Originally lasting for 10 years, it was extended by the 1892 Geary Act for another 10 years, then for an additional 10 years, and finally indefinitely in 1904. The Act mandated that people of Chinese origin carry identification certificates or face deportation.Eventually, the Act was repealed by the 1943 Magnuson Act, but it only permitted an annual quota of 105 Chinese immigrants. This quota system was finally lifted by the Immigration and Nationality Act of 1965.Sourced from this site83 years. It birthed the Model Minority Myth, which was designed to pit Asians against Black folks. Those 105 Chinese immigrants (highly educated and rich) were hand picked every year to prove that pulling yourself up from your bootstrap works! You just need to study and work hard.Be a good minority. And stay a minority.So as I’m witnessing daily the kidnapping of folks both documented and undocumented by ICE, the rage is burns hot. Every day, ICE is trying to kidnap folks going to their court hearing. Just a few days ago, Chao Zhou, a Hong Kong student was kidnapped and detained here in Chicago. ICE was spotted a few blocks away from where I live in uptown yesterday. It’s enraging to see how humans are treated sub humanly everywhere I look. No one is safe.No matter how much you try to assimilate and appease the empire, no one is safe. If you are Black or brown or even white, you are not safe from the hunger of empire. The poorer you are, the more disabled, the more you dissent, the more you see through the empire, the more unsafe you are. As I’ve written a million times, things just get clearer. There are so few things that actually matter, and it’s crystal clear.In October of 1989, my mom drove through the Bay Bridge after my 2 month old appointment. A few hours later, the bridge collapsed during a huge earthquake. I find it poetic my birth coincided with the biggest earthquake to hit SF since 1906. Being a Leo, I have always felt like my purpose is to burn, shine, and clear space for truth.Not to romanticize natural disasters, but I’m sitting with:What do we need to clear out and make way for? Because this is not it.Calls to action:* Donate to this fundraiser to support a single mother pay legal fees - as her son is being detained by ICE.* Sign this petition for our local organizer, Gladis Yolanda Chavez Pineda, who has been detained by ICE.What does Liberatory Imagination spark in me today?I was listening to adrienne maree brown’s podcast How to Survive the End of the World’s latest episode titled “A Palestinian Love Story with Devin Atallah and Sarah Ihmoud.” It brought me to tears multiple times when they talked about deep love during genocides. It is a powerful thing to say yes to and a magical way that fuels us. To fall in love and to be in love is such a f**k you to the empire…if the alignment and north star is shared.Devin Atallah says on the podcast:“Our love story is not something I can celebrate without being real that we are weapons. And we need to be weapons right now. We’re not trying to be coming together and enacting care for each other that doesn’t help us fight and get free. We have to be weapons for a collective freedom and it’s our responsibility to do so.”Yes yes yes. What an honor.How to support me (thank you in advance):Currently, I’m in between jobs and would appreciate any support you can afford.* Subscribe for free (all my posts will be available to the public), but set up a monthly or annual recurring payment with me directly on venmo - @tiffanywongart. Attach the note “Recurring substack subscription.”* Buy me a cup of coffee. Every bit counts! You can venmo me at @tiffanywongart with note “coffee from substack!”LIBERATORY IMAGINATION is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber. Get full access to LIBERATORY IMAGINATION at tiffanywongart.substack.com/subscribe

\ To watch this substack via video recording - scroll to the bottom! \“Like that thing where you show someone just a little bit and they run, and then you think, wow, if just this terrified you—the tip of a feather—how am I supposed to open up entire wings? If I’m already so alone with this useless human face pressed over mine to make you more comfortable, how bad will it get if I show you my nonhuman faces?”— Dear Senthuran: A Black Spirit Memoir by Akwaeke EmeziWhen I see a child throw a tantrum or cry really big, my instinct is now to tear up and want to hold them so close. Not necessarily to comfort them, but to assure them that it’s ok for them to feel big and be seen.Because that’s what I want as a 35 year old.Just yesterday I was video chatting with my sister and my nibling who is 1.5 years old. My nibling was eating a muffin, and when my sister went to help peel the wrapper off - it was over. Their little glorious face contorted to be the most pained face, instant tears, a loud cry, cheeks red with rage. It became very clear very fast that they didn’t my sister to peel the wrapper - either they wanted to do it or just eat the muffin with the risk of paper in the mouth. As i was watching this unfold, tears came into my eyes, because I know what it’s like to feel my agency being taken from me. I relished in this new human to express that quickly and vulnerably. What would it be like for me to be soft like a toddler? With my most beloved chosen family. I’m not even sure if I’m soft like that with myself.[Photo: that’s 8 year old me in the orange shirt at my sister’s 5 year old bday.]I remember when I was probably 8 or 9 years old writing in my journal in the dark corner of my bedroom that I have chosen to shut myself off from my emotions. It was a clear moment where I found a spell that I can summon anytime. When I willed it to activate, it created this impenetrable bubble where everything was muffled on the outside, and everything was ok on the inside. The only thing I needed to abide to, is not to react to anything on the outside of the bubble or the spell wouldn’t work.I wrote in my locket journal that if I was able to shut off my feelings, everything could slip off me. It won’t hurt! In those next years, I perfected nonchalance. A kind of non reactivity. Sometimes I fell for the trap, and I let it all go at the same time - but for the most part my new spell was key to feeling agency again.When my mother would rage and lose all control, I would look at her blankly and continue to do what I was doing without batting an eye. That would set her off more, and I knew that. I put myself on a pedestal (as much as a 7 year old could) high enough to see her exploding in her own suffering and thinking that I would never: it’s so embarrassing to lose yourself like that.That loneliness echoes in me to this day. I’ve never been socially alone (thank god). Throughout the seasons, I’ve found community - even though in hindsight many of the “communities” have been shallow as hell.But that kind of loneliness to myself within myself is such a distinct flavor.I’m reading Dear Senthuran by Akwaeke Emezi right now and it is HITTING. I’m only 40% through the book, but it’s clear what the themes are. Emezi writes so rawly and so other wordly about what it takes to be honest with ourselves and each other in relationship, in creating, in resisting, and in being. “For people who live in the knuckles with sixty-seven faces, it’s not really about pretending to be people you’re not. It’s more about having faces for all the things you already are—blurred spaces, trickster mobility.”Their take on code switching or mask wearing is so refreshing.As a child, I had to put on that mask and summon that bubble to survive. To cope. It was the face that kept me the safest.The past 15 years has been learning to take that mask off when I’m alone, and then also dipping my toe into taking that mask off in front of people I choose.When I read the quote at the top of this post, I physically stopped doing the dishes and had to listen and read it again. It’s what I’ve been talking to my dear ones recently! There have been so many people in my life who I thought were for me, and when I showed them a flicker of my heart, they ran away. Too harsh. Too fixed. Too sure. Too much.What do you mean???? I didn’t even go hard. I didn’t even show the breadth of how I feel and how I can create and how I can expand!! If you can’t handle that little bit, it’s clear you can’t handle me at all.I’m so tired of bending and wearing masks. I can and will do it to survive, but I’m tired.Healing for me is to create enough space within myself to be huge and to feel big.With my babe, I’ve shown glimpses of my real emotions that I’ve never shown a partner. It’s scary. Because I can feel my inner child watch and squint…”we don’t do that.” “We don’t cry in front of people.” “We don’t show them our tenderness.” “We don’t get angry and show it.” Healing is developing trust within myself that I can be big, and not hurt or harm anyone. I can express my feelings and not say things I don’t mean. I can fill the room, and still make space for people who have earned my trust.I’m still scared of being accused that I’m too much.The thing that keeps me rooted is that when someone says I’m too much, most likely they are just confessing their own fears.I have matured enough to know that I can never wait for people’s permission to pursue what I want to see in my life, in community, in our world. As an Asian femme, I know too well what people expect me to be like. If followed that, I would be married to a white man with children, church going, have no stance on anything, a liberal, and my spirit would be dead.Another aspect about letting people see a glimpse of me, is that it attracts people who want to extract from me. My people and I talk about this ALL THE TIME, because it happens to us ALL THE TIME. People want to get close, because I reflect something they want to acknowledge in themselves - like honest creativity. But the moment that they are confronted about the cost it takes to be honestly creative, they attack (or leave). As if I am the source of why they are not living into their potential. As if I am the reason they aren’t ready to pay the price.No thanks.What does Liberatory Imagination spark in me today?Where we [Black + brown folks] can feel deeply, express it, and be safe. It is an honor to be big in how we feel, in the joy, fear, rage, bliss. It is an honor to witness it. White supremacy has stolen so much. I want us to wrap our younger selves in our arms and tell them it’s ok to be big and to feel big. We will nourish them to feel safe with their emotions and teach them that they aren’t their emotions. They ebb and flow. There is enough space.How to support me (thank you in advance):Currently, I’m in between jobs and would appreciate any support you can afford.* Subscribe for free (all my posts will be available to the public), but set up a monthly or annual recurring payment with me directly on venmo - @tiffanywongart. Attach the note “Recurring substack subscription.”* Buy me a cup of coffee. Every bit counts! You can venmo me at @tiffanywongartwith note “coffee from substack!”LIBERATORY IMAGINATION is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber. Get full access to LIBERATORY IMAGINATION at tiffanywongart.substack.com/subscribe

\ To watch this substack via video recording - scroll to the bottom! \Up to just 2 years ago, I thought it was my destiny to have children…like birth them from my literal body or through adoption. Being a future mother felt synonymous with me since I was little. I’ve always been really good with kids and everywhere I went people commented how I will be an amazing mom one day. I remember so many times growing up when I would be in the kitchen helping my mom make dinner, and she would say how this is training me to be a good future mom and wife. Every time she said that, I didn’t cringe. It warmed my heart thinking about me grating ginger for my future family.LIBERATORY IMAGINATION is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber.For two decades of my life, I took care of children for a living! I freaking loved being a nanny. I loved playing and taking care of little ones, and I still do. I loved picking up the baby after nap time and getting their snacks ready. So what happened in the past 2 years? Is it my age that made me suddenly have a change of heart?I almost froze my eggs.From 2021-22, I did ALOT of research about freezing my eggs. Early 30’s is when people say you should do it before it’s too late. Too late. Too late. I kept on hearing that and I kept on saying it.I was in a long term committed relationship at the time and kids were a possibility with that partner. (Side note - I thank the universe every day for saving me from having kids with that man. He ended being a lying and manipulative piece of s**t.)At that time I was 100% sure I would have a kid with or without a partner, but I really hoped it was with my then boyfriend. I learned that freezing your eggs is very expensive (10-15k), it doesn’t guarantee a successful pregnancy, you might need to do multiple rounds if you want a higher chance of conceiving later, and freezing your eggs fertilized makes the eggs more stable. In the end, I didn’t want to be in debt and would take a chance on things working out naturally.After the breakup, I felt free. And then after uncovering all the ways my ex lied to me after the breakup, I felt EXTRA free. I got to embody principles and values I couldn’t when I was dating that piece of garbage (I don’t usually like to classify any human as garbage, but you would agree if you knew what he did).Throwing away the relationship ladder.Finally I was able to live into my queerness not as an abstract idea, but a tangible way of life. It was healing to connect and love people of different genders excluding cis men. But - let me tell you - untangling the tricky ways of comphet (compulsive heteronormativity) and patriarchy is an ongoing struggle. It’s so much more than who you are romantically connected to. It’s getting into the nitty gritty and questioning it all on a body level. Part of embodying queerness was getting rid of the relationship ladder. Dating→partnership→moving in together→getting married→having kids. The whole thing is trash. It robs us of true choice and consent. It makes us become little capitalism machines churning out humans to feed the capitalism machine. It strips us of having relationships and connections that are rooted in authenticity and accountability.I’m not saying that all relationships that follow the relationship ladder are fake or unhappy or unsuccessful…I’m saying that without clear alternative paths (that are available and respected), it’s not much of a consensual choice. Going to repeat myself again: truly liberating ourselves from patriarchy and systems of oppression cannot be stuck on an intellectual basis.But I get it. Like what I wrote in the last post, there are real life consequences (socially/economically) when you don’t submit to empire’s wishes for you. If you don’t follow the relationship ladder in a cishet relationship, there are punishments. Many of them are lethal.How much was the desire for kids selfish?How much was the desire of having kids spoon fed to me by patriarchy/capitalism and how much was it actually from me?To expound on that, part of it was that I wanted to see a mini me. I wanted to raise a child and do better than my parents. I wanted to give a child the household I wish I had. I wanted to feel what it’s like to have a human grow inside of me. I wanted to have a baby that adored me and needed me. I wanted all the snuggles and sweet baby breaths. I wanted to have a toddler who would be delighted to see me enter the room. I wanted to be able to choose their little clothes and style their hair. I wanted to do night time baths and bedtime book time. I wanted to have open and honest communication. I wanted to create a household that was safe for their big feelings. I wanted a tangible way of passing on my legacy. I wanted a full grown adult to hug me and say they couldn’t have solved world hunger without me. And once again, I wanted to blubber over my mini me, who would be the cutest thing ever.(Above: a photo of my mom and me. Omg look at me…I’m SO CUTE.)When I looked at the reasons why I wanted children, I couldn’t justify it.Those weren’t good enough reasons to bring a human into this world. Side-note: I’m not going to get into adoption here, because that’s a whole other complex conversation.To answer my leading question: yes the desire is selfish. All those reasons center me and my ego.Reasons why I choose not to have kids:1 . In this economy??I can barely make rent.2. Under this empire??This empire wants to either kill the children or make them into slaves (prison or to capitalism). 3. With my unstable state??I am mentally/emotionally unwell and traumatized. If push comes to shove, I think I could rise to the occasion, but that’s a huge question mark. There are so many moments where I just thank god I don’t have children when I just need to crawl into my bed and disappear…or when I’m overstimulated and feel like screaming.4. In this timeline??If I were a floating soul, I wouldn’t want to be birthed into this timeline. I love children.I know people will continue to have kids and they won’t regret it. This is not sarcastic - I’m happy for them. And no shade to anyone! Children are incredible and such a gift. The reason why I don’t want kids isn’t because I don’t value them anymore. It’s because I’ve pivoted how I see family and community. I have the peace that there will always be children in my life, and I hope to be a loving community member in raising those children. For how society is structured, I don’t think I have the means to raise children, and in deconstructing my desire for kids - I’m not sure if I will ever have any valid reasons to have them. That feels peaceful in my body.The rush I felt in my late 20’s going into my 30’s to have kids was so unfair. I hate that I felt that weight in watching my “biological clock” tick. Having that pressure lift off of me is a blessing. Honestly, who knows what life will bring me. All I know is that my responsibility is to heal from this oppressive system as much as I can while living from my values.(Below is me - the older one, my baby sister, and my stylish mom.)What does Liberatory Imagination spark in me today?A world where children are actually valued. People like to think that they care about children, but it comes out real fast they don’t if they are Black or brown or poor. The images of babies in Gaza…in the NICU…left to die…is seared into my body forever. The countless kids who were martyred. Hearing from children about their accounts of watching their siblings being killed. Girls in sudan being systemically sexually assaulted. Black children who are fed into the school to prison pipeline, which is just another word for slavery. Just yesterday an autistic teenager was shot 9 times by the police. This world hates children.Liberatory imagination asks me: what am I doing to contribute to a world where children are loved and protected?I have a new event coming up virtually! We will be gathering on April 16 Wed 7-8:30pm CST. Registration is based on sliding scale (free is an option). For more info and to register: visit my site.How to support me (thank you in advance):Currently, I’m in between jobs and would appreciate any support you can afford.* Subscribe for free (all my posts will be available to the public), but set up a monthly or annual recurring payment with me directly on venmo - @tiffanywongart. Attach the note “Recurring substack subscription.”* Buy me a cup of coffee. Every bit counts! You can venmo me at @tiffanywongartwith note “coffee from substack!”LIBERATORY IMAGINATION is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber. Get full access to LIBERATORY IMAGINATION at tiffanywongart.substack.com/subscribe

\\ To watch this substack via video recording - scroll to the bottom! \\It’s maddening and laughable, because I was taught that if I focused my whole life on god (or at least who I was told god was) then I would live a righteous life. In bible school (yes I went to a private christian collage), I so vividly remember these two images in one of the bible classes.The first image: numerous dots surrounding god and they are chaotically going in random directions with no balance. The second image portrays those same dots neatly surrounding god, pointing in towards god, in perfect balance. I remember how it really clicked in my head: “WOW. How can it be any clearer?! Makes total sense, and it confirms everything I know and feel. If I just focus on God, then everything else will snap into place.” I breathed and lived for god (I mean, I cheated ALOOOOTTT in college, but who cares - god understood.)I’ve written this before, but I really miss that kind of unprincipled peace. The kind that let’s you walk with a bounce, because you got it all figured out - the purpose of life, how it all started, what happens after death, what you can and cannot do, and what I need to personally do to please god. That kind of clarity on top of existential superiority is so fun. Everyone at my church knew me, because I led music. Saying hi to so many people was exhilarating. Did any of those people actually know me or have my back in any way? No, but I didn’t know that yet.After college, I got deep into leadership with a church that I thought was more progressive. LOL. It felt like a cool and grounded church, but in reality it was just as patriarchal, white supremacist, and homophobic as any ol’ church. My ego ate it up though, because being a token woman of color - I felt “loved and heard” - at least 20 percent of the time. And I was cool with it! Change takes time!I spent hours prepping and practicing for music every week (below is a photo of me in 2022 deep in my church era - I’m looking off in the distance playing the guitar). Hours in meetings about initiatives. Hours in meetings about the “vision” of the church. Hours in meetings about meetings about meetings about meetings. SO MUCH TALKING. With nothing to show for it. Nothing ever happened. Except for an egg hunt for the kids during easter.Those decades are formative to who I am today, but I grieve. I lost all those hours and weeks and years laboring for free. I believed it my choice, but was it? Other than my ego getting stroked and experiencing the facade of “community,” was I better off? HELL NO. The thought of all those hours of listening to men talk nauseates me. All those hours of listening to “diverse view points” and “spirit led” blasphemy was sickening. And not to forget…I gave CASH MONEY to the church, because I was taught to tithe (give 10% of your income to the church).For what?? A tinnnyyy fraction of the budget helped people in financial need. We were able to go on trips and retreats on that church budget. The church supported missionaries. *GAGGING*The success of mobilizing a few hundred people went to…nothing. People had the semblance of community and maybe made some friends, but it was nothing more than a social club. They loooved talking about how the church is not a social club - ironic. There are real life people who need CASH MONEY to pay for rent and food, but the church didn’t actually care. They didn’t actually care about addressing white supremacy and colonization. They knew how to use key words to seem relevant. Push comes to shove, no one is willing to sacrifice their comfort for real work or change.Obviously that’s a huge generalization, but that’s what I saw with my very own two eyes. Even in writing this, I can feel my blood boil. It’s so wrong to use the umbrella of Jesus’ teachings to neglect people who are outside the doors - who need homes, food, and shelter from ICE. And it doesn’t count to volunteer at a homeless shelter 2x a year. I’m still actively grieving not using my energy and resources in a materially helpful way all those years…let alone the religious trauma.When I finally left the church for good, I was so angry. Everything the church taught me about chaos (like in that illustration) was wrong. My life didn’t crumble because I was leaving the church and the faith. I didn’t fall into sin (at least in my definition). I was taught that people who didn’t have Jesus in their heart were lying to themselves in believing that they had peace or were happy. I was taught it was all a facade. When I left, I saw that the people outside the church were just as miserable as the people in the church. Actually, christians are some of the most tortured, discontent, and immoral people I’ve ever witnessed.When I finally left the church for good, I had agency to actually walk in alignment. The weight of obligation and spiritual guilt lifted off of my shoulders. OMG I had no idea how heavy it was. I always felt bad I didn’t pray and read the bible more. It was always weighing on me that my relationship with god wasn’t stronger. The peace I felt after leaving was deeper and truer than anything I experienced. In my soul, I know Jesus would have been proud of me!Instead of being in meeting after meeting, I took control of my energy and how I allocated it. Years later, I’m still figuring out how to be a loving friend, partner, and local/global neighbor. Because I don’t have spiritual obligation and guilt taking up space in my being, I can own up to my decisions fully. I’m not showing up truthfully because I should as a christian…I’m showing up truthfully because I choose to practice integrity.Self accountability can only happen when I’m not functioning out of obligation and guilt.Something I have my eyes and ears out for is the same pitfalls the church had in the organizing space. All I know is that any space where people gather is susceptible to losing the whole plot and obeying narcissist leaders.Just because a space isn’t religious doesn’t mean that the same systemic harm can’t exist. Wow triple negatives! Cults are cults whatever form they take. In my book, a cult is where people are exploited for their bodies and their labor, usually led by a person or group of people who are in it for themselves. Typically it’s for money, but it could be for sexual gratification or just ego/control, or all of above.In the christian church, people are exploited for their bodies and their labor in exchange for the sense of existential certainty, a feeling of belonging, moral superiority, and “community.” Who benefits? Usually it’s white men (sometimes white women and sometimes men of color) who are the pastors and leaders. They get literally paid by people’s tithes or/and they get their ego stroked. I’m not even going to get into MAGA churches and how all those votes are manufactured by the US and israel.I gotta be honest, some of these political spaces look more like cults than revolutionary spaces. There’s alot of talk and little action…lots and lots of meetings…more talk…performative actions…very little material difference. People are finding belonging and friends, but at what cost? All I’m saying is that I won’t be surprised when I find out there is financial fraud or that a prominent person in the group has been abusing people. It’s sad. I don’t wish that on any group or anyone.Having come from a background where that was normalized, I feel super guarded.I’m reading Abolish the Family by Sophia Lewis and I just finished Earthlings by Sayaka Murata. They both address our function under empire and what the system expects of us in order to be deemed as valuable to them. It is ALL about exploitation of our bodies and labor. Earthlings was a creative and provocative book that I’m still churning on.Something that I loved being brought to light is: what is considered as taboo? And who is protecting abusers?Being an unwed and child free woman is socially unacceptable (kinda taboo if you think about it), and there are many punishments for that behavior. Pedophilia is taboo for sure, but who is protected the majority of the time in a society that doesn’t value children?I highly recommend the book, but please read through the very intense trigger warning list before starting the book.What does Liberatory Imagination spark in me today?A day where we don’t have to figure out how to resist and survive (like this image of a bee barely hanging on). Surviving seems so impossible as we are still witnessing the genocide in Palestine a year and 6 months later…as we are witnessing devastating earthquakes and tsunamis…the abduction of people off the streets…trans siblings having all their rights stripped away…surviving itself feels so impossible. Liberatory Imagination sparks in me a future where we don’t need to “choose” between bowing down to the empire or death. Either way it is death. Liberatory Imagination sparks in me a future where we have the context and environment to actually thrive. There’s no thriving here, baby. We can have glimpses and glimmers, but until the empire has been burnt to the f*****g ground…there is no thriving.I have a new event coming up virtually! We will be gathering on April 15 Wed 7-8:30pm CST. Registration is based on sliding scale (free is an option). For more info and to register: visit my site.How to support me (thank you in advance):Currently, I’m in between jobs and would appreciate any support you can afford.* Subscribe for free (all my posts will be available to the public), but set up a monthly or annual recurring payment with me directly on venmo - @tiffanywongart. Attach the note “Recurring substack subscription.”* Buy me a cup of coffee. Every bit counts! You can venmo me at @tiffanywongartwith note “coffee from substack!”LIBERATORY IMAGINATION is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber. Get full access to LIBERATORY IMAGINATION at tiffanywongart.substack.com/subscribe

I’m half way into Abolish the Family by Sophia Lewis and have been digesting a few pages per day. Here’s an excerpt from it on page 2:I will hazard a definition of love: to love a person is to struggle for their autonomy as well as for their immersion of care, insofar such abundance is possible in a world choked by capital. If this is true, then restricting the number of mothers (of whatever gender) to whom a child has access, on the basis that I am the ‘real’ mother, is not necessarily a form of love worthy of the name. Perchance, when you were very young (assuming you grew up in a nuclear household), you quietly noticed the oppressiveness of the function assigned to whoever was the mother in your home. You sensed her loneliness. You felt a twinge of solidarity. In my experience, children often ‘get’ this better than most: when you love someone, it simply makes no sense to endorse a social technology that isolates them…Damn. That hit me. I remember watching my mother raising two young children in her 30’s and drowning - at least from my point of view (because who knows how it aligns with her reality). From her stories, she was a bubbly and socially loved girl growing up in Hong Kong. She was popular at her schools, top student, and got many scholarships. It led to working in law when she immigrated to the states. Got married. Had kids in her 30’s, which was late in that context. Boom. In the kitchen with a 1 year old and 4 year old. Then, for the next 20 years, everything had to take in consideration of the kids. She stayed at home and homeschooled my sister and me from my 1st grade all the way through high school (my sister and I did independent studies with public schools).I felt her loss of self. Motherhood didn’t make up for it.It was traumatic for me to witness her and to experience the consequences of her loss.She had friends and a religious community - thank goodness - but it didn’t fill the hole of her existential loneliness. It was exhausting and she was outside of her capacity every day. Any little thing could tip her over. Her body was a vibrating ball of anxiety and inflammation. (Sounds like me right now.) I did not have a nervous system to find comfort in growing up.And again I’m angry about the christian church! In so many ways, the community was shallow shallow shallow. I saw my friend’s mother’s in the same position as my mom. Actually, witnessing and hearing about the other families made me realize I had it better than most. At least my dad didn’t also yell at me. And they weren’t as strict as other parents. The trauma of the parents passed down to the children seemed like a cultural norm. I remember my parents talking to other parents about how rebellious the kids are and then using the Bible to justify punishment.From Abolish the Family:In the nineteenth century, the US and Canadian federal governments’ Indian policies typically demanded marriage as a way of dissolving tribal models of collective ownership that went along with gender-nonbinarism, non-monogamy, and/or matrilocal open marriage: they instituted private property and then concentrated it in the hands of ‘heads of household,’ that is, husbands. It is in this sense that we can say that family abolition—as a project of resistance to and flight from bourgeois society and a defense against colonization—was a horizon raised via the practices of stolen, captive, colonially displaced, and/or formerly enslaved people who defied the institutions and modes of citizenship the US attempted to acculturate them to, namely: private property, secularized Christian monogamy, and the marriage-based private nuclear household.I remember so vividly being told my dad is the head of the household, and my mom is his support. But EVERYONE knew my mom ran the family and made the decisions. She had to cosplay good wife while being utterly trapped to tending to all the household chores, her kids’ education, driving us back and forth, planning every detail, and cooking. My dad did dishes and helped out for sure, but he embodied the passive man that just needs to get out of the way of the dramatic wife. That’s just another font for a patriarchal man.Skip this part if you haven’t seen Adolescence on netflix!I just watched Adolescence, and wow. How it was shot, scripted, and performed was incredible. White people reallyyy get the opportunities of showing themselves as very nuanced and layered. If it was about a Black or brown family, there’s no way that it would have been afforded this kind of complexity. I kept on thinking about the constant heartbreak of Black families seeing their children either killed by pigs or locked up.This series was written and directed by men. It’s ironic, because the film seems to be exploring misogyny while indulging in misogyny. By the end, we still don’t know anything about the mom, sister, or any femmes in the story. The whole series begged the audience to sympathize and humanize the boy and the men, which was very easy to. When we know their story, their fears, their trauma, it opens up so many more possibilities to empathize.Who gets that opportunity in this world? We all know.In the last episode, you could feel the loneliness of the nuclear family. The neighbors weren’t actually caring to them…they were just nosy. The school teachers were just little cop assistants and didn’t give a f**k about the students or their privacy. The worker at that english home depot just wanted to indicate that he was invested in the investigation like it was a hobby (also I totally think that he was an incel). That isn’t community!Zooming in to the mom, the beginning scene of the last episode. The dad was in a rage about his van being vandalized with spray paint, and so he fills up a bucket with water and soap. As he is chaotically lifting the bucket out of the sink, water spills everywhere - all over the sink and floor, and he tells his wife that he is sorry and will clean it up later. After he comes back in from unsuccessfully scrubbing off the paint, the mom is mopping up the water and the dad pours the bucket of water in the sink making a mess at the sink.The whole episode, you could feel the mom trying to keep it together for the family. She is externally calm and is desperately trying to show up for her husband and daughter in a loving way. After the dad’s rage against those teens outside the home depot, she is almost laughing in her attempt to cope. All whilst, her baby - her son - is locked up for killing a girl. Her baby - her son - will never be downstairs eating chocolate ice cream.(Note to self: write about all the reasons why I’m glad I don’t have kids and why I don’t want kids. 87th reason - they could hurt and murder people. I’m out!)What does Liberatory Imagination spark in me today?I learned about Alexandra Kollontai, a Soviet family abolitionist, and she wrote this in her 1920 pamphlet “Communism and the Family”:Communist society takes care of every child and guarantees both him and his mother material and moral support. Society will feed, bringup and educate the child. At the same time, those parents who desire to participate in the education of their children will by no means be prevented from doing so. Communist society will take upon itself all the duties involved…but the joys of parenthood will not be taken away from those who are capable of appreciating them. Such are the plans of communist society and they can hardly be interpreted as the forcible destruction of the family and the forcible separation of child from mother.THAT is liberatory imagination that is founded on theory and principle.I want to imagine new and create structures of care. I need to grieve what has been and what is. Children are so beautiful and pure. I want to contribute to a society where they are actually protected and cherished. My heart is heavy from the brutal murder of children, mothers, fathers, aunties, uncles, grandparents, teachers, and community members in Gaza. It is unfathomable. Praying praying praying for Palestine. No food, aid, or water has entered Palestine in more than 21 days.F**k Israel and f**k the US. F**k the empire!How to support me (thank you in advance):Currently, I’m in between jobs and would appreciate any support you can afford.* Subscribe for free (all my posts will be available to the public), but set up a monthly or annual recurring payment with me directly on venmo - @tiffanywongart. Attatch the note “Recurring substack subscription.”* Buy me a cup of coffee. Every bit counts! You can venmo me at @tiffanywongart with note “coffee from substack!”* My next read is Revolutionary Mothering edited by Alexis Pauline Gumbs, China Martens, and Mai’a Williams. Send me funds to purchase this book or send me the book directly - I would love to add this to my liberatory library. Get full access to LIBERATORY IMAGINATION at tiffanywongart.substack.com/subscribe

There’s this tiktok (not endorsing the creator - have no idea who she is) that came across my FYP that was about how everyone wants a village but no one wants to be a villager. Oof. She goes on about how her mom has always had a huge village around her and the creator shares her observations of what her mom does to make that possible.It made me think about my relationship with community, my upbringing and the life my parents are living. Below is a photo of my parents! My mom is in that darling striped dress with the large collar, my dad is beside her, and my maternal grandparents are beside my dad, and my aunt is next to my mom. They are at a Chinese restaurant filled with people. And it’s for my parent’s wedding banquet in the 80’s! They are so cute! I’ve been at many Chinese dinner banquets and large gatherings growing up. There’s usually shark fin soup (not sure if it’s actual shark fin or if it’s that ethical), cold jellyfish, garlicky crab, roast duck, many other savory yummy dishes, and a dessert sago soup. It’s LOUD in that room. People are talking and basically yelling. Love it so much.You might know that I grew up in an evangelical christian home, and for my whole childhood my community was a Chinese community church in the Bay Area. For all the ways that I resent Christianity in my lineage, I am also grateful to have grown up with fellow Chinese and Asian community members. All my aunties and uncles (biological and chosen) spoke Chinese - Cantonese - and the first generation kids spoke chinglish (chinese/english). In that church, there was a deep sense of belonging that was more than sharing the same faith.One of my favorite memories was church lunch after service, and the aunties have been rushing to get all this food ready for lunch before choir practice. They laid out hot trays on wooden foldable tables all lined up. You grabbed your plate and utensils and you went to town. Rice, veggies, noodles, savory meats, saucy tofu. SO GOOD.During the week, my parents had bible study, prayer meetings, and church meetings held in people’s homes. Sometimes we would host. The kids would play and watch movies. That was my childhood! For all the trauma that was happening on different levels, my memories of the gatherings are joyful and warm. Oh the nuance.In between church events and meetings, I was at least once a week at someone’s home with my parents for a non church gathering. There would be dinner, lots of laughter, and late night goodbyes. Most of the households had pianos, and I would practice piano at my parent’s friend’s homes. I remember being SO obnoxious with my 21st century weird ass piano pieces that I played extremely loud. My mom would have to be like “so proud of you for practicing, but can you not play so loud?” Haha!Like the tiktok creator’s mom, people are always dropping by with desserts or a random things, and my parents are always dropping off things at other friends’ homes. It’s been 16 years since I’ve lived at home, and every time I’m visit - it’s still the same. When I was at my parent’s place last time, a long time friend dropped off peeled jackfruit. My parents are always hanging out with their elderly friends at their home - my dad helping with their computer and ordering things for them. There’s always something.Over the years their community has changed drastically. Some folks remain close, but most of them came and went. I remember quieter years when there was less social activity. In the past few years, they rejoined a new asian church, and it’s been really sweet to hear about their new friends. My mom told me about all the different regional asian dishes she’s been learning about from her community.My parents are adventurous - they try new places to eat and plan trips across the world with their friends. A couple months ago I called my mom and found out that they were on a road trip in the pacific north west visiting some friends over the weekend. Adorable.Below is a photo of my younger sister and I on a roadtrip! We are in our black honda accord, which I inherited when I was a teenager. Every year growing up my parents would take us on 2 big road trips to national parks and museums across the states. One of the reasons why they decided to homeschool us was to bring us on trips that could also double as field trips and family vacations. We didn’t have much growing up, and could’t afford international and expensive trips - so getting into our car and staying at motels was their way of making a more immersive learning atmosphere as well as spending time together. Looking back, I’m so grateful for my parents’ thoughtfulness in raising me and my sister. I’m so tired all the time, and I can’t imagine having kids and then getting the energy to make their lives feel exciting and full. Thank goodness I’m not a parent!!I remember growing up hearing in the other room grown up meetings happening. I felt in the air there was betrayal and lots of conflict. When my parents were alone, I would hear them talking in the kitchen about what was simmering and unfolding. Lots of tears and heartbreak. I felt like my parents were constantly mediators, but I’m sure they were part of rupture too.It’s interesting to think how my upbringing informs my formation of community.The truth is that I feel very guarded and jaded. The older I get the smaller my circle is getting, and that’s by choice!I went to a talk yesterday that featured Mariame Kaba ( Prisonculture ), Beth Richie, and Avonlon Betts-Gaston hosted by IRRPP at UIC, where they talked about building a collective vision of liberation. It was so incredibly good for my spirit. So much wisdom, truth, and honesty.Mariame Kaba said many things that challenged me, and one of them was how we need to be widening our circles. My body’s reaction was BUT NO!!!. She talked about how the network needs to get bigger and we need to make more friends to build the future we want to see. But I don’t want more friends!! I can barely keep up with the ones I have! I have so many people left unread literally right now!As I said: confronted.I cognitively know that we need each other. Mutual aid and organizing (with literal humans) is our way towards the world we want to see. But humans are so consistently disappointing. I was looking at the organizers and thought leaders on the panel, and I whispered to my friend next to me about how they have seen harm and been majorly let down in their lifetime over and over again - WAY more than what we have seen. We probably have no idea the extent of it. Yet, they are speaking from their souls and encouraging us to widen our circles. I could cry, because I know it’s the truth - and I so don’t want to.The flip side is certain and dark. That’s how the empire wins - if we dig our heals in our individualism. If we think we don’t need each other. If our pride gets in the way of connection. If we silo ourselves and simmer in the what if they betray me and us. If we don’t take risks. The empire wins.Mariame Kaba spoke about being grounded in the possibilities.This substack is about liberatory imagination, because I want to strengthen my center. Strengthen my gaze towards our North Star. I can feel my spirit recognizing how she feels wobbly. Praying for increase of faith…I sure need it to endure the unknown-ness of the future and people’s behavior. On the flip side, I need to look in the mirror. Alot of the fear with people is fear that I will be someone who will be kicked to the curb. Can I allow people to show up as fully human? Can I allow myself to show up as fully human? It’s scary to think that I will continue to make mistakes.What I do know is that keeping myself accountable is hand in hand on where we are going towards - free of police and prisons. Transformative justice is key to creating a culture where there is accountability and true opportunities of growth. Gotta practice what I preach.As I reflect on my upbringing, I see that my parents are always taking relational risks. They have been hurt and were burned many many times I’m sure. And they probably did the same to others. Yet they keep on trying. In a country that rejects them, they keep on trying to build community. I wrote about this in the last post, and it is still resonating. I have to try.I don’t know what will happen and I don’t need to. I just need to try.What does Liberatory Imagination spark in me today?Someone on the panel (I think it was Avalon Betts-Gaston) said that at the end of your life there should be so many people gathered around you. Your community should extend so deep and wide. And if you don’t have friends around you, that’s a problem.Liberatory Imagination sparks in me roots that continue to grow deeper and wider as I age. The deeper and wider my roots get, the deeper and wider my community becomes. I will surround myself with folks dedicated to building the world we want to see with unity and diverse strategies. Harm will be reduced and true accountability will be embraced free from policing (systemically and relationally.)How to support me (thank you in advance):Currently, I’m in between jobs and would appreciate any support you can afford.* I’m changing my ask! Before, I was asking folks to become a paid subscriber, but instead - please don’t go through substack. Subscribe for free (all my posts will be available to the public), but set up a monthly or annual recurring payment with me directly on venmo - @tiffanywongart. Attatch the note “Recurring substack subscription.”* Buy me a cup of coffee. Every bit counts! You can venmo me at @tiffanywongart with note “coffee from substack!” Get full access to LIBERATORY IMAGINATION at tiffanywongart.substack.com/subscribe

This substack has been a live journal of the waning and waxing…of feeling so lost and then feeling so clear and then having them overlap. Today my body remembers what it felt like a year ago. Five months into live streaming the Palestinian genocide. I just re-read a few substacks from last March, and oh baby. I had no idea what was coming.In my substack titled “My body feels ok today” (March 12th), I wrote:I think in the last post or maybe in the one before that, I described myself behaving manically, because I’m going from zero to a hundred - from coming back from a break and feeling super depressed to being in 3 direct actions in one week. Today, I want to extend acceptance that I don’t always need to be “grounded.” Nothing is normal. I’m not normal. Maybe it’s ok that I’m swinging back and forth. As long as I’m not harming people or myself (for the most part) along the way, that’s all that matters.My head: What about long-term sustainability like how you always preach?My response: Long term? People are dying every day. There’s no promise I will live past this day, month, year. Let alone long term.My head: Ok but aren't you going to burn out like next week? And what about your health? This stress is going to really make you not make it into the "long term."My response: Fine - we won't do 3 direct actions next week.My body remembers.Some days I would feel so off and triggered, and then I would look at my calendar. It would remind me that a year ago, 2 years ago, 5 years ago, something traumatic happened. The older I get, it compounds. My body remembers not only traumatic things that happened to me, but she remembers our collective trauma - significant moments where we were beat down.I keep on wondering how can I continue moving forward when every week and month and day feels like an anniversary for something horrific?I hate how resilient we - poor Black + Brown people - have to be. I hate that it takes so much to keep on going…to survive under an empire that wants you exploited to the bone or dead. I hate how we can’t be a tender soft puddle all the time. (Note: we need to make more space to be tender soft puddles together.)I’ve been on an anti-depressant for the past 5 or so months, and I decided to start weaning off of it this past week. This morning I laid in bed and felt a different kind of anxiety gnawing at me. I can’t tell if it’s because I’m on a lower dose of meds or what. I also was freaked out that I have felt more tired the past few days than I normally do…even though I definitely have felt very tired being on the anti-depressants.A few reasons why I am trying to wean off of the meds is because I’m curious what my baseline is. I have a suspicion that it has blunted my personality and has taken away my edge - in a good and bad way. The good way is that it has helped me regulate (especially in the beginning.) The bad way is that it might have also taken the edge to my personality…that is so me. Not sure. Another reason is when things crumble even more and medicare is taken away, I don’t want to be reliant on medications from pharma. It’s a privilege to be able to have this be a choice of mine. That’s another motivator of being as well as possible so that I can do my part in resistance.All that being said - I’m not sure how to cope with this very dark timeline, but I need to try. I have no idea how I’m going to pay my bills in the next few months, but I need to try. I have no idea how to keep stable in my mental/emotional/physical health, but I need to try. We need to try. This is a community effort in surviving.One way that has been helping me cope are taking care of my plant babies. I’ve been propagating them and giving them away to loved ones What does Liberatory Imagination spark in me today?A future where we can be soft puddles. Where tenderness is abundant and afforded to everyone. Where vulnerability is respected and honored. Where ingenuity and creativity isn’t spent on how to survive, but on art. Where a leisure pace is just default. Where communion with the land is a common delight.How to support me (thank you in advance):Currently, I’m in between jobs and would appreciate any support you can afford.* I’m changing my ask! Before, I was asking folks to become a paid subscriber, but instead - please don’t go through substack. Subscribe for free (all my posts will be available to the public), but set up a monthly or annual recurring payment with me directly on venmo - @tiffanywongart. Attatch the note “Recurring substack subscription.”* Buy me a cup of coffee. Every bit counts! You can venmo me at @tiffanywongart with note “coffee from substack!” Get full access to LIBERATORY IMAGINATION at tiffanywongart.substack.com/subscribe

I really believe that self honesty is the hardest kind of honesty. So much stems from that place. I can’t hold myself accountable if I’m not honest and brave enough to face truth. I can’t be held accountable by my loved ones if I’m not honest with myself first. Because how can I be honest with people if I can’t be honest with myself?It takes vulnerability and compassion towards myself. And I struggle with that.I’m a Leo sun, Virgo rising, and Cap moon…and that might tell you everything about how I would like to be perceived…a perfect little angel that’s badass. While I am that for sure, I feel in my spirit that part of this lifetime is learning how to truly embody a child like ego. Leo’s are the children of the universe! Kids are naturally playful and take up space. They don’t mind being perceived. I love the clarity young kids have in their creativity. I want that! I want to be so rooted in my value, that there can be bravery in truth telling and expression.Over my past 30+ years, there is a pattern I see over and over again. Where ever I go, there are power hungry and manipulative people in leadership who do harm. I have seen this in christian churches (so so so many) and in organizing spaces. Every time I see this happen, I take the time to self reflect.What do I see in them that I can identify in myself? How have I perpetuated harm? What is my role in seeing this unravel? What did I miss in hindsight?I never never never think that I’m above that person or that behavior.Having been raised in a household where I had to be hyper vigilant about the state of my mother’s mood, I have developed an attentiveness to people’s energies and behavior. I don’t identify as an empath, but this empathic skill is both a gift and a trauma response. Something I’ve noticed with narcissistic leaders are that they are very good at identifying (consciously or not) people’s weak spots. When you know what drives a person, especially if it’s an insecurity, it is easy to use that against them. If someone is looking for validation in a certain way, that can be wielded into a weapon for manipulation.These leaders are very good as masking (at least at first), because they are familiar with belonging, what brings people together, and what people value. Can you see why religion and organizing are such hot spots for this kind of thing?As I get to know people, I pick up on how and why they make decisions, which is a neutral thing to observe. But I have to acknowledge within myself that I could harm people with that knowledge. All those things I see in those manipulative leaders, I see the potential in myself. As I said, I’m a Leo, and I am susceptible to my ego gobbling up all the adoration and wanting to control people for my purposes. That’s my shadow side. And I cannot be afraid of looking her in the eye.The work is being able to see what I’m capable of, but ultimately being rooted in love. I love myself too much to rob myself of authentic connection and community. I love myself too much to receive shallow affirmation and adoration. I love myself too much to lose sight of what actually matters and my role towards our North Star.The level of how real I can be about my shadow is the same level of how deep I can love.It’s too dangerous to think that I’m not capable of doing great harm. I believe self accountability is a core tenant of collective liberation. We don’t have to wait for other people to call us in or out. We take the time to look within with brave honesty.I have fucked up and will do it again and again. This kind of honesty will ensures that relationship and connection will be abundant.What does Liberatory Imagination spark in me today?A future where gatherings of people will be able to hold and protect the vulnerable and the harmed. Where the harmer and harmed will be humanized, and restoration can be possible. I’m drawing from what I’ve learned from transformative justice - especially through mia mingus. I know this happens, but I haven’t seen it practiced effectively yet larger contexts…which I have more thoughts to share on that. There’s so much deep healing we need as a immensely traumatized collective. Colonization, capitalism, imperialism…all of it…destroys lives and relationships. We must not forget why it’s so messy and difficult to come together against our enemy - it is strategic.How to support me (thank you in advance):Currently, I’m in between jobs and would appreciate any support you can afford.* I’m changing my ask! Before, I was asking folks to become a paid subscriber, but instead - please don’t go through substack. Subscribe for free (all my posts will be available to the public), but set up a monthly or annual recurring payment with me directly on venmo - @tiffanywongart. Attatch the note “Recurring substack subscription.”* Buy me a cup of coffee. Every bit counts! You can venmo me at @tiffanywongart with note “coffee from substack!”LIBERATORY IMAGINATION is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber.Watch the video recording of this substack on Spotify! The video should be live after an hour after I publish this substack. Get full access to LIBERATORY IMAGINATION at tiffanywongart.substack.com/subscribe

My resentment towards Christianity has reared its familiar head once again.I just started season 3 of Blowback the podcast (recommended by my friend Emma) about the Korean War, and wow. Just when you think you’ve heard the worst of imperialism, it never ceases to shock me what humans are capable of. Last month I listened to season 2 about Cuba, and it was very educational, eye opening, and disturbing. It is a great podcast that gets into the details of what happened from an anti-imperialist/colonial and leftist POV.liberatory imagining is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber.For context, I grew up in a conservative evangelical christian household. Everything was about Jesus, and I found solace in the faith growing up. When I felt so alone at home, I prayed and felt God’s presence. I basically never felt lost or purposeless, because it was clear what my life was for: pleasing God and spreading the gospel. It’s soooo great to have certainty about so much - like what happens after you die, what life is about, who God is, how the world was created, what the cause of evil was. I almost envy the past me that had all the confidence and peace.In my 20’s I majorly deconstructed my faith, and eventually left it behind me all together. Connection to God/Spirit/universe is still very much important to me, but I’m done with the religious piece.Back to the podcast, so far (I’ve only listened to the first two episodes) they are setting up the context to the Korean War, and the following was part of that context.“Filipinos with whom the Americans had once fought against Spain, again, not totally unlike the Cubans, were now being slaughtered by United States troops. The historian Ken de Beauvoir wrote a book, Agents of Apocalypse, about how the Philippines developed the highest mortality rate on the planet at the time of this war. Here's a key excerpt.He writes, ‘It appears that the American war contributed directly and indirectly to the loss of more than a million persons from a base population of about seven million.’”“Here's an account of McKinley speaking before a Methodist congregation in 1899. Now, McKinley begins by telling his audience that he, quote, didn't know what to do with the islands, and he prayed to God for guidance. McKinley concluded, quote, that there was nothing left for us, the Americans, to do, but to take them all, to take all the Philippines, and to educate the Filipinos, and uplift and civilize and Christianize them, and by God's grace, do the very best we could by them as our fellow men for whom Christ also died.”From Blowback: S3 Episode 2 - “The Uninvited”Knowing how South Korea is like now (a majority Christian state) - it sends chills down my spine.Christianity/Catholicism and colonization are long time buds.And it’s honestly such a shame. Don’t get me wrong, there are fucked up things in the Bible (I can totally write another post about that), but I still believe that the core of the faith is beautiful. Jesus teaches about how it’s about loving our neighbors, feeding the poor, uplifting the ostracized, and subverting the power structure. Love it.BUT…power hungry people used the text and twisted the meaning to whatever they want. The christian church likes to teach that it’s important to decipher the holy text contextually, and that some people like pastors have the authority and training to do it well. Each individual can do it themselves, of course, but they should use resources like study bibles (that were translated and interpreted by people with a very particular angle) and teachers/pastors (who have a very particular angle.)So you have a large number of people who were told were nothing without God & the faith PLUS spiritual leaders with authority PLUS imperialism and colonial systems of power…we got ourselves a brilliant strategy for the empire.Christianity is the perfect tool to wipe out indigenous wisdom, culture, art, language, connection with the land, and the indigenous people themselves. I think about the indigenous people here on Turtle Island, and how they were choked out of resources and food. The only way they could get food, is if they went to churches and christian schools, abided by their rules of dress/language/religion/etc. Per usual, indigenous families were separated and white families adopted the poor brown children.The thing about religion, is that it disguises itself as soft, because it’s about God and faith. It’s not about the government or politics! LOL. The church is always political.I’m not even going to get into evangelicalism and right wing politics here in the US of A. I’m also not going to get into missionaries or mission trips. *gag*There are so many reasons I loathe Christianity, but why I feel resentful is how it has infiltrated my lineage. Christianity is only 2 generations old: my grandparents and my parents. For both sides, it’s the same reason. They were in Hong Kong during the colonial Britain era. They went to catholic schools and christian churches. My paternal grandmother was a dynamic christian teacher and missionary all the way into her old age.When my parents immigrated to the states in the 80’s they found a Chinese community church. Some of my fondest memories and most fundamental moments were created there. My mom was a choir director and my dad was a deacon and bible teacher. So much good food and community. In many ways, I feel lucky to have been brought up in that environment surrounded by Chinese folks. I get it…joining a church is a really great way to be plugged into a community. But at what price?To state the obvious, the patriarchy, homophobia, transphobia, racism, abuse, dishonesty, etc…is not worth it.One thing I know for sure, is that this lifetime is meant to purge Christianity from my lineage. Whether I have kids or not, it stops with me. That is the healing that I know I am meant for.I’ve been talking alot about the similarities and differences of Christianity and Islam with jenin j , and it has sparked a deeper love of the faith I want to protect. I do believe in God and how this lifetime is about resisting oppression and engaging in class war. A life lesson I’m learning is how to let go of things that I’m not meant to know. It’s ok that some things are a mystery! There is enough that we do know.That’s a little crumb of my religious trauma!What does Liberatory Imagination spark in me today?Deep deep healing. Healing that radiates before me and back behind me defying time and space. It sparks in me a relationship with spirit and faith that actually supports all of us. I can’t wait to see the day when we don’t elevate people as higher and when we don’t diminish people was less than. Celebrating and uplifting people has a different vibration from celebritizing. We need to heal.Watch the video recording of this substack on Spotify!How to support me (thank you in advance):Currently, I’m in between jobs and would appreciate any support you can afford.* Be a paid subscriber. All my posts are accessible for everyone, and it would mean so much to me on my path of figuring out how to sustain myself under capitalism.* Buy me a cup of coffee. Every bit counts! You can venmo me at @tiffanywongart with note “coffee from substack!”liberatory imagining is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber. Get full access to LIBERATORY IMAGINATION at tiffanywongart.substack.com/subscribe

Let’s be honest…Most of the people who are reactively signing up to organize will not be there in a month - 2 months tops.I went to a mutual aid meeting a few days ago, and there were a lot of people (white people mainly) that were enthusiastic about being helpful. It was their first time at the meeting. Love to see it. We need all the allies to be hands on. But…I have many but’s coming up.A longtime participant named that they would like to meet twice a month at least, because the needs are urgent. An organizer asked the large group who can commit to meeting twice a month and almost everyone raised their hand. I almost LOL’d out loud.There is no way everyone can sustain that.I’ve joined many groups where by the second meeting, most of the people aren’t there and I won’t see them again.I’m not trying to be a negative Nancy, but having a good heart and being aligned with leftist values isn’t enough.It’s a disservice to ourselves and each other when we aren’t honest. We always use the term “capacity” and I’m going to keep on using it! Because it’s important.Telling people who are in vulnerable situations that you commit to them means something. And to not be able to follow through is not only rude but potentially very dangerous. It is selfish to appease the part of ourselves that want to believe we are good people, but not be able to do what we say.Yes. Capacity ebbs and flows. Sometimes it does so in a surprising way, and that’s ok. Life happens. But the thing about life, is that life happening is actually pretty predictable. We need to be honest and measure in the surprises that comes with being alive. It isn’t ok to say yes to things without really weighing your responsibility with honor and respect.Let me tell you, it will be uncomfortable and inconvenient consistently to be showing up for one another. It’s winter here in Chicago, and it pains me to leave my apartment every time. Not only is it uncomfortable and inconvenient, but organizing with humans with their personalities, shortcomings, messiness, trauma, etc. can be so frustrating.But what roots us?I just facilitated a workshop yesterday about being rooted in love. I shared:A common feedback I’ve gotten from folks that aren’t in my inner circles (that you might also be familiar with) is being told that I’m too harsh and hard on…namely white people or people that don’t “think like me”. And I always reply: I am harsh and hard on white supremacy, on zionism, on evil systems, on genocide. But it roots out of deep love for people and faith for what is actually possible. It is resistance to the acceptance that people have to be exploited, murdured, policed, and diminished to less than human…period. That resistance to apathy is LOVE.Love of land, love for my people, love for my global siblings, love for my neighbors, love of children, love of families staying together, love of creativity and music, love of indigenous culture, love of language staying in the mouths of the people.LOVE.There is no fight - no resistance - without love. There is no bravery without love.Last year I said yes to ALOT. And when my mental/spiritual health shifted, I had to pull out of most of it. Everyone was so understanding and kind. But I didn’t love doing that. So this year, I want to be more mindful of what I’m saying yes to. I want to deepen the relationships, and say yes from a rooted place.What does Liberatory Imagination spark in me today?A future where honesty is honored. Where energy is abundant, because capitalism and empire has fallen. Imagine what life would be like where we don’t have to work endlessly for housing and food. Imagine what our world would be like when the class war is over. I can’t wait for the day when we have abolished the billionaires and the rich. The land wants to be in relationship with us and has so much to give. And as Robin Kimmerer in Braiding Sweetgrass reminds us - we aren’t a destructive pest on earth. We are meant to nourish the land and have it nourish us back. She writes that the earth can benefit from us being here.(Look out for the video via spotify podcast and mayyybbeee youtube.)How to support me (thank you in advance):Currently, I’m in between jobs and would appreciate any support you can afford.* Be a paid subscriber. All my posts are accessible for everyone, and it would mean so much to me on my path of figuring out how to sustain myself under capitalism.* Buy me a cup of coffee. Every bit counts! You can venmo me at @tiffanywongart with note “coffee from substack!”liberatory imagining is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber. Get full access to LIBERATORY IMAGINATION at tiffanywongart.substack.com/subscribe

Since the Lunar New Year, I have felt a shift in my soul. Something I’ve been praying for. Don’t get me wrong…I’m still sad and anxious and grieving. But the rage and energy is back baby!I needed to sit in sorrow the past many months. Here are some of my reflections.liberatory imagining is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber.For my entire life, I’ve been a go-getter. As a child I was a disciplined classical pianist who practiced every day for at least an hour. In high school, I got into competitive piano and basically lived at my teacher’s house with a group of 6 other students. I won awards and got all the certificates. I was in multiple jazz bands and combos. Got my BA in performance arts. And then I crowdsourced and produced a folk album of my original music playing guitar and singing. I’m not going to get into my 20’s, because that’s a whole other story. But doing all those things trained my body and nervous system to behave under intense pressure. I knew how to perform.[ID: me as a kid (maybe around 8 years old) wearing a nautical themed dress playing the piano in front of company.]I learned how to push through the anxiety and excel. I learned how to push through all the fight/flight/freeze signals my body was sending me and please the audience. The cool part is that at a young age, I discovered agency and the joy of discipline. The not so cool part is that I also discovered how to shush messages from my body.When I was around 10, I remember something clicking: if I repeated each measure (small section in the piano sheet music) until it was perfect and applied it to every measure of the piece, I could achieve perfection. It was just about putting in the time and practicing with good technique. From then on, I was in! It was an exhilarating feeling to be able to track my progress and mastery in a household where I felt so out of control. On top of that, my parents were really proud of me when I did well.That was such a mixed bag of a beautiful opportunity of exercising my independence and also the deepening of capitalistic values.Throughout my 20’s and now into my mid 30’s, I’ve been healing from and naming those capitalistic/colonial values that feel so embedded into my body. It all culminated to last year where I really tested where the boundaries of my love and faith lies.The heartbreak of witnessing genocides, the abuse from my ex, the betrayal of community and friends, the nonstop onslaught of Black and brown people from every angle, childhood trauma…the grief stopped me. I let the heaviness wash over me. And I didn’t even fight it.What a strange relief to allow myself to feel the depth of grief.Everything that I’ve worked so hard on internally - to dispel lies of unworthiness, of supremacy, of competition, of always needing to prove something…led me to a place where I didn’t need to push through.I sank into the sadness with faith. Faith that change is constant. Faith that liberation is coming. Faith in my role. Faith in my community. Faith that the deeper I can experience grief, the higher my experience of joy and connection will be. Faith in God and my ancestors. Faith that my value is not determined by how I perform.As I wrote numerous times last year, it is an honor to dedicate this lifetime in pursuit of collective liberation. It is an honor. It is an honor. It isn’t something that I do to prove that I’m worthy or valuable. I do it, because it is a privilege and a gift to do so.In the darkness, I believed.And I’m proud of myself, because I tested the bounds of my faith…of my love for myself and for the collective, and it was there in dark.[ID: a painting I’m working on that expresses how I felt like floating in darkness]I don’t mean to wrap it up neatly with a ribbon. One piece of the nuance is that there was shame popping up all over the place. I felt these bouts of shame that I wasn’t more productive and creative. I saw people living their lives and doing things that I felt was impossible for me. My internalized capitalism is very much still present. But as there were bouts of shame, there were more moments of gentleness and compassion. And both will continue to ebb and flow, because the journey still has a long way to go (God willing.)It feels vulnerable to share this. Even though I feel like things have shifted for me energetically, I know that the ebb and flow of life will bring me back into a season of sadness again and again. I pray that it won’t come around that soon, but I’m thankful to know that the bounds of my love and faith are far reaching.Every day as I’m watching evil ass trump doing exactly what he said he would do, I try to root down a little more in love and faith.All empires fall. All empires fall.It’s an honor to fight for the liberation of my siblings here on Turtle Island, Palestine, DRC, Sudan…for my trans siblings…disabled siblings…unhoused siblings…migrant siblings…and for my own.[ID: a self portrait of me a Chinese femme with short bangs and long hair in the sunshine with a gentle smile]Upcoming Events:2.11 Liberatory Imagination: rooted in love - a virtual workshop2.20-3.27 Finding Your Writing Voice with The Newberry Library - virtual classliberatory imagining is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber. Get full access to LIBERATORY IMAGINATION at tiffanywongart.substack.com/subscribe

It’s been more than a year since I’ve quit my full time job. Ever since that day I haven’t been able to access motivation to give a s**t to having a career or achieving anything. Honestly, I barely had it in me when I had a full time job. As I’m coming closer and closer to being in a financially dire spot, I still can’t muster the will to give a s**t.Bearing witness to the Palestinian genocide has moved what I knew in theory into my body in a necessary and jarring way. I’m so thankful and so fucked. Everyday I’m penjulating between gratefulness and the trauma of being under this empire. This genocide is painful to witness and torturous - to grieve the daily cost of revolution. I’ve been writing here since the Spring, and I keep on thinking that maybe I’ll be more regulated the next month. More than a year later…it hasn’t happened yet. And I’m coming into more acceptance that I might not be ok in this lifetime as long as the empire is still thriving.I can feel this tension of agency in my body. My hand is forced - I have to trade my labor to afford a roof over my head and food in my mouth. And thank goodness I don’t have kids. I haven’t found a way to do my soul work in a financially sustainable way and every time I try, marketing myself drains me. I know that this is by design. If I did my soul work freely, the empire will be weaker. My hand is forced in keeping my head above water while I’m drowning in grief.All whilst, I have agency to invest in relationships that align with my soul when I have energy (which is so sadly scarce.) I have agency to learn and read (when I have energy.) I have agency to question status quo (when I have energy and support.) I have agency to identify what I’ve absorbed from colonial culture and choose to practice liberating myself from it (when I have energy.) I have agency to consume less (which is most of the time forced by having next to nothing.) I have agency to organize with fellow freedom fighters (when I have energy.) I’m so tired.Under empire, agency is only afforded to those who benefit from white supremacy and capitalism. The billionaires and their minions are so afraid of their mortality, that they strip the agency from as many people as possible. The less agency people have over their bodies, thoughts, actions, future, and world view, the more they can manipulate and mutilate humans for profit and power. Part of their systemic organizing is recruiting people who fall for the seduction of the mirage of power and “abundance.” This looks like Asian Americans who bend to upholding anti Blackness as to maintain the model minority myth. It looks like kids of immigrants climbing the corporate ladder and becoming landlords thinking capitalism will bring honor to their family. It looks like poor white people rallying for deportation of migrants as if the rich white people will have their back. The misdirection of threat is violent and intentional by design.We are coming up to the holiday season, and what a season of the illusion of choice. Folks are told to work hard to make money that exploits everyone below their ladder rung (while being exploited) so that they can buy things for their families that are a made through more exploitation - and every step it’s all taxed so that our government can send it to isreal and military bases to commit genocides and destabilize Black and brown countries. All that can only happen when the amekkkican dream has saturated every pore promising that if you abide by rules of capitalism, you will be free. You will go on amazing vacations around the world, be educated, own properties, have cars, be able to buy anything you want, and be able to pass down generational wealth.Being able to buy anything you want if you work 40-60 hrs a week isn’t freedom. Being able to ignore the lives killed and the blood shed for stuff and land isn’t freedom. The empire has fed us the illusion of choice by seducing us with questions like: What do you want to buy today? and Where do you want to travel to? and What properties do you want to own? and What restaurants do you want to eat at? and What movie do you want to watch? and What new tech do you want to invest in? and What do you want to do this weekend? and Who do you want to feel superior to?It’s not real choice when our basic needs cannot be met without participating in the economy of exploitation.“There is no ethical consumption under capitalism” - we say this all the time. But wow…just sit with it for a second.I’ve been floundering in my depression and anxiety. It’s like I can see myself from the outside and can see all the pieces that cause the freeze/dip/dissociation. I’m like a floating trauma response. The moments of feeling tethered to the ground and to my real self are scarce. There is a sense of giving into the lack of agency, which scares me. Being unable to tap into that feeling that what I do actually counts and has purpose is terrifying.“But to become free, you have to be acutely aware of being a slave.”Assata Shakur, Assata: An AutobiographBut here I am now, tethered to reality. Upholding and honoring dignified choice is what matters. Choice that is free from the struggle to survive. Choice to build and create. Choice to heal in community. Choice to ask and receive. Choice to see value as it actually is.What does Liberatory Imagination spark in me today?A future where everyone can have agency over their bodies, decisions, and dreams. Sounds so utopian, but what is the pursuit of liberation? We have to fight for what must be. It’s so simple, but we are conditioned by empire to imagine in the confines of their profit. Liberatory imagination is breaking out of the mirage and resist for the dignity of one another.How to support me (thank you in advance):Currently, I’m in between jobs and would appreciate any support you can afford.* Be a paid subscriber. All my posts are accessible for everyone, and it would mean so much to me on my path of figuring out how to sustain myself under capitalism.* Buy me a cup of coffee. Every bit counts! You can venmo me at @tiffanywongart.(ID: self portrait of me - east asian femme with short bangs, bleached brows, hair behind me, in my studio apartment on a sunnier day with a smug expression coping with depression.)liberatory imagining is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber. Get full access to LIBERATORY IMAGINATION at tiffanywongart.substack.com/subscribe

In the past seven days, I feel more grounded compared to the previous two weeks that felt like I was a gaping wound exposed to the open air. Per usual, I’m picking apart and analyzing the f**k out of it. Why and how and what does it mean…Being a recovering feelings intellectualizer, I can’t help it!liberatory imagining is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber.The constant feeling of nausea for existing in this colonial capitalistic genocidal timeline is unbearable. And when I have slightly more capacity, I go onto social media to tap into what’s happening in Palestine and the world…the barometer drops. Then I am faced with the questions: what am I doing? How am I contributing to the world I want to see? How am I using this one lifetime in service to collective liberation? The grief surges. The guilt pokes it’s head out. The exhaustion comes over me and I think about all the people who don’t have the privilege of being depressed because they are fighting for their lives. And I’m laying in bed frozen.This is not it.The ridiculous part is at the same time I’m feeling closeness and connection to my chosen community and also experiencing so many healing moments through liberation workshop facilitation. It’s ridiculous, because you would think that there would be no space for connection and laughter by how nauseating being tapped into reality is. Somehow, so much coexists. And I feel guilty? Or maybe it’s fear.I’m afraid that any semblance of normalcy is an indication that I’m giving into “the matrix” as my friends and I say.As I’m reading people’s notes here on Substack, I feel annoyed when glittery fairy writing pops up about love and light.I used to be a glittery fairy girl who would talk about the need to romanticize the small things. Oh the afternoon coffee + pastry, little walks, quiet mornings, painting in afternoon light, and farmers markets. I was aware enough to describe it under anti-capitalism, but it all seemed so simple and easeful.(ID: me, east asian femme, with bangs wearing tortoise shell sunglasses at a farmers market holding sunflowers and raclette baguette smiling in the sun - last summer.)Maybe I’m annoyed about it, because I wish I could still be that glittery fairy (socially conscious-ish) girl. Instead, I’m depressed-anxious-angry-finacially-struggling-under-capitalism girl.I’ve been digesting lessons from Assata Shakur’s autobiography. One of those lessons is understanding that revolution needs scientific analysis and strategy. Below is a photo with this quote: “One of the hardest lessons we had to learn is that revolutionary struggle is scientific rather than emotional. I’m not saying that we shouldn’t feel anything, but decisions can’t be based on love or on anger. They have to be based on the objective conditions and on what is rational, unemotional thing to do.”That challenges me. Assata writes that the downfall of a lot of movements is because people make decisions from reactivity on an individualistic basis. I believe that change for the good is birthed from a spiritual place of love and hope, but the spiritual rooting needs to translate into action that actually causes material change.I am not against all symbolic actions. In fact I think that symbolic disruptions are needed. But it needs to be just a tiny part of the greater movement towards change.Here are a few ways that I love when I think about material change. Boycotting israel and war is powerful. It’s all about money/resources - so it’s strategic to hit them where it hurts if we are able to sustain it for as long as it takes. Feeding and housing unhoused folks is powerful, because it’s a big f**k you to empire when we take care of each other. Wearing a mask and testing for COVID is powerful, because it saves lives, protects the vulnerable (esp poor Black and brown folks), and prevents further disabling folks.As I’m dipping my toe into different ways of organizing and applying myself through mutual aid, I’m also confronted with my posture. I don’t have to be of service to community because they need me…coming in as a savior is dehumanizing and just another way to extend empire. How can I practice circular energy that honors the fact that I’m a piece of a larger movement that resists imperialism and capitalism?The one year mark is coming up this october when the world erupted with rage alongside Palestine. Forever I will be changed by the faith of the Palestinians. Forever I will be changed by the martyrs of Palestine, Sudan, Congo…Black and brown folks who have been brutalized and murdered by state sanctioned violence here in the imperial core and globally. Posture is so important thinking about how to enact change that honors those who we lost too soon.When I’m frozen with depression in bed, I hope that the deeper my faith becomes in my role here on the earth, the more fluidity and movement will arise. And the more I can embody the grief, rage, laughter, love, courage and soulful connections with rooted confidence.What does Liberatory Imagination spark in me today?Ease of movement through different emotions. Ease to feel and not have all the words to assign each feeling towards. Ease to laugh and love that is rooted in honor and gratitude. Ease to hold sadness and deep grief with tenderness and connection - instead of isolation. Ease to do all of it in community.How to support me (thank you in advance):Currently, I’m in between jobs and would appreciate any support you can afford.* Be a paid subscriber. All my posts are accessible for everyone, and it would mean so much to me on my path of figuring out how to sustain myself under capitalism.* Buy me a cup of coffee. Every bit counts! You can venmo me at @tiffanywongart.(ID: self portrait of me - east asian femme with short bangs, bleached brows, hair behind me, in my studio apartment coping with depression.)liberatory imagining is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber. Get full access to LIBERATORY IMAGINATION at tiffanywongart.substack.com/subscribe

This past tuesday, my neck and shoulder flared up.The first time I consciously noticed the correlation of my body pain and spiritual pain was when my boss of that time said something that empathized with the pig that shot Laquan McDonald. Something like how hard it must be for him and his family. I felt this cold drip extend from my spine upwards into my right shoulder and then to my neck. The next day, I could barely move my neck.liberatory imagining is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber.From there, I started processing how my body reacts when injustice happens around me or to me. I also saw another theme around truth suppression and truth speaking especially around my neck pain. The correlation isn’t a stretch, because it literally is in my throat center. But making that connection continues to be illuminating for me.On wednesday, I put my hands on my neck and shoulder and asked what my body wants me to hear. Sitting in the pain and stiffness, my body had a lot to say. Immediately, she told me I’ve been moving really fast and there’s fear in what slowness will uncover…but she can’t keep up with the speed. And what if I trusted her in slowing down and be in the sadness and grief. So that’s what I did. I spent all of Thursday in bed. Surprisingly, I didn’t slump into a state of deep depression. Yay.Ever since that day, I’ve been sitting in the physical and spiritual pain testing my capacity.I led a liberatory imagination workshop thursday. (It was so beautiful to gather with aligned souls!) I heard myself speak about how it takes courage to believe that something else is possible (a world free of colonization, empire, capitalism, genocide, cops, prisons, etc.) - it actually makes the horror of what we are witnessing more horrifying to think that an alternative world is actually possible. I heard myself and conviction hit me.The universe has been teaching me lessons about liberation - how there needs to be integration of my political theory into the details of my life - particular relational life. Woof. Healing from emotional abandonment from my parents and having had an incredibly cruel ex, my abandonment wound has changed so many forms and is currently raw. So when I heard myself talk about the capacity for courage for something else…it hit me in the arena of my partnerships and community.Being betrayed by community and romantic partners is so predicable...or so it feels.How can I practice imagining a possibility where I can build connections that are based in honesty and love?…AND have margin for being human.I have the opportunity to do that right now in my community and with my partner, and I’m terrified.My gaping abandonment wound has been dysregulating me like none other the past few days. On top of the trauma of witnessing genocide, feeling the crushing weight of capitalism and witnessing the effects of the empire everywhere I look is triggering for my innerchild as a baseline (I wrote more about it in Innerchild Work + Activism.) The continuing dysregulation is exhausting. I honestly don’t know what to do.Watching other people be normal makes me mad sometimes. Part of me is resentful that I can’t find that kind of ease in my life. Another part of me is afraid they are normal because of the indulgence of privilege. And another part is afraid I might find ease in my life and that would be me indulging in ignorance. Cognitively, I have so many things I know I could do - being that I’m a nerd about the nervous system and somatics. But the call for transformation is held in the body and not just the mind.The call for transformation is held in the body and not just the mind. The call for transformation is held in the body and not just the mind.What does Liberatory Imagination spark in me today?Praying for courage in the face of fear and loss. Courage to believe that not only that a free Palestine, freedom from empire, freedom from exploitation is possible…but is coming. Courage to believe that in this lifetime I can have beautiful community and partnerships in its complexity and imperfection…courage to not only believe that its possible but to see it in its presence. Praying for courage to accept the good and the miraculous in the sea of grief.“Courage is the most important of all the virtues because, without courage, you can't practice any other virtues consistently.” - Maya AngelouHow to support me (thank you in advance):* Be a paid subscriber. All my posts are accessible for everyone, and it would mean so much to me on my path of figuring out how to sustain myself under capitalism.* Buy me a cup of coffee. Every bit counts! You can venmo me at @tiffanywongart.(ID: self portrait of me - east asian femme with short bangs, bleached brows, hair behind me, in my apartment on a sunny day. The sweet shadow of plants are across my chest.)liberatory imagining is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber. Get full access to LIBERATORY IMAGINATION at tiffanywongart.substack.com/subscribe

It’s too easy to simplify the things that asks us to see as multidimensional, and it’s too easy to over complicate the things that are pretty simple.How I define truth has been swirling around in my system for the past few weeks. Idealistically, truth is what lines up best with reality and facts…but I’ve been challenging myself to lean into nuance a little more.Tiffany’s Substack is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber.Ismatu Gwendolyn writes this in her essay “the role of the artist is to load the gun”:Art-making is divine in its ability to make and shape and reshape what we come to understand as real, relevant, true (A=C).Truth, the ability to shape it and to market it and to have others strengthen it with their own belief, carves out reality; reality is just what we collectively agree upon; multiple realities exist at once, even from person to person.Truth, just like any other weapon, can act as an agent of oppression or a means of liberation, depending on who crafts the narrative.It makes me uncomfy to think people’s truth can be shaped, but OF COURSE. Think about the zionist propaganda, anti communist propaganda, anti Black propaganda, anti Indigenous propaganda, pro white supremacy propaganda, pro capitalism propaganda! Truth is shaped so that it benefits the white and rich. In my book…sure all the propaganda isn’t considered as truth, but what does that matter when it does to the masses?Being raised evangelical christian, I was taught that truth was fixed…and then I was taught about the “truth” of creationism, being gay is bad, men should be the head of the household, etc. The irony! They shaped truth that I held as truly true for my whole upbringing. Thinking back to all the truths I believed with my heart makes me reckon with how shapeable truth really is.Back to the first sentence of this post. An example is that it’s too easy to simplify that abolition is a goal that’s too lofty, and it’s too easy to over complicate that genocide is wrong - and it needs to stop now.Something I’ve been checking myself on is how much of my efforts for collective liberation is proving to myself I’m on the right side of history…and therefore is rooted in perfectionism or even saviorism(?). Thinking out loud here. I think it’s ok to strive to be on the right side of history, but that better not be the motivator. If it is, I know that there is no longevity to the pursuit…in a way, it’s performative.I hope my motivations are rooted in love and integrity because I care that everyone deserves to have all their needs met and to be safe. There’s nothing for me to prove.Recently, I’ve been having conversations with friends about folks who have done harm in the community. I keep on thinking that everything that I loathe in those people lives in me. In another timeline with slightly different circumstances, I am capable of doing everything I’m condemning. Also, I’m not exempt from causing harm in the future, and actually what I do know for sure is that I will f**k up. And I have fucked up in the past.I’m practicing not watering down harm and systemic abuse while looking in the mirror to see what needs healing and deconditioning within myself.Shadow work and seeing how this fucked up system has conditioned us is very key to our liberation. I have to say - the seduction as a leftist to really indulge in the feelings of supremacy are STRONG. I feel the pull! Using leftist beliefs to boost my ego and give myself false confidence in the future is easy. Read this full post about “good people” from @thecollectress on IG:(ID: white text in front of a black background. Text says “Dr. Maya Angelou said, ‘We are all human; therefore, nothing human can be alien to me.’ As someone who has done transformative justice mediation and believes in the power of collective practices, I do not wish to be separated from my fellow humans because my access to better choices has allowed me to maintain the mask of goodness far better than them. I would rather lay my head down without fear that my less favorable traits will have me thrown away. I would rather be comforted and provide comfort that in meeting the challenging asks of accountability, I will be reminded that my breath alone is enough to ensure that I am valuable. And while I say these words, let me be clear I know some of us we share this planet with ain’t s**t. That does not deter me. An ask that we let go of our complicity in the packing of YT supremacy is acceptance of the messiness that will come as people have their mirrored illusions cracked.”)The call is to see through the conditioning and propaganda, to hold ourselves accountable in community, and to make decisions from a place of true love and hope for what could be.There’s beauty in seeing myself as complicated and nuanced. I get to stumble and be messy while keeping my eye on the north star. All that can happen while staying grounded in integrity and loving relationship.On my path with healing from the trauma from this life time on top of trying to heal from systemic trauma that is inflicted every day (exhausting), I know that when I’m in an active trauma response, my system very naturally distills things to become very stark. Words like “always,” “never,” “all good/bad” are underlined all over the place. Things suddenly become SO clear and definitive. Sometimes there is clarity amongst the storm, but guarantee when I’m triggered - things are more complex than they seem.When my inner child feels threatened and unsafe, she sees things so simply. As she should! She’s a child. Also, my flight/fight/freeze/fawn response is so smart to conserve energy so that I can be safe. As I am reminded daily about the colonial violence inflicted on my Black, Palestinian, and Brown global siblings - and myself, my inner child feels triggered all the time. All the time. There’s so much room for that truth, because the fact is that this empire has been and is killing Black and Brown people every day in horrifying droves.Bringing nuance to that embodied feeling of my inner child looks like, acknowledging that it’s so understandable to feel fear. Seeing dead Palestinian children and their moms, dads, uncles, aunties every day is sickening and the instinct that it’s not right should be protected. AND in this moment, in this room, in my presence (as an adult) she is safe - and we are so deeply grateful for that. There are things I can do as an adult that aligns with resisting injustice. I have agency. So grateful for that too.I’m expanding my capacity to hold the truth of colonial violence, grief, and gratitude at the same(ish) time.What does Liberatory Imagination spark in me today?The ability to hold complexity with integrity with community. My body can’t take carrying it alone. My body feels tired and heavy all the time, and it’s time to lean onto my chosen family with more trust and less walls. The complexity is that they also get to be human and flawed like me. That can coexist with mutual accountability and tenderness.How to support me (thank you in advance):* Be a paid subscriber. All my posts are accessible for everyone, and it would mean so much to me on my path of figuring out how to sustain myself under capitalism.* Buy me a cup of coffee. Every bit counts! You can venmo me at @tiffanywongart.Upcoming events:9.5 Liberatory Imagination: waves of change - virtual journaling workshop(ID: self portrait of me - east asian femme with short bangs, bleached brows, two braids, in my apartment)Tiffany’s Substack is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber. Get full access to LIBERATORY IMAGINATION at tiffanywongart.substack.com/subscribe

I feel weepy from deep sadness and gratefulness.This year feels very different. I usually spend the few days leading up to my birthday reflecting on the past 12 months - I would read through my journal entries and sit with it. And then I will set up intentions for the next year. It’s been a good mid year rhythm because I have the same ritual at the end/beginning of the year. But this year feels so very different.Tiffany’s Substack is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber.Not every year feels like I have lived 48 lifetimes. I don’t think I’ve felt this kind of low and sorrow in my life ever. I certainly have never witnessed the extent of evil inflicted on humans in real time and in this visceral way ever. I definitely don’t think I’ve seen through colonialism, imperialism, and capitalism so clearly before. I also have never felt so connected to my people in such a raw and tender way before.I wrote a journal entry last summer that I was waking up with no anxiety and feeling light. Last summer was delicious - I was rediscovering myself and creative power in a dazzling way after a breakup from a terrifying relationship. I did this personal art series with self portraits and poetry about recommitting to myself and questioning how much pleasure and self focus is too much. I pushed back on the premise that was taught in the christian tradition that I am born broken and depraved through exploring the affects of thinking that of myself as a femme of color. (Below are images from my INDULGE series on instagram and a post I wrote on my birthday a year ago.)I look back at that time a year ago, and I barely recognize her.I feel little echoes of her sometimes. I’m almost jealous of her. To exist with so much life force, lightness, and creative energy. The things she will see, feel and do in the next few months is completely unfathomable to her.She has no idea that she will witness the genocide of Palestinians with details that will be burned into her heart and mind forever. She has no idea that she will see bags and bags of body parts. So so so…too many dead children. Babies with no heads. Blood smeared on hospital floors. Details from too many stories of families being obliterated. The rape, the torture, the unfathomable evils committed by the IOF. She has no idea what she will learn about how the greed of the US and imperial powers are ravishing Congo, Sudan, Haiti, and so many places in the global south that is just as disgusting and evil as what she will be live streaming from Palestine.She has no idea how her heart will break and break until her body gives out.She has no idea how direct action and organizing will become a lifeline for her spirit.She has no idea how she basically will have to say goodbye to her social world as she knows it and create a new community.A few lessons from existing for 35 years:* Pursuing collective liberation also means there has to be integrity in every part of life. That means I have to always be interrogating my internalized anti Blackness, classism, ableism, policing, patriarchy, homophobia, transphobia etc. How I treat my friends and myself on the day to day counts.* It’s not about perfection. As a recovering perfectionist, I’m always catching myself in trying to attain perfection in how I calculate how to use my energy the best way for liberation. That’s impossible to do perfectly. It’s more like a stumbling one foot in front of the other and trusting that I’m generally in the right trajectory.* Being intimate and well acquainted with grief is the foundation of how I can keep on going. The loss isn’t going to stop. Actually, witnessing the truth of suffering will just increase. So being able to dance with grief and honor the loss is crucial on this path.* No matter what circle or community I’m in, people are messy. Trauma is present and people who are power/control hungry will find spaces where people want belonging. All I know is that the solution isn’t as simple as leaving or cutting people out (however I want that to be true), but that’s for another substack post.* My determination of what can be possible is measured by what I’m willing to sacrifice. This one is a bummer…wish it wasn’t true. The seduction of capitalism is strong. The pull of class supremacy is compelling. And I feel it every day. I am working on expanding my capacity to fight for TRUE safety and TRUE comfort. I want to be able to embody the fact that I would fight for it at any cost - not out of saviorism but communal responsibility.* Remembering what an honor it is to be alive in my body during this time will always be something I will ground myself in forever. I am chosen, anointed, and destined to be here right now. Right here. No coincidence that my lineages have led me to this point. What an honor.For my birthday, please donate $35 to Walid, Maysoon, and their kids! Here is the fundraiser link.Caption from the instagram post: This week ARI (Artists for Radical Imagination) are uplifting the campaign of Walid and his wife, Maysoon, for #fridaysforfalestin. Maysoon, their four daughters (including three year old twins), and their son were preparing for their dream home before October 7th. Since then, their home was destroyed and they have been displaced six times. They are currently sheltering in a tent in Deer Al-balah. Please help their family survive.Finally. F**K ISRAEL. F**K AMERICA. F**K BILLIONAIRES. F**K COLONIALISM. F**K IMPERIALISM. F**K PATRIARCHY. F**K CAPITALISM. F**K THE POLICE. F**K PRISONS.NONE OF US ARE FREE UNTIL ALL OF US ARE FREE.What does Liberatory Imagination spark in me today?I want to move in a way like I can see actual liberation globally in my lifetime. What would I do if that’s attainable? How would I wake up and go to sleep? How would I take care of my body? How would I relate to my community? What would my daily rhythms be like? What would trust in community feel like?Tiffany’s Substack is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber. Get full access to LIBERATORY IMAGINATION at tiffanywongart.substack.com/subscribe

Today is August 8, 2024. Yesterday I was looking at mia mingus’ instagram and saw that her last post was in 2023, and for a long minute I was completely confused at what year it is. The disorientation hasn’t let up.I started writing through substack earlier this spring and I keep writing about how I’m not ok. And I still don’t feel ok. I haven’t felt ok since october of last year. Whatever “ok” is. My cognitive brain tells me there are a million reasons why it’s impossible for me to be ok - I need to accept not being ok, but my body keeps on telling me that it’s not right. I feel tears welling up right now in admitting it that I don’t feel ok about not being ok.Tiffany’s Substack is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber.In the past 6 hours, I’ve ridden the waves of anxiety too many times. Whatever “too many” times means.Back to it being August 8. I read briefly how it’s the Lion’s Gate Portal and it’s a powerful day to set intentions and future visions (I hate the word “manifest” because white women have co-opted the word into a capitalistic privileged yucky thing.) So here I am sitting down to pray.What is my liberatory imagination leading me to call forth?I don’t want every day to feel like a battle.Is it possible to move full body into my liberatory role in the collective and not feel like imploding? Is it possible to find truth and speak truth in this fucked up world and not just fall to the ground from grief? Is it possible to taste the fruit of liberation in this lifetime? Is it possible to witness suffering and pure evil in this world and within me (the evil conditioning from colonialism) without being thoroughly frozen with trauma? Is it possible for me to do what I say is needed for collective liberation?The addiction to comfort under capitalism scares me every time I exit my front door. It scares me to witness it in the masses here in the imperial core. And it scares me to witness it in myself.Is it an intention with a statement that starts with “I don’t want?” Let me try again.I want to feel rooted enough to never see the fruit of my and our actions towards collective liberation and be certain that it’s worth it. I want to be brave enough to show up fully human - contradictions and all - so that I can be alongside chosen family and comrades who also choose to show up fully human. The call is to uphold each soul as fully human and worthy of a dignified life filled with choices and autonomy that isn’t founded on supremacy and exploitation. To be fully human is to fight and demand for this possibility.Recently, I’ve felt so low (like a different kind of low) as I’m witnessing folks engage with the elections. How can we get anywhere when the seduction of fake representation (political black face) and liberation is working? Like we haven’t been witnessing a genocide every day under the same administration. Like we haven’t seen enough Palestinian children heads and body parts blown off.And I get it! It is so much easier to look to the government to say yayyyy or boooo than to look at our personal communal ecosystem.How can we have a revolution when the majority of people are comfortable in their capitalistic roles and with thinking there can be reform in this god forsaken country?Also, am I too comfortable? Or am I deluding myself that I see things with more clarity than others? Also, WHAT AM I DOING?? What am I doing to benefit the community materially? My capacity has been so low from the effects of my personal trauma and witnessing trauma upon trauma under imperial colonialism. The waves keep on hitting and I feel like I can’t catch a break. When I finally do get an emotional/spiritual break that usually lasts an hour or two, the waves of surviving under capitalism shocks me back into reality. (Context: I just quit my very part time job recently.)Ok. It’s August 8, and I need to use it to call forth something good. I cried last night about something good. Things with my boo of 3 months have been changing me and my relationship with hope and what’s possible. Even though it hasn’t been that long, she’s been showing me what I’ve always been wanting in partnership can exist with ease. It can be easy to care for me, to be present, to be self accountable, to be honest. That ease comes from deep work and courage.My intentions and liberatory vision on this day calls forth ease that is rooted in the ugly and brutal and transformative and hopeful truth.I am a truth seeker, truth speaker, truth believer. A truth celebrate-r. I want to be a human that upholds truth at any cost.I’m not there yet I don’t think, but I call forth capacity within myself and within my community.This Sunday, I’m facilitating a journaling + yoga workshop with my friend and comrade Amera called Liberatory Imagination: rooting in faith. I’m so thankful to have friends who can be beside me to practice strengthening true hope. It feels like a miracle that this workshop (or anything workshop/event) is coming into fruition when every day feels like a battle. And maybe that’s how I continue forward…look at the miracles that exist despite the non stop grief and violence. It’s having faith that the seemingly impossible is worth fighting for and looking for.What does Liberatory Imagination spark in me today?It sparks in me the hope that there will be a season for me where my capacity can hold much more. A season where daily tasks can come with ease, collaborations and relationships can flow more abundantly, organizing and mobilizing will be rooted in purpose and steadiness, and the dance with grief can flow. It sparks in me visions of having a strong core community that can deepen over decades with the unifying struggle towards collective liberation.(ID: my boo and I at Lake Michigan over looking chicago skyline - an activity we do to help get grounded and to receive medicine from the water.)Tiffany’s Substack is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber. Get full access to LIBERATORY IMAGINATION at tiffanywongart.substack.com/subscribe

Since 2013 I’ve been painting and making visual art alongside my writing. I haven’t picked up a paintbrush since last year besides for a few collaged pieces I made for a market. Recently, I’ve been exploring what’s in the way besides for being depressed and overwhelmed.It feels like the medium of painting seems to fall short of the impact I hope to invoke.Tiffany’s Substack is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber.Why? What’s in a painted piece? How does that bring us closer to liberation?I find it funny, because this is exactly what I’ve been teaching and facilitating about for the past few years. How art is a microcosm of practicing our values. So I basically facilitated myself in questioning my assumptions. Here was the conversation I had with myself:I don’t want to paint. Why? I don't feel like that medium is helpful right now. And I'm depressed and overwhelmed. How does an abstract painting add to the liberation movement right now in this moment? Say more. It feels lacking. I think that writing and more specific work around collective liberation is worth my time. What have you always said about process? *rolls my eyes* that it's more about the process than the end result. Ok. And... And it's the transformation in me during the art making that is the magic. It's how I practice what I say that's going to propel me in my day to day life. It's in the showing up to transform the elements in front of me into something that helps with the motion of creating a new world...that's art. The end product is just an echo of the process. I don't create art to prove anything to myself or other people. I create art to change myself on my path towards healing, connection, and liberation. Yes, and you have agency to paint or not to paint.In Ismatu Gwendolyn’s essay “the role of the artist is to load the gun,” she writes:The task of the artist is determined always by the status and process and agenda of the community that it already serves. If you’re an artist who identities with, who springs from, who is served by or drafted by a bourgeois capitalist class, then that’s the kind of writing you do. Your job is to maintain a status quo, to celebrate exploitation or to guise in some lovely, romantic way. That’s your job.THAT. Oof that feels so truthful. Reading the essay made me reflect on what status quo I’m upholding. It is in the embodying of my values that will be reflected in my work as an artist.I love defining art as the process of changing the form of something from one to another. For me, art is painting, writing, social media, music, relationships. Relationships is one of the most interesting forms of art, because the ebbs and flows can be intentionally curated while it being impossible to control. Actually, it’s most beautiful when it is free of coercion. Not only do I think it’s interesting to think of relationships (platonic and/or romantic) as art, but also my relationship to culture building and shifting.In the essay, Ismatu challenges how we think about art and world building.Art-making: not as a leisure activity, solely or simply an expression of self, but as the most important medium that we have to communicate. Art-making which hides the seeds of how to be a human stitch in the tapestry again, passed for safe-keeping in the hands of our indigenous. Art-making as a means to mobilize the weapon. If armed struggle is the first action of finding a world beyond colonization, beyond what we can see, culture loads the gun. The role of the artist is to load the gun.I love the part about it being about mobilization through culture changing. Adapting emergent strategy into this, the change also happens on the small scale within me. I think that the art process invites me to transform within - what I want to see in the new world. Through that personal integrity, there is movement in how I show up in relationship and community. That’s one part of the ripple affect.Note on capacity. Something I’m continually struggling with especially post October 2023, is gauging my capacity accurately. It feels like it has been changing hour to hour. I took one day more low key on IG (and felt actually pretty grounded for an hour or two in the evening), and then the next day (yesterday) was the massacre in Khan Yunis and then f*****g Trump being shot in the f*****g ear. There is this depression for this reality at all times - sometimes it peaks unbearably and other times it drones in the back.The quote at the top is “My responsibility as a poet, as an artist, is not to look away” by Nikky Finney. That was pulled from a Black Liturgist IG post. My take on it is that it’s ultimately about expanding the capacity for truth. Truth of the violence of colonialism and empire and capitalism. Expanding my capacity to look suffering in the eye. Expanding my ability to speak truth. And in the expansion of truth, is the expansion of my and our imagination for a new world. Not a revision of this world, but a completely different reality where colonization, empire, police, prisons, patriarchy, capitalism doesn’t exist. That takes HUGE capacity to hold in faith.I can’t look away and trade the discomfort for the matrix. That is antithetical to who I am as an artist.The practice of art for liberatory transformation is something I know that I will grow old with and something that will always be a through-line for the rest of my life. That I know for sure, and there’s not a lot that I know for sure. What I don’t know is how I can and should live day by day sustaining the vision of what could be. That part seems muddy especially alongside other messy and traumatized humans like me.What does Liberatory Imagination spark in me today?Making art will be liberated from capitalism and colonialism. Community can come together to create with possibility, curiosity, and honesty. No proving or comparing. There will be so much space for questions and inspiration. All the space to be witnessed and loved as multidimensional humans.(Photo of me below with a guitar - accompanying mamayaya for a sofar sounds show last minute. It was the first time I picked up the guitar in a long long time. It reminded me of how being around inspirational people spurs inspiration within me. Super honored to have played for her!)Tiffany’s Substack is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber. Get full access to LIBERATORY IMAGINATION at tiffanywongart.substack.com/subscribe

Simple tasks aren’t simple anymore.Emails, texts, groceries, cleaning, relaxing, resting, socializing, cooking, eating, catching up with friends…rarely comes with ease anymore.I was remembering what last summer was like. It sounds ridiculous, but I felt happy(?). It was post breakup from a horrible relationship. The air was full of possibilities, everything was magical, I felt smoking HOT, my energy was really expansive, and I was creating art that felt invigorating. I was just about to quit my full time job. Social media felt creative and aligned. The energy was bubbly.Tiffany’s Substack is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber.Another season I felt “happy” was when I was deep in christian world (that I have left years ago) and there was very integrated community. I often think back to times like those and almost question it. Like when I was in the christian community - so full of racism, sexism, homophobia, and tokenism - but I was naive to it. There was true relationship and care with some people at least. But was I really happy? Or was I just caught up in the illusion of it all?In the same way, I look back at last summer and question: how true was that sense of happiness or levity? Was I just lost in the matrix?(And also how relevant is it for me to even question it?)What’s coming up is grief - surprise surprise. I can’t imagine feeling that type of levity again or at least for a sustained amount of time. How can I? There are genocides happening right how. The Lancet study estimates that more than 186,000 Palestinians were killed by the IOF. There is not enough coverage and attention on the genocides in Sudan and Congo. How can I?I was visiting bio family in the Bay Area last week, and traveling made my soul wither. Seeing thousands of people at the airport (99.999% unmasked) and then seeing hundreds of people at the county fair (my nieces loved it as they should and was worth it to see their joy…but it) did something to me. Here in Chicago, when I’m in big crowds, it’s usually during a Palestine protest on the weekends. But to see that big of a crowd on my trip and know that for the most part, people are just living their lives with the genocides as blip in their consciousness…it’s scary.Not to be high and mighty, but:How can we bring forward a revolution when the majority of people are a combination of being misinformed, trampled by capitalism, and just distracted by what actually matters?…which is their own liberation. And that’s being generous. I know for a fact there were MANY zionists and white supremists in those crowds.The existential isolation was too REAL as I was amongst those crowds.Practice of theory is something I’m always talking about with my chosen family. And every day I’m confronted with how.How do I integrate what I know and what I want to practice? Who I want to be. What I want to bring forward in this world with community? How do I build true community over time? How do I practice integrity? How do I practice trusting my spirit? How do I deepen my hope?What am I even doing and how does it matter? Is a question I ask myself in moments of overwhelm, which is every day.I’m sad. And I’m scared for so many reasons and for so many people.I’m scared AND the invitation is to be brave and run towards hope and love.Somehow all of that can and HAS TO coexist.The circular experience of hope, conviction, grief, depression, thankfulness, connection, isolation, energy, creativity, risk, laughter…it’s a privileged and human thing to experience. And exhausting when capacity feels so low.It’s like I’m learning how to live with my eyes wide open for the first time (again) at 35 years old of age. I’ve been through a couple cycles of radicalization, and every one knocks me down with how evil white supremacy and empire is. And every time, I feel stronger in my soul about what actually matters. So thankful and so exhausted.Agency agency agency. I am finding my agency so that I can do my small part in the collective and not succumb to cynicism or worse…apathy.At the end of the day, this is a battle of faith and imagination.How can I build capacity with community so that our faith and imagination can out win the faith and imagination of billionaires/colonizers?What does Liberatory Imagination spark in me today?In the near future, my capacity and the capacity of my community will be expanded and sustained in life giving ways. Dark holes of depression will be less often. Truthful and caring connection will be consistent and abundant. There will be ease in truth telling and risk taking for the long haul struggle towards collective liberation. PALESTINE, SUDAN, CONGO, AND ALL THE OPPRESSED WILL BE FREE.It was so great to chat with Leah Kim on her podcast Voices on the Side: check out the episode here!Tiffany’s Substack is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber. Get full access to LIBERATORY IMAGINATION at tiffanywongart.substack.com/subscribe

Over the span of my lifetime, I have been invited little by little to question. Question if what I’m taught is true. Question the facts. Question the source of the facts. Question authority. Question assumptions.Thanks to my parents (and maybe to their dismay) I’ve double guessed almost everything.Tiffany’s Substack is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber.Questions take courage, because to be open to the truth is to be open to loss and pain.When I was a student at a conservative christian college, I remember hearing a peer say that they don’t believe that the bible is the inherent word of god. They didn’t believe in heaven and hell. In that moment, even though I also questioned all of those things, I saw so clearly the cost of leaning in. It would mean that the foundation of everything that I knew to be true would crumble..or so I thought. If the bible wasn’t god’s word, how can I hold anything that I deemed as true under christianity?I followed the questioning piece by piece. If god is love and loves humans, how can such ugliness be upheld by this religion? How can white supremacy be so entrenched in its doctrine? How can gay and trans people be punished? How can so much hate be backed up from god’s word? It doesn’t make sense.It feels SO GOOD to know where you’re going after you die and to know that if you abide by the rules, you’ll have “belonging” forever. And then they stroke your ego by giving you responsibilities and the cheap satisfaction of doing good. It was some of my “happiest” days. What a facade of shared authentic desire for purpose and belonging.At some point, the truth was too clear, and I was willing to pay the price. I was willing to give up everything I held true through the institutional system and the people too. My love for true love and for myself tipped the scale.As I was deconstructing christianity and felt deep betrayal from the church, I saw that it wasn’t just the church. It was the whole damn system. The church was just an expression of systemic oppression. I knew that intellectually, but to really feel it after having escaped was another thing. It’s SO exhausting to continually discover more and more lies that come from every direction.I was homeschooled by my mom growing up, and I remember when we were studying history in grade school in our living room around the circle marble coffee table. This memory is so vivid. I remember reading about the definition of democracy and capitalism. Capitalism was sold to me like it was an ingenious method of motivating small businesses to do well through competition. It helped with societal laziness and apathy. And that this nation was started from christian values. Those values uphold democracy, because people should have a voice in the world they live in. I remember being told that we are so lucky to have immigrated to the US, because this nation has so much more for us. I would feel so lucky that I spoke english and that I wasn’t like the kids in china. (More on Boba Liberals later.)Through art (in my 20’s), I began to gain confidence for speaking out against the ways that white supremacy infiltrates everything - on IG through my art practice. I wrote about the behavior of white women. I wrote about internalized white supremacy and healing from it. I wrote about the violence white people embody in small and big ways. I wrote about my own experiences and what I was learning from Black and Indigenous thought leaders, educators, and organizers.The cost was people who I thought was my community dropping like flies and getting messages from them about how I am too harsh. The cost was being punished by having access restricted to my bio family. The cost was being completely misunderstood and misconstrued as a bully. The cost is having the comfort (however flimsy) of “security” and “safety” being stripped away.I accepted the cost, because the alternative was sacrificing myself, my integrity, and being able to sleep at night.After October 7th 2023, I was confronted with the question: what am I willing to sacrifice?As I watched Palestinians in Gaza livestream the massacre of their own people and land, it was so clear. My ancestors have guided me thus far in gaining courage with finding truth and speaking truth. The truth couldn’t be more crystal clear. So I did show up how I could, and the cost is lost opportunities, many death and rape threats, zionists finding my personal information, the loss of people who I cared for and loved. I am happy to pay the price, because what I gain is deep peace in my spirit.There is no career, relationship, amount of money, illusion of safety that I wouldn’t give up if it means that it would get us closer to liberation. Or that’s what I’ve been saying. Recently, I’ve been really questioning that.I’m so tired. Yesterday, I crashed so hard in the late afternoon with a deep depressive anxiety. I couldn’t do the dishes. I couldn’t get out of bed. What do I mean I would give up anything? I can barely do simple tasks most days.The pendulum of conviction and deep grief is nauseating.It’s nauseating to face the truth of pain and deep deep loss caused by colonialism in Palestine, Sudan, Congo, Hawaii…here in the imperial core.But we have to believe if we face the truth head-on, it invites us to spread it like wildfire. Praying that it will burn away the illusions and lies. So that we can build the world we want to see. And that’s faith.It’s ironic that leaving the church has only strengthened my spiritual faith.Here’s a quote from Jenan Matari on Juneteenth:(image description: “Freedom has never come because the oppressor suddenly had a change of heart. It has always been reached because the oppressed have risked everything to achieve it.”)The older I get, the more questions I gain.What does Liberatory Imagination spark in me today?The collective courage to stand in truth however ugly, terrifying, and grotesque it may be. Behind the courage is the faith that things could be different. Not only could be different, but MUST be different. Liberatory Imagination sparks in me the determination that there must be enough of us who choose to be courageous to sacrifice everything for what must be.(image description: words on cement that says “Palestine, Sudan, Congo will be free” in yellow in front of a foggy Lake Michigan)Tiffany’s Substack is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber. Get full access to LIBERATORY IMAGINATION at tiffanywongart.substack.com/subscribe

Last December, I watched a clip of a podcast interview featuring Michelle Kim, a fellow Asian activist based in the Bay, talking about her childhood wounds when it comes to being triggered by people who don’t stand up against injustice. She put into language something that felt too familiar and resonant. Here is the transcript for that clip:…understanding why other people’s silence activates me so much. Why is it that I am so disappointed and hurt and almost feeling betrayed at a personal level when people who I want to be in community with fail to show up in the way I want them to. Is this a matter of me not accepting people for who they are? Is this a matter of me? Wanting to get people to care about the same issues the the way I care about them?So it’s been such a tricky conversation and not just about this particular situation, but in general in my life it’s something that I’ve been grappling with. And I continue to come back to this very core childhood wound around me feeling alone in the battles that I was fighting as a kid and I think there’s something really triggering for me to see injustice and seeing that people are turning a blind eye. And it activates something in me that makes me feel terrified that the people that I want to be able to count on will not have my back when I need support. So when I see this dire situation unfolding in front of our eyes and the people that I’m supposedly in community with staying silent, I think I take it personally because the calculation I’m doing is - are you safe for me? Are you going to have my back when it’s my turn?And I think that fear of abandonment, the fear of disconnection is so visceral that it becomes all consuming that almost my attention goes to trying to get people to care by trying to shake them awake, rather than even focusing on what is stopping them from being able to do that.So when I’m at a much more, steady state, grounded state, then I can be a little bit more expansive and trying to understand how can we facilitate people being more courageous or being able to understand what’s blocking them so that we can collectively work on removing those barriers.In my conversations with my people, I hear myself time and time again saying that we cannot compartmentalize liberation work. It isn’t just when we are in the streets.Tiffany’s Substack is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber.It’s in how I love. How I relate. How I am in relationship with my bio family. How I create. How I talk to myself. How I pray.Recently I have been especially tuned into my inner teen, because I’m going to be traveling to my bio family soon. Every time I’m in my childhood home, my inner teen makes an appearance - sometimes a bit more dramatically than others. Because I felt so abandoned in my younger years by my parents in times where I needed them to protect me the most, the slightly older parts of myself shows up to gain agency in my voice through harsh tones. Using straightforward language and walled up energy, I can see my inner teen grasping for control when I didn’t have any when I was younger.As I was showering this morning, I saw how my walls grew thicker and thicker between middle school age and into my college years. I felt like I could overcome anything if I was able to compartmentalize what I thought and what I felt. From a young age I found that my magic power was the ability to shut off feeling. That coping mechanism served me well until it didn’t.I grieve for my inner child who had to shut down feeling in order to move forward.In college, I acknowledged for the first time with my therapist that what I experienced was abuse. From there on, it’s been a non linear journey of reclaiming feeling as a whole human and having an integrated relationship with my mind/body/spirit. I’ve been learning to ultimately feel safe enough in myself - and in community.So when “community” betrays me by not aligning to my values, it’s not as simple as seeing people as human. It reminds me that I don’t just exist in a world where people make mistakes and they are just healing and learning. I exist in a fucked up world ruled by white supremacy and genocidal billionaires where it takes individuals to uphold the status quo. I exist in a world that the consequences of not aligning with true love is contributing to physical and spiritual death.Not only does it remind me of all of that, but it triggers the younger parts of me to be afraid that sometimes the people who say they love me will not show up to do the right thing and protect me…a child. Seeing children in Palestine being blown up to bits, seeing children cry over their siblings and parents, seeing bags of children…my inner child is traumatized by seeing that what she fears is true.This world doesn’t value the most vulnerable. My inner child is scared because in the face of seeing children being murdered and exploited en masse in Congo, Sudan, Palestine…I see who is sacrificing their comfort and who isn’t.The last part of Michelle’s clip spoke to me, because I don’t want to be reactionary from a childlike fear even though it’s very understandable. I have committed in investing in my own healing in community, because that is part of liberation work. Just as much as I critique racists and zionists who function from a place of hate and fear, I also have to do everything I can to heal - so that I come from a place of rootedness and love and hope for the world we are ushering in.So when I feel those fears of abandonment rise up, I show up for my inner child or inner teen. I show her that her fear is so valid and this is a scary world to live in. I show her that in the uncertainty and unpredictability, I love her unconditionally. I show her over time that as an adult, I have agency and that I choose to never abandon her. I show her that she gets to feel big things and that it can be safe with me.What does Liberatory Imagination spark in me today?Building a world where kids can be kids. When they cry or throw a tantrum, it’s because of something silly and mundane…like having to brush their teeth after a long day of fun. A world where all the adults are in community to take care of their physical and spiritual wellbeing. A world where there are no worries or anxieties of anything. They just have to focus on growing their curiosity and feeling good in their growing bodies.Tiffany’s Substack is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber. Get full access to LIBERATORY IMAGINATION at tiffanywongart.substack.com/subscribe

I’ve been putting off writing these thoughts out, because there’s this layer of shame…or maybe fear of judgement. In the past decade, I’ve heard myself say many times that part of the way to get free is to build my own businesses and support other Black/brown businesses. I don’t think that it’s all untrue, but the more that the veil is lifted, the more I see the lie of capitalism.There’s this trope of millennial femmes (think NastyGal and Glossier) finding financial “freedom” in creating our own business path, because f**k the man. And we don’t need men to provide for us, because we can also become badass bosses. Drenched in white liberal “feminism,” I now see how I fell for it in my own artist way.In my early 20’s, I wanted to see if I could make a living off of my art and music. So vividly, I remember recognizing my youth and that it was my time to take my shot. With gig work, I HUSTLED. I did pop up’s at crate & barrel, madewell, and other commercial spots. The narrative in those years was “you can make your passion/hobby into a money making business!”Tiffany’s Substack is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber.A few years in, I recognized that it felt bad in my body.I decided to stop trying to make money through my art and to protect my art process.And that cycle happened a few more rounds. Try to make money off of art and then stopped - because it felt bad.More than a decade later, I’m 9 months into having quit my ok-paying full time job doing marketing and sales. The past 9 months have drastically radicalized me more than I could have imagined. There isn’t a bone in my body that wants to have a career or run a “successful” business. I literally couldn’t give two f***s.I can barely find a thread of motivation to even think about what happens when I finally drain all of my resources (which is coming up soon.) I know I’m depressed, but I think it’s more than that. With the grief and limited energy, it’s torture to think that I have to expend my energy just so that I can get my basic needs met…like a roof over my head and food.My life is meant to lived in truthful connection with people and the land. In this hellscape of a reality, the only thing that matters is doing my part in the collective that brings us closer to collective liberation. A liberation where we all have all our needs are met materially, relationally, and spiritually. A liberation where there isn’t exploitation, slavery, prisons, and genocide. Is that too much to ask for??Until that world is here, my life (and I believe ALL of our lives) should center our liberation. Not in an obligatory way, but in a way that honors our Spirit.I don’t want to be a girlboss.But from where I stand right now, it sometimes feels like lesser of two evils? At least I can minimize the exploitation? I have no idea. All I know is that I don’t want to be an entrepreneur, but I feel unconsensually forced into it…because working for a corporation sounds way worse.I feel some shame around it, because it feels so privileged to be in this position. Witnessing genocide and exploitation because of greed and profit has stripped away all motivation of feeding the capitalism machine in any way. It has stripped away all drive to build “stability” for my future. I feel cornered.What does Liberatory Imagination spark in me today?A world where hustling isn’t revered. Where there’s ease that our local and global neighbors have everything they need and are in communion with the land. A world where there aren’t winners at the expense of losers. A world where imagination is so expansive of what we could build.(photo taken by my friend Amera)Tiffany’s Substack is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber. Get full access to LIBERATORY IMAGINATION at tiffanywongart.substack.com/subscribe

I have this thing where if I let a practice of mine whether it’s writing or posting on instagram sit for a bit too long, it takes much longer for me to approach it again. That’s what happened here on substack! But I’m here and proud that I inched myself over the hump. As usual, my challenge for myself arriving on substack is to show up in the messiness. If you’re in for riding my stream of consciousness, buckle up.A couple weeks ago, I had a soul enriching conversation with my friend Chi (an incredible liberation artist and comrade.) Chi referenced a podcast that Alok Vaid-Manon was featured in.Tiffany’s Substack is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber.Alok started the conversation by describing people they were addressing as “people who are choreographing the rhythm of their life to the cadence of love whose metronome is beauty and not normativity.”That statement made me cry immediately, because they so poetically described what I feel. My resistance is rooted in love and I’m almost manically doing everything I can to not lose that rootedness while trying to find people who are committed to the same. Writing it out, it feels so simple, but my bouts of loneliness tells a different story.The part about normativity reminds me of another podcast of a conversation between Mariame Kaba and Kelly Hayes where Mariame talks about compulsive normativity. It’s like comphet (compulsive heterosexuality), but with the state of our colonial white supremist society.The compulsive normativity is a siren call for people to run away from discomfort, grief, and sacrifice at the cost of knowing truth and ultimately their own freedom - this is my understanding of listening to Mariame. It’s a coping mechanism that provides surface level security, but at the expense of the human spirit and collective connection. And the more racial and class privilege you have, the louder the siren call is. For me, I watch people doing “normal” things with this disgust but also this twisted version of longing.If I step into who I should be and want to be as a human tapped into my connection with other humans, there’s no way I can engage with the world like I did before. I know and believe too much. It doesn’t mean that I can’t have pleasure or enjoy my life, but it means that it has to be done with as much alignment as possible. That simultaneously lights up my soul and scares me.It scares me, because I’m afraid I won’t have much access to the alignment I want to see in my life and therefore access to things that can bring me purpose and joy. I’m afraid that numbness and depression will overcome me and stagnate me. I’m afraid that the betrayal of people who I deemed as comrades will force me to be alone.My intellectual brain is already kicking in and telling me all the things to dispel my fears. But part of healing is to feel and to be honest with what comes up in my body. Part of the expansion that I’m building towards is not intellectualizing my way out of feeling. Feeling discomfort, grief, and pain, is part of tapping into my human spirit which is key to this struggle towards collective liberation.Back to the interview with Alok - they talked about “performance of consistency” being dangerous. People want this fake kind of security in the consistency of behavior and binaries. The fact is that we embody all kinds of contradictions and we are always changing! That’s what it means to be human. We are conditioned to idolize this unrealistic purity at the cost of truth. And I get it, because it’s so much easier to flatten everything in order to justify apathy. I feel that pull every day.In my grieving, I feel so much and too little all the time. It’s scary to see the contradictions in myself. Constantly, I’m swinging from feeling so much ancestral conviction and then into depression and numbness. The way that small tasks are so incredibly hard makes me scared while trying to survive under capitalism. Like twice this week, I missed my train stop. It’s such a small thing, but it made me question my situational awareness that is so crucial in direct action.It’s liberating and so destabilizing, but what I think is happening is that I’m practicing letting go of the “fiction of control” (Alok used that term in the podcast.) In the practice, I’m flailing a bit because it feels so new. The letting go calls me to be present with all of it.Maybe not at the same time, but it’s an invitation of presence in truth. Not the sanitized truth, but the raw truth.The truth is that I am witnessing the slaughtering of the Palestinian people in Gaza. I am witnessing the displacement and forced starvation of the Sudanese. I am witnessing the violent exploitation of the Congolese. I am witnessing cop city in front of my eyes. I am witnessing state sanctioned violence every week right in front of me at direct actions. I am witnessing myself and peers drowning under the pressure of capitalism. I am feeling the affects of intergenerational trauma and trauma from my lifetime. I am unwell. We are unwell.At the same time, the truth is that it is an honor to be in this resistance alongside of my community and comrades. The truth is that I am consistently in awe of how I was chosen and am supported by my ancestors to embody what it means to be human. I have the privilege of learning from Black feminist and indigenous activists and organizers. They give me the gift of having language of understanding and support me in embodying liberation in a way that is expanding my mind and spirit every day. I embody the healing my ancestors have passing down to me. I am supported. We are supported.Holding or maybe dancing with it all is a collective effort, because I can’t do it alone…and shouldn’t. But that means I need to learn to trust people. UGH! Back full circle with what I wrote in the last post about how hard it is to determine who is trustworthy. It takes so much energy to protect the softness and to be rooted in love!What does Liberatory Imagination spark in me today?Holding the complexity, nuance, contradictions with my chosen family. The more I can give myself space to be complex the more wise grace I can extend to the people I commune with. Being able to hold healthy boundaries can co-exist with softness and love. I don’t need to put up harsh guards up when I am in trusted community.Tiffany’s Substack is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber. Get full access to LIBERATORY IMAGINATION at tiffanywongart.substack.com/subscribe

My friend and fellow comrade Emma shared with me a journal prompt they used recently, and one of those prompts were “How do I decide who’s trustworthy?” In a time where I’m building new relationships with folks I think are aligned with my values, that question resonated in a confronting way. It made me think about circles and communities of people I have invested in - poured myself into - and followed the storyline. Each one was complex with deep connection, beauty, and resonance while also being messy, chaotic, and hurtful/harmful.I sat down with the question this morning, and here is an excerpt from my journal:Tiffany’s Substack is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber.I look inward first. Am I trustworthy? Am I rooted in truth, honesty, integrity? Do I trust myself? Is there space for myself to make mistakes?So many people have betrayed me and my trust. Do I regret giving them a chance? No. I came in with softness and openness. But I will observe with discernment and hold to my boundaries. I will go forward to heal and love so that I can process that information with care and honesty.Protecting myself from becoming hard and cynical is priority to me, because liberation always is rooted in true love and true hope.Last night I had a horrible dream about my ex, who was toxic and abusive. I ask myself - do I regret taking a chance on them? No. I moved forward with the information that I had, and I was open to love. Was I taken advantage of and violated? Yes. Will I take what I’ve learned forward? Yes.I think that so much of my life I was afraid to be naive or to be taken advantage of, but now that I’m a bit more experienced in life, I’m not so much afraid of that anymore. The onus is always on the person who manipulates or abuses. I’ve learned that you can do everything you can to be aware and be connected to yourself, and you can still be susceptible to harm.Healing is teaching me that I can’t control it all. The hypervigilence is exhausting. It’s understandable, but it’s exhausting.Back to my journal entry, seeing who is trustworthy is a mirror. The question is do I trust myself? Even when I make mistakes in judging people’s character, can I trust myself? It is easy to look back and see all the red flags. “I should have know when ____.” “When they did or said _____, I should have flagged it.” I go back, and usually try to see myself in a more compassionate way. Trying to give people grace within reason is something that I want to practice. The more interesting part is being able to see holes in my values through the process.Questions I want to ponder on more is “When did I question myself?” or “How did my body respond?”When I was dating and also talking to friends who were dating, I would say all the time to follow it through. We can guess and try to anticipate everything, but the truth is that we don’t know. The only thing we can do is to move forward with what we know and feel. So the person can for sure trick me or harm me, but without any evidence - it’s not fair towards myself to cut something off early (usually). For the most part, the best thing is to go until new information presents it’s self for things to be obvious. All that being said, I don’t apply that framework to white men and most white people. The conditioning of supremacy runs deep, and that’s the information I do know right off the bat.Having had friend, partner, familial, and community betrayal/hurt, I feel like the common theme is that what matters is being able to see the systems that contribute to harm, see my part in it, and maintain a loving relationship with myself.Liberation calls me to stay grounded in softness, and not confusing it with weakness. Softness is true courage. In the face of suffering and pure evil, softness to love and possibility is resistance. Softness is a f**k you to a world that wants to make me drown in apathy. Softness calls me to a kind of self love that returns me back to a fundamental human desire for deep connection and belonging.I have more thoughts about a pivot about belonging in liberatory spaces - noting that for the future.What does Liberatory Imagination spark in me today?A love for self that goes deep - through generations of ancestors. A type of love that is quick to accept and laugh and hug. A type of love that preserves its softness. A type of love that can endure the darkest time because of it’s hope for what’s possible.Tiffany’s Substack is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber. Get full access to LIBERATORY IMAGINATION at tiffanywongart.substack.com/subscribe

On the waves of Liberatory Mania, I’m on the down slope. Processing, digesting, feeling, and processing some more. This is a note to self: liberatory literature is a powerful support in grounding - try to be more consistent!After every non-fiction book I read, I go through my underlined portions and notes. “Practicing New Worlds” by Andrea J Ritchie had a blatant theme to what resonated with me. Here are a few excerpts that I underlined.Tiffany’s Substack is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber.“Rather than worry about critical mass, our work is to foster critical connections. We don’t need to convince large numbers of people to change; instead, we need to connect with kindred spirits. Through these relationships, we will develop the new knowledge, practices, courage, and commitment that lead to broad-based change.”“We effect systems change through relationship and experimentation, not by blueprint.”“…safety is relative to our relationships with others and with resources. It is something we create together in community.”“As Mariame [Kaba] concludes, ‘I think one of the most important parts about mutual aid has to do with changing the social relationships that we have among each other, in order to be able to fight beyond this current moment, beyond the current crisis, beyond the current form of a disaster that we’re trying to overcome. And so, one of the beautiful aspects that you really don’t know where the connections are going to take you. You’re going to make and build new relationships that will lead to new understandings, that will shape the potential future of your community and beyond.’”“Assata Shakur asks, ‘How do you organize a community that does not exist?’”Over the past 5 months, I find myself saying over and over again that relationship and trust is a key part of this movement. So as I swim through the unknowns of how I apply myself to the resistance in this season, I come back to the quality of relationships I have over and over again.As I am connecting and meeting new comrades, my question is - who can I build the new world with? Over this next year, 5 years, decades. And of course, that is a huge question mark with people I don’t know well. At the top of 2024, I felt in my gut my social arena was going to change, and sure enough I was right. In a way, I feel like I’m starting over socially (except for my few tried and true bff’s.) The gist of this year is that I’m observing people’s character and integrity while deepening my own to see who I want to invest in for the long(er) haul.It takes time to develop relationship and trust. Even in the face of urgency and intensity it takes time to grow and deepen connection. In the past few weeks, I’ve seen and experienced the messiness of organizing and interpersonal relating as it happens in every grouping of humans. Sitting with myself and slowing down…I feel convicted. I can’t lose sight of the goal. It is the depth of relationship and integrity that matters.I’ve found myself swept up in the mobilization of comrades and in that energy, I lost a bit of my agency and grounding.My energy is valuable. I think that there is so much trying to distract me from the agency I have and the impact I could have towards a Free Palestine, a Free Congo, a Free Sudan. While building relationships is important, I want to make sure that the energy I put into them is in the same trajectory my life is heading towards. Liberation should encompass everything. Not only when I show up for direct action or teach a workshop. It’s in the way that I move, talk, draw boundaries, lean in, and love.Healing and growing in a decolonized way means integration of liberation in every aspect of life.That last quote by Assata Shakur hit me. When I was a Christian and working my way out of the indoctrination, I would say all the time that they were obsessed with “community,” but most of the time it was the illusion of community. The care was absent when it came down to it. The structures didn’t support the said values. It is so dangerous to feel the comfort of “community” that lacks true relationship and trust. That most commonly leads to being blindsided and harmed.True community takes actual relationship and over a period of time. And it’s ok to be honest that things are at its infantile stage. That’s beautiful and vulnerable!Relationship - platonic, romantic, comrade-ic - is key to our liberation. How we go about them is everything. Our relationship with ourselves, with the land, with our bodies. We can’t under value it as we resist supremacy.In this moment, I am stunned by how vulnerable it is to be open to fighting for liberation with new friends. It’s so open and soft. And in that softness, there already have been so many tears of awe, gratefulness, honor, and also pain. The commitment to myself that was so clear last august is that I will always choose to be vulnerable and soft in the name of true love and hope. Love and hope for a liberated world that is possible. Love and hope in the face of despair and unthinkable violence.Witnessing Rafah and Jabalia refugee camp this past week was a wake up call for me. It was a call to come back, recenter, and remember what it’s all for. What does Liberatory Imagination spark in me today?Being shoulder to shoulder with comrades I trust, because I know that they are committing their life-calling to liberation. The comfort that thought gives me feels like a heavy warm cloud blanket on a rainy night. It makes the fear of the unknown dissipate.Tiffany’s Substack is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber. Get full access to LIBERATORY IMAGINATION at tiffanywongart.substack.com/subscribe

In this moment, I feel 80% human and 20% alien, which is a HUGE improvement!I’ve been resting for the past 3 days. Physical energy-wise, I’m almost caught up. There was a moment after coming home from the encampment where something was triggered in me, and my neck trauma response was kicked on. It might be a delayed reaction, but my gut is telling me that it was something personal I need to listen to.Tiffany’s Substack is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber.Grief is here.Rafah is being carpet bombed. Seeing the photos of those two little kids in the rubble is yet another image that will be seared into my soul forever.I don’t like to be cynical, but as I’ve been bearing witness to Rafah…pigs are brutalizing students + community members and raiding camps with full on military attacks…I’m having a hard time connecting the dots of impact. My brain knows that we have had divestment wins, which is amazing and f*****g counts. But Palestinians are still being slaughtered by apartheid state funded by us RIGHT NOW. How has it been 7 months?My heart is pounding from grief and anger.Being at camp was such a mixture of beautiful connections and care, violence, anti black harm, peace policing, hope, and resistance. I’ve barely started processing it. There were so many moments where I felt gaslit in a totally new way. Normally, I feel gaslit in seeing and doing “normal people” activities like eating out and doing fun things - because it feels insane to do it while genocides are happening. But in the camp, it was rougher, because right after witnessing multiple Black folks being arrested or attempted to be arrested…I would turn around - and it looked like summer camp. No one knew or seemed to care (I know I know that’s not true.) Zionists would be roaming the camp, and 5 people would be actively diligent in blocking them or monitoring them. I dont know…it was bizarre.I’ve been talking about this on IG - the lack of cohesion of theory and practice becomes very apparent in times of danger. 9 out of 10 times, the people who would come into direct contact with cops and zionists would be Black and Brown folks - most likely femmes. From witnessing it time and time again in person and also in all the footage across encampments and protests, it’s the same every time. I get it, but it’s wrong!Folks of the global majority are conditioned to lean in to protect one another. We also have higher capacity for danger + discomfort, because it’s normalized from our upbringing. White folks are conditioned to turn away and run away from danger - and furthermore to sacrifice Black and Brown bodies for their benefit. That’s white supremacy baby. So when decolonizing healing work isn’t embodied, white people are watching and in the back. I’ll say it again and again, white people will never save us. But I’ve been watching who of the white comrades are doing the internal work. The movement will be much stronger if more of our white comrades can show up with their body and soul so that we can turn the tide from having to keep on sacrificing people of the global majority for our movement. Too much to ask?I’m going to share more about my thoughts about peace policing, but not today. Haha not today.Yesterday, or maybe two or three days ago…who knows, I was sharing with a comrade about how I imagine myself as a tree. I need to get centered within myself first - right now I need to reorient my energy to my core. And then remember that my roots run deep into the ground interconnected with the roots of my ancestors and my community. For a bit last week, I feel like I lost my own agency. With all my trauma-informed knowledge, it has been a test to practice what I know. We each have agency and only we know our capacity.To honor our agency and capacity is to honor the movement.Talking about honor, truly what an honor it is to be here right now. I feel like I’ve been training my whole life for showing up well in this moment. I’m humbled, because I’m seeing how there’s so much more deepening and strengthening I need to practice within my integrity and belief set. That’s part of the journey in the struggle towards a liberated Palestine…our liberation.Praying for Rafah. Praying for our faith to be strong in the resistance.What does Liberatory Imagination spark in me today?The land of Palestine feeling peace - enough to grow and nurture trees, plants, flowers, strawberries. The land I’m on in occupied Chicago feeling joy in being free. I know for a fact that the earth here weeps for what is happening here and in Palestine and in Sudan and in Congo. She weeps while giving us reminders and life to resist well.Tiffany’s Substack is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber. Get full access to LIBERATORY IMAGINATION at tiffanywongart.substack.com/subscribe

Transcript:Hello, it's Tiffany. It is Saturday night. It's around 9:15 p. m. and I kind of want to try a new thing. So usually I write on Substack and then I basically read it aloud. But I'm going to try tonight to just speak out my stream of consciousness and then maybe annotate it back. I'm not sure.We'll see, but let's go. I want to talk about more about liberatory mania and what it feels like to really savor the moments of peace and the moments of joy that comes in between the higher energy, the actions, and the rage the chaos. Because today I kind of had that kind of day. This past week has been really Really high energy, quite activating full of focus, full of clarity, full of hysteric laughing so many in person things and meetings and things to organize.Yeah, it was a lot, but it, it kind of in the best way. And today I kind of felt the energy settle for a second. I cleaned my, I tidied up my, my apartment. I packed for something that's upcoming. I did laundry. I did do four trainings but it was pretty calm and I felt like the energy in my body kind of come down in a, in a grounding way and not in like a depressive way, which totally happens and I totally accept. And I just feel like in these moments, it's so important to, to really like not rush through it. And I know I just said that it's not depressive, but like, I can feel in my system and my body, this kind of anxiety, anxiety of being in this because, well, I don't know, I don't know why, but maybe let's try to talk loud of, about why that might be. I feel like part of it is. You know feeling more grounded and more like the energy being slower. I think it does scare me a little bit because Okay for a couple reasons number one I think that it scares me because I don't want to drop into a depressive state which I have a lot of times and I know I just stated also there's no shame.But I don't like it It's not where if it's not Yeah, where I really like to be in. I mean, nobody does. But I feel like much more comfortable in the high energy rage dysregulation in a way. And the second reason I think that it makes me anxious or a little uncomfortable when I'm kind of in this state is because I don't ever want to lose focus about the whole mission, which is for liberation for all.Yeah. And sometimes when I feel like I'm having like a normal human experience like, I'm afraid I'm like, gonna like fall into that kind of daze. The daze that is taught and conditioned from capitalism and white supremacy. That's taught from, yeah, empire. And. I think back in my life, like I've just lived in that daze for so long, and there's the moments of clarity and times where I really look back and I'm so proud, like, about standing in truth and healing and all these things. But right now, like in 2024. The clarity is so stunning. It's so, it's so crystal clear that I don't ever want to lose this kind of focus. And I feel like we're just starting. I mean, this work is in the making, you know, for hundreds and hundreds of years, but like right now where the movement is, it's, it's like a new season.And I'll say it again over and over again. Like what an honor. It is to be here right now. And as I've been witnessing and also showing up for encampments, I am filled with so much awe of where we're at and of the youth at the beginning of the year, one of my intentions was to seek out more opportunities to, to work with youth, and I didn't know what form it would take, it would take, but here we are. I'm so behind them. I'm so proud of them. I'm so inspired by them and I just can't wait to continue to support yeah, the youth right now college students and what an honor. Yeah. And anyways, back to kind of why I wanted to start this, this episode in sitting in these in between moments, like I, I'm trying to kind of process. And sit with what is coming up in my body and kind of acknowledge the anxiety around it, but also encourage myself to To sit sit with it and to not rush it.And that it's okay to to enjoy these moments of joy and the moments of stillness the the the moments of even like mundane lifeness Like It was really nice to kind of finish up laundry and to reorganize my closet and it was enjoyable to put up my AC and turn it on and have some relief from the heat. And just because I'm enjoying like these moments of normalness or mundaneness, like doesn't mean that I'm not focused on liberation. And I guess like, I'm kind of seeing like, this is so much about faith of like, Can I really have faith that every single little thing that I do alongside community and fellow comrades, it counts? I've written a lot about this but it's holding true or holding faith that how we do things and the small things that we do, it matters. And that's integrity. It's like even when people don't see it or hear it or witness it, like trusting that when I say that, Even in the pain, even in the rage, even in the, in the bigness the doing, things like rest and things like peace play, laughter and connection are really important. And like in, in thinking about how do we sustain this together, it's leading into those moments. And as I'm saying this, like I'm challenging myself to not only say it and know it, But to really integrate it into my body and my lived experience because I mean we all know it's easy to It's easy to talk.It's really hard to practice Yeah, so those are my nighttime thoughts. I took out some ice cream for myself tonight. It's kind of softening up i'm gonna do some dishes tonight and i'm gonna try to go to bed early - Who knows I might go crazy and go to bed early .And for my ending question, what is sparking my liberatory imagination?Hmm. I think like the word savory, savoring is resonating with me. Liberatory imagination sparks in me, the space and the time and the community where savoring and being in awe is just abundant. Like, where our, our world is not just, like, it's not pressing down on us, and that there's freedom to explore, and it's, and so much space to go slow, and there's just no rush. Yeah, and I feel like where we're going, the speed of things, time is just totally different, and I cannot wait to experience that. And I also. Yeah, like liberatory imagination is bringing pieces and moments of what we're building here right now. And all right, that's it for tonight. Get full access to LIBERATORY IMAGINATION at tiffanywongart.substack.com/subscribe

When it’s so clear about what matters, everything comes into focus. Every emotion and interaction is heightened from that lens. Leaning into that clarity in my body has driven me to a place of Liberatory Mania, which is inspired by ismatu gwendolyn’s iconic essay There is No Revolution without Madness.This morning I was thinking about how I feel like I’ve been unmasking so much recently. I’ve always had the feedback as a younger person that I was chill and easy going…the older I get the feedback is far from that. I mostly get adjectives like intense and a lot. Having been conditioned to wanting to be the chill cool girl, leaning into being me is not as easy. I mean - I am cool, but not chill haha.Tiffany’s Substack is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber.I feel like I’ve lived in dissociation for most of my life - in a daze - out of my body. I actually used to open my meditative workshops with that statement, which I’ve been teaching since 2014. In hindsight, even with my awareness about my trauma and relationship with my body, I have been in that daze for so much of it. Constantly in a state of fight/flight/freeze. Swept away with capitalistic dreams and visions.Now that I’m here. 200 days from October 7th 2023. The clarity is truly maddening in a world that gaslights me that I can only care this much, because life goes on. But life can’t go on - my life can’t go on, because I see so CLEARLY I can only be free if Palestine is free. If Congo is free. If Sudan is free. If police and prisons are abolished. If the whole damn system burns down. All the meantime, it feels like the majority of the world is looking back at me like I’m the delusional one.Jokes on them, because I admit to this kind of mania. The kind that believes that we can bring forth change within our lifetime. The kind that can imagine so far into the future that it informs my daily decisions. The kind that can somehow tap into true love and true hope in this horrifying reality. The kind that wakes up from the individualism and embodies collective forward momentum towards liberation for all. It’s completely unhinged in the context we are in.And my ancestors are cheering.So my Liberatory Mania feels like this high frequency buzz in my body that’s concentrated in my throat center more towards my back - and it expands from there. The energy is HIGH. It is almost feels like it wants to boil over. It is a mixture of pure motivation for a liberated future, righteous rage, desperate love, and deep set grief. And somewhere in there is laughter, play, and levity. Somehow!I asked two comrades to describe their Liberatory Mania and here are their responses:Emma: “Tingling energy, whiplash, not wanting to sit still, urgency.”Jenin: “Buzzy, stimulated, I grind my teeth alot I think, the conviction, rage, deep love, grief, quad of feelings, focused and perhaps a little obsessed. Oh and my sense of bodily needs such as eating, sleeping, drinking water, giving my brain a break are totally all absolutely off. But somehow…I’m not burning out. I get exhausted af, but it’s not the same burnout I’m used to when in corporate land.”Emma also mentioned how connecting with liberatory community furthers the feelings of isolation from friends/family/coworkers - which then amplifies the feelings of Liberatory Mania. And I relate! The clarity creates a very sad division.I wrote this poem last holiday season about how stuff has lost its spark. So many things I used to care about has lost its spark. In a way, I love it. It’s healing and dismantling capitalism and supremacy. In another way, it’s f*****g sad, because having clarity means that the truth of suffering and injustice is that much more blatant. But that’s the only way towards collective liberation. Seeing and believing truth. One of the few thing that brings me that spark of joy is yelling on top of my lungs with fellow comrades and disrupting business as usual. That’s fucked up honestly. I’m thankful…but it’s still fucked up.My heart is feeling so many things being out of dissociation and out of the capitalistic daze. My heart is very full of hope and in so much pain for where we are. It’s so much to hold, but it’s been comforting to be around community that feel the exact same. We all are in Liberatory Mania…thank goodness.What does Liberatory Imagination spark in me today?The state of ease and peace in my body when everyone is free. When we have abolished cops and prisons. When we have established land back. When we have put care systems in place. When transformative justice and healing is in global practice.Tiffany’s Substack is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber. Get full access to LIBERATORY IMAGINATION at tiffanywongart.substack.com/subscribe

This has been top of mind recently! Where to start…for me, everything is seen through the question: How can I integrate what I want to believe into my real human life? I say that I want to dismantle supremacy and deeply conditioned + internalized colonialism - so how do I practice that every day in every way? We are all taught to compartmentalize every part of our lives. Our love lives. Work lives. Play lives. It’s all connected like how we say that all liberation is tied together.So naturally, as I’m shifting into applying myself towards liberation, being with other aligned folks happens naturally (VERY thankful for that, because I know that it’s not true for everyone.) Falling for people who have aligned values is going to happen. It’s hot! I’m falling for people platonically and romantically left and right!Tiffany’s Substack is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber.The platonic part feels really good and hopeful. I’ve found myself saying to people that right now is the time to see what relationships have potential to be grown into long term community. Our movement is rooted in that. It cannot happen in isolation. Period. So that part feels vulnerable, but mostly anxiety free.The romantic part has a different essence. The conditioning around romantic connection is so obvious to me right now. It’s daunting, but I also feel really excited to practice what I want to embody. This year has been the year of flow and self permission for true freedom. My rigidity and desire for control is based from my own trauma and fear of the unknown.I really feel like this next season of healing is giving myself permission to really trust myself. Magic and success can look like so many things outside of monogamous long term romantic partnership.I’ve already experience such deep connection with folks who were not and is not my long term romantic partner. I’ve already seen and felt the beauty of connection in many different forms.So in this lifetime of liberation work, it’s time to heal more and be cohesive in the values I say I have. I can feel myself writing in such a vague way haha! Vulnerability is scary!Ok having a romantic crush during this time is a wild thing. Everything in my body is buzzing from the trauma of being in this world and then to have these moments of possibility and connection makes the buzzing even more intense. I think I have some anxiety around it, because I’ve been conditioned that romantic connection are dangerous in a way. It’s a big risk of being hurt and/or harmed. It’s a big risk to the community in the case it doesn’t go well. I’m watching this webinar called Dismantling the Romance Myth by Dean Spade, and it’s really good. The reminders of colonial conditioning around cis het monogomous culture was really helpful.Liberatory movement and being around aligned community is beautiful, and will inevitably bring forth all kinds of connections and attractions and insecurities and fears. We have what it takes to practice true community care. We have the opportunity to maneuver through the complexity of our own personal traumas and biases AND experience love in its fullness (not just romantic love.)Romantic connections does not HAVE to create harm and division in communities. Our liberatory framework applies in every way when we are with our people and in the world.I have so many more thoughts about this, but that’s all I’ll share today!What does Liberatory Imagination spark in me today?Big love. The commitment to flattening the hierarchy of different types of love. The commitment to leaning in. The commitment to embodying what we say we stand for. Liberatory imagination sparks in me the motivation to build a world where ease and expansiveness is the norm - free from colonial trauma.Tiffany’s Substack is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber. Get full access to LIBERATORY IMAGINATION at tiffanywongart.substack.com/subscribe

I’ve been saying to myself “nothing matters except for what matters” over and over again to myself. It feels so true in my body. The drive I used to have for stuff and career and achievements that were present not too long ago have vanished. I don’t even mean it in a depressive way (which is also present). I mean it in a way that feels so clear. It is so clear what matters and what doesn’t matter.In this moment, on April 17 2024, the clarity is honestly stunning.Tiffany’s Substack is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber.My spirit is on fire. Awake. Alive. And Raging.It’s so clear that nothing matters except for the freedom of Palestine, the freedom of Congo, the freedom of Sudan, the freedom of incarcerated folks, the justice of Dexter Reed, the freedom from empire, the freedom from capitalism. Crystal clear.The torturous part is that the clarity brings sharper pain to injustice and also when my energy is spent in ways that I don’t want.For those who have been following me here on substack for a second, you’ve seen me through a cycle or two of liberatory mania (coining that here now.) I’m on a slightly more rage-ful peak I would say. Last week I wrote about feeling off rhythm, and how I want to get into a routine that could be supportive - I also wrote about how I had anxiety about calling my mom. Good news is that I called my mom, and it was fine. Bad news is that a healthy rhythm is fully out the window.If you follow me on IG, you probably know what’s been happening with Dexter Reed, A15 + chicago organizers being brutalized and incarcerated - being charged with f*****g felonies. The pigs are out right lying about being assaulted! To witness such evil is truly horrifying and maddening and terrifying. The grief and the exhaustion to be under this empire is heavy. It feels never ending.What keeps me going is the reminder that Supremacy is fighting hard because the resistance is threatening. When the collective realizes its power and sees the truth of empire, game over.Following what feels like an honor has been very grounding to me. What an honor it is to be an abolitionist. What an honor it is to be in community resisting the status quo. What an honor it is to scream Free Palestine with fellow comrades. What an honor it is to disrupt normalcy during multiple genocides. What an honor to be alive right now.It feels so clear that this life is meant for our liberation. I’ve also feel convicted and motivated to figure out how to really take care of my body well. If anything ever were to happen to me, I need to have a strong body/mind/spirit. So that means, prioritizing nourishing foods and movement. So much easier said than done! I want to grow my faith in the fact that how I move outside of direct action and community gatherings is foundational. That is integrity.Recently, I’ve been feeling so much energy in my body while feeling so incredibly soulfully sad. I was just telling a friend this morning that I want to keep on going hard, because I know when I slow down enough the sadness feels way worse. For being such a proponent of honoring grief, it doesn’t make the process any easier.F**k the police. Can’t wait to continue spending the rest of my life building a world that is free from prisons and pigs.On a lighter note, I made some artwork the other day for a market, and it was really really good for me. I’ve been so busy that doing art has taken a backseat, which is totally ok. Time and time again, I was reminded about the magic of using my hands in creative ways. I made a bunch of collages out of paper I painted. Note to self: do more art for fun.On a slightly darker note, I’m back in the mindset that I’m just going to flow with what is here. What’s here is that I want to go hard. I’m so sick of drowning from the pressure of capitalism and forced apathy. I’m so sick of watching a genocide in front of my eyes. I’m so sick of being gaslit that showing up for each other and our global neighbors is like an optional hobby. I have always been the person that says it’s about the long haul, and while I believe that 100% - I don’t think that rising up to the moment right now is contrary to that. Maybe I’m wrong, but we will see I guess!What does Liberatory Imagination spark in me today?Having a clear vision of what world we are building. It sparks in me the rootedness that capitalism and exploitation is not a something we need to accept. In fact we reject it fully. Liberatory imagination sparks the vision of community capacity to move through complexity. It sparks in me the freedom of fire - the ability to express righteous rage freely without punishment. It sparks in me a world free of cops, prisons, and zionists.Tiffany’s Substack is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber. Get full access to LIBERATORY IMAGINATION at tiffanywongart.substack.com/subscribe

Historically, I’ve been a pretty consistent morning routine person. After the usual (brush my teeth, skin routine, coffee, making the bed), I would sit down on my couch and pull out my bullet journal, normal journal, and two books. First, I would list out all my to-do’s in my bullet journal and then assign tasks to the hour blocks. Then, I would free write in my journal until it feels complete - usually 15 minutes. The last thing, is I would read from two books. Usually an abolition non fiction book and then a fiction book. In the past year or so, it’s been two non fiction liberation books.This is a tangent, but I used to SPEED read through books. When I was in high school, I was obsessed with books that taught about being efficient and developing healthy habits. During that time, I learned techniques that helped with studying and test taking. One of the techniques was speed reading. That ended up really helping me speed read through boring text books, but I started applying them to enjoyment reads too. It didn’t help that I wanted to read all the books as fast as I can, because it was a personal challenge for me to have read so many books in such a small window of time. Even after college, I was rushing through books.Tiffany’s Substack is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber.As I started learning about how colonialism and capitalism has infiltrated so f*****g much, I saw that my obsession with efficiency was harmful to myself. Who am I trying to impress by rushing through all these books? It’s not very enjoyable to speed read through books and it definitely doesn’t give any space to embody the lessons that I’m learning. So in 2013 or so I started shifting the way I would read.In 2013, I started savoring books. And of course, I also started really enjoying poetry. You can’t rush reading poetry! That would feel so silly.Over the past decade, it’s been an intention of mine to value embodying and digesting my books more than speeding through many books. For the past couple months, I’ve been slowly reading Practicing New Worlds by Andrea J Ritchie and We Do this ‘Til We Free Us by Mariam Kaba. And I mean SLOWLY. Many days it’s 2 pages per sitting. I love it! I love simmering on nuggets of wisdom.Something that has stuck with me all the years since I was a student is that I always will have a pencil in my hand as I read non fiction. I will underline and mark the book up. One of my favorite things to do after I finish a book is to do a sweep through the book from the top to the bottom revisiting every mark and underline. Sometimes that will take days! I don’t want a juicy sentence to be lost or not internalized.Almost done with my tangent, but I’m looking at my next reads and I’m so excited!! Next on the list is Let This Radicalize You by Mariame Kaba + Kelly Hayes and Saving Our Own Lives by Shira Hassan. I’m almost done with my two books - so it’s going to happen soon!Ok back to my morning routine, so after my reading, I would do some body movement. Usually I would do 7 min movement routine from the calm app.Recently in the few weeks, I’ve been waking up at 9am, which is late for me. Since it’s later, I hit the ground running. I’m making coffee and then sitting down at my laptop to do work. And then I look up, and it’s noon. I haven’t eaten - so I make myself the quickest lunch/breakfast. I do a couple more things, and then my afternoon slump hits me. So I have an iced coffee, get lost in my phone replying to 1000 signal messages and IG DM’s. I’m addressing my personal emails. I’m so tired - I close my eyes. And then it’s dinner time! The day is over and I somehow go to bed at MIDNIGHT. And that’s a day with zero outside of the home plans or social interaction. Most days, I have meetings, hangouts, direct action, community gatherings, and errands to run. On top of grieving and witnessing multiple genocides.It doesn’t feel great.Today I did the dishes finally. YAY! I was supposed to call my mom, but time got away from me. I’ve been meaning to do that for…I’m embarrassed to even say. Too long. Things feel off, but I’ve been in such worse condition in the past few months that it doesn’t feel that bad. Not feeling that bad is honestly a win for me in the past 6 months.Tomorrow! I will call my mom and do a full morning routine.One more thing - I feel like I’m doing two full time jobs while only having a very part time paying job. WHILE neglecting my own businesses. Oh well. It’s an unprecedented time, and I fully accept that everything is weird if not straight up horrifying. I’m thankful that I can almost make ends meet. (Be a paying subscriber if you would like to support me :))What does Liberatory Imagination spark in me today?Time and space to savor. To soak up. To digest. To indulge. All of those sensations indicate that I am not in survival mode. I think about all my local and global neighbors who are in literal survival mode. And I pray for liberation for Sudan, Congo, Palestine, Chicago - for us ALL. My liberatory imagination sees a reality where savoring and going slow can be enjoyed by EVERYONE. What an honor to spend the rest of my life pursuing liberation - I know my ancestors would be proud of me.(Below is a photo of my failed attempt of capturing the solar eclipse today.)Tiffany’s Substack is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber. Get full access to LIBERATORY IMAGINATION at tiffanywongart.substack.com/subscribe

I just read the chapter titled “Tending the Acre” by Shawn Taylor from the book “Practicing New Worlds” by Andrea J. Ritchie. When I started reading the chapter, I didn’t realize it was a fictional piece. The way my heart jolted when I read “The tide was too big and too powerful. Prison abolition was no longer a thought experiment of over-eager activists. It was real. It was happening. Hell, it happened.” My logical thought was like NO WAY and I felt my heart feel a “MAYBE!".”The tears that ran down my face as I read this chapter. It sparked so much hope in me…it was painful.For those who haven’t read the book yet, the chapter is a fictional piece that is about this inmate that walked out of prison when prisons were abolished, and the transition into a caring space to help freed prisoners adjust and heal. Actually, I found a dramatic reading of it - listen to it here.Tiffany’s Substack is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber.That THAT is liberatory imagination or at least a powerful way to do it. It’s the audacity to let your mind go there. To see it, to smell it, to feel it, to taste it. That takes bravery and an intact heart. I love that piece, because it reminds me to start investing in caring systems that will be in place when the empire crumbles. When the prison walls fall down. Learning how to be in community and live out transformative justice - that happens NOW.How do we reduce harm? How do we prevent harm? How do we hold each other accountable without punishment? How do we protect the most vulnerable?That’s not a far off thing we’ll get to when we finally burn down Supremacy. It is now.In reading that chapter, I felt like I was reading into the future. Especially because it was set in Oakland where I grew up. Lake Merritt is referenced, and I was at that lake every week to visit my grandparents. It made it all feel so tangible. When the imagination is stimulated like that, my being gets confused with what is made up and what is real. That’s the magic! Being able to transport to a version of reality that we are moving towards.We (my friends and I) always talk about non linear time. So in really immersing ourselves in a version of the future…it could be literally creating a stronger pathway towards it. I’m not the hugest fan of manifestation, because I think that most people do it without acknowledging oppressive systems - the popular way is a very white washed way that can be weaponized against folks of the global majority very quickly. That being said, there’s something about it that I do think that works. The focus and clarity of manifesting can be powerful, because it helps us align with that future. I also think that prayer is a version of it.Of course, how can I not pay homage to Octavia Butler? The queen of liberatory imagination. The way her books will circulate in my blood forever. There are certain works of art that changes my DNA.Growing up I wanted to be a librarian, because one of the few ways I could escape reality was through books. I was desperate to be swept away to another reality, because I felt so trapped. So the thought of having infinite portals to go through was the dream. When people say children are the most vulnerable, I always think about this aspect - there is no way to escape or hide from the adults in the home. What a terrifying thought.Talking about kids…I’ve been dreading and needing to watch Quiet on Set.Back to fiction, I believe the daily practice of creativity is KEY to building a liberated future. We need to push the boundaries of what is possible, because supremacy wants us to compromise for crumbs. Supremacy always wants us to get the watered down wins and replicate its structures with the illusion of progress. Not to diminish growth and progress on small and big scale, but that’s totally different from settling for liberation for ALL.What does Liberatory Imagination spark in me today?Fully stepping through portals and blurring the lines between “not yet” and “it’s here.” I want my body to be fully in the present and fully in the possible future. I want to fully accept that I might be seen as totally delusional or unhinged. My north star is strong right now, and I’m thankful.Tiffany’s Substack is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber. Get full access to LIBERATORY IMAGINATION at tiffanywongart.substack.com/subscribe

Let’s do a quick recap of the past month and a half. I got back from my rest “break” mid February - took two full weeks to acclimate back. Top of March, I jumped right into my “manic” state of doing EVERYTHING. I said yes to it all. It was an incredible high. This past week I felt the energy slowly drop as my pms was striking. I still was active being involved in projects and organizing, but not as intensely. Now, I’m actively bleeding and feeling as grounded as I can be especially since the pms symptoms are gone. Phew.Why did the past month feel like 10 years? I always think about how time is non linear, and recently it’s so OBVIOUS. Looking back (haha I love being nostalgic of the very near past), I’m so grateful to witness myself wobbling into the unknown. When I felt that energy, I really went for it, and when it started dropping, I slowed down. I can trust myself. I can trust myself. I can trust myself.Tiffany’s Substack is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber.In the past two days, I’ve felt pangs of grief and rage as we witnessed the siege and violence committed to the people in Al Shifa hospital. The images. The reality…that the IOF bulldosed people alive. It’s so sickening. The evilness that they are committing is maddening. And this post…about a little boy who is around 10…a journalist asked him why there was blood dripping out of his backpack, and he said his 5 year old brother Ahmed was in there…How can anyone be witnessing the same thing and not want to be determined to fight for a Free Palestine, Congo, Sudan, and our liberation???? This colonial terror is happening everywhere!!I feel these deep pangs of grief and rage. And in between them, I’ve been feeling actually ok. When I feel that, I get worried I’m losing touch with reality. Because as I’ve been writing, how can we be remotely ok right now?? The feeling isn’t guilt per se. Although, I sometimes feel that too. It’s more like - am I being numb and desensitized? I’m feeling more grounded, but that seems suspicious.How can I feel grounded while people are being flattened and murdered by being bulldozed. While children are mining minerals with their bare hands. While millions on millions of people are being displaced and starving. How can I feel grounded?My logical mind says: because you have to find stability from time to time if you want to resist. If you want to be well enough to disrupt or support the resistance through disseminating information, you have to not be in a state of stress ALL the time. Enough from my logical mind.Also, now that I’m writing it out, I wonder if it’s connected with healing from my upbringing. I used to feel that suspicion…or maybe a version of this when things were going TOO well. Weirdly well. And I would be anxious waiting for the other shoe to fall. Growing up, I would feel scared to be excited to do something or have something, because I learned that it would depend on the mood of my parent. It could be taken from me any moment. It took me a long time and so much therapy to not feel like that every time something went well. Oh the trauma of growing up in an unstable household! Fun stuff.Today I did the dishes finally, and I’m so proud of myself. My apartment is such a reflection of my state of being. It’s been hard keeping up with the maintenance of my space, because everything else has been so pressing…or I get stuck in bed with my phone. Haha maybe I’m not as grounded as I think.I hope no one reads this last part, but I felt the feeling of having a crush the other day. Having a crush is so great. I love feeling it, because it reminds me of what’s possible. Crushes are so fun and also so deliciously delusional. You can be really swept away by nothing real. Creating the possibilities of what can be from a far is pretty fun.That’s it for now. More updates about my state of mind/soul next time.What does Liberatory Imagination spark in me today?The possibility of bending time so much that it brings people back to life. Returns simple childhoods to children. Returns daydreams and crushes back to lovers. Returns growing into old age to 20 something year olds. Returns kitchens, living rooms, and rooftops to families. Returns siblings back to siblings.(Below: prompts used in my Liberatory Imagination Workshop)Tiffany’s Substack is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber. Get full access to LIBERATORY IMAGINATION at tiffanywongart.substack.com/subscribe

Under capitalism, I’ve lived most of my life out of consent with myself and certainly in relationship with other people. The conditioning of being raised as a good Christian girl who is the first born daughter of immigrants is intense. Don’t get me wrong - I was a smart mouth and subtly defiant from birth. But survival instincts run deeper. Surviving my childhood home emotionally intact (barely) was no small feat. Surviving Christian and white supremest indoctrination is one of my greatest achievements. Surviving an abusive relationship is no less than a miracle. What my experience has taught me is that I have to bend and appease people to get by. I have no shame or judgement for myself or anyone who does it out of survival.Being in those settings meant that I had to violate my self consent all the time.I was forced to say and do things that don’t align with my values or will. Over time, things get blurry. I’m still rebuilding my relationship with my body and my spirit. It’s come a long way, but I still feel the pull of breaking my commitment to myself all the time. The feeling is not wanting to do something, but thinking it would be easier to just do it. To fight is too much energy. This used to happen all the time with friends I didn’t really want to be friends with. To escape the awkwardness of rejecting them, I would agree to hangout. It’s so silly!Tiffany’s Substack is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber.So on my journey of using my time and energy for collective liberation, I’m watching my self consent and capacity. Sometimes my capacity is low, but my will power wants to push for more. Then, I have to negotiate with myself to make sure I’m totally consenting to whatever decision I make.This time around, I’m learning from my experience:I do NOTHING out of obligation. It is an HONOR to being in direct action and doing all the behind-the-scenes work. It is a f*****g honor to spend my time making videos and designing social media posts for liberation groups. It is an honor to be part of meetings, teach-ins, art builds, webinars, and workshops. AN HONOR.And that’s how I stay in consent with myself. I take a moment and reflect on my posture. My eye is on my ego. We love my ego, but it doesn’t drive me. I play my role along other people who do the same. When criticism comes up, I look at it from the lens of harm reduction and then I look in the mirror.I feel like part of not getting royally burnt out is being in close relationship with consent and capacity. Guilt and obligation (on top of surviving capitalism) can really do it. Guilt comes from the belief that I’m not doing enough and everyone is looking at me - judging why I’m not doing enough. Internalized capitalism is written ALL over that! It robs the feeling of having the privilege of pursuing liberation. Obligation has roots in thinking that the movement needs me…so then I have to do xyz. It’s over conflating the individual. It’s undermining the collective.I’ve written and talked about this so much, and will continue to do so. Art has helped me build confidence in doing what is most aligned with myself while letting go how it might be perceived on the outside. Being close to my self integrity is more important than convincing people about it. So when opinions come my way, brushing it off can come with more ease and grace. I always remember that responses from people (that aren’t in connection to actual harm) are projections of themselves and vice versa. When I feel annoyed or have a reaction, I check to see what I see in the mirror first.In a way, it’s kind of “fun” to see what skills and giftings want to come out in different seasons. As fun as things can feel when you’re talking about genocides and modern day slavery. Another thing that art has taught me that comes in handy is not to get too married to a certain medium. I float from painting, writing, music, speaking all the time. In the same way, I can see myself dancing from being more front facing some seasons through direct actions and then have roles that are more about creating infrastructure or digital support. Feels like I’m going 100% on all fronts right now…but I’m figuring it out lol.This is totally random, but last night was SO INTENSE. I don’t know what was happening in the stars. At like 3am I thought construction was happening, because it sounded like big thuds. Then, I heard someone yelling and crying. From what I was hearing, it was this person who was thrown out by their partner (they were called them “baby”). They were SO LOUD and didn’t stop for a long time. The cops ended up coming, because of course people called the cops on them. Clearly that person wasn’t a danger - just a dramatic cry baby. Thankfully it didn’t seem like the cops hurt the person, but it was scary to think the chance that they could have. It made me think about how we need community care. That was the perfect opportunity for neighbors to come in and help de-escalate the situation.In a meeting about stopping ShotSpotter technology, the team in Durham (or maybe Detroit) talked about how they have a whole team that replaces the cops being called in certain circumstances. It was so hopeful to hear about it. It’s possible!!What does Liberatory Imagination spark in me today?A world full of neighbors with an abundance of skills, resources, and capacity to support their neighbors lovingly. A world where gender-based domestic violence is unthinkable. A world where state sanctioned violence is a long lost nightmare.Tiffany’s Substack is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber. Get full access to LIBERATORY IMAGINATION at tiffanywongart.substack.com/subscribe

I just attended this webinar featuring Mariame Kaba and Kelly Hayes, and I’m still buzzing from feeling so heart full from it. It was exactly what I needed tonight.So many juicy things that came up! But first, I want to report about coming down from my 2-3 weeks of non stop direct actions, meetings, and high energy activity. The PMS has set in, the depression is creeping up, the body exhaustion is here. As I promised, I am flowing with it! I’m so proud of myself. I canceled multiple things. Today! I woke up late, stayed up for a few hours and napped very hard for awhile. I could feel that if I didn’t do that, I would get sick. After doing some work, I made myself a delicious and nutritious meal! In this exactly moment, I feel steady. Not taking it for granted.Tiffany’s Substack is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber.Both Mariame and Kelly spoke so beautifully and honestly about hope. Mariame talked about this Islamic teaching that says, “If the Resurrection were established upon one of you while he has in his hand a sapling, then let him plant it.” Even in the end of days, which feels like is here, hope for what is possible can drive us to plant that tree like it could have a future. That’s the hope that is rooted in the discipline that things can be different. Kelly talked about how hope can be scary. It’s so much easier to be pessimistic and not ever be surprised as things become shittier. The work is growing the capacity for the unknown.Someone asked Mariame to expand on what she said about fatalism being dishonest. She replied by saying that fatalism is dishonest, because it assumes that you know the future. Mixed in with pessimism - it’s the arrogance of thinking YOU know how things will inevitably turn out. She said it’s self indulgent and absolves that person from being part of the change for good. Feeling despair is natural, but that feeling can coexist with the action of hope.As I’m digesting the webinar, which I cannot wait to watch again, I can feel how my general capacity for the unknown has expanded a millimeter. I feel a little more confident that the small and more drastic things that I do count. I can feel how my capacity to be around humans and working along side HUMANS is just a little bigger. The difference this round is that I’m in more consent with what I’m signing up for every day. Not romanticizing people. Not conflating certain acts of activism as superior. Not expecting people to act in accordance of MY standards. I hold myself accountable, and I observe people with the grace that is earned.All I know is that it is an honor to apply myself for liberation. I have and will always give my life to it, and the simple question is: What does that look like today?I feel excited to continue to witness the slow growth of my capacity and confidence. Just a week or so ago, I wrote about how shaky my confidence about my role in liberation was. Things are always changing. I’m sure my capacity and confidence will inevitably ebb and flow, but over all - I know it will expand. I come back to to this over and over and over again. My efforts for a Free Palestine is connected to Sudan. My efforts for a Free Congo is connected to Haiti. My efforts in Chicago is connected to Hawaii. My efforts for a stranger turned friend is connected to me. It is all connected whether I can trace it or not. My faith is growing for what I cannot see.Something else Mariame said that struck me was that this journey is like a marathon AND a relay race. Sometimes we have to pull back and take care of ourselves. When we do, we pass on the baton. So making abolition and collective liberation irresistible is so important! We need people to cross over and join us. Right now is an invitation when genocides are in our faces every day. Being part of the revolution needs to have a low entry level. Anybody can be part of it. This convicts me to not fall for a supremest and elitist way of being a performative leftist. How can I make liberation more irresistible for a neighbor? I don’t really know, because from my experience - people who have deeply engrained harmful beliefs find me insufferable haha. I’ll keep you posted on that.I’m preparing for my Liberatory Imagination Workshop coming up this saturday (if you’re in the area, please join me). When I was in the shower today, I was filled with such gratitude. While the workshop is happening, a protest at the Logan Square Theatre is happening (if you’re in the area, you should go.) Even though I wish I could be at that protest, I’m so happy that there’s space to take care of ourselves and demand for justice with our bodies + voices.What does Liberatory Imagination spark in me today?Imagining a world that is actually possible. Working towards a world that is actually attainable. Staying focused on that world whether I may see it in my lifetime or not. That world is so beautiful that it deeply deeply scares me, and my courage to approach it is growing.Tiffany’s Substack is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber. Get full access to LIBERATORY IMAGINATION at tiffanywongart.substack.com/subscribe

This will not be the post to educate about model minority myth. Note to self: this space isn’t to educate anyone. It is to explore liberatory imagination and flow with my stream of consciousness about liberation and art. Ok now that that’s out of the way.The foundation of model minority myth is creating division between asian and Black communities by furthering anti-Blackness in the asian community. It tries to convince asians that we can reach the level of white privilege if we try hard enough, and then when a few select asians reach economic and social “success” - the white people can say, “See? Black people don’t work hard enough. They are lazy and violent, and we need to put them in their place.” In that, white supremacy instills this fear in the asian community of being treated like Black folks as well as fear of Black folks through perpetuating racist stereotypes.Tiffany’s Substack is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber.I know that I said I wouldn’t educate, but I got into the flow haha!To add more nuance, asians have non-black privilege. In the fucked up myth, there is a strand of truth like how all manipulative strategies have. Asians, especially of lighter skin tones, have closer proximity to white privilege. But do NOT get it twisted. It’s closer, but will never ever be attainable. An example (reading this back - it’s not really an example…but I’m going to flow with it) is in 2020 when people thought that China was the one to spread COVID, and the anti asian violence skyrocketed. Also, I’m learning about the anti China propaganda that the U.S. invests in every year (I think it’s 500 million a year.) Now with the whole tiktok band…we always need to be critical about the decision that the U.S. makes. The empire does not ever make a decision that is not aligned with its value, which is to exploit Black and brown people and further its empire by any means necessary.So like all communities, the anti-blackness is present in the asian community and then you slap on model minority myth - the silence for Congolese and Sudanese lives is familiar. For the most part, the silence is also applied to Palestine, which is also rooted in anti-blackness. We can’t forget the afro Palestinians and also Palestinians who are darker in skin tone. It’s all anti-blackness.Something else I’ve seen is that some asians are really quick to point out anti-asian sentiments from Black and other brown communities WITHOUT confronting their own anti-blackness. We are not all on the same playing field. And it’s also disrespectful to afro-asians!Literally I had an asian friend question why I cared so much for all the violent things that are happening, because there has always been wars and suffering around the world. Part of that is the conditioning of seeing Black and brown bodies (including our own people) as subhuman.The witnessing of suffering then becomes very distant and irrelevant. It doesn’t read as suffering at all - just another sensational social media post and leftists being dramatic again.The horrifying part is that I can identify so much of that in myself. So many moments, I’ve rushed through posts about Congo and Sudan, because of that anti-black conditioning that runs so deep. It takes everything in me to slow down enough to catch it. When I’m on tiktok, I have witnessed myself swipe past Black creators quicker than non-black ones. To go against it has been a daily practice of mine for many years, and it still has deep roots.I used to be scared to be accused of anti-blackness. In healing my perfectionism (which is rooted in white supremacy) the shift is from not f*****g up to keeping myself accountable to reducing harm. The anti-blackness is there, and I’m working on healing and reconditioning from it. In the meantime, I hold myself accountable to doing all that I can to not harm Black folks and POC who have deeper skin tones. This will be a lifelong effort.I keep on wanting to make a video for social media about this, but I’ve been having a hard time making them recently. Partially, I think it’s daunting when I don’t do it daily. Also, the moment I think about having 20,000 eyes on me…it feels alittle scary. Trying not to get in my head about it!Please follow Friends of the Congo on IG and donate to their spring campaign.What does Liberatory Imagination spark in me today?The day when everyone I know in the asian community confidently speaking up and out for Congo, Sudan, Palestine, and global neighbors with the deep knowing that our liberation is intricately connected.Tiffany’s Substack is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber. Get full access to LIBERATORY IMAGINATION at tiffanywongart.substack.com/subscribe

Officially mid 30’s. My favorite thing is to describe multiple things that happen at the same time. So two things: 1. I feel this deep grief about life in this timeline and 2. I’m so thankful to be this free in my mind in this timeline.I escaped the cult of fundamental Christianity. I escaped the claws of cis heteronormativity. I escaped being in relationship with a man who will exploit me without any limits. I escaped the trance of capitalism. I escaped the illusion of stability or security under this white supremest empire.Tiffany’s Substack is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber.Maybe more accurately, instead of “I escaped,” it should be “I am escaping.” All the effects still exist in differing degrees in me. Every day I have to heal and go against the grain of society. The way I police myself - my god. It’s not just adopting the idea of abolition, it’s the practice of it that is challenging…and deeply rewarding.Yesterday I stumbled on a tiktok series about the indoctrination of AWANA. If you know, you know! It’s this children’s club that different churches can adopt where they drill Scriptures and promote Christian nationalism. The way my memories flooded back! It’s honestly sickening. It reminds me of watching Israelism and learning how Zionists had all these programs to indoctrinate kids from birth. Same thing. But I’ve somehow escaped it, while most of the people I know from home are still in that world. So thankful - I could cry. I feel this hint of survivor’s guilt…why me?Another thing I’m so grateful for is that I’m not married to a mediocre man (at best and abusive at worst) with kids. Why me? How did I get so lucky? The way that I’m not using my time and energy on a man that couldn’t come close to the emotional/social/mental intelligence I have is truly a gift from my ancestors. They know what they’ve gone through, and it will not be passed down on me.Being almost 35 is so wild. I’m about 5 years from my freaking 20’s and 5 years from my 40’s. What?! I don’t know why that feels insane.In so many ways, I’ve healed and escaped these traps of oppression. And also there’s this feeling where I’m also behind? I have no desire right now to build a “successful” business or to make money. You know, my shop More Liberation? Done nothing to promote it or even update it. Thankful for the orders that still trickle through, but I literally could care less about it thriving. Literally, I’m witnessing multiple genocides and people are in my DM’s saying they are worried for their kids because they might need to sleep in the streets. I’ve given away so much money that I’ve almost drained everything that I have, and I’m 100% happy about it.Who cares?! Except for the few things that matter.The grief of it all makes me simultaneously want to rage and go to sleep forever. The only thing that makes me feel ok is to be around people who feel the same and when I’m using my body and voice for liberation.There’s this mindset in Christianity where everything you do either brings you closer to God or farther. And so you always want to look at decision from that lens. That’s the idea behind those “What Would Jesus Do?” bracelets. See below.In a way, I’m applying that same mindset. I want everything that I do to be towards our liberation. Every conversation, every relationship, every nap, every time I leave my home. Of course, it’s impossible and I’m human. But I desperately need to not feel gaslit about our reality and I need to feel that I’m using this precious life for the benefit of the collective - and therefore me!As I’m coming down from my mania, I’m feeling really tender about my cycle. I’ve spent so much of my life fighting with it. Even last time, I was so frustrated that my period was very “late.” This round, I want to lean into where my body wants to go. The pms symptoms can help my tears flow and deepen my relationship with grief. My body being more tired can help me slow down and reflect.The start of the week is a bit daunting for me right now. I have no idea where it will bring me. Releasing control.What does Liberatory Imagination spark in me today?A near future where we will see a free Palestine. Spaciousness to take our time to grieve the insurmountable loss in Palestine, Congo, Sudan, and other places in the Global South. Grieving the violence and massacres that happened at Al Shifa Hospital. I dream of a time where hospitals are a place of true care - and not a target or space for state sanctioned violence.(below is a photo of a protest sticker “Asian Americans for Palestine” by moonymade)All my “best” work is free (inspired by Ismatu Gwendolyn) here on substack. For those who want to support me personally in my journey of figuring out this messy life towards liberation, I invite you to become a paid subscriber by upgrading your subscription below. You won’t get special deliverables, but it will help grow us into a loving space where not everything has to be transactional. Tiffany’s Substack is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber. Get full access to LIBERATORY IMAGINATION at tiffanywongart.substack.com/subscribe

I’ve been on an energy high in the past two weeks, and it has peaked. It’s coming down! I’ve sent 3 too many texts in the recent days that says “I’m drowning.” I’m realizing how dramatic I sound, and I promise it’s actually not that dire. It mostly feels like the energy of feeling so driven and focused has taken a turn into a long list of things to do mixed with anxiety. So many texts I haven’t responded to. I’m on top of the most important things, and then everything else is 100 slots down.In theme of learning how to flow this year, I’m reflecting on how I want to change things up this round. I want to be more grateful. This timeline is indeed horrifying AND I have the privilege and honor of so many things. Of being in this body. Of having community. Of fighting for liberation with like-minded people. Of having access to incredible wisdom.Tiffany’s Substack is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber.Today I cried twice. Definitely a sign that things are taking for a turn, and I don’t mean it in a bad way. When I’m in the state of high energy, the softness and sadness is alittle hard to tap into. The prominent feelings are conviction, steadfastness, and purpose…mixed with excitement and anger. So when I cried it was an indication of a shift. I cried thinking about Reem - who’s grandfather said that “she is the soul of my soul.” It’s been about three months since she was murdered, and I will never be the same. I was thinking about Hind - another martyred little girl who was calling from a car next to her murdered family. I saw this video from Motaz on IG of the IOF targeting people and blowing them up into bits. No words. Just tears.Grief. My friend, who will be beside me to my last breath.Coming to terms and grieving the present is so painful. I’m learning a lot from Friends of the Congo. Every week the reality of what has happened, what is happening, and who benefits makes me want to implode and explode. The only thing that is helpful is talking to people who feel exactly the same - and are proactive in how they spend their energy.Every day I try to come to terms that it’s ok that I’m not feeling “normal,” because nothing is normal. There’s no need to gaslight myself to living a “normal” life. Honestly, planning the future feels very gaslight-y to me right now. And I’m giving myself permission to let it be.Talking about permission, I’m also wanting to extend more space for my substacks to follow my stream of consciousness. So expect more sudden left turns! Here’s one!I’ve been having conversations with people about October of 2023 and what changed for them that month. Over and over again, there were many life changing shifts that happened. We all know what happened on October 7th. For me, I also got news of life altering facts about my ex that completely rewrote my past. I just talked to someone who lost a parent that same week.Simultaneously, it’s comforting and unsettling how interconnected we all are. It’s comforting, because we are never alone in our experiences. It’s unsettling, because you never know where it’s going to hit you.In my intention of wanting to dance and flow more this year, I’m learning that the cost of that is being more unhinged. That makes me uncomfy! As you know, I’m a virgo rising with two stelliums in Virgo and Cap!! Control is what I do well! Honestly, I don’t mind being seen as unhinged, but feeling the lack of control is where it feels scary. Writing this out, I’m realizing that the trust that I have in myself has bounds. I guess this is the season where I grow my capacity for practicing my unconditional self love. Omg it’s all so overwhelming haha!Here’s another left turn! It is VERY weird to be dating during this time. And yet, there is desire for it. The good thing is that alignment is very obvious during this time. The bad thing is that if you’re attuned to the world, you’re not ok. You give and you take!What does Liberatory Imagination spark in me today?The acceptance of human chaos. In the chaos and unhinged energy, there is rootedness and purpose. And my purpose isn’t to convince anyone that, but to hold true to my integrity. My liberatory imagination stretches the bounds of alignment + chaos.All my “best” work is free (inspired by Ismatu Gwendolyn) here on substack. For those who want to support me personally in my journey of figuring out this messy life towards liberation, I invite you to become a paid subscriber by upgrading your subscription below. You won’t get special deliverables, but it will help grow us into a loving space where not everything has to be transactional. Tiffany’s Substack is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber. Get full access to LIBERATORY IMAGINATION at tiffanywongart.substack.com/subscribe