Anonymously submitted to It’s Going Down
When strangers grasp for commonality in the misery of late capitalism, it is customary to talk about the weather. This unseasonably warm winter has given us something to talk about; an early thaw, a return to the streets. The question is whether it will linger or be exterminated by a merciless tundra. In Chicago an annoying joke reappears, “if you don’t like the weather, just wait five minutes.” Already, the terrain shifts beneath us with rumors of a new repressive moment; ICE raids and the deployment of federal forces. We are in a precarious micro-climate, enjoying the relative popularity of a diversity of tactics, achieved through courageous acts. But just as doors open, doors also close. As we straddle this crossroads, the liminal space between winter and spring, it is important to maintain a sense of urgency. It is necessary to stoke the energies sheltered within the radiant core of this city’s dormant instinctual intelligence, to feed the fires that will bring about the coming spring. In other words, we are tired of waiting.
We must weaponize every fiber of our being against the guardians of the current order of misery and death. Even as we appreciate and make space for positive projects we must also engage in insolent destruction, because to strike is both a means and an end. Attack helps us to practice, refine & build affinity. When we lash out against our enemies, we define the appropriate targets of our violence. When we out-pace the police and carry out our secret plans, we call on the anti-colonial legacy of our ancestors to realize a collective gasp for air, because to conspire means to breathe together. This is why on February 12th we smashed out every window of the Chicago Police Sergeants Association in the McKinley Park neighborhood and spray-painted “Fuck 12” on its facades.
Admittedly, this is only a small gesture of retaliation against the serial killers who murdered Rekia, sacrificed Roshad, mutilated Laquan, hung Sandra & recently executed Chad Robertson & Michele Robey. We chose the Sergeants Association because we abhor its mission of, “maintaining the best possible working conditions” for members of the death squads despite agreeing with their call for an, “equitable treatment of all Chicago Police Sergeants.” Indeed, all cops are members of an occupying force that we must eviscerate. Make no mistake, we did this not because we believe the police are not workers but precisely because they are the figures on which all contemporary work is modeled; the embodiment of a surveillance that injects fear and disciplines labor, a career promising a peaceful retirement so long as one transforms oneself into an instrument of genocide. We can not cohabit with such a vision, because we have not forgotten our own capacity for divination. We see our agency reflected in every shard of glass from their broken windows, our power growing with every swing. We call on all of our comrades across Chicago and beyond to do the same. The kick off, February 12, the finish line, March 12th.
This is a red-rover of sorts, an invitation to play with us. There is more to our power than the potential of a lurking animal hiding its intentions amidst the anonymity of the crowd. There is nothing new under the winter sun. The night, the moon, and the glow of a streetlight can also nourish the pack. Just as it is not enough to wait until the day one clashes with the fascists to learn how to throw a punch, it is equally foolhardy to begin attacking once one has already been pinned down. There is much to do to sustain and care for a fire, to bring about a black spring.
Until the total end of their watch,
The Ephemeral Conspiracy of the Burning Prairie
