‘A revolution cannot be one thing for one group of people. It’s got to be woven together with many strands’.
by Margaret Killjoy at BirdsBeforetheStorm / Substack 11 comments on 23rd Feb 2025 via thefreeonline at https://wp.me/pIJl9-G82 Telegram https://t.me/thefreeonline/2364

When I was nineteen, I spent awhile squatting in the suburbs of Baltimore, in a town called Towson (now famous as the birthplace of Luigi). This isn’t where I’m from… I had met some crustpunks in philly and started traveling with them.
We wound up in Towson, living in abandoned buildings or crawl spaces or bushes. We organized against war and we dumpstered and we shoplifted and we got run off by the cops several times a day.

You Do Not Flee a Storm- . or: morale as a terrain of struggle
There’s this moment I remember clearly, despite the large quantity of malt liquor I’d likely consumed: I remember being in a basement in Baltimore itself, probably one of the Food Not Bombs houses, while punk bands played.
Everyone was wearing all black with white-ink patches on their clothes, sewn together with dental floss. Floor joists were perilously perched above our heads. We did ourselves some permanent hearing damage in that basement.
The punk band had two singers, both women. It was called 2AM Revolution. During the chorus, everyone sang along as the singer screamed about how if she saw a Nazi she would “break my fucking 40 on his motherfucking face!”
And just like that, in that basement screaming along, I understood punk.
Because the thing is, those of us in that basement meant what we said about revolution. Our venues were collective houses that doubled as mutual aid kitchens. The singers of the band marched alongside us at antiwar and alterglobalization protests.

When a bus load of Nazis passed through town, the local punks working with Anti-Racist Action partnered with local gangs to ambush the fascists, smashing out the bus windows, pepperspraying inside, and jumping every nazi as they emerged.
Then everyone disappeared back through the alleys into the Maryland night.
A car full of antifascists showed up late and were carted off to jail, and the punk scene raised the money for their criminal defense. We meant what we said in our lyrics.
But one band and their fans isn’t a movement.
Continue reading “Punk Rock and Revolution- A Message to Persons Unknown – Margaret Killjoy”













