Saturday, May 03, 2025

Authoritarianism depends on obedience. On predictability. On fear. It’s a performance of control, puffed-up and insecure. All bluster, no soul.

In Nazi munitions factories, enslaved workers—risked death to “short the powder.” They would subtly weaken the explosives, sabotage bullets, or alter chemical compounds just enough so the munitions failed at critical moments on the battlefield. It was invisible resistance. Quiet. Subversive. Brave.

Today, we face a different kind of fascism. It is rooted in the same white grievance and Christian nationalism. Sickeningly, it wears a US flag pin and talks about “freedom” while banning books, criminalizing dissent, shitting on due process, and eroding the foundations of democracy in broad daylight. It has spread like a virus—through media echo chambers, weaponized religion, and performative cruelty.

So what do we do? March? Vote? Scream? Yes—and. We short the powder.

Each in our own ways, we undermine their machinery not with grand gestures but with persistent, deliberate acts of defiance:

• A teacher who refuses to erase queer authors from their syllabus.

• A pastor who preaches prays for justice in the capital rotunda.

• A small business owner who hires the immigrant, the ex-felon, the trans kid.

• A CEO who won’t donate to political action committees that fund hate.

• A parent who teaches their kids to question, to empathize, to think critically.

This is the resistance they can’t see coming. Because it looks like daily life.

Shorting the powder means refusing to play by their script. It means using your role—your workplace, your art, your money, your relationships—to interrupt their momentum. Not with slogans, but with strategy. With imagination. With subversive joy.

Teach the banned book. Platform the unheard voice. Fund the thing they fear. Mock the sacred cow. Write the joke they don’t want told.

Authoritarianism depends on obedience. On predictability. On fear. It’s a performance of control, puffed-up and insecure. All bluster, no soul.

So what happens when the gun fires a dud?

What happens when the strongman’s threat lands with a thud—because the people he tried to scare, shame, or silence just… don’t play along?

That’s the real power move: exposing the bluff. Making the performance limp. No powder in the bullet. No fuel for the fantasy. Just an empty show of dominance with nothing behind it.

That’s what creative resistance does. It doesn’t just protest—it emasculates the illusion. Not with violence, but with intelligence. With humor. With refusal.

Because if their whole identity is built on control, then the most subversive thing you can do is show they don’t have it.

Make them look ridiculous. Make them irrelevant. Make their threats land like blanks.

No powder in the bullet. No fear in your heart.

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