The year of the wombat. "Communism is for moms or it’s nothing."

"By now, if we are to speak of utopia at all, let it move toward this way that is not a way. And if we are to give up on utopia, let it be because a better word for our desires is revolution."

There is a lot to learn from other species. We often talk about the brutality of wild life, about the hierarchical way in which everything works, about the lions eating the gazelle. We speak less about cooperation and compassion and solidarity. But the reality is this, without these qualities we will collapse and everything around us will collapse with us. Let‘s learn from wombats: << I read about wombats inviting not just other animals into their burrows, but also predators. I read about wombats even herding animals in need of refuge. I read about wombats as figures of leadership, but not quite.>>

>"Communism is for moms or it’s nothing."

it’s nothing. 2020 began just how so many of us thought it would: in flames. By January the bushfires that had grown for six months in Australia felt unstoppable. The scorched Amazon rainforest seemed like old news, as did the very notion of an Arctic fire. By the end of 2019, there were something like 7,860 recorded fires in California, where I live and where I have somehow grown used to the sight of my eight-year-old wearing a respirator mask. Most of the child-sized respirator masks have a fun design of some sort, and the mask they chose has a rainbow on it. These days, it hangs on a hook in their bedroom, along with some hats, hoodies, and a backpack. I say I’ve grown used to the sight, but in the way that pain can gather and settle without ever leaving.