They told us the revolution wouldn’t be televised,
But they forgot to mention it might be live-streamed.
Might be a screenshot, reposted, tagged.
Buried beneath brunch photos,
Then resurrected by a hashtag.
Truth is, sometimes the front line has a comments section.
We used to pass flyers.
Now, we pass tweets.
Used to march down avenues,
Now we march through algorithms,
Dodging shadowbans like tear gas.
Do not call this Slacktivism.
There’s a difference between
Performing and platforming.
Between the click
And the consequence.
Because somewhere,
Someone is holding a phone to the sky
Like a torch. Like it’s the last thing
They have to prove they exist.
To prove that what happened
Did happen.
You can ignore a scream in the street,
But not a video with 5 million views.
You can silence a person,
But not a movement made of code…
When it goes viral.
This isn’t the solution, but it is a tool.
And tools build things. Or they tear them down.
So when I post, when I speak into this void
Which is disguised as a feed,
I’m not just chasing likes,
I’m looking for you.
The you who might see your struggle reflected
And someone else else’s bruise.
For you, who has forgotten that solidarity
Starts with listening.
We don’t log in to escape the world,
We log in to confront it.
And sometimes, all it takes
Is one story, told with enough clarity
To cut through the noise.
That’s not a miracle, that’s strategy.
That’s resistance,
With a Wi-Fi connection.
(c)BobChristian
The Ramblings of Bob Christian 