They Can't Kill Us Until They Kill Us

San Francisco Times, 1941 (Public Domain)

[Parts of this post were originally published on January 23, 2025]

Hanif Abdurraqib is one of the artist/writers/creators that I’d have at my fantasy dinner party. I admire the way he sees the world and the connections he draws from seemingly disparate topics and the way he puts his thoughts out into the world. Plus, I would imagine that he could have a fascinating conversation with just about anyone — the perfect person to have at a dinner party where you can invite literally anyone. James Baldwin & Margaret Mead, David Bowie, Kate Beaton, Aaliyah.

I’ve been reading one of Hanif’s books of essays, They Can’t Kill Us Until They Kill Us, which juxtaposes his personal experiences with social issues against his thoughts on music and culture. I couldn’t possibly pick a favorite of the essays contained within the book — they all have their own flavor and they just hit differently on different days. Today, the one that resonates in my belly is “Tell ‘Em All to Come and Get Me,” an essay about Kendrick Lamar (and so much more). I quoted him on Bluesky recently:

We left the U.S. earlier this year, as the threats of those in power quickly became actions. Those actions became the "unyielding door" that closed on us. Trans people were thrown under the bus by every faction, enemies and supposed allies alike. Enemies painted trans people as dangerous; "allies" saw them as an easy sacrifice. Without protection, stripped of fundamental rights, it became too dangerous to stay. Too dangerous for us to wait and hope that the tide would turn. Its momentum was too great for us to hope that it would halt, let alone recede, and reinstate the rights that were lost.

Even so, there are so many people we love there. People who are kind and generous. Funny and empathetic. People who, to us, are like water in the desert, quenching the fundamental human need for friendship. Abdurraqib knows that the unyielding door doesn't bar us from hope. Despite the constant stream of reminders that politicians don't want trans people to exist, the community of people who love us give us reason to hope.

"It makes existence itself a celebration.”