When a Democrat asks about my politics, I tell them I’m a Libertarian Socialist. It sounds just palatable enough to pass through their MSNBC filter. You get the “socialist” part—Bernie vibes, maybe some Chomsky seasoning—and “libertarian” makes it sound like I still believe in rights or property or some other adult word they can handle.
But when a Republican asks? I’m an Anarcho-Communist.
No soft edges. No training wheels. I want them to picture Molotovs, mutual aid, and the local Starbucks being reclaimed as a community kitchen. I want them to flinch like they just heard “abolish landlords” whispered behind their 401(k).
The thing is, it’s all the same to me. Libertarian socialism, anarcho-communism—both oppose capitalism, hierarchy, and the state. The labels are just different levels of shock therapy depending on who’s in front of me.
I’m not here to fit into anyone’s Overton window. I’m here to kick the damn thing open.
Democrats still think change comes from voting a little harder. Republicans think billionaires are their friends. I don’t have the patience to explain mutual aid to someone clutching a Pelosi bobblehead, or the difference between anarchism and chaos to a guy with a Punisher sticker on his pickup.
So I adjust the mask, not to deceive, but to translate. Because if you say “anarcho-communism” to a liberal, they hear “chaotic Stalinist death cult.” And if you say “libertarian socialist” to a conservative, they hear “soy boy who hates America.
I just believe no one should rule and no one should starve.
I want a world built on cooperation, not coercion. A world where communities thrive without CEOs, landlords, or billionaires buying bunkers while the world burns.
If that sounds extreme, maybe the problem isn’t the label. Maybe the problem is the system that makes those ideas sound extreme in the first place.
Sisyphus Shrugged 