There are so many ways I can answer that question, but I have to start somewhere.
Being self exiled because of political prosecution in my own country, radicalized me.
Watching meritocracy being decimated worldwide in favor of glorified mediocrity, radicalized me.
Realizing that men invading women’s spaces was not a cruel joke but a reality, radicalized me.
Children’s lives being destroyed by monsters absolved by two-tiered injustice systems, radicalized me.
Governments from both sides of the political spectrum disrupting and dissolving their countries’ cultures with indiscriminate, unfiltered immigration that never cared to integrate into their hosting society, radicalized me.
The ability of the ignorant, of the resentful, of the bitter to cancel people’s rights to express their opinion just by outnumbering them, radicalized me.
Witnessing societies like the UK, Germany, Sweden, Canada and even the US just to name a few, crumble under the weaponization of mass victimhood and guilt, radicalized me.
Fear of regret, of staying on the sidelines and reminiscing of my cowardice on my deathbed, radicalized me.
That’s why I must apologize. Not because I’m expressing myself openly now, swearing and all, but because I didn’t do it sooner. Apologize because I thought I could just look the other way. Pretend that none of these matters affected me. Continue doing what I was doing. Make another video. Write another feel-good post.
I could have just done that.
But it so happens that one of my favorite activities is thinking. Thinking about… thinking itself. Thinking about how reasoning can set you free. More sooner than later, reality hit me: thinking is also dangerous. Dangerous to the status quo.
Dangerous to the machine who keeps children numb with sugar and screens, securing that future generations spend their lives oscillating between anxiety and depression. Dangerous to the powers who want people divided in any way possible. Dangerous to their much desired population in perpetual survival mode, easy to control.
Thinking is dangerous because it threatens to break the mass illusion. So you’re labelled a bigot, a conspiracy theorist, a racist, a sexist, and then some. You are not allowed to point the flaws of certain people and systems. And it’s mostly ok as long as you’re a nobody online. But past certain threshold? You start to attract the wrong kind of attention.
And you know what’s the saddest part? That the first batch of the wrong kind of attention never comes from the world’s elites, the Illuminati, or something like that. Nope. The first wave of judgment comes from friends. Neighbors. Family. I tried to reason with them. I crafted the best arguments I could. God knows I did my best.
Still, one by one, the majority turned on me. One by one, they left. I didn’t say goodbye and don’t miss them either. I just feel a strange phantom pain by proxy, generated by their stubborn adherence to their own ignorance. I was not right about everything, of course. But in those things I was, their pride of not accepting they were wrong just seemed to fuel even more resentment. Mark Twain was right, after all.
I became the ultimate radical when family, friends, neighbors, schools, universities, governments and every other anon on the internet tried to tell me what to think.
I said, that’s enough.
I also realized that there are millions out there who think exactly like me. Scattered, all over the world. Ostracized in all dimensions of society as well.
If there was one of my skills that I had the duty to make good use of, it was my ability to send a massive signal. Like one of the beacons of Gondor. A pulse, a frequency of unity.
Having no options left radicalized me. But then I realized that I always was a radical. I was just too afraid to face the insanity of the world. I kept my head down. I complied. I committed the sin of smiling and waving. But cowardice can only get you so far.
You’ll just get eaten last.
I would be lying if I told you I know what to do next. To quote Major William Cage, “I don’t know. We’ve never gotten this far”. But precisely, there is no turning back. Nostalgia for a naive past that no longer exists has to be painfully crushed, excised from the psyche. The ships must be not only burned, but removed from our memory. There is only forward, onwards into the thick, uncertain horizon.
If you don’t feel like this, no hard feelings. It just means that our connection was impersonal and superficial at best – nothing of value will be lost.
But if you feel reflected in these words, if your being reverberates with these ideas, if you arrived at the same radical spot through your very own path, you’re not alone. You’re in good company. We ARE in good company.
We’ll ride at dawn.
Much Love and Bliss,
Jesús.
The Body Language Guy
