We say No more smooth space for the settler colonial feint-of-heart. No more whore-i-zonal capitalist imaginaries hostile to life. Our post-border propositions are out of touch with your reality. Softening. Destructuration. It all sounds different in Bambara. Borders, migratory routes, encampments, what are these? Hospitable to capitalist flow. The weight of the sea. The lightness of wind. You left them to die in the middle of the Mediterranean. We say No more soothing lies about human rights. Remember what Senghor said about racists. They are angry about the wrong thing. Our post-border propositions are out of your control. Softening. Destructuration. Just be done with it. Be undone. Remember what Alexis said about the undrowned’s breathing. It created a context. Just because you left them to die does not make you/ Blameless. And what if they stayed under the radar, out of the database, forever? Remember what Fred said about the little edges. We don’t mind the gap. It all sounds different in Soninke. It all sounds different in Wolof. The dryness of a desert. The wetness of a river. They walked across. Remember that Shona saying about the horns of an owl. We fear them, whereas they are feathers.[1
[1] Text credits: Achak, Yacouba Camara, Jill H. Casid, Alexis Pauline Gumbs, Fred Moten, Léopold Sédar Senghor, Leanne Betasamosake Simpson, Saul Williams.