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A durational hug doesn't conform to algorithms or other rational calculations for determining value and predicting outcomes. According to the capitalist model, a two-hour hug just ain't profitable. There isn't a clear pathway to a promotion, increased revenue or greater profit margins by hugging it out. Something to consider if that's the treadmill you're on.


But, let's say we consider for a moment, that our usual terms of engagement become unhinged. Our movements and words no longer follow the rhythm of static numbers and demagogues. Instead, we construct our own terms of engagement. Radical care, presence, community, pleasure, rest, and imagination are the rungs of the ladder that we assiduously climb each day, each moment, at every intersection, encounter and terminal. And thus our ladder extends in seditious, non-linear directions. As we place our weight assertively on each step, we obliterate past symbols of domination and oppression, and move closer towards more dynamic and liberatory futures. White patriarchy becomes the broken pebbles on which our calloused feet stand. On top of which we erect new symbols of power.


And that's how change happens. With a hug.


And a new story.


One day, three brown women dressed in a sea of red, with delicious black hair and golden hands, climbed atop a 12 by 6 foot platform, and stood for two hours in loving embrace. Supporters, tourists, locals, accomplices, even police, paused and engaged. Bits of old memories crumbled upon the arrival of new ideas. And more hugs. And offers to care for cold bodies and tired feet. And enlivened hearts, desiring, scheming, burning, hoping, weaving, sharing, and touching.





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