not our revolution

Context:

The writer and political activist Emma Goldman wrote in her autobiography „living my life“ (1931:56):

„At the dances I was one of the most untiring and gayest. One evening a young boy took me aside. With a grave face […] he whispered to me that it did not behoove an agitator to dance. […] My frivolity would only hurt the Cause.
I grew furious at the impudent interference of the boy. I told him to mind his own business. I was tired of having the Cause constantly thrown into my face. I did not believe that a Cause which stood for a beautiful ideal, for anarchism, for release and freedom from convention and prejudice, should demand the denial of life and joy. I insisted that our Cause could not expect me to become a nun and that the movement would not be turned into a cloister. If it meant that, I did not want it.„

Nearly a thousand years later, many of the issues she addressed are still relevant. Equally relevant is the continuing risk for socioecological movements to reproduce the very same one-dimensional dogmatic attitude in subjugation of their pursued goals. In the quote, Goldman takes a stand against this rigid, obdurate way of fighting for her cause: not her revolution without life, joy and dance.

The following poem takes this stance frivolously seriously by sketching out a dancing revolution.

---

i dip my toes into the world.
body connects.
i tune in.

the rhythm of the world makes me spin.
roller coaster.
head over heels.
acceleration meets sensational beats.
body tries to disconnect.
she feels too much.

i lift my chin.
focus.
spine upright.
chest up.
head in line with my hip.
with a stern look on my face
i dip again,
trying to meet the world at their pace.
shivers running through my body.
sweat pearls on my skin.
don’t watch me,
don’t rush me.
i fall.
out of touch.
stop.

my need to slow down
creates a syncopated beat.
and i love it.

i start stretching the moment
to the tips of my fingers.
i stretch and stretch it
until i feel a sigh of relief -
and a smile in the corner of my lips that lingers.

doing, acting,
pause.
being, making,
stop again.

no world,
i won’t follow your lead
if that is the direction that you choose.

a deep breath.
balance.
grounded feet.
footloose
i twist
and resist your sugar pull
of scandals and fears,
entitlement and crocodile tears.

i lean back
until i feel this sweet moment of tension
in our joint contact point.
open position.
centrifugal forces.
careful elasticity.
impulse for action
to change our reality.
we pivot until we find our feet again.

hearts beat slow,
steady.
our rhythmic orientation.
silent voices guiding us with their melody.

no, world,
we don’t follow this pace.

core engaged.
not chance,
but conscious choices
to make this planet a kinder place.
firm and toned
in our bodies and boundaries,
we quit the race
with a smirk on our face.

if we cannot dance,
it’s not our revolution.

© cynje

Photo materials for the illustration from Alex Addison at the Utrecht Playground Festival 2026 and from Into the Body Brussels at the Summer Comfusion Festival 2026