Field Notes for Cracking An Empire

How to stay alive when the fight arrives at your door.

If you’ve been reading my work for the last few years, none of this should be surprising. The old narratives are gone. This is what fascism looks like in real time. First, ICE agents killed Renee Nicole Good, a white woman.

Now they’ve murdered Alex Jeffrey Pretti, a 37-year-old US citizen. A nurse with no criminal record.

White women’s bodies were supposed to be sacrosanct. Respectable professionals were supposed to be “off-limits.” That’s no longer the case. For Black people, this country has always been fascist. What’s new is who else is inside the blast radius.

The Venn diagram of “safe” and “endangered” is now a circle.

If you’re shaken, it’s not just grief. It’s narrative whiplash. The distance between “this can’t happen” and “it just did, on camera” no longer exists. You have choices. You can either cling to the lie and let someone else keep paying. Or pay the cost of updating the story about this country.

About who is “safe,” about what you’re willing to do now that protections are gone.

I’ve said it before. Empire can handle outrage. It has no defense against empathy at scale. Outrage spikes, trends, and fades. Empathy—“it can be me; it already is them”—changes what people are willing to risk and protect. This is recruitment by atrocity. Your blood spilled red in the streets, just like ours.

It shouldn’t take this. It always has.

I’m on record as saying, “Study Black history to learn how to resist fascism.” You will want to take to the streets. Telling people “learn from Black history” without a field manual is malpractice.

You will be tempted to rush to every protest. Film everything. Provoke cops. Prove you’re “not like them” with your body. We don’t need more martyrs.

We need you alive.

If you choose to go out, you need more than vibes. You need a plan. This is about maximizing safety and impact. Not about looking brave on Instagram.

If you’re going out, your first job is coming home.

Before you leave pick your role (you’re not stuck in just one). The four basic lanes are:

Helpers– people who give personal, individual assistance. Support can be verbal, emotional, physical, or financial. Not everyone can go out. Anyone can be someone to come home to.

Advocates– people embedded in the system who can use their knowledge and influence to navigate and reinvent from within.

Organizers– visionaries who see the big picture and bring resources and talents together.

Rebels – indomitable spirits who bring passion and energy. Audacious risk-takers, willing to bear the brunt of criticism.

You are not consigned to a single role for life. Today, pick one where intent can become impact. Street-side roles: marcher, medic, legal observer, marshal. Home-side roles: childcare, food, bail funds, phones, amplifying, watching scanners and news.

Not everyone needs to be in front of a rifle.

No solo missions. Go with a pod (2–5 people). Decide ahead of time who you stick with, who your emergency contact is, where you’ll meet up if separated. No one leaves alone. If one person needs to tap out, at least one goes with them.

Make sure you have your ID. Be prepared to record. Don’t leave home without a full charge + battery pack, Use a strong passcode, no FaceID/fingerprint. Have one card or some cash, not your whole wallet. Do not forget any meds you truly can’t miss.

Write essential information on your skin with a sharpie in case your phone dies. Include your name, phone, and the name and phone of your emergency contact. If you have local legal aid / bail fund number, include that as well.

Decide if you’re willing to face lawful arrest before adrenaline kicks in. If police say “disperse,” are you leaving, and if not, are you adequately prepared?

Don’t let panic make that call. Know your line and your rights ahead of time.

Move like you’re planning to come back tomorrow. Stay on the edges of dense crowds. Always clock a landmark and at least two exit routes. If you can’t see or hear organizers/marshals, rethink where you are.

If you record ICE, do it clean; Stand back. Do not cross lines or interfere. Say calmly: I’m recording for everyone’s safety. I’m not interfering. Capture time, place, badge numbers, and what led up to the moment—not just the hit. Let someone you trust know before you start recording. Send important clips to a trusted person immediately, so they exist off your phone.

De-escalate, don’t cosplay hero.

Chant, sing, hold signs, stand, kneel—visible but not threatening. No taunts. No getting in faces. No throwing anything. If an order is lawful and clear (“move to the sidewalk,” “this assembly is unlawful, disperse”), obey while documenting.

White folks: your job is not to reenact Selma on TikTok. Reduce risk through strength in numbers.

When you come home, care for the body that carried you. Eat. Hydrate. Shower. Cry. Sleep if you can. Your nervous system is not a machine. Treat it like someone you love. Debrief with your pod. Ask: What felt dangerous? What worked? What would we do differently next time?

Listening to that is future safety.

Move the evidence where it matters. Share key footage with trusted organizers, legal groups, or reliable journalists. Don’t rely on the algorithm. It is not your friend.

Yes take to the streets, just don’t stay there. Protests are the spark, not the whole fire. Show up for council meetings, oversight boards, union drives, mutual aid, elections and recalls, policy fights that outlive the headline.

Most of all show up for each other. Outrage without structure creates burnout. Empathy with practice builds power.

We don’t need more martyrs. We meed people alive, trained, connected, and stubborn enough to keep showing up. If you’re newly afraid because you see yourself in Renee, or Alex, or anyone else, don’t bring your guilt. Bring your courage. Bring your empathy. Bring your willingness to learn from people who’ve been living in this fire for generations.

Stand in harm’s way before harm harms anyone else.

Study Black history. Our grief, our joy, and how we organized. Study our resilience and our refusal to be victims. Then decide: what you can sustainably give, what you absolutely will not tolerate, and how you’re going to protect yourself while you help change the world.

If you’re going out, your first job is coming home. If you’re staying home, your first job is staying human.

Either way, we’re going to need you for the long haul.