The issue, rather, is what picture of “political violence” this messaging serves: To say that “political violence” has “no place” in a society organized by political violence at home and abroad is to acquiesce to the normalization of that violence, so long as it is state and capitalist monopolized.

As author Ben Ehrenreich noted on X, “There is no place for political violence against rich, white men. It is antithetical to everything America stands for.”

The issue, rather, is what picture of “political violence” this messaging serves: To say that “political violence” has “no place” in a society organized by political violence at home and abroad is to acquiesce to the normalization of that violence, so long as it is state and capitalist monopolized.

As author Ben Ehrenreich noted on X, “There is no place for political violence against rich, white men. It is antithetical to everything America stands for.”

The issue, rather, is what picture of “political violence” this messaging serves: To say that “political violence” has “no place” in a society organized by political violence at home and abroad is to acquiesce to the normalization of that violence, so long as it is state and capitalist monopolized.

As author Ben Ehrenreich noted on X, “There is no place for political violence against rich, white men. It is antithetical to everything America stands for.”

From the Washington Post:

ASHEVILLE, N.C. — When the managers of a small bookstore in this Appalachian mountain town received a call from a distributor wondering if they could take in 22,000 books rejected by a Florida school district, it felt like a colossal ask.

Firestorm Books usually stocks fewer than 8,000 books — titles that range from historical fiction to solarpunk. The self-described queer feminist collective wasn’t sure where they’d put them, and their customers typically weren’t looking for picture books.

“We were like, this feels like a bigger thing than we can manage,” said Libertie Valance, a managing member of the group that runs the store. “But I think even in that conversation, there was an acknowledgment that we were going to do it.”

And so began the journey to bring eight tons of books — most of them banned under Florida’s state laws restricting classroom discussion on race, gender identity and sexual orientation — from Duval County Public Schools in Jacksonville to left-leaning Asheville.

From the Washington Post:

ASHEVILLE, N.C. — When the managers of a small bookstore in this Appalachian mountain town received a call from a distributor wondering if they could take in 22,000 books rejected by a Florida school district, it felt like a colossal ask.

Firestorm Books usually stocks fewer than 8,000 books — titles that range from historical fiction to solarpunk. The self-described queer feminist collective wasn’t sure where they’d put them, and their customers typically weren’t looking for picture books.

“We were like, this feels like a bigger thing than we can manage,” said Libertie Valance, a managing member of the group that runs the store. “But I think even in that conversation, there was an acknowledgment that we were going to do it.”

And so began the journey to bring eight tons of books — most of them banned under Florida’s state laws restricting classroom discussion on race, gender identity and sexual orientation — from Duval County Public Schools in Jacksonville to left-leaning Asheville.

From the Washington Post:

ASHEVILLE, N.C. — When the managers of a small bookstore in this Appalachian mountain town received a call from a distributor wondering if they could take in 22,000 books rejected by a Florida school district, it felt like a colossal ask.

Firestorm Books usually stocks fewer than 8,000 books — titles that range from historical fiction to solarpunk. The self-described queer feminist collective wasn’t sure where they’d put them, and their customers typically weren’t looking for picture books.

“We were like, this feels like a bigger thing than we can manage,” said Libertie Valance, a managing member of the group that runs the store. “But I think even in that conversation, there was an acknowledgment that we were going to do it.”

And so began the journey to bring eight tons of books — most of them banned under Florida’s state laws restricting classroom discussion on race, gender identity and sexual orientation — from Duval County Public Schools in Jacksonville to left-leaning Asheville.

From the Washington Post:

ASHEVILLE, N.C. — When the managers of a small bookstore in this Appalachian mountain town received a call from a distributor wondering if they could take in 22,000 books rejected by a Florida school district, it felt like a colossal ask.

Firestorm Books usually stocks fewer than 8,000 books — titles that range from historical fiction to solarpunk. The self-described queer feminist collective wasn’t sure where they’d put them, and their customers typically weren’t looking for picture books.

“We were like, this feels like a bigger thing than we can manage,” said Libertie Valance, a managing member of the group that runs the store. “But I think even in that conversation, there was an acknowledgment that we were going to do it.”

And so began the journey to bring eight tons of books — most of them banned under Florida’s state laws restricting classroom discussion on race, gender identity and sexual orientation — from Duval County Public Schools in Jacksonville to left-leaning Asheville.

From the Washington Post:

ASHEVILLE, N.C. — When the managers of a small bookstore in this Appalachian mountain town received a call from a distributor wondering if they could take in 22,000 books rejected by a Florida school district, it felt like a colossal ask.

Firestorm Books usually stocks fewer than 8,000 books — titles that range from historical fiction to solarpunk. The self-described queer feminist collective wasn’t sure where they’d put them, and their customers typically weren’t looking for picture books.

“We were like, this feels like a bigger thing than we can manage,” said Libertie Valance, a managing member of the group that runs the store. “But I think even in that conversation, there was an acknowledgment that we were going to do it.”

And so began the journey to bring eight tons of books — most of them banned under Florida’s state laws restricting classroom discussion on race, gender identity and sexual orientation — from Duval County Public Schools in Jacksonville to left-leaning Asheville.