Feminist Agenda // Taylor Kirby
I work at a coffee shop once a week. Overall, it’s a pretty decent gig that supplies me with all the caffeine necessary for the semester of my graduation—but it’s not without its perils.
This particular coffee shop is housed on the pit that is 16th Street Mall. If we’re not being swarmed by uppity tourists, we’re calling hazmat to clean blood off the bathroom ceilings or excavate what they have described as “a net of heroin needles” from the plumbing.
A few weeks ago, a man approached the bar while I was making drinks. “I’m a missionary. Do you know where the skinheads are?” he asked. I didn’t even look up. While not a pleasant line of conversation, it was well within the realm of normal, and I preferred it to hearing news of a Code Brown in the foyer. “Nope,” I said, continuing to steam milk, pull shots, and pump syrup.
“I’ve been sent to Denver by my team—we’re like modern day Inglorious Basterds,” he said. “Pardon my language.”
At this point, I missed the cup and splashed myself with scalding milk. Did this guy just tell me he’s a mercenary missionary sent to scalp and/or murder local skinheads? Did he really just admit that in casual conversation?
I told him about the swastika graffiti at Little India and, excited and freshly armed with a Frappuccino, he left. I was flummoxed. While Quentin Tarantino is my favorite director, I never previously hoped that the venn diagram of our worlds would overlap, and Aldo Raine himself had just asked me for extra whipped cream. Is this really the time we’re living in?
POTUS 45 has been busy passing a host of executive orders that are whipping America’s white supremacists into a jubilant frenzy. I’m not advocating for scalping Nazis, but sadly, in 2017, we do have to commit anew to resisting Nazi-inspired agendas. Race-based immigration bans and walls of division—both literal and figurative—will dissolve everything that makes America free. Please join me in Civic Center park on Feb. 4 to protest these immoral and unconstitutional pieces of legislature. Until then, resist.