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“They wanted to live and work in the United States as it might be, the United States whose beginnings might be found beneath the state, on the outskirts of citizenship proper, and the limited kinds of belonging and participation that citizenship allows. What they sought in this underground, what they attempted to construct in and beyond it, is a different kind of sociality, a different way of being and belonging together, of acting and creating in concert, for themselves but also for others: not citizenship but a kind of critical noncitizenship, a free and motley association that would materialize in dissident, disruptive work and works, the undocuments of the undocumented.”1
The first thing my mom ever taught me to steal was roses. Strolling the small streets of our apartment complex with shears in hand we’d cut our own colorful bouquet out of all the beds in bloom. Laughing as we looted the whole damn block, and looking slyly left, right, we left the complex and into the neighborhood, our sights now set onto the homeowners, these two bulb bandits making beauty our method of defiance.
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