A Message from the Ancestors: The Death Rattle of Supremacy

Hear this, children of the diaspora, from the voices that echo in your blood:

We who whispered through the Middle Passage, who bent our backs in strange soil, who built nations with stolen hands—we tell you: Pay attention. But do not be deceived.

When the storm shakes the foundations of an old, rotten house, it feels like the world is ending. The loud cracking of timber, the shattering of glass—it sounds like collapse. But sometimes, what is breaking is not the sky itself, but the fragile structures built upon injustice.

We have seen this before.

We saw the slaveholder who raged as his "right" was challenged. We saw the architect of Jim Crow who vowed "Segregation forever!" as the walls began to crumble. The final, most violent convulsions of a dying system often look like its resurgence. The serpent thrashes most wildly when its head is near crushed.

So hear this wisdom:

Do not mistake a death rattle for a battle cry. The loud proclamation of an ending is not the same as its peaceful surrender. The "triggering of an end" is not the end itself. It is the beginning of the most dangerous chapter—when the cornered beast is most volatile.

What is required of you now is not celebration, but vigilance. Not passive observation, but fortified clarity.

• Guard your spirit. Do not let the spectacle drain your power. Our survival was always an act of profound focus—focus on community, on truth, on nurturing the garden of our own souls amidst the desert.
• Tend to your community. The waves of backlash seek to divide and disorient. Circle your wagons. Strengthen your bonds. Share knowledge and resources. This is how we have always weathered storms.
• Know the difference between a spectacle and a strategy. The loud headline is a distraction. Your power lies in the quiet, consistent work of building, voting, teaching, creating, and holding institutions accountable.
• Remember our long memory. This is not the first "end" declared. It is a moment in a long, long arc. We have outlived empires, outlasted ideologies, and out-loved hatred through centuries. Our very existence is proof of resilience they cannot comprehend.

This is not a time for fear, but for fierce, clear-eyed readiness. The claim of an ending is a signal to prepare—not for a fantasy, but for the hard work of ensuring that what emerges from the rubble is more just than what stood before.

We are the ancestors. We are the proof that you come from those who endured ends of worlds. You carry that same strength. Use it. Be wise. Be united. Be unwavering.

The tide turns not with a single wave, but with the relentless, eternal pressure of the ocean. You are that ocean. Continue to press.

— Voices from the Long Now