The Papercut Zine Library is seen in Cambridge, Massachusetts.
The Librarian’s Call: Documenting Is Resistance
History is protected by those who collect, preserve, and share the facts.
We are living through a period of profound uncertainty and systemic challenge—where erasure of truth and history is not only possible, but actively underway.
As a librarian, I bear witness not only to the crisis but to the opportunity: History is protected by those who collect, preserve, and share the facts, and the archive becomes a battleground where every saved photograph, flyer, email, playlist, program, and story is an act of resistance.
Let this be painfully clear: The future will only remember what is preserved today, and the choice is between standing by as stories are diluted or destroyed—or fighting for the record, for the archive, and for the truth with steady, everyday work that anyone can participate in. The war over narrative is here, and ownership of legacy cannot be outsourced, because no one else will know the names, dates, slang, inside jokes, or quiet heroism that define a community’s life.
Sometimes it feels like things are coming apart, and if attention is not paid now, stories—who people are and what has been seen—might disappear for good.
If the caring comes too late, the evidence may already be gone, which is why telling stories and saving the truth matters not just for now but for those who inherit the consequences and possibilities.
The old Jay Z line, “Nobody wins when the family feuds,” lands because silence inside a community becomes absent in the archive, which later becomes absent in the official story, in classrooms, policy, and memory itself.
Are we prepared to wake up only when it is too late, when the consequences directly affect our own families, our block, our congregation, our civic clubs, our schools?
Understand this: It is already impacting daily life, and the fight for story and legacy is happening right now, whether it is acknowledged or not.
History shows that those who seek to erase, distort, or control a people’s story often target libraries, archives, teachers, records, and public forums first.
Even in times of repression, clandestine diaries, underground newsletters, and quietly kept ledgers ensured truths could be reconstructed later, and that same imperative presses upon the present: Document clearly, share responsibly, preserve redundantly, and hold the line until silence cannot take root.
If the caring comes too late, the evidence may already be gone, which is why telling stories and saving the truth matters not just for now but for those who inherit the consequences and possibilities.
Some systems are actively reshaping what counts as “official,” especially where histories of self-defense, mutual aid, organizing, and everyday cultural brilliance live, and if those are not written down, recorded, and stored safely, they can be excluded from the record that shapes future understanding and power.
This is not about one person or one group—it is about building a durable, collective record that includes the messy parts, the small details, the contradictions, and the joy.
Recordkeepers, librarians, archivists, genealogists, teachers, artists, and elders carry a heavy responsibility, but this work is also neighborly, teachable, and doable at kitchen tables, barbershops, churches, community centers, and school hallways.
If there is one takeaway, it is this: If the future matters, start saving things now, even if imperfectly. Write the story, label the photo, date the flyer, back up the voice memo, and share what is known in forms that can travel, be understood, and be retrieved later.
Start small and steady: one labeled photo, one recorded memory, one folder that makes sense to someone else tomorrow, and one backup in a safe place, repeated week after week until a living archive appears.
Because nobody wins if silence is allowed to do the writing, and the time to act is right now so that the record stands, speaks, and protects those who come next.
We are at a crossroads
This country and this world are at a monumental crossroads. US voters have an opportunity to beat back the forces of fascism and confront the billionaires who are rigging the economy, our media system, and our democracy, making it increasingly impossible for ordinary people to get by. We’re not just talking about the election. We’re talking about what must be done once these fascist elements are vanquished from power. We need a bolder set of solutions than what either major party has so far been willing to offer and a working-class movement ready to fight like hell for it. Trump didn't emerge from nowhere. The conditions that fueled MAGA authoritarianism were created by decades of radical neoliberal economic policies and a corrupt political system dominated by corporate interests. They slashed taxes on the super-rich, promising that the benefits would trickle down. They said giveaways to the corporate titans would make life more affordable for the rest of us. It was all bullshit. And when a bitter, betrayed populace searches for someone to blame, right-wing demagogues have little trouble finding scapegoats. People know when they're being lied to, but you won't hear any of this from the corporate media. Only independent journalism—powered and funded by people who believe in building a better world—can deliver truly trustworthy daily news. Our Fall Campaign is underway, and we need your help. To power our newsroom through the rest of the year, we need to raise $125,000 by midnight on October 31. So if you share our vision, please contribute whatever you can to sustain our work. |
We are living through a period of profound uncertainty and systemic challenge—where erasure of truth and history is not only possible, but actively underway.
As a librarian, I bear witness not only to the crisis but to the opportunity: History is protected by those who collect, preserve, and share the facts, and the archive becomes a battleground where every saved photograph, flyer, email, playlist, program, and story is an act of resistance.
Let this be painfully clear: The future will only remember what is preserved today, and the choice is between standing by as stories are diluted or destroyed—or fighting for the record, for the archive, and for the truth with steady, everyday work that anyone can participate in. The war over narrative is here, and ownership of legacy cannot be outsourced, because no one else will know the names, dates, slang, inside jokes, or quiet heroism that define a community’s life.
Sometimes it feels like things are coming apart, and if attention is not paid now, stories—who people are and what has been seen—might disappear for good.
If the caring comes too late, the evidence may already be gone, which is why telling stories and saving the truth matters not just for now but for those who inherit the consequences and possibilities.
The old Jay Z line, “Nobody wins when the family feuds,” lands because silence inside a community becomes absent in the archive, which later becomes absent in the official story, in classrooms, policy, and memory itself.
Are we prepared to wake up only when it is too late, when the consequences directly affect our own families, our block, our congregation, our civic clubs, our schools?
Understand this: It is already impacting daily life, and the fight for story and legacy is happening right now, whether it is acknowledged or not.
History shows that those who seek to erase, distort, or control a people’s story often target libraries, archives, teachers, records, and public forums first.
Even in times of repression, clandestine diaries, underground newsletters, and quietly kept ledgers ensured truths could be reconstructed later, and that same imperative presses upon the present: Document clearly, share responsibly, preserve redundantly, and hold the line until silence cannot take root.
If the caring comes too late, the evidence may already be gone, which is why telling stories and saving the truth matters not just for now but for those who inherit the consequences and possibilities.
Some systems are actively reshaping what counts as “official,” especially where histories of self-defense, mutual aid, organizing, and everyday cultural brilliance live, and if those are not written down, recorded, and stored safely, they can be excluded from the record that shapes future understanding and power.
This is not about one person or one group—it is about building a durable, collective record that includes the messy parts, the small details, the contradictions, and the joy.
Recordkeepers, librarians, archivists, genealogists, teachers, artists, and elders carry a heavy responsibility, but this work is also neighborly, teachable, and doable at kitchen tables, barbershops, churches, community centers, and school hallways.
If there is one takeaway, it is this: If the future matters, start saving things now, even if imperfectly. Write the story, label the photo, date the flyer, back up the voice memo, and share what is known in forms that can travel, be understood, and be retrieved later.
Start small and steady: one labeled photo, one recorded memory, one folder that makes sense to someone else tomorrow, and one backup in a safe place, repeated week after week until a living archive appears.
Because nobody wins if silence is allowed to do the writing, and the time to act is right now so that the record stands, speaks, and protects those who come next.
- This Juneteenth, America Must Choose to Live Up to Its Founding Documents ›
- I Became 'Antifa' as a Child; I Never Looked Back ›
- The Handbook of Survival My Mother Gave Me: Fighting Authoritarianism Then and Now ›
- Opinion | Beyond Books: Libraries Are Climate-Resilient Community Infrastructure | Common Dreams ›
We are living through a period of profound uncertainty and systemic challenge—where erasure of truth and history is not only possible, but actively underway.
As a librarian, I bear witness not only to the crisis but to the opportunity: History is protected by those who collect, preserve, and share the facts, and the archive becomes a battleground where every saved photograph, flyer, email, playlist, program, and story is an act of resistance.
Let this be painfully clear: The future will only remember what is preserved today, and the choice is between standing by as stories are diluted or destroyed—or fighting for the record, for the archive, and for the truth with steady, everyday work that anyone can participate in. The war over narrative is here, and ownership of legacy cannot be outsourced, because no one else will know the names, dates, slang, inside jokes, or quiet heroism that define a community’s life.
Sometimes it feels like things are coming apart, and if attention is not paid now, stories—who people are and what has been seen—might disappear for good.
If the caring comes too late, the evidence may already be gone, which is why telling stories and saving the truth matters not just for now but for those who inherit the consequences and possibilities.
The old Jay Z line, “Nobody wins when the family feuds,” lands because silence inside a community becomes absent in the archive, which later becomes absent in the official story, in classrooms, policy, and memory itself.
Are we prepared to wake up only when it is too late, when the consequences directly affect our own families, our block, our congregation, our civic clubs, our schools?
Understand this: It is already impacting daily life, and the fight for story and legacy is happening right now, whether it is acknowledged or not.
History shows that those who seek to erase, distort, or control a people’s story often target libraries, archives, teachers, records, and public forums first.
Even in times of repression, clandestine diaries, underground newsletters, and quietly kept ledgers ensured truths could be reconstructed later, and that same imperative presses upon the present: Document clearly, share responsibly, preserve redundantly, and hold the line until silence cannot take root.
If the caring comes too late, the evidence may already be gone, which is why telling stories and saving the truth matters not just for now but for those who inherit the consequences and possibilities.
Some systems are actively reshaping what counts as “official,” especially where histories of self-defense, mutual aid, organizing, and everyday cultural brilliance live, and if those are not written down, recorded, and stored safely, they can be excluded from the record that shapes future understanding and power.
This is not about one person or one group—it is about building a durable, collective record that includes the messy parts, the small details, the contradictions, and the joy.
Recordkeepers, librarians, archivists, genealogists, teachers, artists, and elders carry a heavy responsibility, but this work is also neighborly, teachable, and doable at kitchen tables, barbershops, churches, community centers, and school hallways.
If there is one takeaway, it is this: If the future matters, start saving things now, even if imperfectly. Write the story, label the photo, date the flyer, back up the voice memo, and share what is known in forms that can travel, be understood, and be retrieved later.
Start small and steady: one labeled photo, one recorded memory, one folder that makes sense to someone else tomorrow, and one backup in a safe place, repeated week after week until a living archive appears.
Because nobody wins if silence is allowed to do the writing, and the time to act is right now so that the record stands, speaks, and protects those who come next.
- This Juneteenth, America Must Choose to Live Up to Its Founding Documents ›
- I Became 'Antifa' as a Child; I Never Looked Back ›
- The Handbook of Survival My Mother Gave Me: Fighting Authoritarianism Then and Now ›
- Opinion | Beyond Books: Libraries Are Climate-Resilient Community Infrastructure | Common Dreams ›