One of my favorite pieces of trans theory I've read is Black on Both Sides: A Racial History of Trans Identity by C. Riley Snorton.
The title of this book is a reference to the 1999 Mos Def album, and specifically the track "Mathematics."
The song focuses on how structural racism (particularly antiblackness) functions in the United States through citing different stats and numbers-- how much money is spent on the US military, how many Americans own cell phones being surveilled, how many people have AIDS, three strikes laws, minimum wage, unemployment rates, budget cuts being funneled into more police, rates of incarceration and probation, health & economic outcomes sorted by zip codes, and so on.
The specific lines from "Mathematics" that Snorton references explicitly in Black on Both Sides are:
"Numbers is hardly real and they never have feelings But you push too hard, even numbers got limits"
The book's beating heart is concerned with the necropolitics of Black trans life, and how Black trans people are discussed, known, constructed as death statistics. How many Black trans women are murdered, how many Black trans people kill themselves.
Since reading that book, I've been listening to the song a lot. I've been thinking about how another song I listen to a lot probably took direct inspiration from "Mathematics"-- a song called "Strange Arithmetic" by The Coup.
In "Strange Arithmetic" the lyrics focus on the ways in which public education functions to socially reproduce racial capitalism to ensure submission and funnel people into (acceptance of) powerlessness. It opens with the verse:
"History has taught me some strange arithmetic Using swords, prison bars, and pistol grips. English is the art of bombing towns While assuring that you really only blessed the ground. Science is that honorable, useful study Where you contort the molecules and then you make that money. In mathematics, dead children don't get added But they count the cost of bullets comin' out the automatic."
I've been thinking about this a lot lately, especially writing fundraisers for friends in Gaza. Last week, I wrote a post for a teenager named Ahmed. Two weeks ago the Israeli military bombed a sewage line to destroy access to potable water in his area.
I googled "Gaza water news" and I saw articles discussing how often this exact tactic is used. I read analysis by a Palestinian activist, Ahmad Abushawish, titled "In Gaza, water kills too" where he outlines how the Israeli army targets Gaza's water infrastructure, blocks entry of materials for repair, and kills anyone working in the water sector.
I wrote that week about the struggle for water globally, and how control over water systems is so central to settler-colonialism. When I drink water, it is impossible for me to not think about Gaza, and Flint Michigan, and Standing Rock, and the fight over the pipeline expansion in Canada.
After months of starvation, famine in Gaza was officially declared. I read the news. The Food and Agricultural Organization of the United Nations says 98.5% of cropland in the Gaza strip is destroyed or inaccessible in militarized zones. The World Health Organization says that 100% of people in Gaza now suffer acute levels of food insecurity.
Israel mobilizes to occupy the remainder of Gaza. Al-Jazeera reports that 86% of the Gaza strip is now either a militarized zone, under forced evacuation, or both at once. This is where Ahmed is living. This is where his family's damaged tent is.
Ahmed messages me. He tells me, "the army is approaching our area, there are sounds of bombing, and we feel hungry."
Everything is statistics. Everything is deeply, viscerally personal. Everyone is a number.
"But you push too hard, even numbers got limits"
