Olivia: Alright, Jackson, I have a pop quiz for you. When you think of the word 'activist,' what’s the first image that comes to mind? Jackson: Oh, that's easy. Someone with a megaphone, probably at a protest, looking exhausted and righteously angry. Definitely not smiling. Olivia: Exactly. The image is one of struggle, of sacrifice. Now, what if I told you the most radical thing an activist can do... is have a really, really good time? Jackson: A good time? That sounds... counterintuitive. Aren't they supposed to be sacrificing for the cause? It feels a little frivolous, given the state of the world. Olivia: That's the exact assumption adrienne maree brown dismantles in her New York Times bestselling book, Pleasure Activism: The Politics of Feeling Good. And brown isn't just a writer; she's a long-time activist, a community organizer, and even a doula. She’s been in the trenches of movements like Black Lives Matter, and she wrote this book as a direct response to the burnout and trauma she saw everywhere. Jackson: Okay, a doula for social movements... I'm intrigued. So where does this idea of 'pleasure' as a political tool even begin? It seems like such a leap.

Olivia: It starts with a fundamental reframing. brown argues that pleasure isn't a distraction from the serious work of changing the world; it's a measure of our freedom. She asks: if we're fighting for a liberated future, but we don't know how to feel free in our own bodies, what are we even fighting for? Jackson: That's a powerful question. It flips the script from an external goal to an internal state of being. Olivia: Precisely. She's deeply influenced by the writer Toni Cade Bambara, who famously said, "The role of the artist is to make the revolution irresistible." brown takes that to heart. If our movements are built only on misery, anger, and exhaustion, who is going to want to join? How can that be sustainable? Jackson: I see the logic, but it still feels very abstract. What does an "irresistible revolution" even look like on a Tuesday afternoon? Olivia: Well, that's the beauty of the book. It’s filled with these incredibly vivid, real-world examples. In the outro, brown tells this story about being in the Detroit airport, feeling tired after a long work trip. She's walking through one of those long underground tunnels, and she sees three young Black men, all airport workers, just break into a game of tag. Jackson: In the middle of the airport? Olivia: In the middle of the airport. She said they were leaping and darting around luggage and people like dancers, just filled with this uncontainable joy. In a space of labor, of transit, of stress, they carved out a moment of pure, unadulterated pleasure. For her, that was pleasure activism in its most spontaneous form. Jackson: Wow. Okay, that paints a picture. It’s not about throwing a party at a protest, but about finding and protecting those moments of aliveness. Olivia: Exactly. And it can be even quieter than that. She tells another story about being at a public sprayground, a park with fountains, and seeing a Black teenage girl just standing under a jet of water, eyes closed, with this look of serene bliss on her face. She was completely in her own world, just feeling the water on her skin. Jackson: That's a beautiful image. Olivia: It is. And then brown notices the girl's mother is nearby, watching her infant sibling. She realizes this girl is a teenage mom, carrying all the weight and responsibility that comes with that. And in that moment, she was claiming a piece of pleasure for herself. brown says she felt this overwhelming tenderness, this desire to protect that moment for her. That, she argues, is the work: creating a world where that girl's pleasure is not an exception, but the norm. Jackson: That lands differently. It’s not frivolous at all. It’s about the right to feel good, to be whole, especially when society is structured to deny you that. But how does that personal moment of joy actually fight oppression? Olivia: Because, as brown argues, systems of oppression thrive on our misery and our disconnection from ourselves. When we are numb, exhausted, and ashamed of our own bodies and desires, we are easier to control. Reclaiming joy is an act of defiance. It's a way of saying, "You cannot have my spirit. You cannot crush my aliveness." It fuels our resilience.

Jackson: Okay, I'm starting to see the connection. It's about fueling the resistance. But where do we even learn how to do that? Our ideas about what's "pleasurable" are so shaped by outside forces. Olivia: You've hit on the next core idea of the book. brown says we have to examine our "pleasure lineage." We have to ask: who taught you to feel good? And just as importantly, who taught you to feel shame? Jackson: A pleasure lineage. I've never thought about that. I guess for most people it's a mix of pop culture, maybe some awkward health classes, and whatever you secretly figured out on your own. Olivia: Right. And brown makes it very personal. She starts her own lineage with her grandmother. This was a Southern Black woman who worked as a hotel maid, raised seven children, and faced incredible hardship. Yet, brown remembers her as a woman who never gave up on love or sex. She kept finding lovers, kept finding ways to feel good in a world designed to break her. She even kept a freezer full of popsicles for all the neighborhood kids. That was her practice of generosity and joy. Jackson: That's an incredible story of resilience. Finding pleasure in the cracks of a very hard life. Olivia: Exactly. And then she contrasts that very personal, inherited lineage with an intellectual one, which for her, and for the entire book, is anchored in the work of the Black lesbian feminist writer Audre Lorde. Jackson: I know Lorde's name, but I'm not deeply familiar with her work on this topic. Olivia: The cornerstone is Lorde's essay, "Uses of the Erotic: The Erotic as Power." And this is crucial—Lorde makes a sharp distinction between the erotic and the pornographic. The pornographic, she says, is sensation without feeling. It's a suppression of true feeling, a reduction of the human to an object. Jackson: Which sounds a lot like modern consumer culture. Olivia: Precisely. The erotic, on the other hand, is the complete opposite. Lorde defines it as a source of power and information that comes from our deepest, most authentic feelings. It’s the "yes" that comes from your entire being when you experience something that is deeply satisfying, whether that's a great meal, a powerful piece of art, a profound conversation, or a sexual experience. It’s a measure of your capacity for joy. Jackson: So the erotic isn't just about sex. It's about a deep, embodied sense of satisfaction. Olivia: Yes! And once you know what that deep satisfaction feels like, you can use it as a compass for your entire life. You start to demand it from your work, your relationships, your community. You refuse to settle for less. Lorde says it makes us "give up, of necessity, being satisfied with suffering." Jackson: That's a powerful idea. But our desires are so messy. They're shaped by everything—advertising, movies, societal expectations. brown uses this phrase, "decolonizing desire." What does that actually look like in practice?

Olivia: That's the million-dollar question, and it's where the book gets incredibly practical. It moves from the 'why' to the 'how.' The core idea is that pleasure is a practice. It's something you cultivate intentionally. Jackson: Okay, so it's a skill you can develop. What are the tools? Olivia: The book is packed with them, from conversations with sex workers about the pleasure of financial independence, to discussions on BDSM and consent. But one of the most powerful sections is where brown offers five tangible tools for pleasure activism, starting with the body. Jackson: Which makes sense, if we're talking about embodied pleasure. Olivia: Right. The first tool is radical self-love, but not in a fluffy, inspirational-quote way. She talks about her own journey of learning to love her fat, Black body in a world that tells her not to. And she shares this provocative practice she calls "self-pornography." Jackson: Self-pornography. That is a provocative term. What does she mean by that? Olivia: She realized that mainstream pornography didn't reflect her or the bodies she found beautiful. So, she started taking photos and videos of herself, for herself. Not for anyone else's gaze, but as an act of self-adoration. It was about learning to desire herself, to see her own body as beautiful and powerful, to decolonize her desire from the white, skinny standards of mainstream culture. Jackson: Wow. That's a really radical act of reclaiming your own image. It turns the idea of pornography on its head, from something consumed to something created for self-love. Olivia: Exactly. It's about becoming the agent of your own pleasure. Another tool she discusses is developing erotic awareness. This means approaching your own body and your relationships with curiosity, with a "beginner's mind." Instead of falling into routines, you ask: What do I really want? What feels good right now? Jackson: Which requires a level of honesty that can be pretty scary. Olivia: It's terrifying! Which is why she also emphasizes the importance of consent. But again, she reframes it. Consent isn't just a legalistic "no means no." It's about the pleasure of a wholehearted, enthusiastic "yes!" It's about creating relationships where both people feel safe enough to be honest about their desires and boundaries. The pleasure of being truly seen and respected. Jackson: So this isn't just about sex, is it? It sounds like these practices—self-love, curiosity, honest communication—apply to everything. Olivia: That's the whole point. The book explores this through so many lenses. There's a conversation with Dallas Goldtooth, the Indigenous activist, about humor as a political tool—the pleasure of laughter as resistance. There's a conversation with Taja Lindley about adornment—the pleasure of decorating your body as an act of self-expression. It’s all interconnected.

Jackson: So, when you put it all together, this isn't just a book about feeling good. It's an argument that our joy, our bodies, our desires... they are all political battlegrounds. And by intentionally cultivating pleasure, we're not escaping the fight; we're actually developing the resilience to stay in it. Olivia: Exactly. And brown makes it so accessible. She's not asking you to become a different person overnight. The book is an invitation. It’s filled with what she calls "hot homework"—prompts for reflection and practice. She believes pleasure is our birthright, something we all have access to. Jackson: It feels like it challenges the very foundation of hustle culture, of the activist who burns out for the cause. The idea that you have to earn rest, or earn pleasure. Olivia: It completely does. It suggests that our worth isn't measured by our productivity or our suffering. Our worth is inherent. And our pleasure is the evidence of that. So the takeaway isn't to go out and start a new protest, but maybe just to ask yourself one simple question today: "What would feel good right now?" And then, to actually let yourself have it. That's the beginning of the practice. Jackson: A powerful, and maybe for a lot of people, a very difficult question to answer. It makes you wonder what you've been denying yourself, and why. It's a quiet revolution, starting inside your own body. Olivia: That's pleasure activism. Jackson: A much deeper concept than I thought at the start. A lot to chew on there. Olivia: This is Aibrary, signing off.