no new ideas

an invitation to invest in community care

Jan 14, 2026

Usually I do not feel much of anything when I’m scrolling on Instagram and watching reels. Sometimes I’ll laugh at videos of people pranking each other, or I’ll send memes to friends that make me think of them. For awhile, I consistently saw reels that said something like: “This initial” owes you pizza, or ice cream, or a cupcake, or any number of things. For some reason the initial was always “A,” so my friend Andy received a lot of these reels from me. I still haven’t gotten any pizza.

Some have commented on the way that important news events can feel minimized in this social media landscape. We can scroll to a video of a kitten falling off of the table, while the next video shows children starving in Gaza. The algorithm inclines us to keep scrolling, as if each video carries the same value, the same weight. This bizarre news cycle keeps on spinning. At times, it’s hard to tell the difference between what’s an SNL cold open and what’s real news. All of this makes it tempting to allow the news to feel like one big joke, disconnected from my daily life.

I was pulled back to reality last week upon hearing the news of a federal ICE agent shooting and killing Renee Nicole Good in the face.1 I immediately felt heavy after hearing the news. This is real. A beautiful soul was killed, a community was harmed, a family forever traumatized.

Then I watched the videos again. In the moments before being killed she was clearly driving away from the ICE agents, and she said, “I’m not mad at you.”2

It is surreal to see everything that I know to be true refuted by the administrations attempt to turn the narrative, to defend the ICE agent, and to reaffirm to us all that we do not have rights.

The day after she was killed, I attended a “Know Your Rights" training that focused on what one should do if they encounter an ICE agent. It was an impossible situation, to train people how to respond to agents that are becoming increasingly violent while disregarding basic human rights.

I sensed that people felt deflated, but also wanted to be realistic. The group engaged in an active Q&A, paraphrased below, which didn’t yield a lot of optimism, especially as ICE is using increasingly escalating their tactics.3

Question: What can we actually do if ICE knocks on the door? Or tries to speak to me? Answer: Do not answer the door. Do not respond to them.

Question: How can I protect my communities and my family? Answer: Consult with a lawyer. Consider family preparedness training. Remember we can only control our own actions.

Question: Do investigations happen when things go sideways? Who is running them? Answer: ICE lies. Their badge gives them power.

I am a student of Audre Lorde. Though I’ve only just begun to tap into her brilliant life work, I find a deep resonance with her writing. The way she expresses that poetry is more than words on a page, it is a way of life, a “distillation of experience.” Lorde’s writing and wisdom came from her lived experience as “black, lesbian, mother, warrior, poet.”4

In her famous essay “Poetry is Not a Luxury,”5 Lorde provides a vision of living that is known through valuing the experiences of the body, not solely the mind. In the past few years I have found myself returning to this essay, time and time again, especially when I am seeking clarity or direction. It is from the last paragraph of this essay that I took the namesake for this Substack, “no new ideas:”

For there are no new ideas. There are only new ways of making them felt, of examining what our ideas really mean (feel like) on Sunday morning at 7 AM, after brunch, during wild love, making war, giving birth; while we suffer the old longings, battle the old warnings and fears of being silent and impotent and alone, while tasting our new possibilities and strengths.

Today we suffer the old longing to be free from state repression. We battle the old warnings of the prophets, like this one from Jeremiah, ringing today like an echo: “For if you truly amend your ways and your doings, if you truly act justly one with another, if you do not oppress the alien, the orphan, and the widow, or shed innocent blood in this place, and if you do not go after other gods to your own hurt, then I will dwell with you in this place.”6 We also fear being silent, because the constant brutality we face can feel paralyzing. It can feel lonely.

There is so much more to communicate in a time such as this. About the earth and those who love it, about those suffering and dying from famine or bombs dropping that are paid for by our tax dollars, about those without shelter or food living in NYC and around the country, about the way we are rapidly losing our rights as citizens and how it is most affecting those who are not white and not male. About, about, about.

Then I take a breath.

I remember community.

I’d like to invite you to join me on this journey, but it comes with a confession: I have no new ideas. You will read nothing flashy, trendy, or “in vogue” here. Nor will you read any timely arguments that seek to convince you of my point. There will be no grand choirs to sing, no chorus will come in.

Rather, I’m interested in the slow work. The work that moves us together towards flourishing through our investment in community.

Often, this work, slow work, is frustrating in our world that demands immediacy, efficiency, quick answers. Now, now, now. And, often, we do not see the full results of our labor. “But that is the difference between the master builder and the worker. We are workers, not master builders; ministers, not messiahs.”7

One way I want to embrace the slow work is through this Substack. Here, at no new ideas, I seek to foster a space to share poetry, music, short essays and musings from myself and those whom I cross paths with.

Let us take another breath,

remember those who came before,

and together we imagine the ways to stand up and fight back, like (the best of) our traditions teach us.

In community we can taste our strength.

Thanks for reading no new ideas !

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Who was Renee Nicole Good, the woman killed by ICE?

My dear friend Nathan wrote this song using Renee’s last words:

@nathanology_