"there is no" issue of immigration . Growing again, where he was born? Who lives where he grew up? Who works where he lives?
Who lives where his ancestors lived? And who are they, the children of that era, television or their parents? The truth is that we have been uprooted en masse at any membership, we're not out of nowhere, and it follows that, along with a unique provision in tourism, an undeniable suffering. Our history is one of colonization, migration, war, exile, destruction of all roots. It
the history of everything that has made us strangers in this world, guests in our own family. We have been expropriated by teaching our language, our songs by the variety of our flesh by pornography mass of our city by the police, our friends by salary. In addition, France, working fiercely secular and individualized by a state power which notes, compare, and discipline divides his subjects from an early age, which grinds by instinct solidarity beyond his reach so that Countdown citizenship, pure membership, fantasy, the Republic. The French more than any other the dispossessed, the wretched. "
His hatred of foreigners blends with its self-hatred as a foreigner. His jealousy mingled with fear for the" cities "does not say that his resentment for all that he has lost. He can not help envying those
neighborhoods known as "banishment" in which still persist a bit of a life together, some links between people, some non-state solidarity, informal economy, a organization that has not yet detached from those who organize. We have reached that point of deprivation where the only way to feel French is to rail against immigrants, against those who are most visibly foreigners like me. Immigrants in this country take a curious position of sovereignty: they were not there, the French exist perhaps more.
The insrrection coming
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