Here we are again. April 15, 2026. My taxes are due. Your taxes are due. Did you pay them?
I didn’t. Now don’t go getting any ideas about how brave and rebellious I am. Or how stupid. Because to the former, I’m brave and rebellious in my best imagined version of myself. And the latter? No, I’m not stupid. Not at all stupid. I’m just really, really pissed.
For the last 3 or 4 years, I’ve gotten extensions and filed my tax return in October. One reason? I’m a designer, not a bookkeeper. I suck at money.
My accountant rolls his eyes each year as I miss the deadline to send him my profit and loss in time for an April 15th filing date. In October 2024, I promised him I’d file 2024 on time in 2025.
But that promise was made before the results of the last election.
I was going to turn over a new leaf and be a citizen proudly supporting the good works that Kamala talked about during her spirited campaign. I was going to be proud of being an American again. I was going to be part of the tidal change I longed to see. But I didn’t get to do that, because the worst thing possible happened. FOR A SECOND TIME.
The first time? That was just a dry run.
Now, the worst is happening every single day. I want NO PART OF IT.
I wrote a story in my head.
Here it is: Every American refuses to pay federal taxes, either escrowing the money or sending more to the states we reside in.
They want to scare us with government shutdowns? No. I want to scare them with a massive shutdown created by the citizens that elected the charlatans who need to be reminded that they work for us.
They are civil servants. Not civil oligarchs.
Want to paralyze the military? Stop paying federal taxes. Hold them hostage for a change.
Bring it all to a halt. Overwhelm this travesty of a “government” with so much civil disobedience they won’t know what hit them. They know money talks. That’s a lesson we simple folk need to learn more about.
Boycotts? Meh. Boycott Amazon, Meta, Spotify, Paramount. Small potatoes. Won’t make a dent.
But stop paying taxes? That would create a calamity so enormous that it’s beyond our ability to comprehend the level of gridlock it would cause.
So yes, that’s my fantasy.
Will it happen? Doubt it. Will I do it? Doubt it even more. I’ll file, but I most likely won’t owe a cent. Oh, wait, I mean a nickel. Because there are no more pennies, anymore.
I won’t owe a cent because I’m downwardly mobile. I’m a sole proprietor of a tiny business that barely makes a profit at all. I can pay my bills. My expenses have almost outpaced my income for years. And you know what? I kinda like it like that. Maybe I’m wrong, maybe I am stupid.
20 years ago, I met a woman who worked as a maid to keep herself fed, clothed, and housed. She was an educated, spirited tax resistor, mostly because of her anti-war, anti-military beliefs. She only worked for cash. She lived under the radar. Hard to do these days. I was floored to meet someone that brave. I talk a big game, but my imagination is where most of my fights happen and most of my victories, too. I couldn’t imagine doing what she did. Until now.
My argument isn’t rooted in any real knowledge of numbers, economics, or political theory. It’s rooted in anger. It’s my rant. It’s fueled by emotion and common sense. It’s fed by the disbelief that we’re being managed by criminals, rapists, morons, and cowards. And we pay our taxes?
I want no part of this bullshit.
The warmongering, the lack of accountability toward United States citizens of every stripe: the destitute, unhoused, the mentally ill, the immigrants fighting for their lives. The people who work three different jobs and still can’t get by. The middle-class, if it still exists at all, and yes, even those with money.
Can you imagine paying into a machine that is systematically destroying the lives of the people who keep this nation going? Yes. Us. We keep it going. What are we getting in return? More debt. Less medical care. Homelessness.
Lies. Reductions in social services. We have more food insecurity, housing shortages, insurance fraud and plunder, failing infrastructure. Our bodily autonomy is being hijacked. Freedom of speech is being dismantled. All of these things are being taken from us and we’re footing the bill.
We’re being stolen from every single day by a monster who’s building ballrooms and golden arches. A monster who’s selling citizenship to the highest bidder. A rapist who’s invading other countries illegally, killing innocents, and pillaging natural resources of his own accord, while breaking one law after another, and not being held to account.
We’re bankrolling for our own demise. I don’t want to pay for that. Do you?
I’m careful with the little I have and I have a great life. I have a roof over my head that I’ve worked hard to keep and I wouldn’t have this home if my dad hadn’t left me money when he died. I wouldn’t have my simple 1000 square foot ranch if it weren’t for him. My sweet home needs repairs and upkeep. But I can’t afford that. Can you? I don’t need a lot to live a satisfied life that’s filled with gratitude.
I’ve never understood greed, and that’s what this country is built on. It’s not built on kindness; it never was. It grew from a desire to conquer, to overwhelm, to take what didn’t belong to us. That’s America.
Why can’t we be better? Take care of one another? Provide for our basic needs?
I’ve never understood borders. I’ve never understood men who think they have a right to whatever they desire. Conquest. Money. Women. Real estate. It’s never enough. The greed is bottomless. But guess what? The earth is finite. We are finite. We’re burning it down, day after day. What an ungrateful bunch of wretches we can be.
As Americans, we have endless crimes to apologize for. We have so much that needs fixing.
I want to live in a country that cares. I want to live in a country where dysfunctional patriarchy (is there any other kind?) has been dismantled. It’s the cancer, the cause of all our woes.
I want to take care of others, respect differences, and live my life coming from a place of kindness and generosity. There’s plenty to go around. The problem is distribution. So pay into this? I prefer not. Will I have to? I’ll know more in October.
I believe the only way to fix this is to burn it down and start over. If we’re lucky enough to get another chance.
I became more of an activist in the last 10 years, because of you know who. Since the 11/2024 election, my commitment has increased. The way I’ve chosen to express that activism is by building strong community. My activism is real at Wham! Bam! Thank You! Slam!, the online feminist story slam I created in November 2025.
This theme this month is, no surprise, Death & Taxes. Ten feminist storytellers on one virtual stage. Come listen. Come watch. Come fight. Come tell your stories.
I re-launched the Style YOUR Stack website and there’s a great new post about the magic of .gifs in Substackland. Come see what I designed!
