At its heart, "Viral Justice" isn't just another book about policy tweaks or blaming "bad guys". Instead, it offers a fresh **orientation** – a way of looking at the world and seeing how people are already working, little by little, day by day, to challenge unfair systems and create better alternatives. Think of it not as a rigid academic theory but as a lens to recognize and amplify the incredible acts of justice and solidarity happening all around us. The core argument is quite striking: Ruha Benjamin suggests that viruses are **not** the ultimate problem. In the same way that a virus like COVID-19 can kill, so too do systems of oppression like ableism, racism, sexism, classism, and colonialism work to push out or eliminate people deemed unwanted. She argues that society is fundamentally eugenicist, where "privilege" is really a euphemism for tyranny, deciding who gets access to vital resources like school funding or healthcare. So, if oppression spreads like a disease, can justice spread like a beneficial virus? That's the exciting question posed by the book. Instead of fearing virality, Benjamin encourages us to learn from it. Imagine justice and joy spreading in small, noticeable ways, little by little, day by day. This isn't about waiting for huge, top-down changes, though those are still important. It's a **microvision of social change**, starting right where we are, in our own backyards. Think of society like an ecosystem, as sociologist Erik Olin Wright described it. Currently, systems of capitalism, racism, ableism, sexism, and imperialism dominate this ecosystem. Viral justice, in this view, is about nurturing the "alien species" – those ways of life and behaviors that embody interdependence and care, like non-carceral responses to harm, non-capitalist healthcare, and mutual aid. These might seem weak in the old ecosystem, but the pandemic has actually helped them grow, showing how they can take root under the surface of our current fractured system. The hope is that by fostering these niches, they can eventually grow and displace the dominant harmful "species". **What does this "viral justice" look like in practice?** Well, it takes many forms. It can be **individual acts** like Ruhel Islam, the owner of Gandhi Mahal restaurant, whose place was damaged during protests, but who declared, "Let my building burn. Justice needs to be served," showing an inspiring solidarity. It can be **collective action** by groups, like the youths at the South End Technology Center in Boston using technology to make masks for vulnerable people during the pandemic, calling it "PPE for the People". This kind of initiative makes social change feel irresistible. A huge part of this microvision is **mutual aid**. Longtime organizers like Mariame Kaba emphasize that mutual aid is about meeting immediate needs – things like food, grocery delivery, bail funds, transportation, and childcare – based on the principle of "solidarity not charity". But it's also a vital "on-ramp" for people to get involved in social movements, as organizer Dean Spade explains. Spade outlines three essential types of movement work: tearing down harmful systems, meeting people's immediate needs, and building entirely new structures based on care, democracy, and solidarity. The legalization of street gangs in Ecuador, allowing them to become cultural associations and qualify for grants, is presented as an example of creating alternative structures. Viral justice understands that our fates are deeply linked. Even when society tries to tell us we're separate, things like healthcare policies neglecting the needy, education policies breeding ignorance, or housing policies creating scarcity hurt everyone in the long run. The book points out the "dirty secret" that even those who benefit from or demand cuts to public goods, often driven by anti-Blackness, are suffering. For instance, the relative life expectancy of white Americans has been declining compared to other nations, showing that few can truly escape the negative effects of a fraying social system, even if they have privilege. Viral justice calls on each of us to confront how we might participate in unjust systems, even unintentionally, and recognizes that inequality makes us all sick. The author's own background deeply informs this perspective. Growing up with parents from different racial and national backgrounds and raised with the Bahá’í teachings, which center the oneness of humanity and justice, shaped her understanding. Justice, from this perspective, isn't just something governments grant; it's something people express daily through how we see, know, and move in the world. Viral justice is presented as an **orientation**, a way of "looking again" at all the ways people are working to build alternatives to oppression. It highlights small-scale, local actions and how they can be adopted and spread. Crucially, it **counters the assumption that "scaling up" should always be the primary goal**. Instead, it focuses on groups experimenting with new ways of relating, creating "networks of mutual aid, maroon communities, survival programs, and circles of care". It's also about individuals intentionally practicing the future they want to see in the present. The concept embraces complexity, rejecting "either-or" choices – it's okay to be idealistic _and_ pragmatic, experimental _and_ enduring, joyful _and_ enraged. It acknowledges that this work is hard and can be exhausting, requiring recognition of grief and discouragement, but also encouraging hope and seeing another day. Viral justice is described as "ustopia" – not a perfect future or a terrible one, but a mix of anticipatory invention (asking "what if?") and stubborn investment in the present (demanding "why wait?"). Small actions aren't insignificant; they are critical connections. Writer adrienne maree brown's idea of emergence highlights how small actions and connections build complex systems. Viral justice encourages us to amplify these seemingly small efforts, like a microscope does, and spread them, like a life-sustaining virus. Grace Lee Boggs also noted that changes in small places affect the whole system, not just incrementally, but through the "unbroken wholeness" and invisible fabric of our connectedness. The book draws a stark contrast between viral justice and **superficial changes or "viral publicity."** Think of corporations or institutions making grand announcements about supporting antiracism after major events, but continuing harmful practices like redlining or discriminatory lending. This can be like "flowery wallpaper for a haunted house". True viral justice requires substance, not just rhetoric. A major area where viral justice is desperately needed is in challenging the **carceral system**. The book scrutinizes policing and punishment, seeing them as deeply connected to the history of slave patrols and perpetuated by myths of necessity. Viral justice in this context isn't about police reform, but about gradual **abolition**. It involves redirecting resources from policing and prisons towards public goods like housing, education, and healthcare. It also involves creating communities of care and asking, "What else can we grow instead of punishment and suffering?". The concept of **"weathering"** is introduced as a way to understand the devastating health impacts of living in hostile environments shaped by anti-Black racism. This chronic stress gets "under our skin and into our bloodstream," burdening organs and wearing people down over time. Viral justice seeks to protect individuals and communities from this weathering through collective care, cultivating relationships, trust, skills, accountability, and healing. It's about sheltering one another and ultimately transforming the "weather" itself. The book highlights how the carceral system extends beyond physical prisons and police. It's also present in our culture, deputizing people to police Black life in public spaces. The rise of **surveillance technology and apps** like Citizen is presented as a dangerous evolution, streamlining racial profiling and vigilantism under the guise of "democratizing" public safety. This is part of the "New Jim Code," technologically mediated forms of containment that hide racial profiling behind seemingly harmless interfaces. The chilling story of the Citizen app CEO directing a city-wide, app-fueled manhunt leading to a wrongful detention illustrates the dangers of commodifying fear and vigilantism. This connects to the themes in the Black Mirror episode "White Bear," where punishment becomes a spectacle for public consumption and enjoyment. Citizen policing also involves **white women weaponizing their "fauxnerability"** to endanger Black people by calling the police for minor or imagined infractions. This phenomenon, often labeled with the meme "Karen," is about asserting white claims to public space and perpetuating a white public order. The case of Amy Cooper calling the police on Christian Cooper in Central Park illustrates how these seemingly individual actions tap into a deep vein of racial bias that leads to more serious events. Viral justice demands we retool our responses to distress and harm, seeding alternatives to calling 911, which is too often used to police and control people deemed undesirable. Instead of relying on reforms like implicit bias training or community policing, viral justice advocates for **abolitionist experiments** in creating a world without police. This involves organizations offering community-based harm response systems and alternative ways to address conflict and violence, like Creative Interventions and the Oakland Power Projects. It’s about building community power and asking crucial questions about how we respond to harm. Abolitionist organizing isn’t just about getting rid of police; it’s about imagining and investing in numerous "experiments" with care and accountability, such as mobile resource centers, funds for formerly incarcerated women, and restorative justice circles led by survivors. The book also explores the concept of **"spirit murder"** – the profound emotional and psychological harm that racism inflicts, robbing people of dignity and self-worth. Viral justice is also about fostering **"spirit healing"** by acknowledging these injuries, ending harmful disciplinary policies, and nurturing the imagination of those targeted, particularly Black children in schools. This involves educators who see and affirm their students' "genius" and teach in culturally responsive ways. In education, viral justice challenges practices like school tracking that disproportionately harm Black students and perpetuate the myth of meritocracy. It elevates the work of people like sociologist Whitney Pirtle, who used her position to advocate for changes benefiting all students rather than just securing an advantage for her own child. It acknowledges that while individual actions aren't enough to dismantle segregated systems, collective willingness to engage with these systems is necessary for change. Looking at **labor and livelihood**, the book critiques the exploitation of "essential workers," highlighting how the gig economy, shaped by historical inequities, treats many workers as disposable despite their crucial role. Viral justice is seen in the ways gig workers organize and share information to challenge unfair practices and demand better conditions, such as the Gig Worker Collective organizing strikes against Instacart. It's also present in businesses like Tunnel Vision that prioritize valuing workers financially. The movement towards creating a "solidarity economy" based on cooperation, as pursued by Cooperation Jackson, offers a powerful vision for reimagining work and redistributing wealth. Even small acts of cooperation among peers, like graduate students working together instead of competing, embody this spirit. The call for budget justice, redirecting public funds from harmful institutions to life-affirming ones, is also a vital aspect. The concept of **rest as resistance** is introduced, particularly for Black women, challenging the capitalist grind culture that only values rest for productivity. Rest, in this view, is not something to be earned but is essential for well-being and challenging the systems that wear us down. Viral justice encourages valuing people beyond their productivity and conspiring to transform the terms of work and rest. In **healthcare**, viral justice acknowledges that the medical industry, driven by profit, often produces preventable harm. It highlights alternative models like doula and midwifery care, which center the whole person, autonomy, trust, and collaboration, as templates for a fundamentally different approach to healing. It also emphasizes community-based health advocacy, like Dorothy Oliver's efforts in Panola, Alabama, to ensure access to care despite systemic neglect. The book dives deep into the history and ongoing reality of **medical racism**, from coercive sterilization to the exploitation of Henrietta Lacks's cells (HeLa cells) and harmful studies like the Baltimore Lead Paint Study. Viral justice demands that we confront this history, name the institutions and individuals responsible for harm, and work towards accountability and reparations. The case of Henrietta Lacks is a powerful symbol of American duplicity, where breakthroughs for some were built on the suffering of others. Efforts by researchers and institutions to acknowledge this history, support the Lacks family, and promote community engagement in research are seen as small steps towards viral justice. The Flint water crisis is another example where residents, faced with institutional lies, became citizen scientists, organizing across differences and spinning "threads of trust" to expose the truth and demand change. Community-engaged research models that genuinely partner with those most affected by health inequities are seen as crucial for building trustworthiness and creating concrete change. Integrating Indigenous knowledge and ensuring Indigenous researchers are at the table is highlighted as part of decolonizing science and building trust based on long-term relationships. Ultimately, "Viral Justice" is a rallying cry. It scraps the idea that you're just one person and encourages banding together with others hungry for change. It's about turning up the volume on the "white noise" of anti-Black racism that often goes unnoticed, so we can collectively create something soulful and life-giving. It recognizes that our well-being is intimately bound up with others', urging solidarity and demanding that we acknowledge and address suffering. It's a call to action for individuals to recognize their power in shaping the larger environment through their thoughts, habits, and actions, and to collaborate with others. **So, where does this leave you?** The book encourages you to discover your own "plot" – in what area of your life can you question inherited roles and narratives and scheme with others to seed a different world?. It's not about being an antiracism police, nor about romanticizing the struggle. It's about putting your hand to the plow, offering your unique skills to the collective pursuit of justice, and practicing what you dream is possible, little by little, day by day. **Ideas for further exploration:** - How can you identify the "alien species" or alternative ways of being that are already taking root in your own community or workplace? How can you nurture them? - Think about the concept of "weathering" in your own life or community. What are the specific stressors and oppressors at play, and what collective care strategies could help shelter one another? - Consider the "New Jim Code" and surveillance technologies in your daily life. How might seemingly convenient apps be contributing to or disguising systems of control and racial profiling? What alternatives could you explore? - How can you apply the principles of mutual aid and "solidarity not charity" in your own interactions and community involvement? - Reflect on the critique of meritocracy in education and labor. How do you see this playing out, and what small actions could challenge the idea that winning is the same as freedom? - Explore the idea of "spirit murder" and "spirit healing." How can spaces (like schools, workplaces, or communities) be transformed to protect and nurture the dignity and self-worth of all individuals, especially children? - Consider the examples of community-based harm response and abolitionist experiments. How might you learn more about or support such initiatives in your area? - Think about the history of medical racism discussed. How can we ensure accountability, support medical reparations, and build trustworthiness between institutions and marginalized communities? - How can you challenge corrosive individualism and prioritize mutual obligations in your relationships and community? - Consider the importance of rest as resistance. How can you embody this principle and conspire with others to transform the terms of work and rest? "Viral Justice" reminds us that creating a more just world is a shared labor. It requires confronting difficult truths, working against dominant harmful systems, and intentionally weaving a social fabric of care and interdependence. It's not about waiting for permission or external validation, but about making room for different ways of knowing and being, and taking courageous steps, hand in hand with others.