Every time I say something, someone tries to put me in a box, reds call me a capitalist, blues call me a communist, and both walk away satisfied, because now they know where I stand. In the enemy's box. It doesn't matter that the box doesn't exist, what matters is that I'm inside it.

Funny thing is, both accuse me of what they themselves defend, just with the sign flipped. If I say the market concentrates power, the capitalist calls me red. If I say the state isn't the solution, the communist calls me blue. Neither stops to ask if there are more colors. Because if there are, their box stops working.

I love reflections that pull me out of my own thinking, the ones that force me to look from somewhere else, even if it's uncomfortable. I'm always willing to change my mind, I've done it more times than I can count. But there's a difference between changing your mind because someone asked a better question, and defending a label without asking yourself any.

The ideas I defend don't come from a side. They come from exercising my brain. Reading, doubting, being wrong, correcting. Asking myself why I believe what I believe, and whether it holds up under a good objection. If it doesn't, I change it. I don't defend it out of loyalty to a color.

Reds call me a capitalist because I don't accept their solution, blues call me a communist because I don't accept theirs, but the problem isn't who's right, the problem is that both want me to pick a side so they can stop asking me uncomfortable questions. I don't have a side, I have questions, and the first one is: why are there only two colors? The second: who decided there are only two? The third: who benefits from there being only two?

I don't want to be red. I don't want to be blue. I want to know who paints the cards, and as long as they won't let me ask, I'll keep being the awkward one, the one who doesn't fit in any box, with no side, only questions, and that, to those dealing the cards, is more dangerous than any color.

Thanks for reading, sat.