In the year two thousand one, I discovered I was an anarchist. Not in some dramatic, movie-montage way—just me, staring at the world after 9/11, watching the U.S. government go full imperial death machine, and thinking, "Yeah, this is some serious bullshit." So, like any sensible person, I joined the anti-war movement. At the time, I was in Atlanta, Georgia, where the resistance scene was buzzing.

Atlanta had an active IndyMedia center, which, for the uninitiated, was basically an underground media hub run by scrappy, sleep-deprived activists before social media was a thing. This was back when uploading a video wasn’t just clicking a button—it was a goddamn process. IndyMedia was part of a global network where people documented protests, uploaded audio and video, and generally pissed off the powers that be. Since I already had some video editing skills and my own setup, I started making videos of what was happening in the streets.

Through this, I met my first anarchists—this American-Czech couple who were incredibly patient with my dumb questions and my lingering pacifism. They didn’t roll their eyes at me (at least not to my face) and instead spent long nights calmly explaining anarchist ideas while I probably asked something ridiculous like, "But who will build the roads?" Then, they handed me a book—Days of War, Nights of Love by CrimethInc. And damn, this book was different. Most anarchist lit I had seen at the time looked like it was Xeroxed in someone’s basement, but this? This was a real book. Professionally bound, great design, and it didn’t read like a dry manifesto—it was poetic, rebellious, and actually fun to read.

Ironically, the book had a CrimethInc. address in Atlanta, which I later found out was just some dude’s mom’s house. Classic. Anyway, while reading it, I was also head over heels in love, and one chapter—Join the Resistance, Fall in Love—hit me hard. So naturally, I did what any overly passionate artist would do: I made a 17-minute film out of it. It had actors, an actual narrative, and yes, a sex scene—so don’t watch it at work unless you want an awkward meeting with HR. Looking back, it’s a little melodramatic, but at the time, I was damn proud of it. Hell, I still am. It was raw, it was real, and it meant something.

That film was a turning point. It made me realize I wasn’t interested in a traditional film career—I wanted to use media to fight for freedom, to spread anarchist ideas, and to shake things up. Join the Resistance, Fall in Love got screened in a bunch of places, burned onto DVDs (remember those?), and ultimately marked the beginning of my anti-career as a rebel anarchist filmmaker. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.