It’s (NOT) The End Of The World As We Know It
I recently read cultural critic Jia Tolentino’s 2019 essay collection Trick Mirror, a reflection on internet culture and self-delusion expressed in Talentino’s characteristically sharp analysis and crystalline prose. I found this book simultaneously captivating and frustrating; The essays in Trick Mirror were written mostly during 2017 and 2018, the first two years of the Trump presidency, and Tolentino often refers to his incumbency as an unprecedented shock, a major deviation from established norms, and an overall incomprehensible blot on the page of a nation still ultimately bending toward justice. It was hard for me not to feel embittered by this type of rhetoric. Trump’s 2016 win slammed shut the era of Obama optimism, BuzzFeed, and girlboss feminism, rattling the liberal establishment, yes—but if only they knew how bad it would get! They thought the world was ending then—if only they could see us now!
Of course, I recognize that this perspective is inherently narcissistic. The world has always been ending. For many people, it ends every day. I realize this, and yet I also recognize that lately, hope seems harder and harder to come by. When we can’t trust our institutions to protect those who need it most, and when the reality of the climate catastrophe broils darker every day, where do we turn?
Prodigal Press was founded by a small group of undergraduate students in the throes of crescendoing political and social unrest—disingenuous honor code changes and subsequent Restore Honor protests at BYU, horrific displays of police brutality, and the devastation of the COVID-19 pandemic. This small group took action in the face of institutional censorship, creating a place for unheard voices and perspectives in Provo. For nearly five years, Prodigal Press has been a home for stories that don’t fit the Jell-O mold. We’ve forged a robust community that encompasses the holy, the heretical, and everything in between as we work to foster solidarity, resilience, and hope through ragtag grassroots efforts.
As we teeter on the threshold of a second Trump term—less a shock and more a sobering indicator of increasing conservative entrenchment across the country—we’ve been discussing Prodigal’s role in our community and the best ways to move forward with hope. While it’s easy to feel powerless on a national scale, we know there are ways to take local action to enact meaningful change for the people around us. This year, Prodigal Press is recommitting to our community and our audience with a renewed emphasis on material action. In the coming months, we hope to publicize volunteer opportunities, partner with community organizations, and work to make our weird and wonderful Provo a better place for everyone in it.
If you’re a community organizer, have connections to local outreach groups, or otherwise want to work with us to accomplish these goals, reach out! We would love to hear from you, collaborate on a project, or publish your story. To our lovely readers: we hope you’ll join us in our efforts to make our community an enduring source of joy and hope.