Remember the DNC? In August, on the final night of the 2024 Democratic National Convention, I found myself in an Uber on the way to the official DNC afterparty. T-Pain would be performing, a friend had told me, so we piled into the back of the SUV, squeezed between Uncommitted campaign organizers fresh from their unsuccessful sit-in, lost in talk of mentors and offramps and points of leverage. The line to get into the venue snaked around the block. There were more police than we’d expected, and as we stepped out onto the sidewalk, we saw why. A small contingent of keffiyeh’d protesters clustered around the entrance, chanting and condemning. A young Arab American man was yelling, his voice hoarse as he looked attendees dead in the eyes and told them the truth: “You’re complicit, you have blood on your hands.” I watched as one of the lanyarded men in line replied with a forced, smug “What, what did I do?” His smirk looked more like a wince.…