Antifa, a term that has come to represent a broad range of anti-fascist ideologies and actions, is often defended by its supporters as a grassroots movement of resistance to fascism. However, the early days of Antifa were anything but a spontaneous, populist movement. In fact, its origins were deeply rooted in privilege—specifically, the elite liberal college campuses where a significant portion of its early supporters came from. At these institutions, students who were largely privileged and well-educated came together under the banner of anti-fascism, but their activism was shaped by a particular social and economic context that insulated them from the real-world consequences that many marginalized people face when they engage in similar acts of resistance.
The rise of Antifa in the early 2000s was largely confined to the academic world, where most of the participants were suburban white students attending elite colleges. These were students who had the privilege of attending schools that cost thousands of dollars in tuition fees, and they often came from families with substantial financial means. The fact that they could afford to be radical in their political actions speaks to the privilege baked into the movement’s early days. It was a movement that, at its core, was shaped by individuals who had access to resources, education, and platforms that allowed them to protest without facing the repercussions that most working-class people or marginalized groups would face in similar circumstances.
What’s often ignored or glossed over in mainstream discussions of Antifa is the privileged position of those early participants. To attend college in the first place—let alone attend an elite, liberal institution—requires a significant amount of privilege. The students involved in Antifa’s early days could engage in acts of protest, disruption, and even destruction of property without facing the same consequences that a working-class activist or marginalized person might face. College students, with their academic protection and social insulation, could participate in radical acts like vandalism or clashes with police knowing that their social safety net would protect them from any serious fallout. This reality reveals a glaring contradiction: while Antifa positioned itself as an anti-fascist movement, its early days were largely shaped by privileged individuals who had the luxury of being radical without the direct threat of harm to their livelihoods or futures.
Fast forward to 2020, when Joe Biden, the Democratic presidential candidate, defended Antifa during a nationally televised debate. Biden referred to it as simply an ideology, downplaying its violent or destructive actions as part of the broader struggle against fascism. This defense, in many ways, speaks to the disconnection between the privileged nature of Antifa’s origins and the real struggles of people who face the consequences of fascism on a daily basis. The defense of a movement that was, for so long, relegated to elite institutions—with participants often shielded from real-world consequences—highlights how out of touch mainstream politicians like Biden are with the struggles of marginalized communities. If Antifa were any other movement, it would likely be scrutinized, criticized, and perhaps even vilified by the political establishment. Yet, for reasons that are difficult to understand, this elite-driven, privileged movement has been defended by figures like Biden and other members of the Democratic Party—even in the face of its historical connections to privilege.
This defense of Antifa reveals how deeply disjointed the modern political landscape is. While the Democratic Party often prides itself on being the party of the working class and marginalized groups, it has repeatedly stood by a movement that was born out of elite, liberal academic spaces. For Democrats to stand behind Antifa without acknowledging its privileged origins is a striking contradiction. The fact that Democrats—who claim to fight for social justice and equality—would defend a movement that was so exclusively represented by the privileged class should raise serious questions about who benefits from such support. If Antifa had originated from working-class communities or marginalized people, would it have received the same level of defense from the political establishment?
The contradiction of defending Antifa—especially when its early roots were so deeply connected to elite college campuses—is especially evident when comparing the treatment of other social justice movements. For example, consider how Democrats and Republicans alike have reacted to the Palestinian movement, which has long been marginalized and underfunded. Politicians on both sides of the aisle have been quick to criticize and suppress movements that challenge U.S. foreign policy or imperialism, while at the same time, they’ve been willing to defend a movement like Antifa, which has its origins in privilege and academic elitism.
The fact that Democrats can so easily align themselves with a movement that was historically shaped by privileged college students—who had the resources and academic protection to engage in radical actions without real consequences—should raise red flags for anyone who truly cares about anti-fascism or leftism. If we can’t critically engage with the privileged origins of Antifa, how can we trust that the movement is truly representative of the oppressed? Privilege, in this context, not only shapes the way the movement operates, but it also shapes how it is perceived and defended by the political elite. This lack of critical reflection allows Antifa’s privileged history to go unchallenged, while the movement is lauded by figures who are often far removed from the real struggles of marginalized communities.
At the end of the day, Antifa’s origins on elite college campuses and its reliance on privileged actors speaks to the broader issue of privilege in social movements. If a movement is born out of privilege, it cannot be considered truly grassroots or representative of the people most affected by the issues it seeks to combat. The fact that Antifa has remained so closely tied to elite academic spaces—where students can experiment with radical ideas without facing significant repercussions—raises serious questions about its legitimacy and effectiveness in fighting fascism or any form of oppression.
The defense of Antifa by figures like Joe Biden is troubling because it fails to acknowledge the movement’s historical roots in privilege, making it seem like the Democratic Party is more invested in symbolic radicalism than meaningful change. If we are to truly build a movement that fights fascism, it must be rooted in the experiences of those who face fascism on the front lines—not in the ivory towers of academia or the comfortable confines of elite universities. If we can’t recognize the privileged origins of Antifa and confront the uncomfortable truths about its foundations, then we risk continuing to elevate movements that serve the interests of the privileged few—while ignoring those who truly need support in the fight against fascism and oppression.
The reality of Antifa’s privileged foundation demands critical reflection. If leftists and Democrats can’t reckon with the fact that privilege plays such a huge role in shaping this movement, then it’s high time for a broader conversation about what real anti-fascism looks like and who it is actually intended to serve. Until then, we must ask: who is truly benefiting from the defense of Antifa, and what does that say about the state of activism in today’s political climate?
Now, here’s the critical thing: who is still viewing Antifa from its early days? Republicans. Conservatives. They haven’t forgotten the origins of the movement. They still see Antifa for what it was in its early days, and they continue to frame it as a radical, privileged, elitist movement. So, if we truly want to engage with this issue, if we truly want to change minds, or at the very least, not have people turned off by Antifa, or have fewer people think of it as some Democrat-funded operation, here’s the reality: we need to acknowledge the privileged history of Antifa. This history can’t be ignored, and it’s time to meaningfully engage with it and critique it. This is the only way we can hope to reshape the narrative, rebuild trust, and ensure that the movement isn’t just defended blindly, but rather critiqued and evolved so it can better represent the needs of those who are truly oppressed by fascism, not just those who had the privilege to engage in radical acts without real-world consequences.
Here’s the other thing. Liberalism, by many on the left, is seen as fascism, or at the very least, as enablers of fascism. While mainstream liberals often pride themselves on their ability to compromise, reach across the aisle, and stand for democratic values, many on the left—especially those who are engaged in more radical, anti-fascist movements—argue that liberalism’s true role in society is not to oppose fascism, but to maintain the status quo and enable the rise of fascism in more insidious forms.
At its core, liberalism is based on the idea of incremental change, reformism, and institutional preservation. It’s a system that values the preservation of the state and capitalist structures, even if those structures inherently support inequality, oppression, and, in some cases, fascist ideologies. For those on the more radical left, this stance is seen as complicit in the face of fascist movements, as it refuses to challenge the root causes of oppression directly.
Take the example of how the U.S. government has responded to rising fascist rhetoric in recent years. While liberals have often condemned the most overtly fascist figures—such as white supremacist groups and far-right organizations—their policies still often fail to challenge the systemic structures that allow fascism to grow in the first place. Liberalism, with its reliance on capitalism, policing, and state power, is seen as a facilitator rather than a barrier to the rise of fascism, particularly in times of crisis.
In fact, many leftists argue that the liberal establishment is part of the problem, as it allows for the gradual erosion of civil liberties, democratic freedoms, and the empowerment of fascist ideologies through political compromise. When liberals refuse to directly confront the growing influence of far-right ideologies—either through legislative action or through direct opposition—they inadvertently open the door for these ideologies to flourish. In many cases, the liberal order becomes a safe haven for fascism to spread, as it does not seek to dismantle the structures of power that allow such movements to thrive.
So, for those on the left who seek a more radical and transformative approach, liberalism is viewed as the first line of defense for fascism, even if it’s not the fascism in its most extreme, overt form. Instead, liberalism enables soft fascism—a more normalized, institutionalized, and insidious version of fascism that’s far harder to fight. The false dichotomy between “liberal” and “fascist” is dangerous because it allows liberals to present themselves as anti-fascist while simultaneously upholding systems that foster fascism in more disguised forms.
This is why many radical leftists view liberalism as not just a failing ideology, but a catalyst for the very rise of fascism they seek to combat. It’s a system that often maintains the status quo in ways that allow fascist rhetoric and policy to thrive unchecked. The cultural hegemony of liberalism in modern politics must be acknowledged for what it is: a movement that tries to balance progressive rhetoric with capitalist and neoliberal realities, ultimately fostering a society where fascism can still take root and flourish.
And here’s the uncomfortable truth that must be considered: when we look at Antifa’s early days, particularly when it was relegated so heavily to elite liberal colleges, we must ask ourselves: were these early Antifa activists really leftists? Honestly, it’s a fair question to ask, especially considering the environment they came from. If you think about it, liberal elite colleges are the breeding ground for students who, while often espousing progressive values, are also tied to systems of privilege, capitalism, and elitism. So when Antifa was primarily made up of suburban white students and academic elites, one has to wonder: how authentically anti-fascist were they? Or was it that these students, wrapped up in their liberal bubble, were more interested in reformism or radical gestures to feel part of something important, rather than engaging in a real, material struggle against fascism and oppression?
In those early days, Antifa became a kind of performance of activism, where those involved could show their allegiance to anti-fascism while still operating within a system that protected them from the real-world consequences of their actions. For these students, their radical gestures—whether it was property destruction or clashes with police—were not acts of survival but acts of privilege. They were able to engage in these actions because they came from backgrounds that provided them with social insulation. Their actions weren’t driven by the urgency of facing actual fascism in their daily lives, but by the need to be seen as part of a movement. So, were these genuine leftists? Or were they just the privileged children of the system who wanted to engage in a revolutionary fantasy that was disconnected from the real, messy struggles faced by marginalized communities?
At the end of the day, the early history of Antifa raises important questions about the movement’s authenticity as a leftist force. If the movement was heavily shaped by privileged college students who were insulated from the real-world consequences of their activism, can we truly say it was a movement of the oppressed or just another example of privileged people trying to act radical without having to face the consequences of their actions?
Now look, I’m not trying to shit on Antifa or say that it’s all bad, or that everyone in it is bad. No. That’s not what I’m getting at. What I am saying is that there are real, meaningful criticisms of the movement that come from a leftist perspective, and so far, I haven’t really fucking seen anyone make them, both from prominent figures and those who aren’t as prominent. So, you know what? Guess it might as well be fucking me. And honestly, it often feels like that’s the case with a lot of shit—fine, whatever. People might not like it, but I don’t fucking care. It’s important that we have these conversations—now more than ever. It’s important for folks to understand the shit we’re dealing with, especially if we want to make real progress.
If the right keeps viewing Antifa through the lens of its early days, as some college-campus, privileged radical movement, and folks on the left keep ignoring that history or pretending it just magically goes away, that’s not going to help anyone. Because they won’t stop. They won’t fucking stop. They won’t go away. And if the only group actively engaging with the topic is the right-wing, and the left refuses to critically engage, then that’s a serious fucking problem.
If we want real change, if we want to address fascism and right-wing extremism, we can’t just turn a blind eye to the privilege and historical context of movements like Antifa. We can’t ignore the uncomfortable truths or pretend that everything is fine just because it fits into our own ideological narrative. Fascism doesn’t care about our labels, and neither should we. It’s time to acknowledge, question, and critique, in order to build something better. Otherwise, we’re just letting this shit continue unchecked.
And that’s something none of us can afford.
And you want a good example of Antifa being privileged? Look at fucking Vaush and fucking HasanAbi. These dudes pretend to be leftists, they espouse all the leftist talking points, the anti-fascist talking points, but at the end of the day, they’re just defenders of the status fucking quo. They claim to be about radical change, but when you break it down, their whole brand of leftism is about maintaining the system that benefits them. These guys get on their platforms and talk about anti-fascism and social justice, but when it comes down to it, they’re just making money off of the system they claim to oppose.
They live in the comfort of privilege—both financially and socially—and yet act like they’re somehow fighting the good fight. Vaush, with his neoliberal and sometimes contradictory takes on politics, and HasanAbi, with his big Twitch following and corporate sponsorships, are great examples of how privileged individuals can co-opt anti-fascist rhetoric to maintain their position in the system. They aren’t shaking the foundations of the state or dismantling capitalist structures. They’re just running a business, capitalizing on the left-wing space, and safely navigating the system while pretending to be radicals.
These dudes, in their pursuit of fame, money, and clout, have become just another layer of the establishment—they want to seem radical, but they don’t want to disrupt anything that would cost them their comfort. And that’s the real issue with the way Antifa has been co-opted by individuals like them. It’s no longer about fighting fascism or challenging systems of oppression; it’s about maintaining a performance of activism that’s safe and profitable.
If we really want to fight fascism and create real change, we can’t just give these guys a pass because they say the right words. Vaush and HasanAbi represent the kind of privileged anti-fascism that is more interested in performative activism than in genuine revolutionary change. And that’s just another example of how Antifa, as a movement, has been shaped by privilege. We need to recognize that these individuals—like so many others—are more interested in protecting the system that supports their comfort rather than destroying the system that’s built on oppression and inequality.
Let’s talk about a broader topic: privileged anti-fascism or performative anti-fascism. It’s the kind of bullshit you see Democrats do daily. They’ll rant and rave, throw out all kinds of angry rhetoric against Trump and the Republicans. They’ll say things like, “This is the last straw,” or “We cannot let this slide,” or “This is it, this time we’re going to stand up.” But when push comes to shove, when it’s time to actually do something, they don’t do shit. Nothing substantial. Nothing when it counts.
They talk a big game, but when it matters, they act like cowards. Cowards who would rather compromise and placate than actually challenge the systems that perpetuate fascism. The thing is, when fascism is creeping up and they have the power to stop it—when it’s right in front of them, taking shape in policies and rhetoric, they sit back and act like it’s not their problem. Or worse, they go along with it. They may claim to oppose fascism, but when it’s time to take real action, they fold, they compromise, they collaborate.
Democrats like to position themselves as the anti-fascist champions, but their actions speak louder than their words. They’ll post a tweet, hold a rally, or make an emotional speech condemning the right-wing, but they don’t actually take any substantive actions that challenge the root of the problem. They’re happy to jump on the anti-Trump bandwagon when it’s safe, when it’s just words, but when it comes to fighting the system that enables fascism, they’re silent. They would rather keep their status intact, keep their positions of power, and make sure they don’t rock the boat too much. They won’t risk their privileges, and that’s the real issue here.
This is where performative anti-fascism comes in. It’s not about making any real sacrifices or risking anything. It’s about saying the right things, putting out the right messages, and looking like you care, without having to actually put in the work. It’s the type of activism that’s safe. Safe for politicians, safe for celebrities, and safe for rich liberals who can afford to be “activists” without any real consequences. But when it’s time to take actual risks, they’re nowhere to be found.
We saw this play out in full force with Trump’s presidency. The Democrats screamed about how dangerous he was, how unprecedented his actions were. They promised to fight his policies, to stand up for human rights, for the rule of law, but what did they actually do? They held a few hearings, threw out a few tweets, and staged some protests, but they never truly challenged the system. They never seriously confronted the forces that enabled Trump—whether it was the corrupt power structures or the wealthy elite backing him.
And it’s the same now with the ongoing rise of the far-right in America and across the globe. The Democrats are more than happy to say they oppose fascism, but when it’s time to act—when it’s time to invest in movements that actually dismantle the structures that support fascism—they sit back. They’re too busy compromising with Republicans, too busy trying to appeal to their donors, to actually confront what’s happening.
Privileged anti-fascism is just another form of passive activism. It’s a movement for those who have the privilege of being able to oppose fascism without ever actually being affected by it. Democrats do it all the time—talking a big game, but never following through. They’ll decry fascism in all its forms, but when it comes to concrete action, they won’t risk their own privileges. They’re content to maintain the status quo, as long as they don’t lose their positions of power.
This performative activism does nothing to stop the growing threat of fascism. It’s hollow, it’s fake, and it’s ultimately damaging. Because when real action is needed, when real anti-fascism is required, all they do is make speeches and continue to support the system that’s allowing fascism to grow in the first place. That’s not anti-fascism—that’s performative activism that’s more concerned with maintaining power than actually taking down the structures that allow fascism to flourish.