"Squatter" is a provocative satire that radicalizes the common activist slogan “No one is illegal on stolen land” by extending its logic into the domain of private property and domestic space. The piece functions as an ideological stress test, mapping an extreme consistency onto an anti-border worldview to reveal what it sees as latent hypocrisies in progressive political discourse. By applying the principle behind open borders—namely, that sovereignty is invalid because the land was acquired through colonial theft—to the interior threshold of the home, the piece exposes what it suggests is a convenient limit to progressive inclusivity: the front door. If the legitimacy of national borders is undermined by settler-colonial history, the argument goes, so too is the legitimacy of your deed, your house key, your “no trespassing” sign, and your right to exclude someone from your own bedroom. If the nation has no legal claim to keep out undocumented migrants, you have no moral authority to remove a squatter from your living room, no matter what they do once inside.

This satirical framework becomes especially pointed when it highlights the contradiction between moral posturing and practical boundaries. The narrator mocks the liberal homeowner who claims solidarity with undocumented migrants and Indigenous sovereignty while still locking their doors and vetting guests. Even the charitable act of welcoming refugees is subjected to critique: if you “allow” someone into your home, you are still implicitly claiming a right to grant or deny access. That, the piece argues, is itself an authoritarian gesture that replicates the logic of border control. Worse still, by setting conditions for those you welcome—requiring good behavior, tests of loyalty, or probationary periods—you reinforce the framework that distinguishes citizen from alien, guest from intruder. The satire asks: if “no one is illegal” truly means no one is illegal, does that apply to a man who kicks in your window and refuses to leave? To someone who harms your family? Even to those who commit monstrous acts, the narrator insists, your moral framework forbids exclusion. It is a chilling provocation: a worldview that sacrifices all thresholds in the name of justice may ultimately dissolve the concept of safety itself.

The piece gains further intensity by introducing a racial analysis, one that asserts the permanent illegitimacy of white presence in North America. The narrator argues that any attempt to object to property violations—especially from white homeowners—is rendered null by the legacy of colonialism. Racial identity, not law or principle, becomes the determinant of who may exclude and who may not. The critique escalates until it becomes indistinguishable from parody: whiteness is described as an incurable disease, a logic-virus that infects even the oppressed, and one that negates moral standing regardless of individual conduct. Here, the satire mirrors and magnifies the most essentialist dimensions of racialized decolonial discourse, where guilt is not tied to acts but to identity, and where accountability is defined by inverse hierarchy. The speaker proposes that any “no” uttered by a white person carries the taint of structural violence and must therefore be disregarded as invalid. The very concept of consent—so foundational to modern ethics—is destabilized, reframed as a privilege afforded only to the historically oppressed. What emerges is a world in which justice is retributive, not distributive: a world where equity means inversion, not equality.

The extremity of the satire is what gives the piece its critical force. By refusing to allow the reader a place to dismount—to say, “But that’s too far”—the piece insists on examining the political rhetoric of border abolition and racial equity at the level of lived consequence. What does it mean, really, to deny the legitimacy of territorial sovereignty? What does it mean to say no one is a trespasser? The satire refuses to resolve these questions neatly. Instead, it pushes the reader to confront how selective most applications of radical slogans really are. The very people who protest the border wall still draw clear lines around their neighborhoods, their fences, their bedrooms. They say “no human is illegal,” but call the police when someone uninvited refuses to leave their porch. By transplanting national dilemmas into domestic spaces, the piece foregrounds the dissonance between public virtue and private behavior. It forces a reckoning with the practical implications of moral absolutism and the limits of rhetorical consistency. In so doing, “Squatter” reveals both the utopian seduction and the dystopian consequences of living as if borders do not exist.

satire, political extremism, open borders, property rights, anti-colonialism, whiteness, decolonization, immigration, racial equity, private space, consent, moral consistency, identity politics, no one is illegal, performative progressivism, retributive justice, rhetorical radicalism, domestic intrusion.

“Squatter” is a confrontational prose-poem that operates as a reductio ad absurdum of contemporary anti-property and anti-border moral reasoning. Rather than arguing directly for or against a political position, the text adopts the internal logic of radical anti-ownership discourse and drives it relentlessly to its most extreme implications. In doing so, the piece exposes what it portrays as a catastrophic moral vacuum produced when concepts such as property, consent, and exclusion are dissolved without replacement.

Formally, “Squatter” is structured as a second-person indictment. The repeated address—“you”—forces the reader into the position of the liberal moral subject: the self-consciously virtuous homeowner who denounces borders, celebrates hospitality, and affirms the slogan “no human is illegal.” The poem’s rhetorical strategy is not to refute this position from the outside, but to inhabit it so fully that it collapses under its own weight.

The central analogy—between national borders and the threshold of a private home—is the poem’s engine. By insisting that the same logic used to delegitimize borders must also delegitimize property lines, the text erases distinctions that are typically treated as morally intuitive: guest versus intruder, consent versus violation, refuge versus occupation. The poem’s repeated refrain that contracts and deeds are “theater” underscores its critique of legal formalism, suggesting that all ownership claims rest on historical force rather than moral legitimacy.

Crucially, the poem does not stop at abstract reasoning. It escalates deliberately, introducing increasingly unbearable consequences of the logic it adopts. The argument insists that nothing—not behavior, not harm, not violation—can reinstate exclusion once exclusion has been declared illegitimate in principle. By doing so, the poem dramatizes a core philosophical problem: a moral system that abolishes boundaries entirely cannot account for protection, responsibility, or justice.

The text’s treatment of “equity” and “whiteness” sharpens this critique. Rather than merely condemning historical injustice, the poem depicts a framework in which moral standing is asymmetrically assigned by identity, such that rights are no longer universal but contingent. In this framework, exclusion is simultaneously forbidden in theory and practiced in fact—only now along racial and ideological lines. The poem frames this as a contradiction masked by moral language, where performative generosity (“you allow”) conceals ongoing power over inclusion and expulsion.

Stylistically, “Squatter” draws on the tradition of satirical moral philosophy—from Swift’s A Modest Proposal to modern polemical essays that weaponize sincerity. Its tone is deliberately merciless, refusing irony markers or authorial distance. This creates an interpretive risk: the piece can be misread as endorsement if its satirical extremity is not recognized. Yet this risk is part of the work’s design. The poem tests the reader’s willingness to follow a moral argument past the point where intuition revolts.

The final line, “Welcome home, stranger,” lands as a bitter inversion of hospitality. What begins as moral openness ends as total abdication of responsibility. Home becomes meaningless; welcome becomes compulsory; belonging becomes incoherent. The poem’s title, “Squatter,” thus refers not only to the figure who occupies space without permission, but to the moral subject who occupies a position without foundations.

In sum, “Squatter” is not a poem about immigration or property per se. It is a poem about moral absolutism, about what happens when negation replaces judgment, and when slogans are treated as axioms rather than starting points for ethical reasoning. Its extremity is intentional: the poem seeks not to persuade gently, but to force a reckoning with the consequences of ideas that are often affirmed without being fully examined.

Meta Description

“Squatter” is a polemical prose-poem that pushes anti-border and anti-property logic to its extreme conclusions. By collapsing distinctions between home and nation, guest and intruder, the poem critiques moral absolutism and exposes the ethical void created when exclusion is declared impossible in principle.

Keywords

polemical poetry, satire, property ethics, borders, moral absolutism, reductio ad absurdum, hospitality, ownership, political rhetoric, ethical contradiction, second-person address, radical critique, modern moral philosophy.

“Squatter” is a confrontational prose-poem that operates as a reductio ad absurdum of contemporary anti-property and anti-border moral reasoning. Rather than arguing directly for or against a political position, the text adopts the internal logic of radical anti-ownership discourse and drives it relentlessly to its most extreme implications. In doing so, the piece exposes what it portrays as a catastrophic moral vacuum produced when concepts such as property, consent, and exclusion are dissolved without replacement.

Formally, “Squatter” is structured as a second-person indictment. The repeated address—“you”—forces the reader into the position of the liberal moral subject: the self-consciously virtuous homeowner who denounces borders, celebrates hospitality, and affirms the slogan “no human is illegal.” The poem’s rhetorical strategy is not to refute this position from the outside, but to inhabit it so fully that it collapses under its own weight.

The central analogy—between national borders and the threshold of a private home—is the poem’s engine. By insisting that the same logic used to delegitimize borders must also delegitimize property lines, the text erases distinctions that are typically treated as morally intuitive: guest versus intruder, consent versus violation, refuge versus occupation. The poem’s repeated refrain that contracts and deeds are “theater” underscores its critique of legal formalism, suggesting that all ownership claims rest on historical force rather than moral legitimacy.

Crucially, the poem does not stop at abstract reasoning. It escalates deliberately, introducing increasingly unbearable consequences of the logic it adopts. The argument insists that nothing—not behavior, not harm, not violation—can reinstate exclusion once exclusion has been declared illegitimate in principle. By doing so, the poem dramatizes a core philosophical problem: a moral system that abolishes boundaries entirely cannot account for protection, responsibility, or justice.

The text’s treatment of “equity” and “whiteness” sharpens this critique. Rather than merely condemning historical injustice, the poem depicts a framework in which moral standing is asymmetrically assigned by identity, such that rights are no longer universal but contingent. In this framework, exclusion is simultaneously forbidden in theory and practiced in fact—only now along racial and ideological lines. The poem frames this as a contradiction masked by moral language, where performative generosity (“you allow”) conceals ongoing power over inclusion and expulsion.

Stylistically, “Squatter” draws on the tradition of satirical moral philosophy—from Swift’s A Modest Proposal to modern polemical essays that weaponize sincerity. Its tone is deliberately merciless, refusing irony markers or authorial distance. This creates an interpretive risk: the piece can be misread as endorsement if its satirical extremity is not recognized. Yet this risk is part of the work’s design. The poem tests the reader’s willingness to follow a moral argument past the point where intuition revolts.

The final line, “Welcome home, stranger,” lands as a bitter inversion of hospitality. What begins as moral openness ends as total abdication of responsibility. Home becomes meaningless; welcome becomes compulsory; belonging becomes incoherent. The poem’s title, “Squatter,” thus refers not only to the figure who occupies space without permission, but to the moral subject who occupies a position without foundations.

In sum, “Squatter” is not a poem about immigration or property per se. It is a poem about moral absolutism, about what happens when negation replaces judgment, and when slogans are treated as axioms rather than starting points for ethical reasoning. Its extremity is intentional: the poem seeks not to persuade gently, but to force a reckoning with the consequences of ideas that are often affirmed without being fully examined.

Meta Description

“Squatter” is a polemical prose-poem that pushes anti-border and anti-property logic to its extreme conclusions. By collapsing distinctions between home and nation, guest and intruder, the poem critiques moral absolutism and exposes the ethical void created when exclusion is declared impossible in principle.

Keywords

polemical poetry, satire, property ethics, borders, moral absolutism, reductio ad absurdum, hospitality, ownership, political rhetoric, ethical contradiction, second-person address, radical critique, modern moral philosophy.