all our futures confronts a history of violence against bodies deemed disposable: sick and disabled queers and racialized people, who presently and historically faced state violence and genocide in the form of institutionalization, or incarceration, or forced sterilization. This poem refuses to turn away from the entanglements of race, class, disability, and environmental and reproductive injustice. It is an indictment of conversations about family and kinship that stop at the carbon footprint of raising children. It is a love letter to a future child. It is a reckoning with climate grief, and the worlds we build for each other, one decision at a time.

Weaving between generations and geographies, all our futures asks what it means to make a life in the face of climate and political crisis— how to let go of the shame that tells us we do not deserve to imagine a future we want, a future we belong in. Ultimately, all our futures says, home is a place we make. Though nothing is guaranteed — not time, not hope — Chan imagines a place beyond climate and political apocalypse (difficult, yes; abundant, yes) where queer, disabled people are needed, valued, loved. This is a book for artists and healers and organizers, and everyone who gives their breath and heart to the hard work, the heartwork, of movement-building.