Explain the title "Your capitalism is fucking killing us."

I've received quite a bit of feedback on section of a title of a dual part series titled "CAN YOU HEAR ME NOW? Your capitalism is fucking killing us.", specifically the part that reads "Your capitalism is fucking killing us" and that's what I'm writing about here - not the content of the work itself but the title, because people have asked: Why those words? Why use vulgar words? Does this diminish the work? Make it juvenile? Are they your words?

For starters, as I state on the page and as I would state when exhibiting the work both physically in an exhibition space as an installation and online: The title of this artwork is a fictional title. They are my words and not the words of the people in the images or any organization associated with this artwork.

"Your capitalism is fucking killing us" is a phrase I've been thinking about for years and tossing around in my head since 2018, when I started looking at images of people in sweat shops and crossing the US-Mexico border, because what I felt they must be feeling is: this is killing me, namely, their life was killing them. Then I thought: it's not "their life" that is killing them, but rather it is our way of life that is killing them, directly through our actions, our choices, our capitalism. Our capitalism is killing them.

We can write long books about that, complicated histories, sociological analyses, etc., but to me, at the end of the day you know what it is? Us, our capitalism, our choices, me, you, everyone in the US that is making this happen. So, our capitalism, to put it bluntly, is literally fucking killing people. I don't want to make that sound like it has any distance from that cold mean brutal reality. When the woman in Honduras walks to the US and is kidnapped and raped and killed and her ten year old son, who is in total shock, is found by the US border patrol wandering the Sonora desert and is taken into custody, is not properly hydrated and dies, then what I don't want to do is provide a thoughtful analysis of this. Our capitalism fucking killed them both, mother and son. Period. I'm angry. I'm mad. I'm furious. I'm enraged. I don't want to be nice about this. I don't care if someone ever uttered those words. I am saying them. Me. A pissed off artist. We should all be that mad in my view. I don't have the time or patience to create any kind of distance between that visceral truth, that cold, bloody, violent reality out there and our actions leading to it. To put it another way: this work is not a discussion or a debate starter. It's not an academic look at causality. It's anger, it's a reaction. It's meant to be felt, not thought about. It is a discussion closer not an opener - on purpose.