How the World Is Losing Its Mind and Why You Can Meet Me at the Library
There’s a quote that goes something like: “In a mad world, only the mad are sane.” Lately, I’m not sure if that’s comforting or just a grim prophecy playing out in real time. This weekend, like many others, I found myself haunted by a familiar thought — one of those existential itches that won’t let you sleep: Are we okay? No, really. Are we collectively okay? Of course not.
Every week I receive messages from people asking what they can do. How they can help. How they can contribute to the issues I talk about — racism, patriarchy, white supremacy, climate, capitalism, you name it. A perfectly fair question, in theory. Noble, even. But the tone varies.
Some come at me with the entitled urgency of someone at an airport who just found out their emotional support water bottle can’t go through security: “Okay but what’s the solution?!” As though identifying a problem automatically requires you to provide a ten-step recovery plan. As if saying “the house is on fire” is only valid if you also come holding a fire extinguisher and a risk management degree.
Others are more gentle, more... lost. I hear the subtext: overwhelmed, disoriented, sometimes genuinely clueless. I try not to project too much. I’m actively working on not jumping to conclusions about people’s intentions. But sometimes... the clues are practically screaming.
And lately—this is a new flavor—people have started asking me about my vision. My hopes, my dreams. Strange question to ask a stranger, isn’t it? That question triggers me the same way one of those absurdly oversized cars does—the kind that takes up two lanes, looks like a suburban tank.
It feels like a kind of curious, boundary-crossing voyeurism disguised as “interest.”
Why do you want to know my vision, exactly? What are you looking for in there? Some blueprint to copy? Some prophetic download to save you the effort of developing your own thoughts? Why not investigate your inner landscape, curious stranger? Why not develop your own vision, rather than outsourcing imagination to someone you follow on the internet?
What I don’t get is… If you’re already online—reading my posts, commenting, sliding into my DMs—why aren’t you using that same internet to do some basic research?
Like, genuinely: how do people manage to successfully book flights to Bali or Tulum—on websites that appear to be designed by malevolent UX goblins—but can’t type “what is systemic racism” or “how to unlearn patriarchy” into a search bar? Instead, I’m supposed to drop a digestible three-point solution to dismantle the patriarchy — in the Instagram comment section.
Yes, I know people are different. Different backgrounds, different levels of education, wildly different neural wiring. I get it. But is it really too much to ask that people at least try to look things up? If you're curious, you investigate. That’s basic. And to me, when people ask what exactly they should do, it often feels less like genuine confusion and more like laziness wearing an innocence costume. I’ve hinted at actions in my writings. I’ve literally spelled them out in comments. But reading, thinking, reflecting—apparently that’s asking too much.
I think about the blonde surfer woman who demanded a book list from me, and when I said I don’t work for free, she got angry, digitally shouting: “It’s just a book list, not free labour!” As if my time and mental activity is an infinite public resource. A case for the block button.
And then there are those who ask me, “Hey, could we have a chat sometime? Maybe hop on a Zoom or WhatsApp? Just to talk about the issues?” And I just think: hell no. In what kind of universe do you ask a complete stranger to give you their time, their energy, their brain—just because you don’t feel like reading a book or googling a topic? Why exactly should I do that? What’s in it for me? Do you cold-call an architect and ask them to sketch your dream house? Just for fun, no budget, just vibes?
This is the mindset: that Black women and Women of Colour are expected to educate, soothe, and spoon-feed—for free. Or else be labeled “angry,” “complaining,” or “unhelpful.” Let’s not forget “negative.”
I’m genuinely concerned about the cognitive fitness of the global population. Not just since last weekend—but it does seem to be getting more absurd by the day.
People all over the world know how to use smartphones, but if the little arrow on Google Maps spins the wrong way, they’re spiritually and physically lost.
Watching TikTok or YouTube counts as “doing research” now.
People believe actual Nazis. Yes, real fascists, waving flags and rewriting history.
The solution to the climate crisis is apparently more electric SUVs. And they’re getting bigger daily.
Racists get asylum, while genuine refugees drown in the Mediterranean, ignored like a bad notification.
Femicide rises, but we’re still patiently explaining “what sexism is” to men who call themselves “conscious leader” and argue on gender equality.
AI passes medical exams, while actual humans debate whether some celebrity is “right” or “wrong,” “hot” or “not,” or whatever trivial nonsense fills the void.
In the wealthiest societies, the rich-poor gap widens every day—thanks to neoliberalism and politicians with no backbone but best friends in economy—while children rely on food banks and billionaires casually announce their “space vacations.”We build AI to solve problems, but end up creating a trillion new ones.
ChatGPT becomes our therapist and daily companion — ironically fueling the climate crisis (you know, that little thing that’s actively destroying the planet we and ChatGPT live on) with its massive energy appetite.
We live in the most information-rich era in human history, yet we are somehow profoundly ignorant — by choice.
So let me be painfully clear: Read. Learn. Reflect.
Pick up a book. Learn history. Learn about systems. Learn about climate justice. Learn about colonialism, capitalism, patriarchy, white supremacy, racism, sexism, ableism—all the -isms.
If you’re confused, good. Who isn’t? I am confused. Often. All the time. That’s part of the process. But stop expecting women, people of color, marginalized folks—to hold your hand through your awakening. This isn’t a guided tour. And if you’re tempted to ask someone about their vision, maybe ask yourself first why you don’t have one of your own. The people who read, who think, who study—they rarely ask these questions on the first date. They know it needs a bit more time and foundation to dive that deep.
We don’t need more followers. We need more people who start researching, questioning, reading, and thinking for themselves. Personal growth requires effort. A lot of it. Intellectual development requires effort. A lot of it. No algorithm or ChatGPT will save you from the work your brain was designed to do.
Hey — and maybe we’ll meet at the library and spontaneously get into a real conversation, just like that. Because it flows naturally. I’d love that.
If this resonated with you, moved you, or made you pause and reflect – consider this your cue. I’ve set up a virtual tip jar via Buy Me a Coffee. No monthly commitments, no strings, no memberships required.
Your sweet kindness helps keep the thoughts flowing, the energy exchange intact, and the glow of my inner goddess alive. It won’t fix capitalism, but it might buy me five minutes of joy (or at least a cortado).
Gracias. Thank you. Jërëjëf. Merci. Obrigada. Danke. Arigatō. Medaase. Grazie. Hvala. Tack. Asante. Shukran. Teşekkürler. Dziękuję.
