The Parasite We’ve Learned to Live With
The Parasite We’ve Learned to Live With They say writing is a form of catharsis—a way to make sense of the world, to untangle thought into language, to speak when silence becomes unbearable. But this blog isn’t about clarity or peace. It is born of what’s happening now—of watching women in Afghanistan be silenced and stripped of their freedoms, of seeing abortion rights clawed away in places that once claimed progress, of enduring the endless chorus telling women to shrink, soften, disappear. This is not creation—it is consequence. A symptom. A by-product. A reaction. It festers not from joy, but from the quiet infection of frustration—frustration that has been feeding off me, burrowed into my nerves, tightening its grip. Because if I say I'm angry —that I’m seething, raging—it’s not seen as powerful or principled. It’s seen as hysterical . And there it is—the parasite again, feeding off language, off perception. Feminism and hysteria: in the public eye, they cling together as ...