

i’ve established several blog outlets to showcase my writing, which I use in preparation for school and as a creative outlet. Yet, I still face significant pressure not to publish.
There are many blogs dedicated to specific things that I find amazing, helpful, and informative. The paywall are for their personal essays and reflections, which I find incredibly smart.
We live in a time where misinformation and the intentional omission of information deny us the ability to consent, rather than to practice informed consent.
Since the inception of the pandemic, information has been withheld by major establishments, such as WHO, the CDC, our governments, politicians and the media.
Instead of admitting there’s so much we don’t know about covid-19, early talking points ranged from hand washing to children being resilitent and least likely impacted by Covid-19 infections—which turned out to be lies:
Articles and research are showing that late teens are developing parkinsons and dementia due to multiple COVID-19 infections.
With the rise of bird flu infections across species and human disease (COVID, H1N1/Bird Flu, measles outbreaks, etc), we are seeing less and less data shared and published. The notion that no news is good news, in public health, and just what is occurring in society, is furthest from the truth.
So—what are we compelled to write? To share? The desire to write, yet not be seen.
I’ve written and not yet published pieces related to grief. Grief of losing life, of not being able to stop, witnessing such atrocities as the world keeps moving—grief of losing institutional and historical knowledge and memories.
From what we witness today, we’ve seen a decade ago—decades ago and longer than that. Yet, we are surprised every time, not because we choose to be, but because we don’t remember.
I ask again, what are we compelled to write and share? For if it is not to be seen, is it to be heard? To add something significant to a world and society that sways in the depths of apathy? To a world that keeps going during ongoing multiple genocides? Where community building and world building continue to replicate the very systems that harm, where interpersonal dynamics continue to hold the imbalance of power?
What do you write for, if not to be seen?
I write, because I must. Because it is essential—not only to write, but also to remember.
