This week felt unreal…

Gaza continues to be erased with clinical precision. The term "asylum" is now a branding strategy. Climate denial is being greenwashed with yacht fuel. And somewhere between Diddy’s trial, TikTok farmers, and billionaires trying to trademark culture, I caught myself looking up plots of land somewhere HOT wondering if it’s time to raise pot bellied ,goats and lean all the way into my midlife exit fantasy. I am OVER the western world. 

Reverse Asylum: When White Tears Unlock Borders

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So here’s the headline that made my left eye twitch: 35 white South African nationals were granted refugee status in the U.S.—on the basis of “white genocide.” Let that sink in. In 2025.

This same asylum system regularly denies safe haven to Black and brown people escaping actual war, cartel-controlled violence, climate displacement, or political persecution. But white South Africans? Come right in. No questions. No irony. I didnt know if i should laugh or actually cryyyyyyyy. 

This isn’t just a bad policy—it’s performance art for the insecure. It’s the weaponisation of a word as sacred and severe as “genocide” used to mask resentment over land redistribution and crime—two issues that, ironically, disproportionately impact Black South Africans.

Meanwhile, real, sustained violence against Black women, LGBTQ+ South Africans, and the economically marginalised gets zero airtime. It’s not trending on Twitter. It doesn’t get Fox News prime slots. It just… keeps happening. Quietly. Violently. Invisibly.

Ramaphosa vs. Trump: Diplomacy on Hard Mode

Then there’s the geopolitical theatre that unfolded on May 21st.

President Cyril Ramaphosa visited the U.S., only to be ambushed by Donald Trump—armed with debunked videos and doctored images supposedly “proving” white genocide in South Africa. One of the most egregious pieces of “evidence” turned out to be a photo from the Democratic Republic of Congo.

It was less of a state visit and more of a Daily Mail fever dream disguised as diplomacy.

But instead of walking out—or flipping the desk—Ramaphosa responded with poise. He corrected the record, reminded the room (and the cameras) that Black South Africans are the most frequent victims of violent crime, and calmly reiterated the country’s land reform efforts as necessary redress—not racial vendetta. I loved when he turned to the WHITE man in the South African delegate (- a billionaire himself and the minister of agriculture) and asked him to respond to Trump.  As if to say - “ABEG  TALK TO YOUR GUY” lollllz

That, my friends, is diplomacy under duress. You know deep down he wanted to slap someone and fly back home. But instead, he chose legacy over ego. That’s leadership. That’s emotional restraint on masterclass levels.

Meanwhile in the U.S.: Farming, But Make It Aesthetic

Back across the Atlantic, American agriculture has become content. No soil experience? No problem. Just buy a drone, throw on some Carhartt, and announce your journey into “regenerative farming.” Apparently, you can now become a farmer with zero training—just vibes and a tractor named Freedom.

This influencer-farmer era—let’s call it FarmTok gone feral—has turned rural labour into a gentrified aesthetic. But the foundation? Crumbling.

When ICE raids and immigration crackdowns decimated the farm labour force, it wasn’t "Chad from LinkedIn" who stepped in to pick strawberries. “NO one”. farms lost over $3 billion in crops in 2019 in the first administration of Trump,  with the present GOVT back  in power and the ice raids being ramped up - they are losing almost 5 x times that amount.

50–70% of America’s farm labour force is undocumented and are the backbone of the US Food system, and when they’re deported or too afraid to show up, America’s entire food chain collapses.  These former “MAGA” strong holds are besides themselves - all raging with regret- which i think is so funny - like what the f**k did you think would happen? Its the privilege and effrontery for me…

Black Farmers? Not New to This. Still Fighting.

While white farmers cry foul, Black and Indigenous farmers aren’t shocked—they’re just exhausted.

In 1920, Black farmers owned 14% of U.S. farmland. Today? Less than 1%. That’s what decades of USDA discrimination, land theft, and structural exclusion will do.

But still, they farm. Quietly. With innovation and resilience

The Diddy Trial: Abuse, Silence & the Machine Behind the Man

The Diddy trial isn’t just a courtroom drama—it’s a masterclass in how power protects itself. Former assistants including the one whom legend says knows where all the bodies are-  Capricorn Clark described years of intimidation, kidnapping threats, and physical violence. Cassie Ventura testified about abuse, coercion into drug-fuelled sex acts, and blackmail with revenge porn.

Kid Cudi’s Porsche? Firebombed. Witnesses? Traumatized. The entertainment industry? Mostly silent.

Global brands who once begged to associate with him? Quiet. Music execs? Even quieter. Because when power bleeds into profit, morality takes a nap.

This isn’t about one man—it’s about the machine that enabled him, protected him, and profited from him for decades.  Jimmy IOVINE was mentioned in Capricon’s testimony - and not in a positive light… SIGHHH… in some ways - PUFFY was always going to be the fall guy - HIS HANDS AREN'T CLEAN though - but there were bigger players involved for all of this to have been happening unchecked.

So yeah… this week felt like satire. But worse—because it’s real.

White refugees are being fast-tracked while Black and brown asylum seekers rot in detention. Billionaires are playing Monopoly with entire cultures. Ramaphosa showed more restraint than I have at a Zara sale. American farms are collapsing because Chad thought cucumbers grow in crates. And Diddy’s trial has become a slow drip of everything we’ve suspected for decades—corruption, silence, complicity, and a whole system built on "don’t ask, don’t disrupt."

It’s all so loud. And yet, in the moments that matter most, the people with the biggest platforms are dead silent.

But here’s the thing—we’re still here. Still side-eyeing the nonsense. Still surviving the chaos. Still holding space for nuance, for justice, for joy. Still cracking jokes because if we don’t laugh, we’ll scream. Or worse—become unseasoned.

I don’t have the perfect answer. I’m not sure if the goats or pot bellied pigs and solar-powered retreat are the solution (though it’s tempting). But I do know this: we find power in naming the absurdity, in refusing to look away, and in finding our own damn rhythm in the madness.

So tonight, I’m closing my laptop, making myself a triple Gin and Tonic, and whispering “woosah” into the wind.

Sometimes, the most revolutionary thing we can do is rest… and plot.

Finally, I am sending a special shout out and all my love to LIVERPOOL. standing with the people there who experienced a domestic terrorist attack as they celebrated Liverpool’s premiership title. YOU will NEVER WALK ALONE.

Please comment, interact, like, share, re-stack and subscribe if you haven’t. I TOTALLY need the encouragement and want to grow my small community on here.

You can also tip me or buy me a coffee if you enjoy my work.

Love,

Ari. x

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