Entry 1
Milk is the Juice of Grief
You didn't understand this was a concept of slavery. It wasn’t convenient to market it that way.
But let it be known that your body already knew.
Your liver read it–the milk in your coffee, it wasn’t white enough, filtering the chemical dyes that white-washed the appearance of tragedy, but it’s no fascade for the liver, placing those chemicals into the wall it was building for you in your kidney.
Same way the narrative of dairy is white-washed; the experience of oppressed, grieving mothers who loose the babies they bore, hidden under every happy-marketed cow, perpetuated with every coin that endorses the lie. As for the stone wall, it continues to grow and suffocate matriarchy.
It's on your upper lip, painted in white. Your nervous system knew first. The chemical signature of fear damages every cell–that, you can’t wipe away.
Cows don’t make milk, pregnancy does. In fact, the very system’s foundation, in it’s entirety, depends on female reproductive exploitation. Pregnancy makes all of this possible. Abominable domination is the colonialist key of the capitalist engine. Every person who lives a premeditated life and death in the (some)body consumption industry, was birthed by a mother who was abused by a coloniser, proving ownership of wombs, turning mothers into capitalist machinery.
It is conveniently bypassed, this obvious stage of pregnancy. One must be pregnant–impregnated. A multi-billion dollar industry, world-wide, relying on inter-species sexism, playing God, and assault. You say you want the matriarchy? You consume it. The matriarchy are in birthing pens, inseminated–kicked for good measure too–again and again and again until lame. On stolen land, they steel children. Never mind the matriarchy, it has no chance. Not like this, not under inherently imperialist-patriarchal structures.
Systemic oppression is a colonial policy, and it plays out at it’s most effective best in the blind spots. It’s not shown to you it. You don’t see babies being dragged away, you don’t see mothers cry and chase and give up, you couldn’t even read the anguish that she herself has become numb to. You only see the grief juice. That’s how you become complacent in harm, by not knowing it was grief juice in the first place. Even when you are shown, when you do see it, you may ignore it, measure your convenience with their suffering–another colonialist policy is alienation.
The tragedy of milk is abominable, and it's on your upper lip, painted in white. You didn't understand it was a concept of slavery; steeling children, stolen land, squeezing cultures dry, from bruised and bloody udders.
May 10, 2026