Respect Isn’t Silence: How I Critique Without Calling Out

I disagree with a lot of what I see in this scene. I think some of the choices people make, about the platforms they use, the way they present community, the way they aestheticise care, are dishonest. I think some of it’s performative. I think some of it’s dangerous.

But I don’t name names. That’s not my work. My work is to notice, to question, to speak to systems. If people feel confronted by that, maybe that says something about the system they’re upholding.

I Will Not Be Part of a Machine That Hurts People

I won’t use X. I won’t use Facebook, Instagram, or Threads. I won’t link to them. I won’t pretend they’re just tools, or that we can be ‘mindful’ about their use while still participating.

These platforms fuel violence and disinformation. They shape culture in ways we can’t afford to ignore. When people perform care there, with a flag emoji or a well-timed gif, I see nothing but the machinery of engagement. That’s not solidarity. That’s just noise designed to look like signal.

If you’re still using those platforms, you’re holding your nose while helping keep the whole thing running. I can’t. I won’t. And yes, I’ll keep questioning it.

This Isn’t About You, But It Might Involve You

People I know and respect have felt targeted. They’ve come to me, directly. They’ve asked me what I meant. And I’ve told them the same thing every time: if you see yourself in my critique, that’s between you and the mirror.

I don’t call out individuals. I name behaviours. I name patterns. Because the goal isn’t to destroy you (who in their right mind would want that?). No, it’s to ask you to reflect.

I want better for this scene. For all of us. But wanting better means being honest, even when that honesty stings.

If You Want Real Change, You Have to Leave the Algorithm Behind

I’m building something off-legacy-platform, on purpose. I want space that isn’t shaped by code. I want work that doesn’t exist to be clicked.

We’re seeing presses with real talent slowly contort themselves to fit into systems that will never love them back. I see it happen every week. And I get it, the need for reach, for visibility, for relevance. But if the cost is your voice? Your values? You’re not reaching anyone. You’re just feeding the machine.

If you want real change, stop feeding the machine. Get off the platforms that profit from your voice. Build outside them. Link away from them. Refuse to centre your work in systems that centre harm. Create elsewhere, louder, and together. That’s where the power is.

I Expect to Be Critiqued – Loudly, if Needed

I’m not immune. I’m noisy. I say what I think. And if someone wants to call me on it, they should. I can take it. I might not change my mind, but I’ll listen. I’ll reflect. I’ll hold the friction.

That’s what a real community needs: people who can hear critique without collapsing into defensiveness or disappearing into silence.

I Won’t Take Up Space That Isn’t Mine

I’ve said this before, but it bears repeating: I’m not here to lead every project. I won’t edit anthologies about experiences that don’t include me. I won’t pad a collection with my own work just to be seen.

If the subject is war and I haven’t lived it? I step aside. If the focus is queerness and I’m not part of that community? I pass the mic.

My job is to hold space, not steal it.

We’re Not Radical — We’re Part of a Tradition

People have called us radical. We’re not. We still love taste. We still care about craft. We don’t burn everything down. But we are loud, and not by accident.

This loudness, this refusal to shut up, isn’t a quirk. It’s part of a long line of cultural resistance. Art has always disrupted. Writers, artists, and editors have always been the ones holding up the mirror and forcing people to look. Dissent is not some rogue position. It’s the method by which everything good has ever been dragged into the light.

The people who scare easy, the ones who flinch at tone, at discomfort, at honest critique, they forget this. They think quiet is safe. But art isn’t supposed to be safe. It’s supposed to move things.

So no, I’m not radical. I’m just doing what art’s always done: Holding space for the noise that makes change possible. If that’s not your thing, scroll on. But for the rest of us? We’re still here. Still making, still fighting, still building something better.