How we care for ourselves is political
For anyone who's tired of being told to fix their burnout with bubble baths and good vibes.
The concept of self-care tends to bring to mind a familiar set of images: inspirational quotes typed in a looping script, aimed at over-stretched, exhausted working mothers who're told to wash their troubles away in a fragrant bubble bath, followed by a green smoothie or a cheeky glass of wine.
I'll admit to a bit of cynicism here. I'm a fan of hot baths, smoothies, and any relief from the heavily gendered labour of caring for others. It isn't about shaming anyone's evening routine. But there's an urgent need to unpack the industry built around wellness, the products we're sold, and whose voices get centred or silenced in the process. As Skunk Anansie proclaimed in the nineties: 'Yes, it's f***ing political, everything's political!'
When we reduce self-care to a consumer habit, we strip away its history and its teeth. We treat chronic exhaustion as a private hygiene problem to be solved with scented candles, rather than asking why so many of us are running on empty in the first place.
Collective Psyche, Myth and Ritual
For anyone feeling disoriented by the stories our culture tells in a crisis – and looking for grounding that feels real.
Humans are hard-wired for connection. We evolved as pack animals who relied on safety in numbers, but we're also compulsive meaning-makers. When a crisis hits and the world stops making sense, the stories we tell ourselves determine whether we pull together or turn on each other.
Throughout human history, sharing stories around a fire helped our ancestors create a common identity, honour those who came before them, and navigate an unpredictable environment. Our ability to imagine together allowed us to build shared symbols, rules, and communities.