Victoria's Secret 2024: Out of touch or right on trend?

Let me explain what happened for those of you on a different side of social media algorithms. Once a fashion event the size of the Super Bowl, the yearly Victoria's Secret show saw declining views and revenue until 2018, when it was canceled. Multiple factors contributed, from accusations of sexual harassment against top executives to the show’s notorious lack of diversity. Meanwhile, the cultural landscape was shifting: the ideal body type had evolved from "heroin chic" to "Kim Kardashian," and brands were moving to micro-influencers. But Victoria's Secret clung to its conventionally attractive models, glossy TV spots, and... ultimately fell behind.

Fast forward six years, and the brand announced the show's 2024 return. “We’ve read the comments and heard you. The Victoria’s Secret Fashion Show is BACK and will reflect who we are today, plus everything you know and love—the glamour, runway, wings, musical entertainment, and more!” the brand wrote.

This year’s show seemed promising. Older, plus-size, disabled, and transgender models made their debut. Stars from multiple generations—Cher, Tyra Banks, Kate Moss, Adriana Lima, the Hadid sisters, and Ashley Graham—took the stage. But the show flopped. Both die-hard fans and progressive viewers found it disappointing.

Some felt there wasn’t enough diversity on the runway, that the brand still promoted an unrealistic body image, and that it’s generally not good for feminism. Longtime fans thought it was lackluster, too:

“No fantasy bra, one set of big wings… yawn.”

“The outfits are boring. The artists aren’t engaging with the models. The catwalk should be raised. Why are the models lacking energy, even those who have walked for VS for years? Even the former Angels! I don’t get it! The magic isn’t there.”

And they’re not wrong. Models looked stiff, the sets cheap, and the whole production felt like a watered-down homage to the iconic early 2000s shows—times when thunderous energy, intricate costumes, and, yes, wafer-thin models reigned supreme. But while today’s show might look flat in comparison, maybe it’s telling us something about the culture we’re in right now.

It’s strange: just as in 2018, Victoria’s Secret still seems a bit out of sync with the moment. The “Kim Kardashian body” has given way to the “Ozempic body,” and body positivity is slipping from the mainstream. So, when nostalgia rises for those early shows, it makes me wonder if we’re circling back to the same rigid beauty standards we fought to leave behind. Despite all the promises of a fresh start, Victoria’s Secret of 2024 is still playing on our love-hate relationship with beauty ideals.

As we scroll, critique, and crave that fantasy of perfection, we might be seeing the brand’s most strategic move yet—holding up a mirror to our own mixed feelings about beauty and identity.

As an adult woman, I think we should all play mermaids

Or pirates. Or robots. Or whatever you want, really.

A week ago, I was hiding from the pouring rain under the sparse branches of a scraggly beach pine on one of the Greek islands. A woman approached me and asked if she could stand beside me. Abigail, as she introduced herself, was from Australia and worked as a pediatrician. While we waited for the bus, we quickly became cold, wet, and dirty.

“Should we just swim instead?” she said.

And just like that, two minutes after shaking hands, we were running towards the water in the rain.

As we swam, she yelled, “Oh naur, Cleo!” in her perfect Australian accent. I laughed. Soon after, we were playing full-scale mermaids—describing each other’s tails, doing tricks underwater, and building scenarios. Abigail is 30. I’m 23.

Most of us had our last real play around age 9. After that, we only played with kids or nieces and nephews, constantly distracted by adult demands and a lack of time. Some of us incorporate play into adult activities: brainstorming at work, amateur sports, sexual role-play, or adding a new spice to a recipe. But these are often goal-directed activities and can’t really be called true play.

Play is done for its own sake, with no expectation of outcomes or reactions from others. It allows you to get absorbed in the moment, losing track of time. Adult play helps reduce stress, boost energy, improve brain function, connect with others, and spark creativity. In fact, creativity and play are so intertwined that it’s hard to separate them.

Children are naturally playful. They can gather, create an entire world to play in for two hours, and go home without feeling the need to share the experience with anyone. Adults, however, always seem to have someone to report to—whether it’s a partner, a boss, or even their Instagram followers. When the fear of criticism or the desire for approval kicks in, real play becomes impossible.

For a long time, I associated being playful with negative stereotypes. I was afraid of being seen as childish, irresponsible, or unserious. I thought my friends would never join me. But gradually, I began inviting them, starting with my closest friends and ending with Abigail, whom I had met just five minutes before. I offered different activities, from mermaids to coloring to board games to parallel play. Some friends laughed, but most joined in.

Now I know that pediatricians, engineers, waiters, HR specialists, and other serious people all like to play.

Wanna play together?

Not being beautiful is a blessing

Tinder swipes, career promotions, and restaurant discounts. In a world where physical attractiveness matters so much, how are unattractive people finding it?

Actually, we are doing just fine. Maybe even better.

Being Eastern Europeans in our early twenties, my girlfriends and I already discuss aging. Those who have been experiencing pretty privilege all their lives are devastated. Turns out, no one told them anything besides, "You are beautiful." Turns out, that was temporary. Now, they face a difficult choice: either pump their faces with Botox to try to keep up — or find something else interesting about themselves.

Russian politician Ksenia Sobchak has been criticized for her appearance and lack of physical attractiveness since 2004. A 42-year-old woman now, she recently said that her time has come.

"Because at 42, even if you look good, you still look much worse than a 20-year-old girl, no matter what. The skin isn't the same, everything is different. But when you were a beauty, you have a lot more to worry about because you have something to lose. You were a beautiful woman, and now you're a 40-year-old with bags and wrinkles. But I have nothing to lose in that sense. I never had it to begin with."

Beauty is currency, and for women, it's closely connected with youth. While Brad Pitt is still a sex symbol, Angelina can only "age gracefully." The resource of beauty is attributed to women when they are too inexperienced to use it. When they get more mature, rich, and smart, they cannot be beautiful anymore — it's just too much power.

But what happens to women like Ksenia Sobchak, who never had it? Instead of losing decades relying on and preserving beauty, they start gaining other currency: charisma, intellect, emotional intelligence, and political or business power. On a level playing field in her forties, Ksenia looks just as good as any healthy, happy aging woman.

Except she has so much more than that to offer.

A little oil

I'm 5, and my grandmother is frying raspberry pancakes in a cast-iron pan as old as my parents. Between the pancakes, she adds a thick layer of sunflower oil to cover the pancake whole. I come closer to take a peek when she does it again. Suddenly, the raw dough in the oil starts an array of small explosions. Hot oil splashes everywhere. I scream in terror and run away.

"Grandma, I'm burnt!" I cry.

"Don't be silly, it's just a little oil," she replies and continues cooking while the oil cracks.

"My grandmom is the strongest person I know," I think.

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I'm 23, and I'm FaceTiming my little sister while frying zucchini pancakes. When I add in the new portion of dough, the water-filled zucchini mixes with the hot olive oil and starts its regular explosions. The oil gets on my hands and arms, but I continue to add in the dough.

When I take a step back, I notice that my sister is covering her face in terror.

"You have to run!" she cries. "How are you not afraid?"

In this full-circle moment, I indeed questioned, how am I not afraid?

The situation did not become any less painful or dangerous. The oil is still hot, and getting it on my arms is still uncomfortable. But as a first-generation migrant alone in my apartment far away from friends and family, I cannot afford to be afraid of oil. In fact, I cannot afford to be afraid of many things. Spiders, thunderstorms, water splashing onto the electricity cords, or a stranger knocking on my door. Even if I am scared, no one will come to help out. So I'm just not.

As I grew up, so did my fears. What terrifies me now is not being financially independent. Becoming homeless. Losing touch with my friends. Getting sick. Never finding a partner (or finding a partner?). Having kids.

It seems that every inch I grow, my fears do, too. Not sure who does it quicker.

In this perspective, a little hot oil is nothing, just like my grandmother said. She's still the strongest person I know.

But so am I.

The Last Columbus

Breiðamerkurjökull Ice Cave in Iceland. Photo by Anastasiya Pantsialei

“You’re a writer. Will you write something about us, about Iceland?” asked Klope, a horse shoemaker from Akureyri, the second largest town in Iceland.

“I’ll be unable not to,” I smiled. “It’s my nature.”

It wasn’t always. As a child, I was more interested in exploration than writing. I devoured dozens of colorful encyclopedias about all kinds of living beings. If you asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up, I’d say, “An explorer.” I yearned to discover a new island, build ties with a remote tribe, or study unknown animal species.

As I grew older, I became disappointed: the world had already been discovered. There was not a single island left unexplored, no new nations or continents to chart.

Like many explorers at heart, I decided to satisfy my desires by traveling the world for the first time. I saw the Tanzanian lions, the sharks at the Egyptian coral reefs, and the Chinese red pandas. In February 2024, I chose to visit Iceland for the first time: to witness its volcanoes, the Arctic Ocean, glaciers, and whales.

What began as a tour of firsts became a tour of lasts. While my generation has no new lands to explore, global warming is making us the last. The last generation to see a white rhino. The last to see a healthy coral reef. The last to swim with dolphins. The last to get stung by a bee.

Iceland may not have many endangered native animals, but it does have geological phenomena that will soon change: huge glaciers, volcanoes, and hundreds of streams you can drink from. It is also home to unique Arctic flora and whales.

During my stay, I spoke to dozens of locals in villages across the country, and each of them noted the effects of climate change. Fishermen catch less, farmers struggle with unpredictable weather, hikers observe the melting glaciers, and everyone notices the increasingly snowy winters and more active volcanoes. Older people showed me pictures of nature from their childhood and now, revealing a drastic difference. Some glaciers were twice as large 50 years ago as they are now. It’s predicted that in the next 100-200 years, all Icelandic glaciers will be gone.

Humans are explorers. Some of us look into space to discover new planets, stars, and galaxies. Others delve into human history to understand how we arrived where we are. Most of us still explore the world, even if only to discover it for ourselves.

Our generation is still fortunate to experience many of our “firsts.” Diving with whales. Touching the crystal-clear ice of a 1,000-year-old glacier. Observing a rhino in the wild.

While experiencing many of my “firsts” in Iceland, I pondered who would be the last. Who will be the last to see puffins nesting? Who will be the last to see snow on these mountains? Who will be the last to drink water straight from the river without using a filter?

The answer, ironically, depends on other “firsts.” Who will be the first to break down microplastics? Who will find a way to prevent ship noise from disturbing the whales? Which country will be the first to ban plastic? Who will stop global warming?

Who will stop?

(no) happy ending

Some people don't read books without happy endings, and I understand. Real life is already full of sad stories, so why make yourself miserable on purpose?

Only a bad friend would recommend "The Fault in Our Stars." Yet it's a major bestseller.

Most people, even when they know a piece of art will hurt them and make them experience great pain, still willingly go into the situation and consume the content.

Humans often endure pain for the greater good. People go to the gym even when they know their muscles will ache tomorrow. They agree to a painful shot to get better. They jump from a burning building to save themselves. But sad books don’t exist for a noble cause.

Sad books are a little like having a child. The baby makes you happy, at times, but even when you conceive it, you know how much pain it will bring. This new person will get sick, get into fights, break their bones, experience heartache, lose their loved ones, get depressed, and, eventually, die.

Everyone knows their story has no happy ending either. But we stay for the beauty of it.

Innovation as a global warming solution

Have you ever read old science fiction books? The ones claiming that in 2023, we’ll be traveling by flying cars and commuting to other galaxies? If you have, you have likely been fascinated by the difference between what we predicted the future would be and what it actually is. In a way, studying previous and current predictions for the future together can help to see the trend and make predictions more accurate. When it comes to global warming solution predictions, the trend seems to be innovation.

For example, in the 2000s, when scientists discussed the future of meat, they often talked about insects. They seemed like the perfect sustainable replacement for beef. Insects are an animal-based protein. They cost cheap per portion and have undeniable health benefits and a low carbon footprint. Insect farms also take much less space than pastures so we could replace pastures with fields and feed more people.

In 2023, we don’t see insects sold in supermarkets and restaurants in the West. This smart solution to global warming was abolished because, well, it required people to change their behavior. It required costly marketing campaigns, educational programs, and government subsidies over dozens of years. Yikes!

Instead, the beef problem is being solved with innovation or artificial meat. It looks like beef, smells like beef, and tastes like beef, but it’s been grown in a lab. It is so far really costly, but it allows people to eat their burgers in peace.

Another example is single-use plastic. At some point, government officials thought that asking people to use wooden baskets, tote bags, or glass containers to do grocery shopping could solve the problem of plastic contamination. However, it would require people to plan their shopping. “I want to buy a loaf of bread and a liter of milk, so I'm taking two containers and one tote bag.” When the customer comes to the shop, though, they start remembering everything else they wanted to buy: wet wipes, frozen peas, or two loaves of bread for the price of one. They buy new containers and new tote bags and abolish them the next week. This creates even more carbon footprint as multiple-use bags and containers are not easy to produce.

Innovation is helping us solve this problem, too. To protect the environment while not changing anything for the people, we came up with single-use non-plastic bags from paper, cornstarch, and even seaweed.

Why are some global warming solutions abolished and some implemented? We could blame people’s behavior, but it’s pretty predictable and changeable if we put the effort in. The real issue is systemic and hardly changeable. See, true sustainability cannot coexist with capitalism by definition. Sustainability means today equals yesterday equals tomorrow. In capitalism, the pie has to get bigger, and the economy has to grow. If something stays the same, it stagnates.

You can argue that some developed countries are both becoming wealthier and greener, but it’s not entirely true. If Norway, for example, reduces its oil consumption, non-recyclable waste, and greenhouse gas emissions, it means that somewhere in Pakistan, oil consumption, waste, and carbon emissions are increasing. So far, we do not have the affordable technology to neutralize the impact of throwing away Shein clothes every few months, buying a new phone every year, and commuting by personal car.

If we are to slow down the global warming, we better acquire that technology soon.

No, thanks: Culturally-appropriate response to catcalling

As a young female-presenting traveler, I was able to witness catcalling and other street harassment in dozens of countries around the world. I quickly learned that my default response to catcalling — ignoring someone — was effective in Belarus but dangerous in other places. Gunpoint dangerous.

When I searched for academic studies on the topic, I found none. Psychologists in the field study how to best respond to street harassment, but they do not study the phenomenon across cultures.

Therefore, here’s my incomplete subjective guide to responding to street harassment in different countries. Add to it if you wish.

Belarus, Russia, and Ukraine. Do not look at the person approaching you or yelling at you, do not respond to their questions, and try not to touch them even if they touch you. Completely ignoring a catcaller works in 99% of all cases.

Bulgaria. I have only been harassed at night, and what helped was yelling swear words in Bulgarian, keeping my hands in my pockets, and sprinting home. Good luck.

Poland. Despite also being an Eastern European country, the catcalling culture in Poland is different. Ignoring someone who harasses you can just make them angrier, but saying “No, thanks” always works for me.

United States. My revelation of culturally appropriate responses to catcalling started in the US, and that experience was rough. Apparently, if you are a white woman ignoring a black man in the mostly black district of New York, it is considered impolite. What happened next was a gun taken out of a pocket, him yelling “So you think that because you are white, you are better than me, huh?” and my very accented response, “Sorry, I'm just a tourist here.” I was let go then with the new knowledge: Americans do value their small talk. Here, saying “No, thanks” will also work.

China. Most street activity in big Chinese cities is monitored, so you are highly unlikely to be approached with an evil will. However, the Chinese will want to take pictures and videos with you if you are non-Asian. No permission asked. I just went along with it, and I think you should, too.

Tanzania. When the Tanzanians approach you, they mostly want to talk. It might be harassment for you, but it’s small talk to them. Even saying “No, thanks” is impolite if you have not spent at least 30 minutes talking.

France, England, and Italy. In my opinion, these countries had the most violent catcalling of all, and the best response was to ignore the catcallers.

What’s interesting is that in most of these countries, calling for police will not help.

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It’s important to note that while the US case I described involved a black person, I had similar situations with white Americans. The problem is not black people — it’s gun control and the overall level of violence, including police violence.

How understanding suicide prevention tools can help you achieve your goals

If you lived in a place with advanced healthcare in the 2000s and mentioned suicide to your psychiatrist, the first thing they would suggest is to sign a no-suicide contract with them. The contract is a document that states that you will not commit suicide before calling 911 or a helpline. Somehow the psychiatrist community in the 2000s believed that this would work. It didn’t, so the practice was gradually abolished by the medical community. We have since learned that what actually helps to prevent suicide is talking about it.

Apparently, when you talk about your intention to anyone else, you are less likely to do what you intended. It does not matter if the intent is “I want to commit suicide,” “I want to lose weight,” “I want to change careers,” or “I want to marry Maria.” As soon as you talk about your plans to someone else and they give you some sort of reaction, your brain produces the same chemicals as if you achieved your goal. The more people you tell, the more endorphins are released, and the less likely you are to follow through with your plans. That is why asking other people to hold you accountable or even posting about your goals on social media won’t help.

In Russian, we have a saying “Happiness loves peace,” meaning that if your family is happy, don’t talk about it, or else you’ll jinx it. With goals, it’s similar. If you intend on achieving something, don’t tell too many people. Instead, share the news after your achievement.

On the other hand, if you are fearing doing something in the future, whether it’s relapsing, committing suicide, or calling your ex — talk about it.  

What to expect from Gen Alpha

Generation Alpha. This 2-billion cohort is still in primary school yet we already study their habits, their differences from Gen Z, and their consumer behavior. After 2040, this generation will have enormous political and economic power. So who are they?

When the oldest members of Generation Alpha were born in 2011, Instagram and iPads were already widespread. From 2023 hindsight, we cringe at unblurred kids’ pictures online posted by their influencer parents. For those born in the 2010s, this was not the case. These kids grew up with phones and tablets in their faces. They were either recorded while doing something completely normal, or they were distracted with an iPad. The Internet does not forget anything, and when Generation Alpha starts joining the workforce, the background checks employers will be able to conduct will have wide potential, from checking when someone’s Mom posted “He said his first word!” (wouldn’t it be cool to only hire former bright kids?) to making sure that your employee did not play violent video games as a child.

What makes it better is that Gen Alpha’s parents are largely Gen Z and Millenials who also grew up with some form of the Internet and social media and who know just how important your presentation in this space can be. That is why Generation Alpha understands Internet safety better than anyone else; they might not know how to download music or set up an email account, but they know better than to post their real faces and names on the Internet. In a way, this Generation is creating online avatars before we have the widespread technology to do so.

This extreme privacy was something that initially drew me into the subject. A Gen Alpha-er that I know is a famous influencer with thousands of subscribers and hundreds of thousands of views. Her blog is about makeup yet none of her blog posts on various social media show her picture. And this is not just her; I’ve seen others conceal their identity as well.

This privacy is not necessarily taught by parents but by social media itself. TikTok, Instagram, Twitter, Pinterest, Snapchat, YouTube, Facebook, and other platforms only allow kids to join starting at 13. Because the oldest Gen Alpha members will turn 13 this year, we cannot say if they will suddenly change their social media presence. I think not, and Coco Mocoe agrees.

Because of longer screen time, Covid’s remote schooling, and future remote work, Generation Alpha will be less social. However, it not necessarily means m0re lonely. The digital space becomes as, if not more, important than the real space. These children have their own interactive apps, game avatars, and online blogs, making offline relationships seem redundant and too complex. Even if Gen Alpha do meet offline, they engage in online activities like playing, doing blog collaborations, or online shopping.

When Gen Alpha goes to school and college, they will most likely learn specific skills instead of taking lengthy courses. They will also become empowering emotionally intelligent leaders who easily adapt to changing market trends. The belief in the world’s stability will be considered ridiculous as these kids would grow up among Covid, AI advancements, and the financial crisis. Generation Alpha is less likely to go to the university or even have a dream job as a child. When I ask my Gen Alpha-er who she wants to work as when she grows up, she replies “Well, what will make me the most money?”

Overall, I am a big fan of Generation Alpha: adaptable, independent, and, yes, completely unhinged. The only thing that confuses me is these kids’ lack of idea that what they see online is not a reflection of everything that exists but a carefully curated personalized feed. As consumers, Gen Alpha orient themselves by what the influencers are promoting and how many of their online friends already bought it. While Millenials and Gen Z are raising red flags about the Internet’s growing rate of subjectivity which results in political, economic, and cultural crises, Gen Alpha seems to not mind customization at all.

When the world has more information than what you could possibly consume in a million years, a little customization doesn’t hurt. I just hope that Gen Alpha will carefully choose how, when, and who decides what they see online.

Kiss the Bride

When I was a child, almost any narrative I imagined while playing with my friends was built around marriage, motherhood, or upkeeping my husband’s house. We pretended that our toys were our boyfriends and created a thousand scenarios of Ken falling in love with, marrying, or settling down with Barbie. In 2005, my kindergarten had mostly gendered toys. Boys played with soldiers and cars, and girls played with dolls, mockup kitchens, and picnic sets. I don’t remember balls, puzzles, or books; something we all could play with.

I heard other parents say to their daughters “No one will marry you if you behave like this,” “One day you will grow up, find a kind rich husband, and birth all these babies to make me and Daddy happy.” Even though my parents never said such a thing, the societal narrative was clear: the woman had to marry to be successful. In his turn, the man had to earn money.

I will wait for my amazing male writer friends to reflect on their side of this narrative, but for women, the story seems curious: why does the woman need to marry to fulfill societal expectations? If a marriage is a union between a man and a woman where the man usually takes the first step, why don’t we push him instead?

Before the 19th and even the 20th century, getting married was basically a necessity. When you cannot own property, work, or vote, having a spouse who can do all that is saving you from poverty and death. In exchange, you give him children – the male heirs to inherit the wealth and continue with the patriarchal nonsense.

If a woman had ambitions, she could only fulfill them through her husband. A wife would write a book, and her husband would publish it. A wife would create a recipe, and her husband would open a restaurant. I’m not claiming that all ideas were essentially female, but wives played a great role in the process. Take, for example, the famous case of Sofia Tolstoy and her husband.

When the first wave of feminism hit in the 19th century, women no longer technically had to get married. Society – or men, to be precise – had to support the existing narratives to force women into marriage. Unmarried women are defective as no one wanted to have them. Unmarried women will distract male coworkers. Unmarried women are a drain on the government’s money.

Again, these narratives are mostly about women. Older single men are seen as mature, desirable, free, attractive, and career-oriented. So what exactly changes when a woman and a man get married, and why does society need to force her into the union?

First, when a woman marries, she takes on 20 more hours of unpaid labor per week than her husband. Research shows that single men and women who live alone have approximately the same number of hours of unpaid labor per week. However, when they marry and start living together, the women’s workload increases, while the man’s decreases. The stats are similar even for couples who just live together without getting married.

Second, while unmarried women are poorer than their married counterparts, they live a longer happier life. Men, on the other hand, live a shorter and less happy life if they are divorced or not married. Most research sees the cause of the statistics in men’s lack of close friendships during their adult years.

Third, marriage is associated with child-bearing, and Western society desperately needs that. Even if men are involved during the pregnancy and the first years of the child, the woman more often takes maternity and sick leaves, breastfeeds the child, and, of course, gives birth. Pregnancy can be devastating to someone’s career, health, and even physical security, yet women are pushed to undergo at least one pregnancy before they are 25.

The problem with these statistics is that they are so hard to believe. When most fairy tales, kindergarten games, books, and movies end with a happy ending involving marriage or some form of love story resolution, it is hard to believe that the best thing a woman can do is to stay single.

It is human nature to long for love, connection, and being seen. However, love should not necessarily manifest into an unequal legal union between two people.

Greenwashing

Almost everything I do to save the planet is likely just the result of greenwashing.

For example, my toothpaste costs more than average because it says it’s in a recyclable tube. I have recently watched a documentary saying that no toothpaste tube is recyclable.

I separate my waste into eight categories: plastic, metal, glass, organic waste, paper, electronics, batteries, and lightbulbs. Only 25% of what I gather will be recycled.

I bring my old clothes to H&M bins. Then I read that only 0.1% of donated clothes are recycled, according to H&M.

I used to buy beverages in glass, as I heard it’s greener. Apparently, metal cans are actually more sustainable; they are not 100% recyclable, but at least they aren’t so heavy to transport.

I used to buy clothes that say “Recycled plastic” on them. Then I learned that when you make clothes from plastic, it cannot be recycled any longer.

I could go on.

When businesses tell me to do something to be more green, it’s likely complete bullshit. To appeal to Gen Z, businesses use our care for the environment as an opportunity to sell some more.

I have recently seen an ad saying “Most clothes get thrown away because of their dull colors. Buy this liquid to get your clothes colorful again!” Bullshit. Especially among Gen Z, who made Avant Apocalypse style a trend.

Reduce. Reuse. Recycle. In this exact order.

The “Recycle” part is very beneficial to consumerism, and “Reduce” and “Reuse” are harmful to it. If we reduce and reuse — stop buying things we don’t need, sell each other second-hand items, fix broken stuff, and give each other expiring food for free — the economy will not survive. So between a 4-billion-year-old Earth and 400-year-old consumerism, we choose the latter.

Since the dawn of humanity, people tried to leave their mark in history; to leave their footprint. Gen Z and Gen Alpha will be the first generations whose biggest desire is to not.

Why depression is not just a you problem

If your brain chemistry is altered, is it still you?

Sometimes it is, like when you fall in love.

Sometimes, it is not. For example, when you do drugs or become non compos mentis from stress. This is still partially you, but a version so different that it could very well exist in a parallel universe. You don’t remember what you do. You don’t attribute your actions and emotions to yourself, even if other people do recognize you. Sometimes, we joke about versions of ourselves like a drunk Joe and a sober Joe.

As a society, we accept that when someone’s brain chemistry is severely altered, they are not themselves. So in my case, if I’m constantly taking medicine that alters my brain chemistry, am I me? What I mean is, how much of what I think and feel is really me? Is it a non-depressed me or some changed me?

Having taken antidepressants for the most conscious years of my life, I’d say that the medicine really changed me in an unnatural way. This state of complete calmness and emotional stillness was not a healthy happy version of me. I almost could not experience traditionally negative emotions like sadness, fear, guilt, or anxiety. And while these emotions are unpleasant to experience, they are healthy. What’s not healthy is the absolute nocturnal state I was in and how I reacted to heartbreaking events like death, war, or the pandemic. I felt indifferent and optimistic.

Apparently, my negative emotions were also the main source of my creativity, dedication, and rich emotions. When I get angry, I work hard. When I am sad, I write. When I am anxious, I draw and paint. When I’m on antidepressants, I literally just watch TV.

Despite this, the antidepressant experience gave me a glance at what it feels like to be a semi-normal human who is joyful and optimistic 80% of the time. Someone who doesn’t cry and has nothing specific to say when someone asks, “How are you?” Someone completely boring yet happy.

My point is definitely not to say “Stop taking antidepressants, be sad, and stay creative.” No. Depression is extremely hard, and I haven’t even had the most severe depression. I know such people: they force themselves to get up every morning. They feel a crazy amount of sadness, anger, frustration, and pain. They struggle with constant nightmares, hallucinations, and emotional instability.

And the world just tells them: “It sounds like a you problem, bro.”

When someone gets depressed, our society treats the individual only, hardly ever spreading the treatment upon even their closest family. Because of individualism and, ultimately, capitalism, when someone is depressed, we do everything to get them to normal urgently so that they go back to work. We do not consider the family, community, and social issues that lead the person to depression.

This approach is totally wrong. While we explore ridiculous depression causes like sugar consumption and brain damage, depression is still on the rise. The causes are trivial: lack of communities and personal relationships, isolation of the city and district structure, and literal global warming.

Of course, there is no Big Pharma conspiracy aimed at concealing these depression causes and making more young people around the world medicate their brains. The reason for our search for individual depression causes is how psychology works as a science. Individual cause-and-effect experiments are just simpler.

See, it would be extremely hard to test if a green and accessible city makes you happier. Yes, people in Sweden are happier than people in Denver. However, it could be because of anything! Wages, better food, absence of Trump... You can’t prove anything.

To prove a cause-and-effect relationship, scientists would need to place a group of healthy people into a depression-provoking environment to see what happens. Such experiments are expensive, time-consuming, and have too many interfering variables.

Even if such research was conducted at scale, we might not be able to put its results to use. Our society is so big and complex that it's really hard to fix. Many try — and become depressed in the process.

Finally, the same system that causes depression offers the cure: some expensive drugs from the 1950s with many side effects. Take the pill, shut up, and keep smiling.

So that when next time someone asks you, “How are you?”

You thoughtlessly reply, “Good, how are you?”

Cradle of Mankind

Baboon family in Serengeti, Tanzania. Photo by Anastasiya Pantsialei

When I told people that I was traveling to Africa, they get worried.

“Have you been vaccinated?”

“Do you need to quarantine afterward?”

“How much money are you taking?”

I was worried about it, too. In the media, Africa is portrayed as a poor and dangerous continent: aggressive wildlife, poachers, failed states, hunger, drought, water pollution, extreme heat, AIDS, and, of course, malaria. When you travel to Africa, you prepare anti-mosquito drugs, cash in all possible currencies, books to survive the lack of Internet, and lots of sun cream.

I was surprised to see that I don’t need half of the stuff.

Zebras resting their heads in Serengeti, Tanzania. Photo by Anastasiya Pantsialei

Flamingos in Ngorongoro, Tanzania. Photo by Anastasiya Pantsialei

I was thinking of Africa as a homogenous continent despite it consisting of 3000 ethnicities speaking 2000 languages. I traveled only to some parts of Tanzania, one of the richest and most stable countries on the continent.

Tanzania had been colonized by both Arabs and the British, so the population is prevalently Muslim and English-speaking. It is a country with one of the most beautiful beaches in the world, Nungwi. It is also the place where the biggest wildlife migration in the world happens with thousands of zebras, lions, antelopes, and other animals traveling together in search of seasonal rains. Tanzania is not hot: at night, we needed a chimney to warm up. The country has electricity, medium-quality water, and the Internet. You cannot have a Zoom call in HD, but you can definitely send videos.

Lion pride in Serengeti, Tanzania. Photo by Anastasiya Pantsialei

In terms of resources, Tanzania is really rich. I have met many people from Africa, but none of them were from Tanzania. The locals literally don’t migrate: they love it here. They profit from tourism, agriculture, manufacturing, and even IT.

The biggest treasure Tanzania has, though, is its nature. I got lucky to observe hundreds of trees, fishes, birds, and animals here. Each one was fascinating, starting from a transparent lizard to a gigantic elephant, especially because I saw all of them in wildlife.

Antelope in Serengeti, Tanzania. Photo by Anastasiya Pantsialei

Single male elephants in Ngorongoro, Tanzania. Photo by Anastasiya Pantsialei

If you have ever been to the zoo, you know what it’s like: sad smelly animals, small cages, and lots of screaming kids. Here, we were the ones confined in a jeep, and the animals were around us: beautiful, full of energy, and free. They often looked at me with disrespect after my camera clicked and then turned back toward the horizon. The world was theirs, and I was just a guest.

Leopard in Serengeti, Tanzania. Photo by Anastasiya Pantsialei

Egyptian goose in Serengeti, Tanzania. Photo by Anastasiya Pantsialei

Buffalos in Serengeti, Tanzania. Photo by Anastasiya Pantsialei

Giraffe in Serengeti, Tanzania. Photo by Anastasiya Pantsialei

Lioness snacking on a buffalo in Serengeti, Tanzania. Photo by Anastasiya Pantsialei

Tanzania weirdly felt like home, and not in a national sense. Hot sun, warm water, fresh fruits, and an abundance of wildlife around me awoke something inside of me, something ancient. It all felt really natural and familiar. I could feel that the human circle of life started here, that some of my roots come from here. I wanted to explore more, to see more places, swim farther, walk behind that mountain, behind that lake…

And then it all ended.

Now, my heart has an empty place called Africa, and I have 60 years to fill it in.

Oh, and yes, there were no mosquitos.

Lioness has recently learned to climb trees in Serengeti, Tanzania. Photo by Anastasiya Pantsialei

Hippos in Serengeti, Tanzania. Photo by Anastasiya Pantsialei

Postmodern Theory Reflected in Victor Pelevin’s Fiction

When postmodernism appeared as a literary movement in the 1950s, the USSR has just won the Second World War and still planned on turning the world communist. The Soviet writers at the time had a very different agenda from their American colleagues. They struggled with censorship, not deconstructing reality or the grand narrative. Even after the Soviet Union collapsed in 1991, the post-Soviet writers joined American postmodernism in their own way. They celebrated modernist ideas while creating texts in a postmodern form. One such writer is Victor Pelevin, one of the most popular contemporary writers in Russian-speaking countries.

I want to discuss how postmodern theory was reflected in Pelevin’s fiction and explore how the American postmodern theory mixed with Soviet history and ideas to create Pelevin as a writer. For focus, I will concentrate on Pelevin’s short stories written from 1991 to 2005.

To understand Pelevin as a writer, we need to start by discussing his peculiar biography. He was born in 1962 in Moscow, went to a school specializing in English studies, and became an engineer. He started publishing his works in 1991 on the Internet. He has since won several awards and sold millions of copies of his books. Pelevin as a person is still doubted to exist. He is very private. Pelevin has never shown up to literary award ceremonies or parties. The only people who have actually met him are his childhood friends and teachers, who are the only ones confirming his existence.

Pelevin’s privacy might remind you of Thomas Pynchon, an American postmodernist writer. Pynchon never gave interviews and seldom took pictures. He wanted his books to speak for themselves. When it comes to Pelevin, the reasoning for his privacy is not very clear. It might be connected with his Buddhist worldview, which is reflected in almost all of his works.

Another peculiar fact about Pelevin is that he does not consider himself a postmodernist. To understand his position, we need to describe and explain the differences between American and Russian postmodernism. In 2001, literary critic Mark Lipovetsky divided Russian postmodernism into two branches: conceptualism and neo-baroque. Conceptualism explored the notion between the signifier, the signified, and the referent. However: “While in Western conceptualism one ‘thing’ is substituted with another ‘thing’ or even with the verbal description of a ‘thing,’ … in Russian conceptualism, a ‘thing’ is substituted … with nothingness.” Russian postmodern writers did not see meaning in creating more simulacrums. Baudrillard’s notion of simulacrum was simply too close to Soviet Realism.

The second branch of postmodernism, according to Lipovetsky, is neo-baroque. It is an attempt to mix the high culture with the mass culture. Pelevin, according to Lipovetsky, belongs to the neo-baroque Russian postmodernists. One technique Pelevin uses that makes him neo-baroque is emphasizing irregular unusual fragments without attempting to build the whole world, which we will see later in the research paper. Also, Pelevin uses a dissipative structure in the text, in which pieces of meaning fall apart just to create something new and restore reality. 

Unlike American postmodernism, the Russian movement does not oppose modernism. Because modernism occupied itself with the search for meaning and the search for freedom, Russian postmodernists cannot quite give it up yet. This could be the reason why Pelevin does not consider himself a postmodernist. The movement in Russia is yet too interconnected with modernism.

For a Western critic, though, Pelevin’s short stories possess many qualities of the works of American postmodern authors. For example, one of the features of postmodern writing is the ambiguity of space and time, distortion, and fragmentation of reality. For example, in his short story “Sleep” (1991), Pelevin explores the possibility of our world being simply a dream. The protagonist called Nikita Sonechkin (‘son’ means ‘sleep’ in Russian) learns to multitask sleeping with normal activities. He notices everyone else around him is actually multitasking sleeping, too. He decides to talk to a woman on the street about it. She takes Nikita to the police. With the police, Nikita soon forgets what he wanted and remembers he is one of the policemen. The story ends with Nikita on duty seeing the Big Dipper in the sky — something which should not be there in winter.

The story “Sleep” questions the materiality of the world we live in. Pelevin makes the reader consider if our world could be a dream, too. He makes us question what is out there beyond this dream. This idea of multiple realities reminds us of “The Garden of Forking Paths” by Borges. In Pelevin’s case, this idea of multiple realities may reflect on his own existence in the literary sphere. He published his works on the Internet first, and the readers have never seen him. Pelevin has created another reality dimension by simply existing as a literary phenomenon.

Another short story “News from Nepal” (1991) explores the distortion of space and time. “News from Nepal” talks about a Soviet factory worker Lyubochka and her usual work day. She works as an innovation engineer and has to submit regular innovation propositions to the factory management. The story describes the failing communist system of production, where you cannot plan and force creativity. During the story, we start to see cues about the questionable reality of things. For example, Lyubochka met two men in white pajamas outside of her factory. The men talked about the multiple realities when suddenly screamed and ran away. At the end of the story, Lyubochka learns she and her colleagues are actually in hell, and this day has been repeated forever. The story ends with the same sentence it began with — an artistic tool postmodernist writer Nabokov used.

Another tool Pelevin uses in his works is intertextuality and meta-narrative. For example, the short story “The ninth dream of Vera Pavlovna” (1991) is connected to Nikolay Chernyshevky’s novel What is to be Done? (1863) and Fiodor Dostoevsky’s Crime and Punishment (1866). The protagonist in the story is Vera Pavlovna, an elderly cleaning lady who works at the city toilet. She discovers the mystery of life with the help of another cleaning lady Manyasha. Vera believes she can now control reality. She transforms her toilet into an elite place, then makes it a shop to work in. She becomes satisfied with her life for a while, but then she starts smelling human excrement everywhere. She thinks it was Manyasha who betrayed her, so she kills her friend with an axe, just like in Dostoevsky’s Crime and Punishment. When Vera dies, she is judged by the higher powers and receives a punishment for her actions. Vera Pavlovna becomes one of the characters in Chernyshevky’s novel What is to be Done, and this all becomes her ninth dream in the book.

In “The ninth dream of Vera Pavlovna,” the protagonist believes in solipsism. She rejects reality and believes that her world is what she thinks. Despite her efforts, she is brought back into the reality of the toilet she cleans. She still smells the toilet even if she sees a luxury shop. Once again, Pelevin explores the idea of twisting reality.

The intertextuality is not limited to just two classical Russian novels but includes many movies, musical pieces, and even popular saying at the time (Skvortsova 100). It makes the story culturally and historically rich. Intertextuality in the story serves the purpose of showing how quickly reality was changing in the time of perestroika, as if according to one man’s wish.

Some of Pelevin’s short stories become total pastiche. For example, the short story “Nika” (1992) is a monologue of an older man with a young lover Nika, whom he objectifies completely. Then she cheated on the man, and the man sent her away. He regretted his decision and started looking for Nika. When he found her, she was immediately killed by a car. In this moment, we learn that Nika is a female cat. The reader was played by the author.

This story is ironizing on Nabokov’s “Lolita.” We guess this with small details, for example, Pelevin writes, “I never called her by her full name. The word ‘Veronika’ was a botanical term for me. It reminded me of suffocating white flowers from a southern garden in my childhood” Nabokov wrote, “Lo-lee-ta: the tip of the tongue taking a trip of three steps down the palate to tap, at three, on the teeth. Lo. Lee. Ta. She was Lo, plain Lo, in the morning, standing four feet ten in one sock. She was Lola in slacks. She was Dolly at school. She was Dolores on the dotted line. But in my arms, she was always Lolita.”

The story reminds us of “Black Venus” by Angela Carter, even though the” literary techniques Carter and Pelevin used are different. While Carter gives her character power and voice, Pelevin further objectifies his character, animalizing her even. Pelevin shows how objectified women are in literature, and how the reader readily puts up with it.

Another postmodern technique Pelevin uses in his work is wordplay. For example, a short story “Uhryb” (1991) talks about a “retired humanitarian” Vasily Maralov (‘marat’ means ‘make something dirty’ in Russian) who gets very drunk and understands the meaning of life. Unfortunately, the next morning, he cannot remember it. He only remembers that it is connected with the word “Uhryb,” which means nothing in Russian. He is so preoccupied with the idea of finding uhryb’s meaning that he starts seeing this word everywhere. He sees it in objects around him, on posters, in other people’s speech. He becomes completely insane and thinks uhryb is a pit of snow he finds in the forest. At the end of the story, Vasily is found dead in that pit.

“Uhryb” explores the absence of meaning in real life which the protagonist decided to find in words or signifiers. “Uhryb” might be a parody of Nabokov’s chapter “Ultima Thule” (1942) from his unfinished novel Solux Rex. In “Ultima Thule,” Nabokov’s protagonist also loses his mind after finding the truth about life. He becomes illogical and reckless.

The lost relationship between the signifier, the signified, and the referent is also illustrated in Pelevin’s story “Built-in Reminder” (1991). The protagonist in the story Niksim is holding an art exhibition guide for several women from the local factory. He talks about an art movement “vibrationalism” and describes it in complex terms, for example, “Pure fixation of ideas will throw us to the exhausted wasteland of conceptualism. On the other hand, the opportunity for vibrationalist interpretation of an object leads to the borders of vibrationalism to blur and stop from existing.” He shows the guests a dummy with a built-in death reminder. The dummy deconstructs itself into pieces until the reminder goes off. As the guide goes on in his speech, his guests are physically shrinking in size until they become dust. The guide collects this dust and throws it away. At the end of the story, he complains about his toothache which does not let him concentrate on vibrationalism. “Built-in reminder” talks about entropy and the gradual deconstruction of objects and reality, which is a common topic in postmodernist literature.

Like some postmodern authors, Pelevin explores the controversial relationship between history and literature. In 1990, he published a story “The Reconstructor (about the research of P. Stetsyuk).” It is a review of a non-existing book Memory of Fire Years by P. Stetsyuk. The book “analyzes” historical archives and concludes that Joseph Stalin was not one but seven different people, one of whom was Nikita Khrushchev. Pelevin is extremely ironic in his short story, for example, he simultaneously says, “You should not read this book because you should not read any books. This book especially” and “Despite [boredom], you should read this book.” Despite the story being in contrast with everything we know about Soviet history, Pelevin is being very serious about his facts and language. He provides links, footnotes, dates, and names in the short story. It all sounds very believable. The short story shows how easy it is to sound reliable, and how a reader should check their facts.

In his short story “The Water Tower” (1990), Pelevin plays with the form of his text, which is a common feature in postmodernism. The whole 13-page story is written in one 2,800-word sentence. Such forms show the continuity and the impossibility to stop the flow of life. In the story, it happens through the images of the building water tower. The story does not describe a physical space. Instead, it only shows images, for example, “ … when you walk along a dirty street with your matches collection and spread snot and blood across your face …” or “ … stretching your hairs across your bald spots and showing your plastic teeth when smiling.” The story begins and ends with the image of the water tower, probably showing life and death.

Some of Pelevin’s stories are simply ironic and fun to read. For example, the short story “The Origin of Species” (1993) describes Charles Darwin on a ship with a crew and many monkeys. To come up with the theory of evolution, Darwin fights with monkeys. He, again and again, proves that he is superior to them and discusses why it happens. “The Origin of Species” discusses the other side of the grand narrative of evolution we know. It explores how the theory could have been produced. As Umberto Eco said, “The postmodern reply to the modern consists of recognizing that the past … must be revisited: but with irony, not innocently.”

Another comical Pelevin’s story is “Mid-Game” (1991). It describes two female prostitutes Lucya and Nelly who struggle with finding clients after the recent fall of the Soviet Union. They meet and decide to look for clients together. They end up getting into trouble: their potential clients appear to be “chess” serial killers Vadim and Valera. When they kill prostitutes, they leave chess figures in their mouths. In the story, this is a billable job for them: when they do it, by some magical forces they decide the end of a chess tournament which really happens somewhere else. This time, the serial killers were unlucky: Lucya and Nelly escaped. They went home to Nelly and suddenly had sex. After that, Nelly told Lucya her story. Nelly is a transwoman who used to be a man called Vasily who worked as the secretary of the district committee of the Komsomol. Lucya was shocked because she is also a transwoman, who used to be Vasily’s colleague. They knew each other in their previous Soviet life. At this point in the story, we jump to the serial killers, by the discussion of whom we understand that they are trans men. Pelevin’s story is ironizing on the process of the Soviet Union’s fall and what it meant for people who were successful in the existing Soviet system. The story also shows the dissipative nature of things and the deconstruction of reality.

In some of Pelevin’s stories, we still see strong features of modernism. For example, “The Ontology of Childhood” (1991) describes a child growing up in prison and not realizing it until he is older. A completely absurd and unreal situation, as in postmodernism, discusses the topic of freedom and the roots of freedom, so frequently in modernism and post-Soviet literature. For Pelevin’s character, freedom ended in childhood, when all things still appeared exciting, adventurous, and as opportunities for storytelling. As an adult, the character did not hear those stories anymore.

As a rising star in Russian literature, Pelevin knowingly or unknowingly implemented so many features of postmodernism in his work that he should be called a postmodern writer. However, he should be called a Russian postmodernist. A feature differentiating Russian postmodernism from American one is that in Russia, the world order still requires interpretation — a feature of American modernist literature. This integration of modernism and postmodernism is what makes Pelevin one of the most well-read contemporary Russian writers.  Each of his texts is a precise, ironizing, and sometimes heartbreaking mirror of Russian reality.

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Bam!

At the age of five months, twenty-six days, three hours, and eighteen minutes, she encountered her very first challenge — an invisible one, too. It limited her unskillful crawling. She could touch the barrier, fight it, and even lick it, but she couldn’t see it. The collision of her relatively giant forehead with the invisible enemy was painful and hopeless. The enemy was yet too strong. She left it alone and crawled in the opposite direction.

She often encountered the barrier over the next few years. With time, she grew comfortable with it. She leaned on it to learn to walk. It was then that she realized the barrier was infinite — she walked and walked and couldn’t find its end.

When she learned to eat with a spoon, she understood the barrier was not infinite but circular.

At three, she stopped coming in contact with the barrier, only walking within it.

At six, she forgot the barrier ever existed.

Schengen Visa in 2023: Mission Impossible?

The first time I really thought about this issue was in 2020, before the global pandemic. I was on an exchange semester in Lithuania, hanging out with newly-found friends with Iraqi passports. At the time, they were struggling to get their American visas to participate in the Summer Work and Travel program.

“What's the visa issue?” I asked.

“Well, they are super suspicious of people from Iraq. All embassies are. It's super difficult to get anywhere outside of Iraq: we often have to apply multiple times before we get the visa. It takes a long time and costs a fortune. To get a Schengen visa, you first obtain a Turkish visa and travel there to apply. It's a whole process,” one of my Iraqi friends told me.

I was surprised. At the time, I already had 15+ different visas for 10+ countries in my passport. I've never had any issues and often got a long-term multiple-entry visa. So when my Iraqi friends shared their concerns, I shrugged my shoulders.

I didn’t realize my passport privilege until I lost it.

---

It started in March 2022. I was studying in Bulgaria and decided to travel to Greece for the weekend. I went to the Greek embassy hoping for a warm welcome and at least a 1-year multiple-entry visa for the whole European Union.

What I encountered seemed unprecedented.

The embassy was full of Russian speakers: people with Russian, Belarusian, and Ukrainian passports. They didn’t even try to speak Greek, Bulgarian, or even English with the embassy employees. They were pissed.

When it was my turn, I already felt anxious. I handed a thick pile of documents to a tanned Greek man behind the glass.

“I’ll grant you the visa for just 2 days for your weekend trip,” the man said.

“How come?”

“That’s the policy now. So are you going to apply or what?”

I was confused but decided to apply. I didn’t believe they’d grant me a visa for just 2 days.

They did! I still went on that weekend trip and enjoyed my stay. When I was crossing the border back to Bulgaria, a Greek officer asked me,

“Why are you going back so early? Your visa only expires at midnight.”

I thought he was joking, so I laughed. But he kept on a serious face.

Maybe he knew that interaction was going to be my last time in the Schengen zone in a long time.

---

While I was in Greece, my Belarus-based family applied for a Bulgarian visa to witness my graduation. They were also told that the visas will last for a week, even though they had many Bulgarian visas beforehand.

While it is the ordinary situation for people with “weaker” passports, it was shocking for any Belarusian. As a nation, we gradually realized that we’ve lost our passport privilege.

---

After the trip to Greece, I went to apply for another visa, a work permit for Poland. The queue to the embassy was hopeful and full of smiling Belarusians with fake documents. Many of them came to prolong their visas, the first ones already granted based on fake documents.

Because my documents were real, I felt super calm — and I couldn’t be more wrong.

The consulate employees told me I’m not eligible for the visa I chose. In mixed Bulgarian and Polish, I tried to defend myself but was walked out by a security guard.

A week after that, after I consulted my sponsor, I returned to the embassy. I was confidently defending my rights, operating with terms and specific laws, and even naming officials. That allowed my passport in. I was beyond happy.

While my visa was under review, I got reassurance from the Polish bureaucracy that they talked to the council and the visa will be granted. Imagine my surprise when two weeks later, I got an empty passport.

“Why did the visa get rejected?” I asked.

“Everything is in the rejection letter. Now, please leave. Next!”

Of course, the rejection letter was too general and unhelpful. My Bulgarian residence permit was expiring in several days, so the only choice I had was to go back to Belarus with the hope to apply for a visa there.

---

From May 2022 to March 2023, I was waiting to apply for a visa in Belarus. It was a year with a rare night spent not crying. I was constantly planning what to bring to Poland and waiting for that email. Week after week, month after month.

It was a lost year, the time in-between.

When I finally received my visa in April 2023, I left Minsk in under 120 minutes. I fled the place as fast as my Iraqi friends.

If someone told me that in 2020, I’d laugh in their face.

Not Tonight, I've Got a Headache

Thump. Thump.

The left side of my head is pulsating with pain streaming from under my eyebrow. My skin feels hot and painful, like a tightened rice paper. My hands and legs shake. I’m nauseous. When I look at the light and hear loud sounds, it’s like someone is squeezing my brain. A colorful spot has just appeared in front of my eyes, blocking my vision. The pain is so excruciating that I’m forgetting where I'm going. I sit down, covering my eyes and ears.

This has been just the beginning of my latest 3-day-long migraine episode. I spent three days laying in a dark quiet room, looking at the ceiling and sometimes throwing up.

Most people think that migraines are just strong headaches. Kind of, except for one thing: painkillers won’t help.

So when I do get a migraine, I like to read the latest scientific research about the illness. What are the causes? Is there a new cure? What I learn from research often makes me furious.

Migraines are mostly a women’s issue, with 15-17% of women suffering from the disease. It is also one of the most under-researched topics in healthcare. For example, Google Scholar finds 817,000 studies on migraine and 974,000 studies on testicular cancer, which develops for only 0.4% of men.

Of course, cancer is deadly. But so are migraines. Migraines are the second-leading cause of disability. Because of migraines, women take millions of sick days per year, losing billions of dollars globally. Even more, some research claims that migraines are bi-directionally associated with painkiller addiction, anxiety, depression, and suicide. People with frequent severe migraines literally kill themselves.

So what is the cause of this nightmare of a disease? No one knows. Scientists know of a strong genetic component, but what actually triggers migraines include monthly hormonal changes, changes in sleep, stress, sensory overstimulation, and many more factors. It takes months and years for a patient to learn what exactly triggers the episodes.

Learning the cause is crucial when there is no cure. And there is none yet. One of the migraine symptoms is temporal insensitivity to painkillers. Some claim that taking painkillers can even trigger migraines.

How do people escape then? It’s all really personal. Some can ease the symptoms with regular painkillers, anti-nausea medicine, acupuncture, or hot or cold baths. However, this helps when you notice the migraine episode before the pain even starts. In this case, I’m not sure how they measure the efficiency of the cure. Did it really help, or did you just mistake the upcoming migraine episode for Thursday’s tiredness?

After the 3-day-long migraine episode ends, I still feel drained and sleepy for up to a week. When you are suffering from migraines, you quickly learn what a debilitating neurological disease it is. You also learn that the illness is part of the health gap, meaning that because it is mostly present in women, it is so under-researched and underfunded.

The worst part is that if I had never experienced a migraine myself, I’d be completely indifferent to the issue.

Migraine? Oh, it’s just a headache. It’ll pass.

Read this when it rains

It happened unexpectedly. On a day when all weather forecasts predicted rain, the sky suddenly darkened. A threatening distant thunder made its way to my ear much quicker than the first drop of rain landed on my eyebrow. And there it was — rain. As I was in the middle of nowhere, riding a bike. So the only way was ahead, and faster.

As I was speeding across the thickening puddles, I thought of the thousands of raindrops landing on the trees, the road, my bike, and me. If I speed up, will I be escaping the raindrops or catching more of them?

Not that I cared. I don't hate rain; in fact, rain transports me to some beautiful moments.

Like those childhood summers at my grandparents, where rain and thunder were a sign of “Electronics off, fairy tales on.”

Or rebellious teenage walks under the rain just to hide in a dark under-bridge area, caressing the raindrops off of each other.

Or those summer nights laying in the damp grass, looking into the moving sky and accepting getting terribly wet.

Or meeting a rain shower under a Bulgarian Opera House together with dozens of strangers, all of whom had to stop their daily schedules and wait.

Or waking up from my first thunder in Tanzania and coming outside just to see many smiling faces. A blessing, they said.

See, I don’t hate rain. Rain means unexpected, a change of plans. Nature has no power over humans anymore, but when it rains, everyone notices. It is a chance for us to ground ourselves. It’s a chance to say, “Wow, it’s raining” — even if it is the most ordinary fall rain you’ve ever seen.

Of course, my first rain in Krakow got me wet to my skin. As the smell of rain mixed with dust, sweat, and shower gel, I was approaching home. The last obstacle was a glass entrance door. When I looked at it, I met a new me — with dripping-wet hair, a damp face, and dark heavy clothes. And, surprisingly, I saw a noticeable smile and sparkling eyes. The moment that should have been caught in some romantic movie. Like rain in New York.

And yet it wasn’t. I was alone on a quiet street, ready to squish into my tiny dark apartment until the next rainy day. So I did. And I started writing.

Because what else do you do when it rains?

An algorithm is shaping your life

You’re here… Reading this? I’m surprised. I give a 90% chance that most people around you right now are on social media. Scrolling through Instagram or Facebook feed, watching TikToks, or – if they are smart asses – reading news on LinkedIn. Even you, a rare 2023 blog reader, most likely found this post as a link on social media. And if you did, it means that a powerful algorithm has led you here.

The algorithm thought you’d be interested, and so here you are. Reading this.

Maybe you weren’t even interested in social media algorithms before. Maybe you didn’t plan to read this text today. But here you are.

What I’m trying to say is that in 2023, we are actively allowing social media to shape our incoming information and behavior. We are letting the algorithms shape our spendings, hobbies, and even political views.

And by shaping I mean completely transforming.

How often do you buy a product or service that an algorithm had showed you? Personally, I do it quite a lot. Most of the times the algorithm knows about my problem and offers a solution. For example, if I text someone on Instagram that I want to do yoga, Instagram offers yoga classes. It kind of violates the privacy of correspondence, but I appreciate it. It’s useful.

Sometimes, though, an algorithm tries to trick me. For example, I have recently seen many TikToks talking a problem of fading mascara during the day. I have never even noticed it. But then, a few days later, TikTok offered a solution – an ad of a new viral mascara renewer. Dude, what?

I know I’m not going to impress you talking about social media ads, so let me show you something more tricky.

Sometimes, an algorithm knows you are depressed. It can see you liking sad memes and listening to sad music. It can see you staying up late and not talking to anyone. And what it does is offer you a new hobby. Say, scrapbooking. It shows you a ton of satisfying scarpbooking videos that calm you and make you fall asleep. You love them. At some point, you cannot fall asleep without them.

So one day, you decide to actually do scrapbooking. You go online and search for affordable scrapbooking stuff. It’s from Shein — the same company that sponsored 90% of the videos you watched. You place an order and start doing scrapbooking.

And while it was your decision to do scrapbooking, you didn’t even think about it until you saw that one TikTok. You didn’t think about Shein curing your depression. Even more, maybe, if the algorithm didn’t offer you scrapbooking, you’d go to a therapist and find long-term peace.

The algorithm could offer you a therapist. It could offer you scrapbooking. Or it could offer you more depressive stuff, which would worsen you off and maybe even lead to suicide. And you would probably follow wherever the algorithm takes you.

Okay, maybe you haven’t taken any new hobbies because of the algorithm. But it’s definitely shaped how you vote.

What feed do you usually see, politically? Is it right or left? Liberal or libertarian? Usually, you see something more or less consistent across time and platforms. You are sure that your views are right. Everybody thinks the same thing I think.

Weeeell… Not really. In the US, half of the people see one side of social media, and half completely the opposite. The algorithm is not just dividing us in two parts. It actually finds a small radical niche for everyone. For example, communism. Or literal fascism. It’s hard to stay politically neutral on social media.

This political division online leads to the real one. People are voting for more and more radical parties, and the population is what is called “polarizing.” Only the population stays the same. It’s actually the spread of information that has changed.

I could go on and on, give you more examples and reasons to be aware, but I think it’s time to offer a solution. What you can do if you do not want an algorithm to shape your life.

Be aware of the algorithm. Just know it’s there. “Aha, I’m seeing so many pictures from Grammy’s recently. I must have liked too many Zendaya photos from that night.”

Choose. On all social media, you can actually follow creators and actively choose to consume their feed. Create a list of creators you choose to check out regularly. Or simply switch to Telegram. It does not offer an algorithm-based feed yet.

Go offline. Not fully, of course. But try to learn from other people. Be open to hearing about their hobbies, their favorite products, and their political views. While the algorithm controls most of what you see online, it cannot control what you say to each other. So be present and listen to real humans around you.

And congratulations! You have just read a whole text that an algorithm has offered you. And you might have been influenced by it.