Some people are surprised by the backlash to Katy Perry’s trip to space. Let me break it down. 

It was dressed up in empowerment, hope, possibility.

But it came off as a publicity stunt that poured salt in a wound that is already bleeding out.

This wasn’t bad timing.
𝐈𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐚 𝐜𝐨𝐬𝐦𝐢𝐜-𝐥𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐥 “𝐅*𝐜𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮.”

We are not currently gathering around the smoldering ashes of the old world.

𝐖𝐞’𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐞.
Getting singed.
Fighting for breath.

People aren’t just struggling.
𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐲’𝐫𝐞 𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐠.
𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐲’𝐫𝐞 𝐝𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠.
𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐲’𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐲𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐦𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐫𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐛 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞.

And into this blood-soaked stage floats a glossy image:

A wealthy woman—propped up by the same system that’s eating humanity alive—rocketing into space

while the rest of the world is duct-taping its arteries shut and hoping for a miracle.

No matter how sweet the PR spin,
no matter how shiny the empowerment hashtag,

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐲 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐝 𝐚𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐥:

“𝐖𝐞 𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐞.
𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐲 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐩 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐮𝐬.”

This wasn’t inspiration.
This wasn’t hope.

𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐨𝐥𝐝-𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝 𝐡𝐢𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐡𝐲 𝐰𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬.

Because not everyone has a few hundreds of thousands of dollars lying around so they can take an 11 minute trip to space.

And the current actions in our society, are only ensuring they never do.

That’s a steel-toe kick in the nuggets.

Nobody dreams of watching someone else live their dream. It’s pandering.

And the world felt it.

The rage isn’t misplaced.
It’s not petty.
𝐈𝐭’𝐬 𝐬𝐚𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐝.
It is tens of thousands of years of mistreatment screaming “We. Are. F*cking. Done with this shit!”

Because we 𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝐃𝐎𝐍𝐄 watching “empowerment” be paraded like a shiny toy
while real empowerment—actual freedom, actual sovereignty, actual respect—remains locked behind velvet ropes and dollar signs.

Real empowerment would have sounded like:

“We’re the first—but we’re building a bridge for every last one of you to cross.”

Or:

“Want to walk among the stars too?
Good.
Grab a sledgehammer.
Let’s take this broken playground down.”

Because the dream was never about watching a few golden-ticket holders float above the rubble.

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦 𝐢𝐬—𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐰𝐚𝐬—𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐟 𝐮𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐞.
𝐖𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐥𝐲.
𝐔𝐧𝐚𝐩𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲.
𝐓𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫.

Not someday.
Not when the elite says it’s trendy.
𝐍𝐨𝐰.

𝑰𝒇 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒌 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒓𝒂𝒈𝒆 𝒊𝒔 𝒂𝒃𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒂 𝒓𝒐𝒄𝒌𝒆𝒕 𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒑, 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒉𝒂𝒗𝒆𝒏’𝒕 𝒃𝒆𝒆𝒏 𝒑𝒂𝒚𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒂𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏.

And if you’re as ready as I am, grab a sledgehammer. Let’s take this broken playground down. 😏🔥

*𝑊𝑟𝑖𝑡𝑡𝑒𝑛 𝑏𝑦 𝑠𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑤ℎ𝑜 𝑏𝑒𝑙𝑖𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑠 𝑖𝑡’𝑠 𝑜𝑘𝑎𝑦 to 𝑏𝑒 𝑤𝑒𝑎𝑙𝑡ℎ𝑦 𝑎𝑛𝑑 ℎ𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑎𝑛 𝑎𝑚𝑎𝑧𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑙𝑖𝑓𝑒， 𝑓𝑢𝑟𝑖𝑜𝑢𝑠𝑙𝑦 𝑠𝑢𝑝𝑝𝑜𝑟𝑡𝑠 𝑒𝑞𝑢𝑎𝑙𝑖𝑡𝑦 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑎𝑙𝑠𝑜 𝑤𝑎𝑛𝑡𝑠 to 𝑔𝑜 𝑡𝑜 𝑠𝑝𝑎𝑐𝑒 𝑠𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑑𝑎𝑦… 𝑗𝑢𝑠𝑡 𝑚𝑎𝑦𝑏𝑒 𝑎 𝑏𝑖𝑡 𝑚𝑜𝑟𝑒 𝑔𝑟𝑎𝑐𝑒𝑓𝑢𝑙𝑙𝑦*