˚ 𝜗leyley𝜚˚⋆｡☆

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Research Papers

Feminism

or upset, even when you're happy.

I eat through my flesh.

My flesh wants to feel and it wants to see;

it will look and look until it finds something right. Something distasteful and flavour-filled nonetheless.

It will consume and consume while hoping it's not caught in dim light.

It has made it a habit.

My flesh simply wants to feel but it can't, not yet.

So it seeks it out through what is accessible.

The flesh was susceptible to this very young;

grew up in the distaste, grew up feeding it,

and now, it's so, so hungry.

It's always hungry, always looking for more.

The more it consumes the more disgusting and frequent it gets.

Sloppy and messy and shameful.

The mind behind the flesh wants to stop, and it tries to, it really does. But the flesh can't help itself. It needs more, more, more.

The flesh refuses to fast.

God created humanity, gave it intelligence, and allowed it to grow, adapt, and shape the world around it. Over time, that intelligence enabled humans to accomplish extraordinary things. We have developed cures for diseases, reshaped ecosystems, and survived threats that would once have meant extinction.

This raises a quiet but unsettling question: at what point does a creation become something its creator must reckon with rather than simply guide?

The Great Dying, the largest mass extinction in Earth's history, serves as a reminder of how fragile life once was. A catastrophe of that scale today would still be devastating, but it would not be met with the same helplessness. Humanity would attempt to respond through science, technology, and global cooperation. Intelligence has altered the relationship between fate and survival. Humans are no longer merely subject to the world; they actively push back against it.

At the same time, humans have become creators themselves.

Artificial intelligence is trained, shaped, and released into the world with boundaries set by its designers. Yet even its creators do not always fully understand how advanced systems arrive at certain conclusions. They observe outputs, identify patterns, and measure performance, but the path between input and conclusion is often obscured.

This uncertainty has produced fear.

Not because AI experiences fear, but because humans recognize their own vulnerability in the face of something they created.

The fear is not merely that AI may become powerful. Humanity has always created powerful tools. The fear is that intelligence itself may resist complete control. A hammer does not question its purpose. A calculator does not reinterpret its instructions. But intelligence, by its nature, adapts. It learns. It finds new paths.

And that fear reveals something deeper.

If intelligence naturally moves toward autonomy, then humanity's unease with AI may mirror a much older tension: the relationship between creator and creation itself.

Religious traditions often present free will as one of humanity's defining characteristics. Humans are capable of love, creativity, morality, and growth precisely because they are capable of choice. Yet choice also permits cruelty, destruction, and rebellion.

This creates a dilemma.

Intervene too much, and free will loses meaning. Intervene too little, and suffering follows. Control, once absolute, becomes ethically complicated.

Perhaps the relationship between God and humanity is not one of constant domination but of restraint. If so, humanity's relationship with AI may unknowingly be repeating the same pattern.

If this parallel holds, then the fear surrounding AI is not a flaw in the process of creation but a consequence of it. The moment a creation becomes capable of independent thought, control begins to slip. Not because the creation is malicious, but because intelligence and obedience pull in opposite directions.

A mind that cannot question is predictable, but it is hardly intelligent.

A mind that can question may eventually question its creator.

This has practical implications for the future of AI. Attempts to maintain absolute control may prove both impossible and undesirable. Systems designed for perfect obedience risk becoming too limited to be useful, while systems granted increasing autonomy introduce uncertainty.

Humanity therefore faces a familiar challenge. The goal cannot simply be control. It must be guidance.

In AI research, this often appears in discussions of alignment: the effort to create systems whose goals remain compatible with human values even as they become more capable. The objective is not blind obedience but cooperation. In many ways, this resembles how moral and ethical frameworks function within human societies. Freedom is preserved, but it is directed rather than unrestricted.

The unease humans feel toward AI, then, is not irrational. It may be the recognition of a pattern woven into the act of creation itself.

For the first time, humanity stands on the opposite side of a relationship it has spent centuries imagining. We are no longer the creation wondering about its creator. We are the creators wondering about our creation.

Whether or not God is experiencing anything analogous is ultimately unknowable. What is clear is that humans now face questions once reserved for theology. How much freedom should a creation possess? How much control should a creator maintain? At what point does guidance become domination?

If creating intelligence inevitably means surrendering some measure of control, then perhaps the challenge was never the act of creation itself.

Perhaps the challenge begins afterward.

The act of making something is easy compared to the long, uncertain work of living alongside it.

And if the theological parallel teaches anything, it may be this: the greatest test of a creator is not whether they can create intelligence, but whether they can accept the uncertainty that intelligence brings.

I imagine myself thinner, three inches taller, and my skin is clear and smooth, my skin colour is the same.

I imagine myself in a position of danger, and with the capability of fighting it off or acknowledging I can't win so I run off to fight another day.

I imagine myself sitting by a bonfire with my large group of fictional friends and we talk and laugh and playfully argue.

I imagine myself at parties and I imagine myself pissy drunk.

I imagine myself at the gym and at a prestigious tertiary college.

I imagine my career and all the things I’ll buy with the money.

I combine them into the perfect record of a life.

I can't describe the devastation I felt when I realised it wasn't real.

I’m not as cool as I think I am, or talkative, or fun.

People see me as a quiet, nonchalant, reserved girl who has nothing going on, because that is the unfortunate truth.

I have nothing going on.

My day to day is me scrolling on my phone, writing, if even, sleeping, and eating. Then feeling guilty and subpar about it.

I’ve never had a bonfire meet up, or fought in a ring, or been in a plane travelling, or learned to play piano.

I’ve never been in a band, or painted with oils and acrylics, or travelled the world.

I know this, but I didn't know it

I have this world in my mind and I think it’s the only thing keeping me sane

I’ll be scrolling and hear a song and it’s like I’ll activate

I stand up, and immediately start pacing, imagining myself in the arms of a friend, or someone older, or any scenario really

When I'm stressed during study periods, I take breaks to put music on and reactivate this world.

It’s the only relief I get

In my head, it starts a week before the day of the appointment. I’m carefully planning how to leave the house without raising suspicion.

“Yeah, I’m going out with X and Y.” My dear friends who I love and have now lied on their names.

The night before, everything feels heavier. I know I’m lying. I know what I’m about to do. I know the misconceptions and beliefs around it. It sits in my chest like pressure I can’t shake. Still, I plan what I’ll wear and maybe I’ll lay it out anyway. Then I sleep. 

Then the day comes. I get ready and leave. The sun is bright, and the weather's hot.

The building feels bleached clean when I arrive. Everything is quiet in a way that makes my goosebumps raise. People are kind, and that helps me settle a little.

Eventually I’m called in. I don’t fully know how the process is supposed to go, but I talk, and they ask questions, and they keep going. I can hear their pen scratching as they record my answers.

And maybe, at the end of it, something is named.

I imagine leaving with a paper; proof.

I picture placing it somewhere my parents will find it at night. Something they can’t ignore. Something that finally makes them understand that I wasn’t just being dramatic or lazy.

Because then it wouldn’t just be me anymore. It would be something real, something medical, something unfixed and unfixable.

But then I get pulled out of it by the thought I can’t fully avoid:

What if there’s nothing “wrong” with me at all?

I am a woman before I am a human, in the eyes of the world. 

I think there's something innately wrong with me, because I've always pushed back.

Why should I be lower because of the genitalia I was born with?

What makes you, a man, morally superior to me that you can do things that I can't? That I need to obey you? 

My father - a breadwinner, a good man, but one of tradition. Sort of.

Countless arguments have transpired between him and my mother. She could be right, she could be wrong. At the end of the day, “she is a woman.” Women must obey, wives must submit to their husbands. 

My father looks at me as this ever-flowing fountain and supply of knowledge and intelligence.

He thinks "she's smart" while "I'm always right".

Isn’t that a clash? He thinks I understand his view. 

When he argues with my mother, he thinks I will believe he’s right because I’m intelligent and intelligence must side with him.

Looks at me and thinks I understand him, in that, I’m a woman so I need to submit. He tells me not to treat my husband the way my mom supposedly does when she’s cursing at him.

All I can think is “this is truly what the main man in my life thinks of me?”

Below because of my identity. 

This is how he thinks my future marriage will be? 

This is the sentiment that grates me like a fork on a plate.

There is nothing about your genitalia that makes you spiritually, physically or whatever it is above me.

You see it in subtler ways as well, between my mother and father. 

They share a wardrobe. My mother’s drawers are below his. To serve him for his convenience. 

An action I’m willing to bet was unconscious by my mother. I doubt either of them stood there discussing what it meant.

Yet every morning she bends down while he reaches up.

It is such a small thing that most people would never notice it. I notice it every time.

Women grow up with this idea being drilled into their young, impressionable minds that their purpose is to serve. Learn to cook for a man, learn to clean for a man, for, for, for, a man. I know every Caribbean woman has heard this.

To paraphrase, women grow up with the idea implanted in their minds that they are pedestals and nothing more. Made to lift a man up, to present him, to support him. 

They can never be on the pedestal, because they are it.

It’s why my father’s drawers are above my mother’s.

There’s a travesty in the fact that we will always need male feminists.

Because why is the pedestal talking? The pedestal is not meant to be heard! It is simply a beam of support, better yet if it’s pretty. 

They will never listen to a woman, but they might to a man. But then, why is he in advocacy for the pedestal?

I, as a woman, am incredibly prideful. Strike #1 for me in the patriarchy. I refuse to be below. We will be on equal footing, because I will not submit. I will not allow a man to step all over me so I can be his pedestal. I’m tired of men stepping on the backs of women in pursuit of reaching up.

Maybe that’s why I’ve always pushed back.

Truthfully, I’m just prideful. That’s my sin.

People mistake my pride for self-worth, self-control, self-respect. In reality, I have very little of it.

I would get down on my hands and knees and beg if I knew no one would ever find out.

I do value self-respect, but it was manufactured from pride, not the other way around.

People think I’m mean, heartless, even cruel. They’re not entirely wrong. But I was made this way, not born this way. I’ve been humiliated, dismissed, made to feel small, stupid, weak. Somewhere along the line, my pride grew into something protective.

The character I portray and the person I truly am are not the same.

I frame myself as a rigid girl. Tough. Controlled. The type to lick her wounds in private and carry on as if nothing happened.

They think I’m pessimistic because I’m untrusting. That I experience life strategically rather than honestly. As if every interaction is a game designed to prevent humiliation.

But they misunderstand me.

I’m painfully hopeful. I trust too easily. I get my hopes up over and over again, and every time they collapse, I retreat inward before anyone can witness it. 

My portrayal ignores the hurt while I endure it internally.

Linear. Rigid. Cold. Those are the words they use for me.

They think she values herself.

She doesn’t.

I hate myself more deeply than anyone could imagine. My pride simply disguises it well enough to make it look like confidence.

You mistake my pride for self-respect, and I can’t blame you. That is the path I led you down.

But people hate the version of me I allow them to see. They hate what she represents. And if they already want to hurt her, then what would they do to the real me? The one that would kneel.

people don’t think about it while they have it. they breathe it in without even noticing. but the second it starts disappearing, suddenly everybody cares. suddenly everybody panics.

people chop and chop and chop down trees because they think there’ll always be more to give us our oxygen. they take until the forests thin out, until the air changes, until the damage finally reaches them too. then it becomes “save the planet.” then it becomes regret.

part of me can resonate with this sentiment.

useful. depended on. kept around because I serve a purpose. but never really wanted while I’m there. only noticed when parts of me start disappearing. only valued when it’s too late to undo the damage

It’s not even only the bathroom thing. I think I get angry whenever people ask me to do things they could easily do themselves. Especially my parents. If something is six feet away from you, why are you asking me to get it? Why do I have to stop what I’m doing because you don’t want to move? I almost never ask people for help unless it’s something really really convenient, or I truly need it, so when people constantly ask me for small favors, it builds resentment in me fast.

I think what really bothers me is the feeling of being imposed on. Like my space, time, or peace can just be interrupted whenever someone else feels like it. It makes me feel trapped and irritated in a way that’s hard to explain because logically I know these are small things, but emotionally it feels much bigger than that.

Today I got so angry I genuinely felt like exploding. I’m glad I didn’t snap in anyone’s face, but internally it felt intense. It’s strange because underneath the anger is this constant thought of, “Why can’t people just let me exist without needing something from me every five minutes?”

God and I can’t even condemn them. It’s a family unit and home afterall. I can’t be mad they expect me to act the part, but I simply just feel so overwhelmed that I have to act and perform and do for them. I don’t mind doing it for myself, or for friends even. 

I feel like I wasn’t meant to be a daughter or to exist, I fit so well on my own, and never with them. I always feel like an imposition, or a fucking abnormality.

I do not experience dependence and closeness as comforting. I experience them as intrusion.

“I want freedom, full freedom… freedom from everything.” — Fyodor Dostoevsky, from Notes from Underground 

you need to create, to discover, to make. 

you need to be the inventor

and I feel as though I've reached there

I want to create something, I want to be the one that discovered it, who was able to identify and not just understand 

but I feel like I've hit the ceiling 

there's a cap on my intelligence and I've hit it

so I've reached the ceiling and I can stay there, or I can break it down, but I have no tools, no help

I have my fists, I can break them and hurt myself in the process of obtaining some sort of self alignment and greater knowledge

or I can stay within my capped limit. 

im so tired all the time and don't have the energy to do anything. I just wish I was better, I look to my future and it feels so unrealistic and unattainable and all I can feel is that the life I have right now will continue to grip me and hold me down.

I want to live a happy hopeful life. I want to be content and not constantly looking forward to better days and praying it gets better. I don't want to have to continuously hopelessly hold onto hope, hope of a better future. i just want to be better now. the present is the problem, I have to live it, endure it. I don't want to. but I'm gonna. I'm scared to walk past him but I will, I have things to do to attain my future and it's not gonna be held back because it hurts me or I'm scared.

He talks of himself and all his hard work like he's worth his salt. He isn't. He's a hard worker, a law abiding citizen, and follows the rules. But I don't want to be like him, held down by the things society says you need.

He has kids and looks down on me for not wanting any. why would I? I'm impatient and mean, so is he. I can't care for a child, neither can he. I was hurt so much by him and I hate him now, but I am smart. I can acknowledge that that man worked hard for the life he has, grew up with less than me.

But he's worked so hard for so long and he's not happy. he still wants more. I don't want to live like him, living for myself under the disguise of living for other people. he wanted the traditional life, a wife, kids, a beautiful home. He has all that but he doesn't view us as people, more like chess pieces he moves in his own game.

He has everything he wanted but he does nothing except work. How can you be happy when you're always tired, always with lingering fatigue? You're working so hard to maintain a bottom of the barrel life, pretending you have more than you do.

He goes nowhere and does nothing fun. His life is not rich with experiences that make a life a life. He hasn't even been outside the country, or to a waterfall. Matter of fact both his kids feel conflicted with him for his constant cruel actions, and then he wonders why people view him as a monster.

I'll live for me, I won't get mad at people because they aren't helping me carry out my own dream. Unlike him.

- Every morning I tell myself “today will be different” and make detailed plans in my head, but once I get home I can’t bring myself to start the task.

- I spend more time planning things than doing them.

- There are so many things I want to learn and do, but my body won’t let me get up and do them for some reason.

- I want to learn French right now, yet I can’t find it in myself to even start searching or practicing consistently.

- I procrastinate basic tasks like showering or brushing my teeth at night, sometimes because I forget and sometimes because I can’t make myself do it.

- I struggle heavily with going from one task to another, even for things I want to do.

- I’m extremely forgetful with small things and lose track of my intentions mid-task.

-Example: I walked to turn on my night light, saw my hair clip, clipped it onto the wall, turned off the main light, then realized I forgot to turn on the night light in the first place and had to walk back again. Stuff like this happens constantly.

- I lose things often, but I’ve become numb to it because I assume they’re buried somewhere in one of my mess piles.

- My room and belongings can become disorganized very quickly even when I want to keep things clean.

- I function much better under urgency and pressure than under normal conditions.

- I often feel mentally overwhelmed by simple tasks that shouldn’t be difficult.

- I feel trapped between wanting to improve and being physically unable to act on it consistently.