negative wonderland

We need more Janelle Monáes in this world. More artists who aren’t afraid to tell the truth, even when it’s inconvenient. Especially when it’s inconvenient. Dirty Computer is not just a visual album. It’s an Afrofuturist revolution, an act of creative resistance, a coded love letter to all the “misfits” who refuse to be erased. Through science fiction, music, and memory, Monáe constructs a world where queerness, Blackness, womanhood, and rebellion are not just visible. They’re sacred.

Watching Dirty Computer in 2025 feels even more urgent than when it was first released. Because right now, in this moment, life is terrifying. It’s disorienting. It’s heartbreaking. It’s jaw-dropping and exhausting. Especially if you’re a woman, a member of the LGBTQ+ community, Black, Brown, an immigrant, someone who knows or loves any of the above, or frankly, anyone who doesn’t fit neatly into the mold of what white supremacist patriarchy says is acceptable.

We aren’t moving forward. We’re in a freefall. Rights are being stripped at every turn. Reproductive rights, LGBTQ+ rights, immigrant rights, voting rights, and freedom of speech are all under attack. Bigoted rhetoric is normalized, and hate crimes are on the rise. Students protesting genocide are silenced, punished, and deported, while guns are protected more fiercely than the lives of children. Healthcare and education are becoming luxuries only the wealthy can afford. And through all of this, our government shrugs, claiming nothing can be done. Or worse, they support it, cheering it on wholeheartedly.

In Dirty Computer, the powers that be literally try to “clean” the identities of people like Jane 57821, scrubbing away queerness, Blackness, nonconformity, and memory. It doesn’t feel speculative. It feels prophetic. The erasure taking place around the world right now may not be high tech, but it’s very real, and it’s happening right before our eyes. Through policy. Through forever prisons in El Salvador, where the innocent are held without justice. Through rights being stripped away at every corner. Through propaganda shoved down our throats. Through an overflow of distractions meant to confuse and numb us. Through unchecked power, unlike anything we’ve seen before.

Despite Dirty Computer’s underlying dystopian theme, Monáe dared to center joy. To center love. To center community. That’s what makes it a masterclass in Afrofuturism. It envisions survival not just as resistance but as connection. The music pulses with defiance and pleasure. The visuals are rich and lush, centering joy outside whiteness and heteronormativity, showing people simply living their lives and loving who they love. And her message is clear. We exist. We matter. And we’re not going anywhere.

We need more Janelle Monáes. Not just to escape, but to feel. To grieve. To dance. To scream. To cry. To see ourselves and be ourselves, unapologetically. To be reminded that art has the power to do what politicians will not, and that’s to tell the truth, loudly and beautifully. Because sometimes, the only way to survive in a world trying to erase you is to make yourself unerasable.

many of the “tells” of lying are traits commonly found in abuse survivors and mentally ill/disabled people.

stuttering, averting eye contact, panicking, raising your volume, fidgeting, and other similar traits are actions performed commonly by these groups, especially in situations of heavy stress- such as being accused of doing something we didnt do, especially if we are afraid of being punished for doing nothing.

watching people get saved and brought to the light while you're still in the dark and probably will always be there must be tough huh