I Do Not Consent: A Manifesto for Those Who Refuse to Disappear

It's my birthday, and I am fucking furious.

I woke up today thinking about giving up. About letting go of this work, stepping back, and surrendering to the fear in all its forms, the exhaustion of it all, the relentless pressure of living in this world right now. But the thought of walking away from this work stirs panic in my deepest parts—because I know that without it, I am lost. This manifesto is my antidote to despair, my refusal to be swallowed by the weight of uncertainty. It is a gift—to myself and to all of us walking the path of reclamation.

Early in the morning, the ground groaned and shifted—an earthquake rumbled through the dark, a 4.1 they said, with the epicenter just a 30-minute drive from home. A deep release within the earth.

It did not wake me, but I was not unaware. I was caught in a dream where I was chasing something precious—something that mattered deeply—only to have it slip through my fingers again and again.

My little dog. Breaking free, slipping past me, running with a pack of street dogs in a busy foreign city. I called, I chased, but she was always just beyond my grasp. I woke up breathless, hands clutching at nothing. So close, then gone. So close, then lost.

I woke up to a world that feels the same. Shaking. Unstable. Slipping through our fingers. Cracking apart under pressure - climate grief and political turmoil, all in full force when I opened my eyes.

I feel it in my chest, a tightness like the air itself is pressing down, demanding to be released. A pressure that has nowhere to go but out. My breath sharp, my fists clenched, my voice feels like it’s about to rip through me, pressure in the throat and face before it lets go into tears.

And yet, even as the pressure inside me mounts like a scream with no exit, the world tells me to be quiet. The voices of conformity, of tradition, of systems built to keep people like me small, whisper: shrink, make yourself palatable, fit the mold. We are told that intuition, healing, and creation are “nice to have”—not necessary. That in a time like this, survival is all that matters.

I get it. The loss of order and justice is real. Fascism is rising. People are suffering. There are those who must prioritize immediate safety and resources just to make it through the day and live safely through these times.

But survival alone is not enough.

If we only fight to survive, we are playing the system’s game—where scarcity and fear dictate our every move. Where we only react, never create. Where we scramble to protect ourselves instead of building something new.

I refuse to let this moment in history erase the gifts that could help us navigate what’s coming next—our ability to listen beyond the noise, to see through the illusion of scarcity, to create possibility where there was none, to reconnect people to their own wisdom and power. Because those of us with so-called “unconventional” wisdom—the healers, the seers, the artists, the guides— we are the ones who hold the keys to what comes after the collapse.

And yet, we are expected to give this work away for free. To struggle. To live on the edges. To believe that because our work isn’t easily measured by profit, it is less valuable, harder to justify, and unworthy of prioritization.

I do not consent to that lie.

This work is not a luxury. It is the map. It is the recalibration of what thriving even means. It is the way forward.

And I will not be small about it.

I refuse to let broken systems determine the value of my gifts.
I refuse to let fear dictate my worth.
I refuse to accept invisibility when what I have could change everything.

I hold space for clarity in chaos. I teach the language of body, mind, and spirit when the world would rather keep us disconnected. I help people reclaim their power when exploitative systems would rather they stay numb. Because disconnected, disoriented people are easier to control. I disrupt the lie that thriving is reserved for the privileged few.

I am a pattern breaker.
I am a wake-up call.
I am a visionary in a world addicted to its own destruction.

I am not confused about the importance of my work. I know what I bring. I know its power. I know its necessity.

And I also see how that is a threat. I will not stand down.

I will not martyr myself for this calling.
I will not sacrifice my well-being for the comfort of a broken system.
I will not pretend that my purpose and my prosperity must live in separate worlds.
My work is worthy of abundance. I refuse to buy into the lie that doing meaningful, transformative work means struggling to survive.
My prosperity fuels my purpose, allowing me to expand, to create, to reach more people, to shape the world in ways that matter.
Thriving is not a betrayal of my mission—it is a necessary part of it.

I deserve to flourish.
I deserve to thrive.
I deserve to expand.
Just as much as you do.

Not just for me, but for all of us who are building the new world.

This is my declaration.
This is my rage turned to fuel.
This is where I stake my ground.

If you feel this too, if you are done being told your gifts are not enough, if you know, deep in your bones, that we are here to disrupt and rebuild— Then stand with me.

We are here to thrive.

(And to savour birthday cake).