Title IX and the Cruelty of This Administration

“When they dismantle your protections, remember. Your voice is older, louder, and stronger than their fear.”

-This Puzzled Life

Light the charcoal. Sprinkle the sage. Let the smoke rise like a warning flare to every ancestor who ever whispered, “Baby, stay ready.” The level of cruelty this administration has reached a whole other level of low. It’s not just a new low. It’s a spelunking expedition into the deepest, dankest cave of misogyny they could find. They didn’t just roll back Title IX protections. They took a sledgehammer to the foundation. Smiled for the cameras. And told women and girls to “be grateful.”

And I swear on every magnolia tree in Mississippi. Every grandmother who ever weaponized a “bless your heart.” And every cat currently judging me from the kitchen counter. This moment feels like a spiritual emergency. A generational grief. A slap so loud it echoes through the bones of every woman who fought for the right to learn, compete, and exist without being shoved aside.

Title IX wasn’t perfect. But it was a lifeline. A promise. A shield. And now we’re watching that shield get melted down into scrap metal while the administration acts like they’re doing us a favor.

So, let’s talk about what losing Title IX actually means. Let’s talk about the consequences. Not the sanitized political talking points. Let’s talk about the ten ways this rollback will hit women, girls, survivors, students, athletes, and entire communities. And yes, I’ll be adding sarcasm after each one. Because if I don’t laugh, I’ll scream loud enough to wake the ancestors.

Ten Consequences of Losing Title IX and the Sarcasm They Deserve

1. Sexual assault survivors will have fewer protections and fewer avenues for justice.

Because apparently the administration thinks the best way to handle sexual violence is to pretend it doesn’t exist. Oh fabulous. Nothing says “progress” like making campuses safer for predators.

2. Schools will no longer be required to investigate harassment with urgency or fairness.

Meaning victims get to relive trauma while institutions drag their feet. Wonderful. Who doesn’t love a good bureaucratic slow roast of someone’s pain?

3. Girls’ sports programs will lose funding and support.

The opportunities that shaped generations of confident, capable women, gone. Amazing. Because clearly the world needs fewer strong girls. And more fragile egos.

4. Students facing discrimination will have fewer protections and fewer rights.

If you’re marginalized, good luck. Perfect. Equality was getting way too mainstream anyway.

5. Schools can more easily ignore bullying and harassment.

Especially when it’s gender‑based. Fantastic. Nothing builds character like unchecked cruelty.

6. LGBTQ+ students will face increased vulnerability without clear federal safeguards.

Their safety becomes optional. Incredible. Because nothing says “freedom” like telling queer kids they’re on their own.

7. Pregnant and parenting students will lose protections that kept them in school.

Education becomes a privilege instead of a right. Lovely. Motherhood is hard enough. So why not add academic sabotage?

8. Disabled students will face more barriers to equal access.

Title IX helped ensure accommodations weren’t “optional.” Brilliant. Accessibility was clearly too convenient.

9. Women in STEM fields will lose protections against discrimination.

The pipeline shrinks. The future dims. Perfect. Who needs women solving problems when we can just not solve them?

10. Administrators will have more power to silence complaints and protect institutions instead of students.

Accountability evaporates. Amazing. Nothing screams “justice” like prioritizing PR over people.

This isn’t just policy. This isn’t just politics. This is a direct hit to the soul of every woman who ever fought to be seen, heard, respected, protected, and allowed to learn without fear. Title IX was a fragile, hard‑won promise that said, “ You matter. Your safety matters. Your education matters. Your future matters.”

Rolling it back is not an accident. It’s not a misunderstanding. It’s not a bureaucratic oversight. It is cruelty. Calculated. Deliberate. Cold. And I refuse to let them pretend otherwise. Women don’t go quietly. Girls don’t disappear. Survivors don’t shrink. And ancestors don’t rest when injustice is alive. We are the charcoal lit. We are the sage burning. We are the storm gathering. We are the daughters of every woman who refused to bow. And if they think rolling back Title IX will silence us? They have underestimated the wrong generation. We will rise. We will roar. We will rebuild protections they tried to destroy. And when history looks back on this moment, it will not remember their cruelty. It will remember our fire. Sage still burning. Ancestors still watching. Thanks for reading!

Affirmation: I rise with the ancestors behind me. The fire within me. And the unshakable truth that my worth is not up for debate.

***Don’t forget to watch the video!***

#ThisPuzzledLife

I am Jane Doe

My name is Jane Doe, 

and I learned too young that silence has a pulse. 

It thumps in the throat, it bruises the air, 

it teaches you how to fold yourself into something 

small enough to survive the night.

I did not choose this name

it was handed to me the moment someone decided 

my body was theirs to trespass. 

A name for the unnamed, 

for the girls who disappear inside themselves 

because speaking feels like stepping back into the fire.

I carry memories that shake 

even when my hands look still. 

I carry nights that never end, 

questions that never had answers, 

and a childhood that was rewritten by someone else’s violence.

My name is Jane Doe, 

because the world prefers me faceless 

it’s easier that way. 

Easier to ignore the trembling, the aftermath, 

the way a soul limps long after the body looks healed.

But I am not a headline, not a case file, 

not a whisper people avoid 

because it makes them uncomfortable. 

I am a survivor with a voice that learned to rise even when it cracked.

My name is Jane Doe, 

but I am not anonymous anymore. 

I speak for the ones still gathering courage, 

for the ones who only breathe in fragments, 

for the ones who haven’t yet remembered 

that their story is still theirs.

I survived what tried to erase me. 

I survived what tried to rename me. 

And today I say my name out loud, 

not because it is simple, 

but because it is mine.

-This Puzzled Life

The Genitals Administration: Now With Extra Hypocrisy

“Any government that talks more about genitals than healthcare is not protecting you. It’s projecting.”

-This Puzzled Life

Light the charcoal. Today, we are summoning every ancestor who ever clutched their pearls. Hid their good china. Or whispered, “Lord have mercy” when the preacher said something inappropriate. We are calling forth Aunt Magnolia, Uncle Rufus, Cousin Pearl-with-the-bad-attitude, and every ghost who ever lived through a scandal. But NOT the children and NOT the animals. Unless you want to work for the FBI. Because what we’re about to discuss is not fit for tender souls or creatures who rely on us for kibble. They don’t deserve this level of anatomical chaos.

Today, under the glow of Mississippi humidity and charcoal smoke, we gather to confront a national mystery so bizarre it deserves its own Netflix docuseries. Why is the current administration obsessed with genitals? Not healthcare. Not infrastructure. Not education. Not diplomacy. Nope. Just genitals. Your genitals. My genitals. Genitals they legislate, regulate, investigate, and allegedly crash Grindr with. 

Ten Examples Of The Administration’s War On Genitals 

1. Bathroom Legislation. 

Some administrations build bridges. This one builds bathroom flowcharts. They’ve spent more time deciding who pees and poops where, rather than fixing anything that actually matters. My ancestors are pacing the spirit realm whispering, “Why are grown men so invested in toilets? Why are grown men spending more time thinking about where people pee and poop than fixing anything? If you’re this invested in toilets, go work at Home Depot.

2. The Historic Tradition of Grabbing People by the Genitals

A moment that will live in infamy. A moment that should’ve ended careers. A moment that instead became a personality trait. Sir, that is not a handshake. That is a felony.

3. The Grindr Crashes Heard Across the Nation They swear they’re “traditional.” They swear they’re “family values.” Yet somehow Grindr crashes every time a cabinet meeting ends. Coincidence? That ain’t coincidence. That’s congestion. And every time a Republican Convention gathers, Grindr goes down like it’s been hit by a cyberattack. Y’all keep saying ‘family values,’ but the server logs say, ‘thirsty chaos.’

4. The War on Trans Bodies

Bathroom bans. Sports bans. Medical bans. Everything except banning their own obsession with other people’s anatomy. My ancestors are lighting sage and muttering, “Leave folks alone.” If you’re writing laws about someone else’s anatomy, you’re not protecting anything. You’re just proving you think about genitals more than your own job.

5. The Cabinet of ‘Family Values’ That Keeps Getting Credibly Accused of Everything BUT Family Values

Every week it’s a new scandal. A new accusation. A new “misunderstanding.” My ancestors are exhausted. They need PTO. Family values? The only thing y’all value is plausible deniability.”

6. The Obsession With Policing Drag Shows

Food insecurity? Healthcare? Housing? Nope. Let’s talk about genitals again. My ancestors are throwing sweet tea at the wall. Men in wigs scare you? My mee-maw wore three wigs to church every Sunday. And our founding fathers wore wigs. Grow up.

7. The ‘Protect the Children’ Rhetoric While Ignoring Actual Threats

 Men in wigs? Women in wigs? Everyone in wigs? Apparently wigs = danger. If you cared about kids, you’d fix schools. And hold the president, billionaires, and other politicians accountable for crimes against women and children. Not stalking bathrooms like a mall cop with a pelvic fixation.”

8. The Homoerotic Wrestling Events That Follow Anti-LGBTQ Speeches

They scream about anatomy while ignoring actual harm. My ancestors are filing celestial restraining orders. You can’t yell ‘traditional values’ and then host an event that looks like the opening scene of a Grindr hookup. Pick a lane.”

9. The Constant Commentary on People’s Bodies

 Sweaty men rolling around in cages. Grunting. Flexing. Followed by an afterparty that mysteriously aligns with Grindr server outages. My ancestors are fanning themselves dramatically. Why do y’all talk about anatomy like it’s a weather report? ‘Today’s forecast: scattered genitals with a chance of hypocrisy.’

10. The Attempt to Regulate Genitals Instead of Governing

Every speech. Every rally. Every interview. Somehow it circles back to genitals. My ancestors are begging for silence. Fix the roads. Fix healthcare. End the “Epstein War on Iran.” Fix literally anything. Stop trying to run a country like it’s a pelvic inspection.”

As the charcoal crackles. And the ancestors lean in like they’re watching a soap opera, let us acknowledge the truth. This administration is not governing. They’re running a full‑time genital surveillance program. They legislate genitals. They comment on genitals. They grab genitals. They crash Grindr with their own genitals. They accuse others of immoral genitals. While their own are out here doing extracurricular activities that would make a church deacon faint.

Meanwhile, the American people are standing here like, “Can y’all please stop talking about crotches and start talking about the country?” But no. The obsession continues. The hypocrisy continues. The scandals continue. And the server outages? Those continue too. Charcoal smoldering. Ancestors dismissed. I delivered every comment like a Southern Beyoncé with a sociology degree and a grudge. Thanks for reading!

Affirmation: My body is not your battleground. My autonomy is not your agenda. My voice is loud. My boundaries are blessed. And my humor is lethal.

***Don’t forget to watch the video!***

#ThisPuzzled Life

Sentience, Scripture, and Southern Sass: Why Abortion Is Freedom

“If your righteousness requires my suffering, then your holiness is nothing but cruelty dressed in Sunday clothes.”

-This Puzzled Life

Light the charcoal. Invoke the ancestors. Lord, this country has lost its mind. Let the smoke rise like a prayer and a warning. Call the ones who survived storms, men, laws, and the kind of sanctified hypocrisy that could curdle milk in August. Today we’re talking about abortion rights in this country. And I’m bringing every ounce of Southern sass, righteous fury, and generational truth you asked for.

When Roe v. Wade was overturned, it wasn’t just a political decision. It was a death sentence for mothers, daughters, nieces, cousins, and every woman who has ever had to decide about her own damn body. And the same Christians who holler “God’s will” like they’re auditioning for a revival tent, are the first ones who would sneak their daughters across state lines faster than a Pentecostal deacon running from a scandal.

Let’s tell the truth. They don’t want their daughters forced to carry a rapist’s baby. They want your daughters to. And they justify it with that tired line, “Well, if it’s in God’s will…” If God’s will was that clear, he’d send a notarized letter. But these folks cherry-pick scripture like they’re at a Golden Corral buffet. They’ll quote “Thou shalt not kill” while ignoring every verse where the Bible literally commands pregnancy termination under certain circumstances.

Bible Sources They Never Bring Up

  • Numbers 5:11–31-The “ordeal of bitter water,” where a priest gives a woman a potion to end a pregnancy if she conceived through adultery.
  • Hosea 9:14 -“Give them a miscarrying womb.”
  • Exodus 21:22–25 – A fetus is not treated as a person. Causing a miscarriage is a property crime, not murder.

If abortion is murder, then unplugging a brain-dead family member from life support should be prosecuted too. Because guess what? A fetus before sentience has no subjective experience. No awareness. No consciousness. No “personhood.” It is ethically equivalent to ending life support on someone who has already lost the ability to experience anything at all. But they don’t want to hear that. Because logic ain’t welcome in the Gospel of Ike Turner. Which is the version of Christianity where violence against women is excused, justified, and sanctified.

As someone who has been assaulted many times, I will say this with my whole chest. I would not carry my rapist’s baby. That child was not conceived in love. It was not wanted. It was not chosen. And it was not consensual.

And as an adopted child, I know the psychological toll of being rejected. My birth mother looked me in the eyes and said, “You were an inconvenience and you still are.” Had she chosen abortion, it would’ve spared me decades of emotional torment. Adoption is not the soft, rosy alternative they pretend it is. It is trauma wrapped in a bow.

Let’s talk about the 10-year-old girl in Ohio who was raped by a 27-year-old man. She became pregnant. Her state refused her an abortion. She had to flee to another state like a fugitive. A child. Not a woman. Not a mother. A baby forced to carry a baby.

The physical damage alone could have killed her. The psychological damage will echo for decades. And abortion isn’t covered by insurance. So, unless you’ve got $600–$2,000 lying around, you’re stuck. Cruelty disguised as morality.

Let me tell you something plain, loud, and with the kind of Southern truth that doesn’t need sweet tea to go down smooth. Legal abortions are safer than the desperate, back‑alley horrors women were forced into before Roe. A medical abortion performed by trained professionals is one of the safest procedures in modern healthcare. It’s safer than childbirth. Safer than dental surgery. And safer than pretending purity culture ever protected anybody. But when you take that option away, women don’t stop needing abortions. They just stop having safe ones. And history shows exactly what happens next with coat hangers, bleach, stairs, trauma, infection, and death. Women bleeding out alone in bathrooms because lawmakers wanted moral points instead of medical reality. Criminalizing abortion doesn’t save lives. It sends women back into the shadows where they die trying to save themselves.

WHY ABORTION MUST BE LEGAL 

1.  Rape and incest survivors deserve bodily autonomy. No child or adult should be forced to carry their trauma.

  1. Medical emergencies require immediate termination options. Ectopic pregnancies, sepsis, hemorrhaging where abortion saves lives.
  2. Fetuses without sentience are not persons.Neuroscience confirms this.
  3. People will always have sex. Morality does not override biology.
  4. Contraception fails. Even perfect use has failure rates.
  5. Forced birth increases poverty. The U.S. has the highest maternal mortality rate in the developed world.
  6. Adoption is not a cure-all. It is trauma for many children and mothers.
  7. Unwanted children suffer lifelong consequences. Emotional, financial, psychological.
  8. Criminalizing abortion criminalizes miscarriage. Women are already being investigated for spontaneous pregnancy loss.
  9. Healthcare decisions belong to patients, not politicians. Period.

And if you need credible references, try these:

  • Guttmacher Institute
  • CDC Maternal Mortality Reports
  • American Psychological Association
  • American College of Obstetricians and Gynecologists
  • National Institute of Mental Health
  • Pew Research Center
  • The Lancet Medical Journal
  • WHO Reproductive Health Data

Light the charcoal again because this needs a second burn. Abortion is healthcare. Abortion is mercy. Abortion is autonomy. Abortion is survival. And anyone who claims it’s “God’s will” while secretly protecting their own daughters is not righteous. They’re cowardly. They’re hypocrites. They’re weaponizing religion to control women.

If Christians want to call abortion murder, then they better start arresting every family who ever unplugged a loved one from life support. But they won’t. Because deep down, they know the truth. Sentience is the line. Consciousness is the line. Human experience is the line. And forcing birth is not holiness. It is cruelty dressed in scripture.

I stand with every woman who has ever had to make this decision. I stand with every survivor who refuses to carry their trauma. I stand with every child who deserves a life chosen. Not forced. And I stand with you, Southern sass, survivor strength, and ancestral fire. May the ancestors walk with us as we fight for the right to our own bodies. May the smoke rise and carry our truth. May the next generation inherit freedom, not fear.

Affirmation: I honor my body, my story, and my right to choose. My autonomy is sacred. My voice is powerful. And my ancestors walk beside me.

***Don’t forget to watch the video!***

#ThisPuzzledLife

The Day My Boobs Got Flattened and My Cats Filed Complaints: A Mammogram Saga

“Listen, if Piper, Coco, and Tinkerbell can march into a medical facility like they’re auditioning for America’s Next Top Patient, then I can survive one little mammogram. Confidence is contagious. Especially when it sheds.”

-This Puzzled Life

Light the charcoal Sprinkle the sage. And pull up a chair and a heating pad. Because today we are talking about breast cancer awareness and the sacred Southern pilgrimage known as The Annual Mammogram, also known as, “The Day Your Boobs Meet the Panini Press of Destiny.”

And I am reporting live from the land of paper gowns, cold metal plates, and the annual reminder that my boobs are apparently public property for exactly 17 minutes. I walked into that imaging center feeling confident, moisturized, and blessed. And walked out looking like I’d just survived a WWE smackdown between my left titty and a hydraulic press.

Because nothing says “self‑care” like waking up at 6 a.m., chugging coffee, and driving across town to let a stranger flatten your chest like a Sunday biscuit. And listen, awareness matters. Early detection saves lives. But Lord, the way the world goes full Pepto Bismol in October with pink socks, pink yogurt lids, pink football cleats, and a pink ribbon shaped pancakes at IHOP. Meanwhile, Southern aunties everywhere are out here reminding you, “Baby, have you scheduled your mammogram yet? Don’t make me call Jesus and Blue Cross.”

You walk in. Sign your name. And immediately get handed a clipboard and a gown made from the same material as a Dollar Tree napkin. The nurse says, “Open in the front,” like you’re about to perform at the Grand Ole Opry. It’s always too short, too breezy, too confusing, and somehow both choking you and falling off your shoulders. You sit there clutching it closed like a Victorian widow.

The mammogram machine looks like something NASA built in the 80s and forgot to update. It has one job. Turn your boob into a crepe. The tech is always sweet, calm, and named something like Linda or Marsha. And she says things like, “Okay honey, just relax.” Relax? Ma’am, my nipple is currently pointing due north, and my soul has left my body.

Linda gently places your tit on the cold plate like she’s arranging a charcuterie board. Then she lowers the top plate. And lowers it. And lowers it. And keeps lowering it until your ancestors feel it. You’re standing there thinking, “Is this what a panini feels like?” “Did I pay my life insurance?” “Why is my left boob suddenly in 2D?” Linda steps back and says, “Hold your breath.” Ma’am, I haven’t breathed since the parking lot. The machine finally lets go. And your boob re-inflates like a sad balloon at a kid’s birthday party. You look down like, “Girl, you okay?” Your boob looks back like, “No.”

Piper, Coco, and Tinkerbell rolled up to their first mammograms like three tiny, furry Southern aunties who had absolutely rehearsed for this moment in the mirror. Piper marched in like she was the keynote speaker at the Breast Cancer Awareness Gala. Tail high, whiskers sharp, attitude louder than a Baptist choir. She hopped onto the check‑in counter and announced, “I’m here for my annual preventative maintenance, thank you.”

When the tech tried to hand her a paper gown, Piper sniffed it. Rolled her eyes. And said with her whole spirit, “This is polyester. I don’t do polyester.” She then attempted to operate the mammogram machine herself because “clearly no one else here has the range.”

Coco entered the building already offended. By what? Everything. The lighting. The temperature. The clipboard. The fact that she was asked to “wait her turn.” When the tech explained the process, Coco gasped like she’d been personally victimized. “EXCUSE ME?! You’re going to flatten what? These are heirlooms!” She then demanded a second opinion, a supervisor, and a snack.

Tinkerbell walked in wearing the confidence of a cat who has never once paid taxes or faced consequences. She took one look at the machine. Hissed. And then tried to climb it like it was a jungle gym. When the tech attempted to position her, Tinkerbell went limp like a toddler who doesn’t want to be picked up. Then she suddenly sprang back to life. Slapped the machine. And stole a pink ribbon off the wall like a tiny breast‑cancer‑awareness pirate. By the time it was over, the tech was sweating. The receptionist was praying. And the machine had filed for workers’ comp.

Piper strutted out like she’d just completed a TED Talk. Coco demanded her medical records “for emotional reasons.” Tinkerbell declared herself the new face of Feline Breast Health. And tried to pose for photos no one was taking. Cats dismissed. Awareness achieved. And the imaging center is now closed for spiritual repairs.

Breast cancer is real. And early detection saves lives. Because too many of our mamas, aunties, cousins, and sisters have fought this battle. Awareness isn’t just pink ribbons. It’s action. It’s appointments. It’s uncomfortable machines. It’s choosing yourself even when it’s inconvenient. And because most Southern women don’t play about two things. Jesus and preventative healthcare.

Schedule the mammogram. Wear the ugly gown. Let Linda flatten and fold your boob like a church bulletin. And walk out of that imaging center knowing you just did the bravest, squishiest thing a human can do. Laugh about it later. And remember. Your tatas are worth the trouble. And that’s the gospel truth. If surviving a mammogram doesn’t earn you a medal, parade, FIFA trophy, Nobel Peace Prize and a lifetime supply of padded bras, then society is broken beyond repair. Boobs checked. Blessings distributed.

And that, my friends, concludes this year’s episode of “Whose Boob Is It Anyway?” The only show where the points don’t matter. The machine always wins. And your nipple ends up pointing toward a constellation you’ve never heard of. Schedule the mammogram. Wear the tragic gown. Let Linda flatten you like a communion wafer. And then treat yourself to something fried. Because at the end of the day, your girls deserve to be checked, protected, and celebrated. And preferably with a bra that costs less than your car payment. Thanks for reading! Schedule your mammogram.

Affirmation: I am bold, blessed, and unbothered. My boobs, my boundaries, and my emotional support cats are all thriving. Today I face the squish with dignity, humor, and the chaotic energy of a feline who refuses to wear a paper gown.

***Don’t forget to watch the video!***

#ThisPuzzledLife

The Administration’s War on Women: A Southern Woman’s Warning Shot

“When they try to silence you remember. Your voice carries the strength of every woman who refused to disappear.”

-This Puzzled Life

Light the charcoal. Sprinkle the sage. Invoke the ancestors. At this point, I need every woman who ever walked barefoot through red clay. Every grandmother who ever whispered warnings in church pews. And every ancestor who ever held the line when the world tried to fold them in half. I need their strength, fire, and their stubborn refusal to disappear.

We are living in a moment where misogyny isn’t hiding in the shadows. It’s out here doing cartwheels in broad daylight. Feminists are fighting battles we already fought. Already won. Already buried. And already prayed over. And somehow, under this administration, those victories are being dug up like someone’s trying to rewrite the past and call it “progress.”

It’s emotional. It’s infuriating. It’s surreal. And yes the sarcasm is necessary. Because if I don’t laugh, I’ll start flipping tables. This isn’t just politics. This is personal. This is generational. This is spiritual. This is about the rights that shape our bodies, futures, families, safety, and dignity.

Before I get into this, let me say this clearly. These aren’t abstract policy points. These are lived experiences. These are wounds. These are warnings. These are the things I feel in my bones when I wake up and read the news.

Ten Women’s Rights Being Dismantled By This Administration

1. Reproductive autonomy

It feels like someone reached into my life and tried to snatch the steering wheel. Like our bodies are suddenly a battleground for people who will never carry a pregnancy. Never face the risks. And never feel the fear. It’s invasive. It’s dehumanizing. It’s infuriating.

2. Access to contraception

This rollback feels like a punishment for daring to plan my life. For daring to protect myself. For daring to choose when and if motherhood fits into my story. It’s insulting to my intelligence and dangerous to my future.

3. Domestic violence protections

Watching these weaken feels like watching a door slowly close on women, like me, who needed it open the most. It feels like the system is shrugging at our trauma. Like safety is optional. Like survival is a privilege instead of a right.

4. Equal pay initiatives

Women who have worked their whole lives have carried more weight than they should’ve had to. Seeing equal pay slip backward feels like being told, “Your work matters. But not as much as his.” It’s a slap wrapped in a smile.

5. Sexual harassment safeguards

This rollback feels like a return to the days when women had to swallow discomfort to keep a job. When we had to laugh off comments to survive. When our boundaries were treated like suggestions. It’s a reminder of every moment I felt unsafe but stayed quiet.

6. Maternal healthcare funding

As a mother, this one cuts deep. Pregnancy is not a hobby. Childbirth is not a casual event. Reducing maternal care feels like telling women, “Your life is an acceptable risk.” It’s cruel. It’s reckless. It’s unforgivable.

7. Title IX protections

I think of every girl who dreams big. Girls who run. Jump. Compete. And fight for their place. Rolling back Title IX feels like telling them, “Your dreams matter less.” It’s a theft of opportunity and a betrayal of potential.

8. Workplace discrimination enforcement

I’ve been labeled “too outspoken,” “too emotional,” “too much.” Weakening enforcement feels like handing every biased boss a permission slip. It feels like erasing the progress women clawed their way toward.

9. Childcare support programs

Working mother know that childcare is the backbone of survival. Cutting support feels like telling women, “Figure it out.” While knowing the system is designed for women to fail. It’s dismissive and deeply out of touch.

10. Representation in leadership roles

I’ve watched rooms full of men make decisions about women’s lives with the confidence of people who will never face the consequences. Reducing representation feels like erasing our voices from the future which is silencing by design.

Before I close, let me introduce what I’m about to say. This isn’t just a conclusion. This is a vow. A reminder. A line drawn in the sand. I am not here to shrink. I am not here to be quiet. I am not here to politely accept the erosion of my rights. I am the charcoal lit. I am the sage burning. I am the echo of every woman who refused to bow. And I will not sit still while my rights are peeled away like petals from a flower someone never bothered to water. Feminists aren’t fighting for attention. We’re fighting for survival. For dignity. For the future, our daughters deserve. And the one our ancestors dreamed of.

Let them underestimate us. Let them believe silence is compliance. Let them think we won’t notice. Because when women rise, we rise like storms. We rise like thunder rolling across the South. We rise like every ancestor who ever said, “Not today.” And watch us reclaim every damn thing they tried to take.

Affirmation: I rise rooted in truth that is guided by my ancestors. Fueled by my fire. And unshakeable in my right to exist fully, loudly, and freely.

***Don’t forget to watch the video!***

#ThisPuzzledLife

Cornell, LSU, and the America That Keeps Choosing Predators: What the Hell Is Wrong With Us?

“A nation that excuses its predators will always silence its survivors.”

-This Puzzled Life

Light the charcoal. Sprinkle the sage. And call in the ancestors. The loud ones, the unfiltered ones, the ones who never learned to whisper. Today I’m summoning Ida B. Wells, Maya Angelou, Nina Simone, Toni Morrison, and every grandmother who ever slammed a cast‑iron skillet down and said, “Not my babies. Not today. Not ever.” Because what we’re about to talk about requires their fire, their fury, and their refusal to sit politely while the world burns around us. They are pacing. They’re rattling the windows. They’re demanding to know how a nation with libraries, universities, churches, and a Constitution still can’t figure out that rape is wrong.

Cornell University and Louisiana State University are two institutions that love to brag about excellence, prestige, and legacy. Yet somehow can’t grasp the basic concept of protecting students from sexual assault. And now punishments include writing an essay? As if rape is a missed homework assignment. As if trauma is a teachable moment for the predator. Instead of a lifelong sentence for the victim. The ancestors are not amused. And neither am I.

Let’s ask the question America keeps dodging like it’s a bill collector, “What the hell is wrong with us when we have created a rape culture?” And don’t you dare pretend it came out of nowhere. Let’s start at the top at 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue. Where 77,000,000 voters decided that sexual abuse, rape allegations, and bragging about assault were just personality quirks. You know the excuses about “Locker room talk,” “Boys will be boys” , and “He tells it like it is.” No. He told us exactly what he does. And millions said, “Sounds good to me.”

When the leader of the country can say he can “grab them by the pussy” and get away with it, why are we shocked when college students mimic the behavior? Why are we surprised when institutions protect predators? Why do we act confused when victims stay silent? This is not confusion. This is culture. This is conditioning. This is America refusing to confront its sickness.

Politicians have paid off victims. Church leaders have hidden abusers behind pulpits. Celebrities have settlements thicker than their resumes. And the public shrugs. But victims get shamed. We get interrogated. We get asked what we were wearing. We get told we “waited too long.” We get treated like E. Jean Carroll who was sexually assaulted, defamed, mocked, and dragged by the very man who attacked her, Donald Trump. And by his cultists who call themselves “Christians.”And you wonder why so many stay silent? You wonder why survivors disappear into themselves? You wonder why healing feels like climbing a mountain with no summit? Here are two recent incidences of the same type of justified behavior.

 Cornell University — Current Case (2024–2026)

The current Cornell case centers on a lawsuit filed in September 2026 by a former student, Jane Doe, who alleges she was drugged and gang‑raped by seven Chi Phi fraternity members on October 19, 2024. According to the lawsuit, she was intoxicated. Coerced into snorting what defendants claimed was ketamine. And then repeatedly assaulted for several hours by multiple fraternity members. One defendant allegedly sent a Snapchat message to the Chi Phi group chat advertising “free pussy” to encourage more men to join the assault. Doe reported the incident to Cornell police weeks later. The university conducted at least 12 hearings. Of the seven accused, only two were expelled. Others received lesser sanctions such as suspensions, workshops, or essays, according to Doe’s attorney. No arrests were made. And the Tompkins County District Attorney stated there was “insufficient evidence” for criminal charges. Cornell confirmed the fraternity remains barred from campus. And acknowledged that defendants were offered opportunities to “mitigate their conduct.” But cited federal privacy laws in declining to disclose individual disciplinary outcomes. https://www.cbsnews.com/newyork/news/cornell-university-lawsuit-fraternity-rape-allegations/?utm_source=copilot.com

Louisiana State University (LSU) — Current Case (2025–2026)

The current LSU case involves a sophomore student, Kendall Danielle, who alleges she was raped by an LSU football player on October 18, 2025, around 4:30 a.m. She underwent a rape kit examination and later participated in LSU’s Title IX process. Which concluded that the player was responsible for rape. And suspended him for two semesters. However, he appealed and was ultimately allowed to return to campus. Resume football activities. And participate in student organizations. Despite still being found responsible.

Danielle alleges the player’s mother contacted her urging her not to pursue charges because it could harm his football career. And that the player sent her $1,000 in an attempt to keep her from pressing charges. After learning he was allowed back on campus, she went public on TikTok and subsequently filed a criminal complaint. The East Baton Rouge District Attorney has since opened a criminal investigation. They are requesting reports from LSU, LSU Police, and Baton Rouge Police. LSU maintains it followed Title IX procedures and is cooperating with law enforcement. The player has not been publicly identified. https://www.wwltv.com/article/news/crime/student-files-sexual-assault-complaint-against-lsu-football-player/289-2bfa7986-e5fe-4d24-92db-9b069888c305?utm_source=copilot.com

But let’s talk about the roots of this rot. Is it the religions that teach masturbation is sinful? Is it the purity culture that tells young people their bodies are dangerous? Is it the sermons that say touching yourself will send you to hell? Let me be clear. You will not burn in the lake of flames for using two body parts God created you to have. For God’s sake, let them masturbate. Because when you shame normal, sexual behavior, you get people like the Duggars. They were raised in sexual repression so severe it turns into predation.

Is it misogyny influencers like Andrew Tate and Nick Fuentes? Men who teach boys that women are objects, property, and targets. Men who profit off hatred and call it masculinity. Or is it simply that America still refuses to teach boundaries? Still refuses to teach consent? Still refuses to teach respect?

Cornell and LSU are not anomalies. They are symptoms. Symptoms of a nation that treats sexual assault like a PR inconvenience instead of a violent crime. And when universities punish predators with essays, counseling sessions, or “reflection assignments,” they are telling victims, “Your trauma is worth less than his future.” And that is the message survivors hear every single day.

All predators no matter their status, wealth, influence, or fan base, should be held accountable. Not protected. Not excused. Not wrapped in a Bible verse and called “God’s Will.” 

As a sexual assault survivor myself, I will never fully heal from the years I was assaulted. Raped sometimes daily by a man who is just like Donald Trump. I will never fully heal from the damage inflicted on me at five years old by someone who saw a child as an easy target. You will never understand that fear. And I pray you never have to.

Lift victims up. Lift survivors up. Hold predators accountable. Every single one of them. Because rape is not a mistake. It is not a misunderstanding. It is not a lapse in judgment. It is violence. It is domination. It is a choice. And America needs to stop pretending otherwise. Thanks for reading!

Affirmation: I am not what happened to me. I am what I survived. My voice is powerful. My truth is valid. And my healing is sacred.

***Don’t forget to watch the video!***

#ThisPuzzledLife