Well, here we fucking go.

I'm back, begrudgingly.

Hello friends,

I’ve been struggling with this decision since I left.

I want to talk my uncomfortable process and where I am now.

I left Substack because I couldn’t stomach their decision to allow hate groups to monetize their work here. It felt wrong to stay on a platform that gave profit to voices of hate.

Yet, here I am again.

The bottom line for me is, Substack is where the readers are, where the community is, and none of us are better alone. None of the other platforms I tried have the same reach, the same community, or the same chance for writers to build something sustainable. As someone who believes in the power of storytelling and connection, community building and caring for one another - our reach matters. More now than when I left.

So I’m living in a tension, a deep tension, and I honestly don’t feel very good about it. It’s a profound tension between my value of standing firmly against hate, and my value of amplifying voices—especially those that encourage, empower, and build connection. Right now, no platform offers both perfectly. I want to be honest and transparent in my process, since I haven’t backed away from my views that hate speech should not be here, but since I”m STILL not in charge of everything. I have to live in the world - and sometimes that means living in my discomfort.

Here’s how I’m approaching my current work:

• I won’t pretend this choice is clean. It isn’t. I’m not happy about it, but I do LOVE this community.

• I’m here with full awareness, not blind loyalty. I am here for my fellow writers, my readers, for those who are actively working to make life better for others, and build and support community.

• I’ll keep naming my values openly, and I’ll act on them: by amplifying marginalized voices, by fostering community grounded in respect and humanity, and by committing a portion of any revenue to organizations that counter hate speech. I have turned paid subscriptions back on, but I will be donating 50% of it to Southern Poverty Law Center.

I don’t see this as compromise for the sake of convenience. I see it as using imperfect soil to plant something better.

If this makes you uncomfortable, I get it—it makes me uncomfortable too. (Although if you are here, you are probably not that uncomfortable.) I’d rather wrestle with imperfection than silence my work. My hope is that together, we can create a corner of this platform that looks nothing like hate and everything like connection.

Thank you for being here with me, even in the messiness, even when it’s hard.

— Dania