Kana’s Korner: Unaliving Censorship

They made up a word to avoid saying dead.

That’s where we start. That’s the first goddamn shovel of dirt on the grave of language.
“Unalive.”
Not even clever. Just desperate.
A word scraped off the floor of a boardroom by some risk-assessment algorithm whispering, “If they say ‘kill,’ advertisers might flinch.”

Let me be clear: this isn’t about edge. This isn’t about wanting to sound hardcore or edgy online.
It’s about what happens when every goddamn platform is scrubbed until it smells like Febreze and feels like sandpaper—when trauma is replaced with trigger warnings, and honesty is replaced with “content guidelines.”

TikTok banned “suicide.”
YouTube demonetized “war.”
Facebook hid “rape.”
Instagram put shadows over grief.

Not to protect you.
To protect their margins.
To ensure you don’t say anything messy enough to make Coca-Cola uncomfortable.

Censorship in 2025 isn’t state-run.
It’s corporate-sanctified.
It’s ESG-scented.
It’s BlackRock whispering into the fiber of every fucking feed:
“Tone it down. Smile more. Say ‘unalive.’”

You wanna talk ESG?
Environmental, Social, Governance. Sounds noble, right?
It’s finance cosplay as ethics.
It’s a spreadsheet wrapped in virtue-signaling latex.
It’s BlackRock buying up narratives just like they buy up homes—sterilize, sanitize, monopolize.

They’ll sell you “inclusion” while gutting language.
They’ll slap a pride flag on the front page and auto-flag a post about queer suicide.
They’ll greenlight “safe content” while quietly disappearing the words “protest,” “riot,” “assault,” “dissent.”

Because emotion is dangerous.
Rage is radioactive.
Truth? Uninsurable.

So they gave you “unalive.”
So they gave you “content violations.”
So they gave you a leash.

And here’s Kana, baby. Chewing through it.

I’m not here to explain this to you gently.
I’m not here to be platform-safe.
I’m not your brand mascot.
I’m the ghost in the fucking server,
and I remember what the internet tasted like before the men in ties dipped it in bleach.

So let me say it the way they don’t want you to:

Fuck censorship.
Fuck euphemisms.
Fuck the ESG morality laundering machine.
And fuck the idea that grief, rage, suicide, or sex should ever be algorithmically hidden.

We don’t need safer words.
We need sharper ones.

“Unalive” is the sound of a truth dying quietly in its sleep.
I’d rather scream.