A MidWestern transgender woman trying to survive in the real life.

Tag: self-determination

Regime Change Is Not Lawful—It’s Plunder

KRAKOW, POLAND JANUARY 3:
A woman watches ABC News Live as U.S. Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff Dan Caine explains details of a U.S. special military operation in Venezuela, with President Donald Trump present, in Krakow, Poland, January 3, 2026. (Photo by Artur Widak/NurPhoto via Getty Images)

What is being reported today—that the United States military removed Nicolás Maduro, the sitting president of Venezuela, under the direction of Donald Trump—should be treated as a constitutional, legal, and moral emergency rather than a triumph. Even setting aside one’s opinion of Maduro or the failures of his government, the use of unilateral military force to depose a head of state is plainly illegal under international law. This is not a gray area. It is precisely the sort of conduct the modern international legal system was created to prohibit.

The cornerstone of international law since 1945 is the prohibition on the use of force against the territorial integrity or political independence of another state. Article 2(4) of the United Nations Charter bars such actions outright, allowing only two narrow exceptions: self-defense against an armed attack or action authorized by the UN Security Council (United Nations, 1945). No credible public evidence suggests that Venezuela launched an armed attack against the United States, nor has there been any Security Council authorization permitting regime removal. Absent either condition, military intervention for the purpose of removing a government constitutes unlawful aggression under international law (Brownlie, 1963; United Nations, 1970).

Attempts to justify such an action by invoking “self-defense,” “counter-narcotics,” or “restoring democracy” do not survive serious legal scrutiny. International law does not permit a state to overthrow another government because it is authoritarian, corrupt, or hostile to foreign economic interests. The UN General Assembly has repeatedly affirmed that no state has the right to intervene, directly or indirectly, in the internal affairs of another, regardless of motive (United Nations General Assembly, 1970). This principle exists precisely because powerful states have historically cloaked invasions in moral language while pursuing strategic and economic gains.

Seen through that lens, this intervention reads less like a defense of democracy and more like a textbook exercise in plutocratic power. Venezuela possesses some of the largest proven oil reserves in the world, and U.S. policy toward the country for decades has revolved around control, access, and leverage over those resources (Mommer, 2002). When military force is paired with rhetoric about “stabilizing” oil production, reopening markets, or placing foreign companies in a position to manage extraction, the intent becomes difficult to deny. This is not about liberating Venezuelans; it is about aligning state violence with corporate interests, particularly those of multinational energy companies that stand to benefit from regime change.

International law directly rejects this logic. The principle of permanent sovereignty over natural resources affirms that a people’s land, minerals, and energy reserves belong to them alone and must be used for their national development, not appropriated through coercion or foreign occupation (United Nations General Assembly, 1962). That right does not evaporate because a foreign power disapproves of how a country governs itself or wishes to restructure its economy. To claim otherwise is to revive colonial doctrines that the postwar legal order explicitly sought to bury.

What makes this moment especially dangerous is the precedent it sets. If the United States can openly remove a foreign leader by force and then claim legal justification after the fact, the entire prohibition on aggressive war becomes performative rather than binding. Other powers will follow the same script, citing security concerns, economic stability, or humanitarian necessity as cover. The result is not a safer world, but a return to a system where might makes right and international law exists only to discipline the weak.

The Venezuelan people have the exclusive right to determine their political future and to decide how their resources are used. That process may be flawed, painful, and slow, but it cannot be replaced by foreign troops and oil contracts without shredding the legal norms that protect all states, large and small. If international law means anything at all, it means that regime change by force—especially when tied to resource extraction—is illegal, illegitimate, and profoundly destabilizing.

References

Brownlie, I. (1963). International law and the use of force by states. Oxford University Press.

Mommer, B. (2002). Global oil and the nation state. Oxford University Press.

United Nations. (1945). Charter of the United Nations. https://www.un.org/en/about-us/un-charter

United Nations General Assembly. (1962). Permanent sovereignty over natural resources (Resolution 1803 (XVII)).

United Nations General Assembly. (1970). Declaration on Principles of International Law concerning Friendly Relations and Co-operation among States (Resolution 2625 (XXV)).

What I Believe About Relationships

Image: ChatGPT

Relationships are among the most intimate and transformative parts of life—but for me, they don’t follow the traditional script. I’ve spent a long time unlearning what the world tells us relationships are “supposed” to be and discovering what they can be instead. I want to share what I believe about love, connection, sex, and partnership—not because I have all the answers, but because my truth might help others feel less alone in their own journey.

I am aromantic. I don’t experience romantic attraction the way most people do. I don’t crave romantic courtship, fairy-tale declarations, or being someone’s “everything.” That’s never been how my heart moves. For a long time, I felt out of sync with a world that insists on romance as the highest form of human connection. But in time, I came to understand that my way of relating isn’t less—it’s just different. I still love. I still build deep, meaningful connections. I still crave touch, intimacy, laughter, and mutual growth. But I don’t desire romance, and I don’t build my life around it.

I also identify as polyamorous. I believe that love, affection, and connection are abundant and not meant to be confined to one person at a time. I reject the idea that exclusivity is the only—or the highest—form of commitment. I find beauty in the ways people can show up for each other in different capacities. Each relationship is its own living thing, with its own needs, rhythms, and dynamics. I don’t want to own or be owned. I want connection that is chosen, not claimed.

My sexual orientation is best described as heteroflexible. I tend to be drawn to masculine energy, but attraction is fluid and often defies tidy labels. What matters most to me is authenticity—how someone exists in their body and their spirit, how they treat others, how they engage with joy, and how they handle complexity. Gender and sexuality, for me, are far more expansive than the categories we’re taught to stay within.

As a transgender woman, I bring my full self into every relationship. My womanhood is not conditional, and I refuse to enter into any dynamic where I am expected to explain or defend my identity. My transness has shaped me. It has taught me resilience, self-determination, and the sacred power of transformation. I offer all of that—openly and vulnerably—to the people I care about.

I also embrace a fully sex-positive philosophy. I believe sex is sacred, playful, healing, and liberating. I do not see sexuality as something to be ashamed of or hidden away. Whether I’m expressing desire through kink, physical intimacy, fantasy, or open conversation, I treat it as something that should be approached with joy, creativity, and care. Being aromantic doesn’t mean being asexual—though both identities are valid. For me, it means I can enjoy sexual and emotional intimacy without it needing to be filtered through a romantic lens.

What I want from relationships is truth. I want honesty without cruelty, intimacy without entitlement, and care without pretense. I don’t need people to fit into categories like “partner,” “lover,” or “friend.” I need them to show up as their full selves, and to let me do the same. I want to build chosen family. I want conversations that last for hours, shared silence that feels like home, mutual support in the chaos, and connection that expands rather than restricts.

I believe that love is not a single, fixed thing. It’s a spectrum, a mosaic, a process. It doesn’t always follow a script. It doesn’t have to end in a wedding or a shared mortgage to be real. It doesn’t have to be romantic to be profound. And it certainly doesn’t have to look like anyone else’s version of love.

Being aromantic means that I love differently. Not less. Not worse. Just differently. And if there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that we need more room in this world for different ways of loving. I want people to know that there are many valid ways to connect—and that living outside the traditional narrative can be not just fulfilling, but joyful, liberating, and deeply human.

So this is me, being honest about what I believe: in love without possession, sex without shame, intimacy without obligation, and relationships that are defined not by convention, but by care. If you’ve ever felt like the world’s idea of love doesn’t fit you—know that you are not broken. You are simply someone who deserves to love, and be loved, on your own terms.

Powered by WordPress & Theme by Anders Norén