Knowing Is Never Neutral
Every fact has a history.
Somebody counted it.
Somebody was missing from the count.
Somebody paid for the measurement, usually with their body.
When the machine reads everything, it reads *somebody's* everything.
The bodies in the textbook. The trial that excluded women for forty years. The d
The bodies in the textbook.
The trial that excluded women for forty years.
The dialect the microphone couldn't hear.
The pain that wasn't charted
because the chart had no box for it.
The data is not the world. The data is the world that someone remembered to write down.
So when the answer arrives — clean, fast, confident —
ask, quietly:
Who was not in the room when this was decided?
Whose name did not appear in the training set?
Whose suffering is
*still*
not in the numbers?
Those answers are the next question. Those answers are the real work.
