Why subscribe?

For the heretics, the sirens, and the elegantly disenchanted.

This is not a sanctuary—it’s a séance. A congregation of women who’ve traded rose-tinted delusions for the bitter champagne of clarity. Here, we dissect the absurdity of existence with scalpels dipped in sarcasm, turning patriarchal daydreams into nihilistic confetti.

Subscribe not to escape the void, but to decorate it with middle fingers and Baudelairean flair. We don’t heal; we weaponize. We don’t cope; we curate. Expect essays that transmute rage into rhetoric, wounds into wit, and the collective eye-roll of a generation into something resembling art.

Join if:

  • Your feminism comes with a side of ”fuck it all”

  • You prefer your truths marinated in cynicism, not sugar

  • You’ve ever thought, “If I have to swallow one more platitude, I’ll become the villain”

No sisterhood of sunshine. Just sirens singing shanties in the storm.
Bring your own matches. 🔥

Subscribe to get full access to the newsletter and website. Full access means you can read an extended version of the articles I release publically!

The extended version includes a personal aside which is my thoughts on the topic being discussed in the article rather than a general analysis and evaluation. Obviously, the aside includes further links and resources to various pieces of media that are related to the article’s topic.

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me when my substack is in its flop era

Femcellectual (noun)
Where disillusionment chain-smokes Marlboros and swills cheap merlot. No algorithms, no deadlines—just smoke-choked truths and wine-stained rants. The grenades here are existential, the ashes poetic. Bring a lighter.

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Subscribe to Femcellectual's rants from the void

Where the thoughts you’re too polite to scream get polished into essays. No filters, no schedule—just raw takes served with a side of existential glitter.

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“She who knows only her own side of the case knows little of that.” — J.S. Mill