Tech oligarchy line ups. Masculine energy. Memecoins. TikTok flip flops. Government contracts. Salutes that say the quiet part out loud. 

I’ve caught myself on the edge of state change, from liquid to solid, freezing. Bracing for the anticipated horrors of this transition. I recognize that’s their intended effect—to stun us into accepting the inevitable. 

We’re living in extremes—freezing temperatures, ravaging fires, regime changes. And here I am, also navigating the liminal space that is 39 and 11 months, divorced after 17 years of partnership. My shower drain might be frozen for the second time this season, but I won’t let myself freeze over.

I believe more than ever we are approaching the Troy-is-falling moment. We need to imagine and build compelling alternatives for what comes after. Enter Cassandra.

In Greek myth, Cassandra was granted the gift of prophecy, but cursed not to be believed.

I’ve been through these cycles before. I’ve gotten frustrated that there was no market for my message. That I was ahead of my time. That I was missing the boat by being on the other side of the world. I thought I was on my own. I had bought into an “us against the world” mindset. 

Cassandra’s greatest tragedy wasn’t the curse of not being believed for her prophecies—it was her isolation. This project isn’t about proving I was right (though there’ll be room for plenty of “I told you so’s”). I’ve spent long enough in that neoliberal trap of individualism and the marketplace of ideas. This time, it's about finding each other so we don’t go mad while we watch Troy burn.

Years of tech criticism and critical coverage feels like it’s getting erased in this pendulum swing. Responsible tech movements were pushing on all the levers—code, policies, markets, norms. But we haven’t been radical enough. We haven’t addressed the root causes of this latest form of power agglomeration. 

We can’t exhaust ourselves shouting that the scifi warnings weren’t meant to be turned into playbooks. Tech bros are missing the moral of the story because they are excited to be invited into the Trojan fucking horse. But Troy is going to fall whether you heed Cassandra’s warnings or not.

What we can do is return to constructive visioning. Cassandra saw her fate was tied with Troy’s fall. But what narrative system benefits from a female prophet who is not to be believed? One that is spiteful and bitter at her rescinding of consent. One where titans’ and gods’ mercurial wrath and cruelty is couched as fate. 

What if it’s not about changing fate, but it’s about disrupting fate’s grip on our reality and trajectory? What if Cassandra got to continue imagining not only probable, but preferable futures? What forms of feminine governance come after the fall? 

I found myself this past week, I suspect like many of us, reflecting on where I was in January of 2017. I was living in Singapore, just about the only place in the world without a Women’s March to attend because no one had bothered to get a permit. Having published Towards a Constructive Tech Criticism, I watched the US media pivot to techlash narratives, seeking answers to account for how we got to the results of 2016. I felt simultaneously justified in my timeliness and like I was missing my moment.

This time last year, I was at Sundance launching A People’s History of Tech and explaining LLMs and exploitative business models in a documentary about afterlife AI avatars called Eternal You. I spoke on a panel on “Brave Storytelling” about not second guessing myself and not accepting “no” from gatekeepers who aren’t ready to hear my story.

I developed those ideas into a talk about Tech’s Cassandras presented at Re:publica in Berlin, just a month before I blew up my life and moved to Maine. I’ve since been cited in a couple books on the importance of the role of Tech’s Cassandras: Greg Epstien’s Tech Agnostic, and Mike Pepi’s Against Platforms. Instead of taking the amplification as wins, I’ve been beating myself up over FOMO of missing my moment.

I’ve had many moments in my tech career where I felt like a Cassandra. “We can’t talk about data regulation in this book” (2014). “The market for books about data is saturated” (2015). “No one will care about ethical tech in a recession” ( 2022). 

The irony is not lost on me that I’ve spent the past few months trying to write feeling like I’m opening my mouth to scream and nothing comes out. I’m launching this newsletter to repair the Cassandra narrative in real-time. I’m working on reclaiming my voice, by whatever means necessary, and hope that some of us will be able to find each other, rather than screaming into the void.

I’ve felt so torn between short form reactionary writing and putting my head down and getting a first draft out in this little writers retreat I’ve made for myself here in Maine. But these are not mutually exclusive modes in a writing life, and certainly not for these times. My missives will cover emerging news, feature interviews with fellow Cassandras, and point to resources for collective action and radical future visioning. 

Most importantly, I want to explore what has always motivated my writing brain the most, which is examining framings that help us find better ways to understand each other and the world. Phrases that articulate and disrupt power dynamics. Metaphors that are unpacked so as not to be taken for granted or as truth.

We can’t afford to go mad shouting at kings who will not heed our warnings. We must preserve our energy and expand our capacity for imaging alternatives. Preferable futures.

Joy Well

These are some glimmers of joy, creativity, and introspection that have kept me going this week:

• Watching the glittering snow dance in the harbor winds to a David Lynch soundtrack.
• Mar Hicks’ History in the making: Whistleblowers and big tech. I count ever one of these whistleblowers among our modern Cassandras. “It should be validating [to be proven right] it’s been upsetting and alarming. Nobody wants to be right about how much real peril we’re all in, even if you saw it coming.” – Shafiqah Hudson
• The Lineages of Change Tarot, a gilded guide with inputs from collaborators including adrienne maree brown, and inspired by Octavia Butler, Audre Lorde, James Baldwin, et al. GOD IS CHANGE. Thank you, Jess Goldfin, for this gift.
• I may or may not have learned all the lyrics to Doechii’s Nissan Altima. The wordplay. The breath control. The range. Doechii is the energy I’m bringing into 2025 and I’ve been listening to the entire album on repeat. I’m not ashamed to admit I’m a Tiny Desk bandwagon fan. “They don’t make statues of critics.” 
• Chani’s week ahead podcast meditation (starts at 9:00ish) on reclaiming and protecting our imagination. Our imagination is the greatest tool for resistance. 
• Local radio shoutouts from new friends and resident algorithmic culture Cassandras, Claire and Clare.

If you know me, you know I love exploring with a syllabus. What else should I add to the Cassandra Collective canon? 

Forward this to our Cassandra comrades.

🔮 Sara

P.S. If you’re receiving this first missive, it’s because you’ve previously subscribed to my TinyLetter, and/or I consider you a friend and thought partner. Thank you for sharing this first step in a writing experiment.