F**k the industry. Viva humanity!

Somewhere along the way, we were sold a lie. A quiet one at first—polite, reasonable, even perhaps comforting:

Learn the rules. Play the game. Fit the mold. Serve the machine—and if you do it well enough, long enough, you’ll be rewarded.

That lie has shaped entire lives.

Here’s the truth no one in power is incentivized to say out loud: industry does not exist to help you, serve you, or fulfill your purpose. It exists to control outcomes, minimize risk, extract value, and maximize profit. That’s it. That’s the model.

Industry doesn’t ask who you are—it asks what you can produce.

It doesn’t care why you create—only whether it sells.

It doesn’t protect your humanity—only its margins.

People are messy. Purpose-driven. Inconsistent. Creative. Human. Industry can’t scale humanity, so it flattens it. It turns people into roles, creators into content, artists into assets, workers into line items.

You are no longer a person.

You are a commodity.

And we’re taught—explicitly and implicitly—that success means serving the industry. That legitimacy comes from being chosen by it. That security comes from staying in its good graces.

So we chase approval instead of alignment.

Validation instead of truth.

Careers instead of callings.

We start asking the wrong questions: What do they want? What’s trending? What sells?

And slowly, quietly, we abandon ourselves.

Here’s the part that matters most: you do not need the industry to live a meaningful, prosperous, or impactful life. That belief is the cornerstone of its power over you.

Industry wants dependency—on gatekeepers, platforms, algorithms, permission—because dependency creates compliance. And compliance is easy to monetize.

But industry has a dirty secret it never wants you to realize: it needs you far more than you need it.

Industry does not create culture. People do.

Industry does not generate meaning. People do.

Industry does not produce value on its own—it captures value that already exists in human creativity, connection, and conviction.

Take people out of the equation and industry is just empty infrastructure. Offices with no soul. Platforms with no voices. Systems with nothing to extract.

Which means the real work isn’t breaking into the industry. It’s disempowering it.

Disempowering the industry doesn’t mean attacking it. It means starving it of your dependency. It means building independently—your voice, your audience, your relationships, your revenue—before you ever ask for permission.

Because insecure people negotiate poorly. They accept bad terms. They trade ownership for access. They confuse exposure with opportunity.

Independent people don’t.

When you build first—when your work is rooted in who you are, what you believe, and the life you actually want to live—the leverage shifts.

Now the industry has to come to you.

It needs your audience. It needs your credibility. It needs your relevance. It needs your cultural gravity.

And suddenly the conversation changes.

Not “Please let me in.” But “Here are my terms.”

This is the inversion they never teach you: leverage doesn’t come from proximity to power. It comes from independence.

Ownership becomes non-negotiable.

Alignment becomes the filter.

Purpose becomes the compass.

You decide what you license and what you keep. What you partner on and what you walk away from. What you protect and what you refuse to compromise.

And here’s the reality they’re desperately trying to outrun: the monopoly is already broken. Distribution is no longer scarce. Creation is no longer centralized. Communities are no longer captive.

That’s why contracts are getting more extractive. That’s why algorithms feel punishing. That’s why the pressure keeps increasing.

Control always tightens right before it fails. The future doesn’t belong to people who beg for access. It belongs to people who build first and partner second. To people who know their value before anyone tries to price it. To people who treat industry as a tool—not a master.

You don’t exist to serve the industry. The industry exists to serve what already exists in you.

So rise up. Build independently. Lead boldly. Stop asking for permission and start creating on your own terms. This is how revolutions begin—not with noise, but with clarity, courage, and collective refusal to be owned.

F**k the industry. Viva humanity!