Dispatch 002-Fake/Real

When did “fake” and “real” stop being
descriptors and start being debates?

“Fake” used to mean counterfeit.
A knockoff handbag. A forged signature.
A diamond that sparkles
enthusiastically under the right light.

“She was carrying a fake Gucci bag.”
We used to check the stitching.
Notice the weight. Ask questions.
Now we check who said it.

“Real” once meant verifiable. Anchored.
Existing whether it suited us or not.
”The movie is based on real events.”
Which meant the events occurred,
inconvenient or otherwise.

Today, reality often arrives
with commentary attached.

“Fake News” didn’t just trend.
It settled in. Facts became flexible.
Evidence became interpretive.
Truth began requiring endorsements,
as if it were launching a product.

We say we want authenticity.
Yet we reward performance.
We say we value transparency.
Yet we amplify spectacle.
We say we’re exhausted.
Then refresh.

Information doesn’t have
to deceive outright.
It simply needs repetition.
Volume. Confidence.
Confidence travels well,
accuracy, less so.

Meanwhile, discernment
feels impolite. That quiet
internal voice, the one
that says, “Something feels
off,” gets drowned out by
certainty delivered at scale.

We’ve outsourced our barometer
to algorithms. And algorithms
are remarkably efficient, though
not particularly reflective.

The result isn’t just confusion.
It’s weight. Because when
the language shifts under our feet,
the body compensates.

We carry vigilance disguised as awareness.
We carry fatigue disguised as detachment.
We carry the effort of sorting signal from spectacle.

The tension is part of what shaped
What We Carry: Effigies for the
Weight of Humanity (Yes, It’s a Lot, We Know).

The figures are exaggerated, but not dramatically.
Absurd, but familiar.
Small enough to hold.

They don’t argue.
They contain.
They give distortion a body
so we can see the seams again.

Maybe “fake” didn’t become stronger.
Maybe we just stopped checking the stitching.