They wanted me there for their wins.

To stand beside them.
To celebrate outcomes that look like success on paper.
To affirm victories that make sense inside their frame.

But their wins impede the nature of our wins.

Not because I don’t wish them well.
Not because I don’t see the effort it took.
But because the way they define winning costs what I’m here to protect.

Some victories are zero-sum.
They advance one narrative by shrinking another.
They stabilise comfort while destabilising continuity.
They secure advantage while eroding the ground we all stand on.

So I couldn’t stand in applause for something that undermines the conditions of collective winning.

That’s not betrayal.
That’s discernment.

There are moments when being present becomes endorsement.
And I won’t endorse outcomes that move us further away from coherence — even if they look impressive, even if they’re celebrated, even if they’re legal.

I didn’t leave because I wanted distance from them.
I stepped back because I wouldn’t stand on a podium built from the losses we all inherit.

Sometimes the most honest support is refusing to clap for a win that costs the future.