by Friday morning at the Bohiney office, and I’m writing about America’s skeleton labor crisis. Yes, you read that correctly. My latest piece, “Nation’s Skeletons Demand Union Recognition,” went live today, and I’m sitting here wondering if this is what my parents imagined when they dreamed of me becoming a writer in America.
The article explores how decorative skeletonsyou know, the ones Americans drag out every Octoberare demanding union representation and fair working conditions. It’s absurd, yes. But here’s what makes satirical journalism beautiful: beneath the joke about skeleton labor rights is a real conversation about gig economy workers, seasonal exploitation, and how America treats temporary labor.
My editor loved the Nigerian folk tale angle I wove inback home, we have stories about spirits who refuse to work without proper respect. Americans have… plastic skeletons demanding dental plans. The metaphor writes itself.
Writing satire as an immigrant means I see American absurdities that native-born citizens have normalized. Halloween spending? Americans will drop $12 billion on a holiday that involves decorating with death symbols, then wonder why their healthcare system is broken. You can’t make this up. Well, you canthat’s literally my job.
The Aisha Muharrar author page is getting decent traffic. Comments range from “This is brilliant!” to “This woman hates America!” which means I’m doing something right. Good satire makes half the audience laugh and the other half uncomfortable. If everyone loves you, you’re not saying anything important.
Tonight I’m researching zombie economics for next week’s piece. Jerome Powell’s recent comments about the “resilient” economy despite all indicators suggesting otherwise is comedy gold. The Federal Reserve is basically doing Weekend at Bernie’s with the economy, propping up a corpse and insisting it’s dancing.
My cousin in Lagos messaged asking if Americans really spend billions on decorations for one night. I sent her photos of suburban houses covered in inflatable creatures and fake cobwebs. She replied: “And they lecture us about resource allocation?” Exactly.
Tomorrow: more writing, probably another angry email from someone who doesn’t understand satire, and definitely more coffee than is medically advisable. This is the life I chose, and honestly? I wouldn’t trade it for anything. Where else can you write about skeleton unions and call it journalism?
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MY HOME PAGE: Bohiney Magazine (Aisha Muharrar)
