Colonialism 2.0

The same empire—just a different flag. Many believe colonialism is a relic of the past:
an age of conquests and ships, slavery and indenture, sugar plantations and scattered people. It’s often framed as history. But the thing about history is—it repeats itself and sometimes it doesn’t end.
Sometimes, it simply changes clothes. Today, colonialism moves differently. It doesn’t need chains or cannons. Now it shows up through trade deals and development loans.
It speaks the language of “progress.” It calls itself “globalization.” It arrives with friendly offers and quiet fine print. It promises partnership—while extracting resources.

This is Colonialism 2.0.
Same structure. Same goals. Just more polished, and easier to miss. And maybe that’s part of the design. We don’t always notice it when it shows up in our living rooms when it’s dressed as news, or woven into advertising. Sometimes we look away, not because we don’t care, but because we’re not sure what we’re seeing. So how do we recognize something that no longer wears a uniform?

So here’s the thing, the truth of the matter, colonialism has shaped more than nations. It has shaped us. This isn’t just about governments or corporations. It shows up in our values. In our preferences. In what we reach for—and what we’ve been taught to admire. It’s in the skin-lightening products. The reverence for imported goods. The belief that speaking a certain way, dressing a certain way, or living a certain way makes us more “successful.” And it isn’t only those who imposed the system who keep it going. Many who were colonized learned to navigate it. To survive. To succeed. Sometimes, to belong. And so—no one is untouched. No culture, no person escaped without marks.

I am so guilty of this. I catch myself mid-thought and it startles me. It shows me how I dentify with the very thing that suppresses me. Or I’ll say something and a loved one will call me out and I have to unscramble that idea and face the pieces.
Which raises the question: How much of what we desire is truly our own?
And how much has been shaped for us, without our knowing?

Colonialism didn’t just redraw maps. It redrew identities. It created us. We’re not outside of it. We now live in its supply chains. We drink it in our morning coffee. We wear it in the seams of fast fashion stitched half a world away. We scroll past its consequences in headlines crafted for our comfort. We nod our heads during conversations that make us uncomfortable.

So ask yourself, gently: What part of you has learned to look away? Because the answer might surprise you. It surprises me all the time. Not because I’m careless, or because I don’t want to feel the discomfort, it’s mostly because I feel helpless.
This isn’t about guilt. It’s about awareness. And once you begin to see the pattern—you gain the power to interrupt it.
The first step isn’t blame. It’s remembering what’s sacred in you. It’s reclaiming what was always yours. It’s noticing—without judgment—how deeply these patterns run.
And that kind of noticing? That’s where internal power begins. That’s where choices are made. Choices that make a difference. And that is how empires begin to fail.