I am still alive and well. I made the decision to end my Hunger Strike after ~27 days and returned to Texas on 12/19/2025.
I do not regret protesting, but the method I chose was beyond reckless and made those who cared about me worried sick. My efforts didn’t produce any concrete change or gather widespread attention, because I didn’t go through the effort to spread awareness or contact anyone who could help me beforehand. If I was truly serious about making a change I would have been dedicated to carrying out my mission strategically, not desperately hoping that putting my life on the line was enough. It’s not.
My #EndTheException protest is not a priority for many, so it will take time and patience to get my message across. Making people care won’t happen with me starving to death. There is no shortcut to real positive change. I have to be here to make it happen. It starts with me and my community, then some cities. Then the state. Then other states and then DC.
I used to tell myself I only live once. The truth is I live everyday. It’s up to me to live life to the fullest so when that last day comes, I can think back on the days I was given and smile. I feel like a new person. This life is supposed to be a beautiful adventure and I’m the one who gets to decide what happens next. Thank you to everyone who helped me. Happy Holidays!
On 12/3/2025 I saw Bernie Sanders and Ro Khanna by sheer coincidence speaking against ACA cuts. I spoke with their staff members about my protest and they let me know they would share my message. What a stroke of fate.
I made my first protest related posts on LinkedIn and TikTok.
I wish I could make progress faster, but progress is still being made.
I finally got around to printing out a sign describing my protest. I likely made it too verbose but the 13th amendment issue seemed to complicated for me to simplify further.
Someone recommended that having a sign is essentially mandatory, suggesting my protest won’t get very far without one. I owe him many thanks.
Here is what it looks like:
People are absolutely reading it, but most skim through it for 5-10 seconds before continuing on with their day. They didn’t come to the White House to look at my sign, obviously.
But any crumb of attention I can get will help me achieve my goal, which is why I am glad I ran into a pair of what I would call my first hecklers today.
The first one came up and asked who the slaves were. A critical error I made was not having any specific example of who was being enslaved. The man seemed to want a name.
My whole protest was centered around the wording of the amendment in the constitution, it wasn’t my intention to bring attention to one specific person.
I tried explaining this, and I think they followed up by asking me to specify what slavery was.
“The thing is, the Supreme Court never defined what slavery was, so it’s kind of hard for me to form my argument.”
“Yeah, your displaying that pretty clearly.”
The second man let me know that my sign was a waste of money and the first was curious who was paying me to be there.
Then another woman (not sure if she was with them) let me know that since her ancestors were slaves she thought that what I was protesting could be offensive. I interpreted this as meaning that modern prisoners have it pretty good. I mostly nodded my head in acknowledgement to what they said to me towards the end of our discussion.
Then they walked away. It kinda felt like I lost, although I wasn’t tempted to give up my entire protest.
Not being able to provide a concrete example hurt my argument. There were some responses that I thought after the argument that likely would have matched the snarky energy they seemed to be projecting, but real life is not like those debate videos that tend to go viral on the internet. It would have eventually resulted in one party feeling walked all over, which is not my goal at all. I’m not even sure if debates resulting in the humiliation of one party lead to positive social change, wouldn’t it end in resentment?
I made a note to myself that I needed to actually sit down and do some research. Then my argument will present more strongly.
It could have been spite, but I was tired and strongly considering going back to my hotel for the day before the hecklers walked up to me. They encouraged me to keep up my protest more than the five or so people who offered positive affirmation.
Pretty shallow of me.
Most of the heckler group later circled back to the park in front of the White House to get to their next destination.
I watched them. They watched me back. I smirked.
The 2 main antagonizers looked at me like this while they were walking away:
I maintained my smug demeanor while watching them go. It was funny watching them try to maintain their affronted expressions in my direction while also making sure they didn’t bump into anything as they walked away from me.
I am thankful that I am given the ability to protest in this country without being forced to stop by my government. It is a blessing to be able to speak my mind whenever I choose so long as I am willing to face the social consequences.
I am thankful that I was encouraged to learn how to read and write. Without these abilities, I would not be able to learn from and appreciate the creative arts.
A huge part of why I am the person I am today is because of the stories I read about and the content I consume. Some of these stories involve the power of dreams, fighting against injustice, and overcoming impossible odds, making the impossible possible.
The first two that come to mind are japanese mangas, Eiichiro Oda’s One Piece and the late Kentaro Miura’s Berserk. These two pieces of art have probably had the most influence on me as a human being. There’s also the Bible but I’m not sure if it falls under the category of art in terms of the expression or application of human creative skill and imagination.
Understandably, the broad category of people known as artists and those who aspire to one day be great artists can be thought of as naive or pretentious. Not everybody who creates art is going to produce something that millions of people admire. When someone confidently and proudly shows me something they worked on that seems boring and poorly executed in my eyes, the first thought that may come to my mind is that this person is full of themselves and I’d prefer not to associate with them.
But as I’ve grown, I’ve started to have another thought pop up in my mind when an artist shares their art with me. I’m thankful they decided to show me this.
I’m glad they didn’t think that they could never be as great as Leonardo da Vinci or Michelangelo and decided it wasn’t worth the effort, instead they mustered up the courage to develop a new skill, regardless of what the motive was. They are better than me, who has had a lot of ideas pop in my head and fantasized about being a respected artist but never attempted out of fear of failure, humiliation, being called “cringe”.
I’m going to be 28 soon. I look back in regret thinking about how good at drawing I could currently be if I decided to pick up a pencil and start drawing as a young child. But there isn’t anything stopping me from picking one up now I suppose.
There was a shooting very close to the White House today. I was picking up a protest sign so I did not witness anything except multiple streets being blocked off with a large police presence.
The shooter didn’t accomplish anything. I wonder what was going though his mind. It’s sad to think that the victims and their friends and their families had to go through this the day before Thanksgiving.
I chose to stay inside my room and rest today. Towards the very end of the day I vomited twice. It was likely because I took a massive swig of cold water that my body did not agree with. Gulps of water do wonders in helping with the pains of hunger I’ve found out. Best to take small sips spaced apart going forward. It looked to be almost completely clear, a light gray with black specks here and there.
I’m skeptical of how sanitary the average hotel’s ice dispenser is, hopefully helping myself to some did not make me ill.
Starvation is one thing, but sickness and starvation is another thing entirely.
I did it again. I’m ashamed to admit I did it again.
I visited the National Gallery of Art, and was desperate to quench my thirst. I went and bought a can of purified water and after drinking half the can I looked at the label and saw that it contained electrolytes for taste. A Google search revealed that it is calorie-free and does not contain any fat, carbohydrates, or sugar. The electrolytes added are potassium bicarbonate, calcium carbonate, calcium chloride, and magnesium chloride. I then looked at what’s inside the Primo Brands “Pure Life” water bottles served in my hotel and found that each bottle contains “less than 0.5% of calcium chloride, sodium bicarbonate, magnesium sulfate.”
While fasting, some people still consume vitamins and minerals so they can better function when going without food, but I view this as going against the spirit of the practice. My understanding is that we eat food to gain nutrients, vitamins, and minerals. If I’m abstaining and still pop a multivitamin everyday the whole deed rings just a bit hollow. Oh well.
I can’t go back and change the past, so I will continue on with my hunger strike accepting the fact that I will drink water with additives in it throughout its duration. The thing about going without food is that it warps your thinking abilities and sense of judgement, making it more difficult to stay on a hunger strike. Before my trip to DC I don’t think I ever went a single day without food. I’m terrified that I’ll see some free samples and have a bite without even thinking because I’m just so used to eating whenever I please. I had a dream that I ordered an Oreo cheeseburger and woke up in a panic thinking I was about to end my hunger streak.
I don’t have too much to say about my art gallery visit, but viewing paintings that were hundreds of years old made me realize that the artists made a lasting impact on the world through their art. If an artwork depicts an actual person, then the person who was depicted is now forever remembered, appreciated, and studied due to being made into art. I’ll speak more on the importance of art in my life at a later time.
I’m not sure how much longer I’ll be able to go on, if I’m struggling this much on day four I wonder what day ten, twenty, and fifty will look like. Will I be able to speak coherently at those points should an important politician choose to speak with me? I think that the lack of nutrients would cause my teeth to fall out at some point.
I’m looking at myself in the mirror and I don’t currently look like someone who is starving. I still have a lot of fat built up in my body, which is a blessing for a challenge like this. There are moments of pain I go through but after an hour or so the pain of hunger subsides. When I move a bit too fast I also get lightheaded and need to rebalance myself. Today I felt like staying in my hotel room and resting in my room, working on my website and social media.
Today was the first time I explained to a family member that I came to Washington DC for a political protest. My cousin let me know he was very supportive of the cause and that he admired what I was doing. It was great to hear that since I always assumed he leaned a bit on the conservative side and rightwingers have never seemed to be that passionate regarding the rights of persons confined to jails and prisons.
I asked him for advice on if I should have a lawyer on standby, just in case I get arrested for some reason. We both came to the conclusion that I should hire a lawyer local to the location I am arrested in, since each state has different laws. I’ve never been arrested before so I don’t know if I need to have their phone number memorized. I called a DC lawyer a couple weeks back but it seems that since I haven’t actually been arrested or accused of a crime yet there isn’t much they can do.
Now I’ll talk about some things that happened on 11/22/2025. So far I’ve been approached by a total of 4 Secret Service agents while protesting at the White House. Most protestors hold up signs and march around chanting slogans, but that’s not really my style. I’ve been putting on gloves and picking up litter I see around the White House area. There is surprisingly little to pick up which was nice to see.
I guess the first agent (we’ll call him Scott) was curious about me picking up trash and struck up a conversation with me. I explained that I was protesting and stated my goal. He was pretty skeptical of what I thought was wrong with the 13th Amendment, and asked if I thought that we should stop imprisoning dangerous criminals. I explained that we should stop treating criminals as slaves, since slavery in all forms was a reprehensible practice in my eyes. I think our conversation lasted about 10 minutes. It kind of felt like a debate. He let me know that if I googled “can prisons force inmates to work” the answer should be no. I googled it on the spot and the results revealed that actually, yes, inmates can be forced to work… because they can be slaves due to the 13th Amendment.
Another AI overview quote: “In the United States, it is legal to force convicted prisoners to work due to a specific exception in the Thirteenth Amendment of the U.S. Constitution. The Thirteenth Amendment, ratified in 1865, abolished slavery and involuntary servitude ‘except as a punishment for crime whereof the party shall have been duly convicted’.”
I shared the search results with Scott, and I could see the gears turning in his head.
In the end I asked Scott if he thought that the criminal justice system was working fine as is, and he responded that there was always room for improvement. I’m glad we both found common ground in that regard.
Much later on in the day, 3 Secret Service agents approached me as a group. They mentioned that they noticed I was hanging around for an extended amount of time staring at the White House and “just wanted to make sure that I was okay”. I remove the hood of my jacket and let them know my name was Soju, like “Soulja Boy tell ’em” (that always gets a laugh out of people.)
That seemed to ease the tension. I then proceeded to tell them that I was in fact not okay, then gave my 13th Amendment spiel. This was a conversation that lasted maybe 5 minutes. This time the main guy talking to me actually was a lot more in agreement with my stance, and the body language of the other 2 indicated that they felt the same way. “I’ll have to read up on that” he said.
I was then shot 37 times in the chest.
Haha just kiddin’, those 2 encounters were hands down the most positive experiences I’ve ever had with law enforcement.
I wish I could have recorded these conversations so people can watch themselves, but it just didn’t occur to me. Besides, people tend to act differently with a camera in front of their face. And I’m sure Secret Service agents would dislike being recorded more than anyone.
DISCLAIMER: My memory is not perfect so any recounts of experiences and encounters I discuss may not be quoted, disclosed, or conveyed exactly as it occured in real life. I am a big proponent of conveying the truth even when it doesn’t align with my personal beliefs. Hiding facts and trying to present a narrative that doesn’t adhere to reality is the opposite of what I believe in, but I make mistakes.
I feel pretty good right now. As of right now I’m not that hungry. I spent most of my day yesterday updating this website and then visiting the Smithsonian National Museum of American History and then the National Museum of African American History and Culture. I thought it was one big museum but it turns out the National Mall has a collection of several museums relatively close to all the famous monuments.
Coincidentally, both museums have displayed content related to slavery. I read about John Brown online and thought he was a really cool, righteous figure and was taken by surprise when I was him in the museum. He was probably considered insane at the time and the painting of him with his arms outstretched give off a fanatical vibe, but regardless of whether he came to the logical conclusion that slavery was wrong, or if it was implanted in his brain by God himself isn’t relevant. All things considered he seemed to be benefit from slavery as a white man but still dedicated his life to dismantling it. I think that’s extremely admirable. Too bad he didn’t do it peacefully.
I think spent approximately combined 4 hours at both museums but only one other moment at the African museum remains in my mind. There were quotes that justified chattel slavery from when it was in effect. They basically boiled down to “Yes slavery is atrocious, but the benefits outweigh the drawbacks” and “I’ll keep mum because I need my cheap rice and rum.”
I’d wager that most of the people that held these views weren’t sadists eager to inflict pain, but instead more like passive observers who were certain that even if the system is horrific, they cannot do anything about it and figured they might as well keep their peace and focus on their own problems that more obviously affected them.
It’s kind of like how I know full well animals suffer tremendously from modern industrialized livestock agriculture (aka the meat industry, or factory farming) but I choose to purchase and consume meat anyway. It feels pleasant to eat meat, it’s convenient, and everyone has always done it so it seems so natural. Animal welfare activists who shout “Meat is murder” and tell others that they are wrong for eating meat are typically portrayed as obnoxious and unpleasant. I definitely don’t want to be associated with that crowd.
I think the meat industry is generally unethical and there is certainly more that can be done to make things more ethical. The modern state of affairs is definitely not the absolute best we can do. I’m sure centuries from now people will looks at factory farming the same way we look at chattel slavery today. They will be sick to their stomachs and question how such a barbaric system could go on for so long and so widely.
I need to eat to live, though. Some alternative examples of how I knowingly live unethically and am resistant to change would be how I know full well purchasing plastics that last hundreds of years and my gasoline powered car are bad for the environment but partake in them anyway. I could potentially boycott these things, but it seems too inconvenient and extreme when everyone I know behaves the same way I do.
I think I’m rambling a bit here. My point is that injustices can be justified easily enough when enough raindrops come together to create a flood.
If my protest gains enough attention, I will certainly come across some who will want to justify the status quo. I anticipate that they will tell me what I’m doing is foolish.
They’ll say that I am too focused on the exact words in our beloved constitution that has worked so well for so long, and that I am misinterpreting things.
They’ll say that the system is working as intended and working very well. Some people DESERVE to be enslaved. They will be disgusted that I show focused concern for criminals when there are poverty-stricken veterans or victimized children, unaware of how they and their loved ones can suddenly be labeled subhuman criminals in the blink of an eye. They’ll say that this is the best way of doing things, that it’s not possible to treat criminals like human beings. They will insist that completely abolishing slavery will cost the US taxpayer billions of dollars and go against centuries of convention. We are required to treat convicts like vermin to ensure they are punished and shown their behavior was unacceptable.
I will do my best to make sure any opponents of my protest have their voices heard. Maybe someone will convince me to quiet down, go back home, and forget about this anti-slavery matter. There will come a time very soon that their words will sound sweeter than the finest honey when heard alongside my belly screaming with hunger. My greatest weakness is my lack of discipline, time will tell if I decide the pain that comes with change will triumph over the misery of things staying the same.
They’ll tell me to be silent, but if I obey, I’m afraid that one day there will be no one left to speak out for me.
