Thou Shalt Judge

Vocal, darling, we need to talk. And yes, I know that sentence has the same energy as “we found something on your X-ray,” but stay with me. I’ve been watching these challenges play out, submitting my own tiny word-goblins into your gladiator pit, and something curious keeps happening. A pattern. A drift. A subtle slide away from the wild and the original toward… neatness. Palatability. The literary equivalent of a dry cracker smiling politely. And look, I love winning things as much as the next gremlin with a keyboard and unaddressed parental issues, but we need to address the lurking question none of us are supposed to ask: Who exactly are the judges? Like, are they literary prodigies with ink-stained fingers and broken hearts? Decorated professors who whisper Rilke to their houseplants? Community leaders who run poetry workshops for at-risk pigeons? Or is it someone’s nonna, sitting with a cup of Sunday tea, judging erotica prompts while clutching a rosary and muttering, “Lord forgive this girl, she knows not what she does.” Because here’s the thing, Vocal: If you’re deciding what writing deserves to rise, the people deserve to know who’s holding the elevator buttons. I’m not asking for their home addresses or what brand of kombucha they cry into at night. Just a name. A face. A tiny bio. A link. Anything more substantial than the mysterious “Our Judges™,” which currently sounds like a clandestine council of robed figures chanting over a malfunctioning printer. Let us see who curates our craft. Let us know the lens through which our originality is being sifted. Let us celebrate them, blame them, send them cookies, or at least gently stalk their Goodreads shelves like normal writers. Transparency isn’t scary. It’s… basic decency. And honestly, after the number of emotional support cigarettes I’ve smoked over challenge results (metaphorically, please relax), I think I’ve earned the right to see who’s patting my work on the head or kicking it down a stairwell. So here it is, my official challenge: Vocal, reveal your judges. Or at least link their bios to the challenges they judge. Show us the humans behind the curtain. Give your creators the courtesy of context. Signed, Iris Obscura your messy, caffeinated, perpetually confused participant, writing from a pit of existential glitter and half-feral hope.