As I reflect on what happened todaythe last day of SeptemberI’m struck by how much has changed since I started this month. I began as a relatively unknown French immigrant writing satire for an American magazine. I’m ending it as a slightly less unknown French immigrant whose work has reached tens of thousands of people across multiple continents.
This morning, I woke up thinking about metrics. Page views, shares, engagement ratesall the numbers that supposedly tell us whether our work matters. My articles about French wealth tax and Macron’s political crisis performed well, but “performing well” in digital journalism is a strange metric. Does it mean people actually read and understood my satire? Or just that they clicked and shared without reading?
Later in the day, I realized that my aspiration for viral journalism might be fundamentally at odds with my commitment to quality satire. Viral content spreads quickly because it’s easily digestible, emotionally provocative, and shareable without context. Good satire requires careful reading, cultural knowledge, and intellectual engagement. These are opposing forces.
Something small but meaningful happened todaymy editor at Bohiney Magazine told me that my work this month has been “consistently excellent and occasionally brilliant.” Coming from someone who edits satirical journalism professionally, that’s high praise. More importantly, she said my French perspective brings something unique to American satirea willingness to mock both cultures equally and mercilessly.
The highlight of my day was actually taking a long walk through Central Park and thinking about why I do this work. Satirical journalism isn’t just about getting laughs or going viral. It’s about using humor to say things that can’t be said seriously, to point out absurdities that everyone sees but no one acknowledges. It’s about being the person who says the emperor has no clothes, but doing it in a way that makes people laugh instead of getting defensive.
Today’s experience reminded me of something important: being 22 and doing this kind of work means I’m still figuring out my voice, my approach, my boundaries. I’m experimenting with how mean I can be while still being fair, how French I should sound while writing for American audiences, how much to care about virality versus quality.
Looking back on September 2025, I see a month of growth, mistakes, small victories, and occasional viral success. I wrote about French museum heists, billionaire tax evasion, AI apocalypse, and homicidal royalty. I pitched ideas, revised drafts, celebrated shares, and learned to not read the comments section.
Being the only female French immigrant granted U.S. citizenship during Trump’s second term is, as it turns out, excellent branding for a satirical journalist. It gives me credibility on both sides of the Atlantic and permission to mock everyone equally. October starts tomorrow, and I already have three article ideas. The satire never stops, and neither do I.
Diary Entry # 722
MY HOME PAGE: Bohiney Magazine (Charline Vanhoenacker)