People disappear every day, every year. Some people who disappear are killed. Some people who disappear are never found. This is not simply a matter of being smaller than a pixel.
To swap “men’s work” and “women’s work” solves no problems; it’s not about the work but who performs it. The issue is the way in which we gender and correspondingly devalue certain kinds of labor.
I think of all this messy tech as a lake that grows larger and larger, accumulating information with no sense of time’s passing, a beast with good intentions, that only wishes to learn.
No matter the tangled path I take to get there, the end result is always the same: a few hours later, I’m sitting in front of my laptop with three tabs open on serial killers, violent paraphilias, or fast-moving infectious diseases.
From whence does this plot point spring? Why do we thrill at it? Why do we find it so emotionally taut, so satisfying? Hot for teacher taps into all the taboos that make our kinks work.