Boy, if I could read, I’d probably be really angry over this.
Seriously, though, I thought it would be amusing to make fun of this article, but, no pun intended, there’s no meat to the argument, such as it is. There’s nothing to sink your teeth into. Like so much of contemporary media, it’s all just “vibes” and “feels,” a vague constellation of trendy grievances. (The link is here in case you want to see for yourself.) The aim is not to inform, or even to put forth an argument. It’s just supposed to poke you in the amygdala. It’s like a prose poem in which this ditz free-associates about protein and whatever negative connotations she can hallucinate in connection with it.
So, since rational argumentation isn’t the name of the game here, we may as well respond in kind. From the NYT notice of her wedding in 2020:
They planned to get married on June 6 near the Burnett Fountain in Conservatory Garden in Central Park, with 60 guests, before the coronavirus outbreak. Instead they spent the morning with their puppy Fauci (a rescue from Tennessee) at a social justice march, along Frederick Douglass Boulevard in Harlem, in support of the Black Lives Matter movement.
But of course.