I don’t remember the moment that I learned that I was a girl. I don’t remember being told by my parents that I was to wear pink and be pretty. I don’t remember feeling sad or glad when I learned that I was different to the boys or that the boys were different to me. I don’t remember these moments because they never took place. … Continue reading HETERONORMATIVITY
On my first trip to the UK in 2014, I was invited to speak at a women’s organisation. I was invited to be a guest speaker. I had never done anything like that before. I was told that my talk would be like a window for the women to look through in order to learn about my world, my experiences and the visions that I … Continue reading A Fear of Sharing
I have been asked many strange and wonderful questions in my life. I am always surprised and energised when I am asked a question about myself that I either do not understand or can not answer. “Do you have sober sex?” This was one of those questions. When the question was flung at me across a coffee table in a house I had never … Continue reading Do you have Sober-Sex?
I’m sitting, my back to the wall, the lecturer to my right has been talking for 45 mins, only 45 mins and I’m (here writing this) bored already. Her voice makes my skull ache. It is as if her tone is able to chew at the skin between face-flesh and skull-bone, it is really quite magically disturbing. Directly in front of me is The Big … Continue reading Tuesday mornings
I have grown up learning how to juggle three elements of who I am. I do not juggle these elements willingly. I juggle them because I am conditioned to do so and therefore have become, in many situations, a pro. Every now and again a situation presents itself and I recognise that I have to rely on parts of my skill that come with a … Continue reading Power. Language. Gender
I had many white friends at one point. Actually, for most of my young life, I only had 3 or 4 friends that were of colour because of the school I went to. As an adult, I am now trying to create a place of community, acceptance and belonging. This requires me to slowly but purposefully diversifying my friend groups. I have this white friend, … Continue reading I have this white friend.
My father is man with a tough skin and a broken heart.He comes from an era in which men were mountains and mountains never cracked, crumbled or shivered. He has always been a mountain to me, well until I grew up. As I grew, he began to shrink. As an adult, I now recognise that he is just a man, just a mortal. My father inadvertently, and … Continue reading DAD. Father.