Recently, I discovered New York City had declared a ban on hair discrimination. Reading the print, I found myself smiling knowing New York had taken these steps in the face of racism and now - legally - no one could discriminate against black hairstyles in the Big Apple. But reading this also triggered an epiphany... Continue Reading →
It’s happening now: A massacre in Sudan. And I know it’s not being plastered all over your screens, Like the fire that took Notre-Dame. Not being reported by your trusted BBC and Sky News, who hung their heads in solidarity for France. But it’s happening now in Sudan: A massacre. So, why don’t you consider... Continue Reading →
Imprints on our skin, fresh in our blood: Straighten your hair, they slurred, as they staggered past. Straighten for you means whiten, Europeanise. Force my tight, nappy curls between the hot iron clasps of your European beauty standards; making myself acceptable for your viewing. Her hair’s grey but she’s black, they laughed. Your white privilege reaches beyond the scope of... Continue Reading →
The last line of my first blog post reads ‘Black people need to do better.’ Now, eight posts later and I’m opening with this same belief in mind. From what I’ve seen, black people are one of the most racially divided groups. There is a massive lack of unity presenting the black community as a... Continue Reading →
Girl, 20, raped in the early hours of Sunday morning. ‘What was she wearing? Was she showing too much skin. Why was she walking alone at that time? She was probably drunk. She should have got a taxi home.’ Victim blaming. I frequently hear saddening reactions like the above in response to accounts of sexual... Continue Reading →
‘Go home. You’re not welcome here. Go home.’ Show me home, this place which you shriek and shout of, this place you shower in my face as you shove past me in the street. Show me where my home is, draw me home, paint me home, where I used to safely play sticks and stones,... Continue Reading →
Nothing could be more unlike Beaten, broken male bodies, shot dead in the street for resisting arrest, for standing unarmed, for talking back. Black BOY; nothing could be more unlike liberation. Twenty-seventeen, Libya host African, migrant slave markets. Auctioning off human life as merchandise; a mere four-hundred-dollars. Cheap. Any takers? Free on record,... Continue Reading →
