The Inbetweeners

Hello one and all! As I write this, I am 40,000 ft in the air as I fly back to University, numbed by the exhilaration and fear elicited by flying and a healthy gin and tonic, and I can’t help but reflect on the state of Christianity and Christian culture; particularly about the inheritance, into Christian culture, of certain notions about disenfranchised groups in society. Now, all this was brought on by a documentary series called The Ascent of Woman (available on Netflix and comes highly recommended by me). This documentary focuses more on the creation of “woman” as a social construct, than on her biological formation and I am thoroughly enjoying it. As I rewatch the first episode, titled Civilisation , an important point was raised; about how the women in Ancient Greece were treated as well as the women in Afghanistan at the height of the Taliban. With this treatment, social notions about the inferiority of women accompanied and justified this treatment. For those who weren’t...

Do I seem like the type of person that you can easily walk all over? Like the type of person whose purpose in life is to be used; to be a springboard for others in preparation for bigger and greater things? Do I seem like the type of person unworthy of genuine affection? Be it by my own hand, or an inability to recognise and relate to my brand of humanity? Perhaps I am being a bit, melodramatic reader. Don't you think? What could have led to this harrowing portrayal of sadness you ask? Well, dear friend... good ol' fashion, character-building rejection. See, most people take rejection a lot easier than I ever will or ever could. For me rejection is a mark upon my conscience; it signals to me that I am not wanted and it feeds into my pathological insecurities. Especially when the rejection comes in the wake of emotional vulnerability and honesty, which is a rare colour on me.  Rejection tells me that it's better to be silent than to be vocal about how y...

I've now been home for a week and what I like to do is catch up on the political situation. I don't like doing this when I'm away because most of what I read rarely reflects what the people I know feel about it. In an attempt to appeal to the masses, it is clothed in an awkward neutrality that fails to tap into the humanity of the shared political experience. Also, perhaps rather selfishly, I believe that if I don't see it, it hasn't happened (you are now free to depict me as an infant who has yet to understand object permanence). But, as I watch and read the news, both local and international, I'm aware of the same things I always have been; the preference and, perhaps troublingly, the deference shown by the international news sources and stories, and the condemnation of tribalism in African Politics. Now the former, I've grown used to, but the latter really bugs me. Simply because, it's treated as a uniquely African problem; particularly by t...

Can I just say something for a second, Why are these young ones in such a rush to grow up? I could answer that question for them, but the situation was different for "my generation". Though we were in a rush, we were spared growing up online from a very young age. We were at the genesis of social media, whilst they are living in the era of its popularity. Though the internet will remember some  of my mistakes, it will definitely remember all  of theirs. It is for this reason that the right to be forgotten has been codified in the new General Data Protection Regulation, or why, in the new Green Paper released by the British Government, greater efforts are being made to guarantee the internet safety of young users. But for me, it's not the fact that the internet will always remember, but that for many people, this is okay. Privacy is no longer positive, in that I have to let you in, but negative , in that you are already in and I tell you when,  and where, to stop. W...

Let’s have an honest conversation about equality. Honestly, I don’t think we are capable of equality until we change how we understand it. Okay this is what it looks like to me. Remember how we were taught about equality when we were children? In Math class? I’ll provide you with a refresher. 1.        So we were taught than equal means that both sides of the equation are the same (hence the ‘=’ and from that flows all of algebra). 2.        When we moved on to proportions and we were asked to divide x among a specified number of people, we would take x and divide it among that specified number of people and get our answer. Hope I’m not moving too fast for you. 3.        Lastly, when we were told to make equal 75 and 25, knowing the value of x is 100, we knew that we had to take 25 from the 75 and give it to the 25 so that both become 50. It is this last model that we based our understand...

As a people, we have got to find a way to disagree with one another that does not result in one side being demonised or the drawing of fistacuffs. This post is inspired by the recent resignation of the leader of the Liberal Democrats political party in Britain over comments he made regarding homosexuality and how it intersects with his faith (side stepping this issue here). See, I believe that we live in a society wherein disagreement, or anything negative has been banned by practice: we refuse to see the merit in anger, or anxiety or disagreement. If we never see the merit in these things how can we hope to understand them and use them for their intended purpose. If Disney's Inside Out can get this right, then why can't we? Case in point: anger, frustration and sadness inspires people to fight for change, anxiety can keep you safe and, at it's baser level, acts as a warning signal (not downplaying how serious the mental health issue is but rather drawing upon my own...

I recently got a wig, and boy am I flossing . I am strutting around town like I declined an OBE. Right now, I feel like the world is my cat walk and honey, I ain't about to sashay away anytime soon. But when I take it off and I'm left with my cornrows, I feel less beautiful. Somehow, less fierce. Never mind that I can't pull of cornrows. But mind that I my self-esteem goes through the roof whenever I have extensions on - essentially whenever my hair is not in it's quintessential afro. And boy does this realisation hit you like a ton of bricks.  How deeply internalised 'Black is not beautiful' is. How when I need to go to interviews, I can spend an hour on my hair ensuring its presentability. Willing the curls to be looser, or that they once, stop defying gravity with their propensity to stick up and out of place. Wishing that I had taken the effort to actually do my hair. Praying that no-one will notice. Taking the time to beat my face to perfection to som...