So, I’ve been back in Melbourne for 4 months, and no one has tried to touch my hair.
Continue reading “we move”
I have returned.
I feel like that’s just my catch phrase at this point. I always feel like I am returning somewhere, from somewhere else. I returned to London. I returned to Chicago. I returned to France. I even returned to Italy. And now I have returned to Melbourne, all shiny and new.
Continue reading “Diary of a Black Girl in Melbourne – Part 1”
I have been an extremely neglectful blog owner, I know.
Now that we’ve gotten that out of the way, let’s continue. I’m going back to Melbourne, officially. I’ve already experienced the excitement of it offline, of getting my visa finally, of booking my flights, of booking my air bnb and telling everyone I should tell, that I’m off, for good this time. I’ll be back to London, of course, because I’m always back.
Continue reading “Title pending”
I hadn’t grown my horn yet. The thing that would keep the wrong men away, the ones who fetishised and confused me for other-worldly creatures I didn’t know.
“I’ve never been with a Black Woman before.”
I am in fact, a black woman, but not the one this white Australian man was referring to when he invaded my online dating inbox. He meant a caricature, with a large backside, full lips, something tribal and aggressive about the way I dominated as the sexual huntress he imagined me to be.
Read the full story over at Black Ballad
I wonder about it.
What I heard when you spoke to me that first time. We let our tongues loose on topics like travel and gender inequality in the workplace. You expressed scepticism over whether the latter really still exists, and I went to work trying to convince you with facts. I didn’t remember for long moments that you were a straight white male, that you had little knowledge or need for empathy towards those that didn’t look like you. The ones that carried more than your three monikers.
Continue reading “white boy”
Birthdays tend to kick up dirt, don’t they? At least they do for me. I end up tripping over anxieties I thought I had successfully buried in the previous 364 days of the year, but that one day has the power to undo all my hard work.
Continue reading “33 Things”
My latest piece “Calling” is in the Storm Cellar Quarterly issue below – here’s an excerpt…
“I’ll see you in two years: that way agent orange won’t get any of my money.”
She chuckles over the phone, understanding and not really getting it. I shouldn’t have said anything. Illinois doesn’t crackle over the phone anymore, between there and London, where I am…
You can buy the full issue here – https://wp.me/p1tViT-KB
The ball of his feet. Synthetic material. One toe poking out of the sheet, the other foot pressing lightly against my calf. Things feels strange all the time now. I try not to stir him. The lawyer will call in an hour but we’ll both ignore our phones. We’re having an ‘us’ day. Our last day, together. I wonder if sleeping is a waste of time. He snores softly beside me and I suppose not.
Continue reading “Bounce”
A lot of things have changed. It’s a new year but I haven’t done my usual round-up of the previous year in a blog post; instead I captured it in snapshot form here. I guess on the whole, I am feeling ‘a way’ about a lot of things.
Continue reading “A way”