As I began to watch more zombie movies, one thing became abundantly clear to me. I actually do not like zombie movies. They freak me out and I couldn’t exactly place why, until I did some research.

From the first ever feature length zombie film, White Zombie (1932) directed by Victor Halperin, to Nia DaCosta’s 28 Years Later (2025), zombies have gone through several transformations reflecting societal fears and anxieties. However, this evolution has erased their historical and cultural origin which stems from Haitian Vodou.

When I watched Sugar Hill, I was absolutely transfixed and had never seen anything like it. I also saw how the blaxploitation subgenre had influenced recent films like Ryan Coogler’s Sinners (2025).

Who doesn’t love a Black revenge story? Albeit, Sugar Hill was filled with stereotypes.

Sugar Hill is about a woman, Diana ‘Sugar’ Hill, whose fiancée is beaten to death by a rival mob boss. In her grief, she goes to a voodoo priestess ‘Mama Maitresse’ (quite literally translates to mother mistress), to help her conjure up a spirit ‘Baron Samedi’ who agrees to help her and raises an army of zombies to exact her revenge.

What’s interesting is Baron Samedi does originate from Haitian Vodou, he is a powerful spirit (also known as Lwa, which are the primary divine spirits in Haitian Vodou and African diasporic spiritualities) and head of the Gede family of spirits. Baron Samedi is the spirit associated with death and the passage of the dead.

Baron Samedi and Sugar carried their roles, I was rooting for their rights and wrongs. From hearing ‘Supernatural Voodoo woman’ in the opening scene to Sugar’s takedown of the racist mob wife (who said the N word more than any character in the film), I was sat.

The blaxploitation subgenre is complex because it’s neither good nor totally bad. It first emerged in the U.S. in the late 1960s ending in the mid 1970s, during a wave of independent filmmaking and changing viewer demographics.

It also coincided with the civil rights and Black Power movements, the films were aimed at young, African-American men and it was the first real American cinema that was made for, about, and by Black people.

The common enemy of these films were “White America” and with decades of racial discrimination, police brutality, poverty, and limited opportunities, these movies were a big middle finger to the ‘establishment’.

However, the subgenre was also controversial because it showed exaggerated stereotypes of ‘Blackness’ and a lot of the protagonists were anti-heroes portrayed as drug-dealers, pimps, ‘bad cops’, and gangsters. Blaxploitation films also weren’t confined to one genre, these films ranged from horror to action to comedy, etc.

Critics of the subgenre were notably the NAACP (National Association for the Advancement of Colored People) and the Southern Christian Leadership Conference, who actually formed the ‘Coalition against Blaxploitation’ in 1972, organised by Junius Griffin.

Griffin was also the one who coined the term ‘Blaxploitation’, he merged ‘Black’ and ‘Exploitation’ to denounce the film industry’s interest in targeting Black filmgoing audiences and claimed it was psychologically damaging to Black Americans. Even though these films were commercially successful, they raised a lot of questions around the quality of Black representation in film.

Something that is still an issue today (don’t even get me started).

Watching Sugar Hill did feel like a big f- you to ‘the man’, also, because the antagonists were deeply racist.

When the audience is first introduced to the zombies in Sugar Hill, it’s completely unsettling. My first thought when they appeared on screen was, why do they look like slaves?

They had chains around their wrists and were wearing rags. We later find out in the film that they are in fact slaves that were resurrected from a mass gravesite.

Prior to watching Sugar Hill, I had no knowledge of where the mythology of the zombie came from. Like everyone else, I just thought zombie movies were about pandemics that got out of control. So, when I saw this I decided to do a little investigating.

The myth of the zombie first appeared in Haiti in the 17th and 18th centuries, when Haiti was known as ‘Saint-Domingue’ and ruled by France. At the time, France was kidnapping African slaves to work on their sugar plantations.The sugar industry that was run by French planters in Saint-Domingue and was the most lucrative slave operation in the world.

Under French rule, slavery in Haiti was extremely brutal and half of the slaves taken from Africa were worked to death within a few years. The original zombie wasn’t an angry flesh-eating monster, it was a projection of the African slaves’ cruel subjugation between 1625 to around 1800.

Zombies were a mirror of the slave, owned and controlled by their masters.

Haitian slaves had this belief that when they died, they could go back to ‘lan guinée”, which in Haitian Vodou is the spiritual afterlife or ancestral homeland where their souls could finally find eternal freedom. Thousands of slaves died from starvation and labour, but a lot chose to commit suicide as an act of defiance.

The suicide rate among Haitian slaves was very high, it was inhumane to be a slave and what would be worse was to die and discover that instead of going to lan guinée, you continued to be enslaved as a dead person. This is the fear that created the myth of the zombie.

The Zombies’​​ by Hector Hyppolite - Museum of Haitian Art of St. Peter College in Port-au-Prince.

The zombie is a dead person who cannot get across to lan guinée, it was a slave’s worst nightmare to be dead and have to continue to work on the plantation for eternity. Slave drivers in cahoots with Vodou priests would also use this fear of ‘zombification’ to threaten any slaves from escaping or committing suicide.

In Haitian Vodou, the belief is that Baron Samedi is the spirit that transports you to lan guinée. One of his spiritual functions is to dig a person’s grave and welcome them to the other side. If a person offended Baron, he wouldn’t allow them to reach la guinée and they would become a zombie, forced to do a mortal’s bidding for eternity.

In Sugar Hill, Sugar and Mama Maitresse summon Baron Samedi to raise the army of zombies. He ultimately controls them and answers to Sugar based on their agreement of revenge. Aside from the fact that a spirit wouldn’t bend to the will of a human being, unless they “made a deal”, the film is the most historically accurate representation of the origin of the zombie (that I have watched for the sake of this essay. I can’t promise that I’ve watched all zombie movies and I definitely won’t be doing so).

Over time, American pop culture white washed the origins of the zombie and reclaimed it as an escapist fantasy echoing modern fears of war, greed, pestilence, and extractivism.

For further research I watched Danny Boyle’s 28 Days Later (2002) and the only nod to the historical origin of the zombie was a chained up Black zombie, that the white soldiers were keeping to experiment and find a possible cure of ‘zombieism’ from.

I found so many things in this film problematic and it just enforced why I don’t like zombie movies. Now knowing its history, I have no interest in what the genre has become.

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Though what I found interesting in 28 Days Later, was that zombies were transformed into an existentialist threat that fit the times.

In November 2001, following 9/11, Britain joined the U.S and other allies in its invasion of Afghanistan. Then in March 2003, Britain invaded Iraq. That same year just a month before in February, between one and two million people marched in London against the Iraq War, the ‘Stop the War’ march, was the largest political demonstration in UK history. 28 Days Later was released in 2002.

The opening scene is literally a chimpanzee strapped to a bed and made to watch images and videos of war to induce its ‘rage’ in an experiment. Some animal activists try to free the chimpanzees who’ve been infected with the ‘rage’ but they’re attacked and the ‘rage’ spreads through blood contamination, subsequently causing a zombie apocalypse.

This film shows how escapist fantasy can be a balm in a tumultuous war-torn world that people don’t really understand anymore.

I couldn’t have written this article without watching the first ever feature length film about zombies, White Zombie (1932). This film was absurd. The antagonist, Murder Legendre is the ‘zombie master of Haiti’. Charles Beaumont seeks his help after he’s been spurned in marriage by Madeline Short. Beaumont asks Legendre to kill Madeline and then bring her back as a zombie so he can be with her forever. Legendre double crosses him and takes Madeline for himself.

There were obvious references to the origin of the zombie, Legendre keeps a hoard of white zombies to work on his plantation at night and he makes a lot of money. The film also references Vodou but reduces it to ‘black magic’ and the biggest farce is that the “Voodoo priest” is a white man. Sure, this was 1932, but still.

Here, what’s interesting is that the zombie still represents a slave but in this film the object of ‘zombiefication’ was a woman. Madeline gets turned into a zombie to be a bride, she has no opinions, doesn’t speak, is soulless. Her involuntary servitude isn’t on the fields, it is in the bedroom.

It is definitely a choice as a filmmaker to create this story, by aligning this woman with zombie slaves, it is essentially telling an audience that the only people who will ever be free individually, socially, politically, and economically, are men racialised as white. Which again, in 1932, not a reach (even today…).

Currently, Haiti is experiencing a terrible humanitarian crisis. Millions of people have been displaced due to gang violence, gender based and sexual violence, food insecurity, and natural disasters. Although they fought for and gained their independence in 1804, the U.S worked to isolate a newly independent Haiti and had control over the country’s public finances until 1947.

Around 40% of Haiti’s national income went to the U.S and France for debt repayments. An independent nation was forced to pay their former slaveholders reparations for over a century, for the privilege of being free.

Free Haiti.

The myth of the zombie has such deeper historical connotations than how it is portrayed and represented today. It’s essential to not erase its historical origin.

You wonder how much more dystopian our world can get, then you realise that there is actually no limit.

Anyway, I found the NYT article ‘boomer coded’ because it is normal in my Gen Z life to have my friends’ locations on find my iPhone. I have no issue with it and I wonder if it’s because I grew up on the internet and social media.

Yes, I can see how keeping track of your friends or significant other’s locations can be controlling in specific contexts. However, when I’m in Hackney picking up a lampshade from a Facebook marketplace stranger, I like the safety that comes from the people I trust knowing where I am. Especially because that dude was a weirdo.

Often for a lot of people, sharing your location isn’t a matter of privacy, but a matter of safety. It comes in handy, especially if you lose your friends at an event, or if someone is on a first date.

There was a point that the article hadn’t mentioned, we consent to sharing our locations. It’s not involuntary, there is (and should be) a choice in the matter. Lately, the lines of consent have become blurred on digital landscapes, and we have AI to blame.

Social media introduced the culture of digital voyeurism, AI developed that into surveillance.

Meta smart glasses have been making headlines for the past several years, why? Because creeps on the internet have been secretly filming, then blackmailing women for the footage.

At the beginning of this year, an investigation found hundreds of videos made by “manfluencers” covertly filming women in gyms, beaches, and on public transport. These videos have up to several million views online. The women had no idea they were being filmed or posted on the internet. It is a complete violation of their consent and autonomy. What’s worse is filming people without their consent has become a global trend and Meta’s smart glasses are estimated to make up more than 80% of all AI or smart glasses sales. Anything for a profit, right?

Smart glasses are not only an abhorrent breach of privacy as well as a danger to minorities, but the work that goes into moderating the content filmed by them is traumatising and exploitative.

Earlier this year, a Swedish newspaper published an investigation into the hidden workforce behind the AI training data for Meta. Workers at Sama, a subcontractor of Meta based in Kenya, told the Swedish reporters that they had been tasked with watching videos that included graphic content like sex and bathroom usage.

Smart glasses owners filed two lawsuits, claiming that they had no idea the videos were made and that they also did not know that their videos were being shared by the company for review. Meta responded to these claims that they had previously made users aware that there would be a possibility of human review in its terms of service.

Less than two months later, Meta ended its contract with Sama and 1,108 workers lost their jobs. A Kenyan workers’ organisation alleges that this was because the staff at Sama spoke out. This is also not the first time a whistleblower at Sama has outed an exploitative AI tech company.

In 2023, TIME published an exclusive, documenting OpenAI’s exploitation of Kenyan workers at Sama. Chat GPT data workers turned whistleblowers exposed how OpenAI outsourced their labour to the Global South, paying workers $1.32 - $2 an hour to comb through and label graphic, violent, and sexually explicit content, which gave them PTSD.

There is also something to be said here about the extractive, neocolonial practice of outsourcing exploitative labour to the Global South and reaping the profits. Today, seven million and counting, pairs of Meta smart glasses have been sold.

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Not only is moderating this data traumatising, but these smart glasses pose a serious safety risk to minorities. Over 70 organisations, including Fight for the Future, have said that the AI smart glasses facial recognition feature would endanger abuse victims, children, immigrants, and LGBTQ+ people. That doesn’t even touch upon what this means in relation to the hyper surveillance of Black and Brown people.

Misogyny permeates the culture of digital voyeurism, because it is most often women who are having their photos and videos used without their consent online.

At the end of last year, X (the evil cesspool that was twitter) made headlines because its AI tool ‘Grok’ was being used to modify images and videos of women and children, into sexually explicit content. I even made a TikTok about this image based abuse.

AI is at the forefront of digitised sexual and gender-based violence. This is because, taking away the consent of the subject in the image or video, completely violates their bodily autonomy. What’s even worse is when that content is posted online where people can use it whichever way they want. This in turn feeds the “non-consensual pornography market.”

In her article On Photography (1977) Susan Sontag writes, “like every mass art form, photography is not practiced by most people as an art. It is mainly a social rite, a defense against anxiety, and a tool of power.” Here, I focus on the tool of power. Taking pictures of people without their consent is a form of subjugation, the act of taking the photo transmutes into ownership of the subject, in this case the woman.

Sontag also touches upon the origins of photography in surveillance:

“Photographs furnish evidence. Something we hear about, but doubt, seems proven when we’re shown a photograph of it. In one version of its utility, the camera record incriminates. Starting with their use by the Paris police in the murderous roundup of Communards in June 1871, photographs became a useful tool of modern states in the surveillance and control of their increasingly mobile populations.”

The use of video surveillance isn’t new, what’s new is how AI is being used to evolve facial recognition tools. This past week, Kylie Jenner dropped her collaboration with Meta, an obvious attempt by the company to market more towards women by making Meta glasses “stylish”.

In general, there is a relative gender gap within AI use. Women are less likely to adopt AI technologies than men. In the study ‘Global Evidence on Gender Gaps and Generative AI Over Time’, they collected 318,924 responses from over 100 countries reporting that there is a 16% gap of AI adoption rate between men and women. Men reported 47.8% versus women at 39.3% overall, though the gap is reducing.

I think why we need to pay more attention to Kylie Jenner dropping Meta glasses is because it is normalising mass surveillance and making it “stylish” (aesthetically consumable and another marker of late stage capitalism). Then on the other side of the internet we have Alexa Chung posting a fit check from her front door security camera. Yes girls, let’s romanticise surveillance culture!

Creepy men are one thing, but this obvious push by Meta to a new demographic is alarming. But what does this mean through an intersectional lens?

The policing and hyper surveillance of Black and Brown bodies, communities, and homes by government entities is a tool of control and not something new. However, when retailers get involved and this technology becomes accessible to everyone, this creates a new precedent.

Social media already normalised digital voyeurism, but now it’s so much worse. You won’t actually know if you’re being filmed or not because of how easy the camera in these glasses can be hidden. Normalising Meta smart glasses that incorporate AI to store data about people, will put us all in a state of hyper vigilance. Something that Black and Brown people already experience in Western, racialised societies.

So if you genuinely buy and use these mass surveillance glasses out in public, just know, you’re a total narc.

Reading List:

• 1984 - George Orwell

• Race After Technology: Abolitionist Tools for the New Jim Code - Ruha Benjamin

Some of these moral stances were over drinking, smoking, and prostitution. His work also preaches against “demonic” temptations such as witchcraft and paganism.

One work particularly alarmed me but also gave me the biggest brainwave. We’ve been seeing a lot of reclamation of our ancestral spiritual and traditional practices across the African diaspora in popular media.

But, what I found interesting with this exhibit was that it was the complete opposite. Pro Christianity and in this particular case anti Mami Wata. Seeing this painting as I’m working on a short film that incorporates magical realism influenced by the mythologies of Mami Wata, in order to raise awareness about Black maternal health in the UK, a think piece immediately began to form in my head.

“Mami Wata. Never go to Mami Water for help, she will kill you or let you go mad, rather go to God, go to Jesus Christ.”

Mami Wata is not the “evil” siren that she is portrayed to be, she is dual-natured. Embodying the qualities of water itself, both healing and destructive. The mother of waters, she represents a family of water spirits. Often portrayed as a mermaid, with a large snake draped over her shoulders. She is also known to carry a hand held mirror.

Mami Wata is the protector of mothers and children, abused women, and the “bringer of fertility”. She interacts with humans through dreams, her tales often reflect societal values and fears, highlighting themes of madness, desire, morality, and the complexities of human relationships with the divine.

Mami Wata is also known as Lasirèn, Yemanja, Santa Marta la Dominadora, and Oxum. These manifestations are found in different spiritual systems that have spread across the African diaspora such as Santería from Cuba, Candomblé from Brazil, Trinidad Orisha from Trinidad and Tobago, and Vodou from Haiti; all of which have roots in Ifà due to the transatlantic slave trade. The Ifà faith originates from the Yoruba people in Nigeria and is thousands of years old.

Traditional African spiritualities have been revisualised and revitalised across communities in the Americas, much like water whose currents flow through myths, metaphors, and rituals. There has also been a modern resurgence in the West, particularly in popular media, of these spiritual systems.

As members of the diaspora, cultural heritage is something that can be harder to grasp through the progression of different generations of African communities living (in this case) in the UK.

As someone who has gone through this reclamation of ancestry to ground myself more in my identity, I find it really interesting and incredible that it’s a growing phenomena. This feeling of displacement from the ‘ancestral home’ and the question of ‘belonging’ is, in my opinion, more present in conversations about Black identity today.

This is because a reclamation of our ancestral history is a way in which we can reconstruct our identities beyond the restrictions of white supremacy in Western societies. The reclamation grows in tandem with social justice movements and efforts to “decolonise” our world views.

Though “decolonisation” seems to have almost lost its meaning in more recent years, but that’s a think piece for another day.

Of course, as a filmmaker and avid media consumer, seeing our ancestral traditions being honoured and explored in film is my Roman Empire.

The resurgence of Daughters of the Dust 1991 on social media ‘films to watch’ posts, isn’t a coincidence. I feel that as a society, we’re looking for more with the media we’re consuming. More authenticity, more nuance, more life, and more ancestral histories. I’m so glad this film is getting even more flowers, I absolutely adore it. It is the ultimate inspo for my current work.

Directed by Julie Dash, Daughters of the Dust was the first feature film by an African American woman to have a theatrical release. At its release, the film was groundbreaking as it portrayed a part of African American culture that was unrecognised, the Gullah-Gechee community. The Gullah Gechee people are descendants of formerly enslaved west Africans who lived in the coastal areas of South Carolina, Georgia, and Florida. They have their own distinct language and traditions.

The main conflict in the film is that the younger generation of the Peazant family is gearing up to leave the South and go up north to the mainland, leaving behind the matriarch Nana Peazant for a more “civilised” life. Nana is the anchor of their ancestral spiritual traditions, she fiercely tries to keep them alive within her lineage, justly pained at them disappearing per generation.

The loss of connection to ancestral traditions, especially spirituality, is tightly linked to the fractures within Black diasporic identity in Western, racialised societies. This is purposeful rupturing and has its roots in colonialism and chattel slavery.

During colonisation, European powers brought and used Christianity as a tool of cultural erasure and to legitimise imperial control. Missionary work aimed to, “transform indigenous communities into imperial archetypes of civility and modernity by remodelling the individual, the community, and the state through western, Christian philosophies.” Missionaries truly believed that they were curing Africans of their “primitiveness”, assimilating them into their “civilised” ways of life while the continent was being plundered.

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Erasing, banning, and demonising indigenous spiritual practices, languages, and cultural traditions, was a form of violence. Suppressing people’s connection to each other and their ancestry, split identities and eradicated the connection to the land, the land that was being stolen by Europeans.

Even drumming was banned. During colonialism, European powers and plantation enslavers prohibited traditional African drumming because they were so scared that enslaved and colonised communities would use the drumming as a form of communication to secretly organise rebellion.

In Hirsch’s new book, Decolonising My Body, she uses a quote from Zimbabwean author Tsitsi Dangarembga’s essay: “How Writing Against Empire Helps Heal Its Enduring Wounds”. The quote stuck out to me because it was exactly what I’m trying to explain here.

Tsitsi writes (in relation to the Southern African region but it applies all the same), “The wounds of empire… are peculiar because they came clothed as presents. Melanated people…were offered the gift of modesty through clothing, the gift of knowledge through education, the gift of salvation through religion…Each of these gifts took away something: local ideas of modesty and propriety, local knowledge systems, metaphysical and legal systems, and language. The gifts of the north-western empire to Africa were some of the most violent ones the world has known.”

With cultures that have such a strong connection to the land, spirituality, and to each other, separating and breaking all of these things is extinguishing a light. You can also see how damaging religion has been in the sense that now ancestral spiritual practices are seen as “devil worship”. Black communities were made to be afraid of their own indigenous practices and now look, you’re on instagram listening to pastors on podcasts talking about how their wives help them get ready for their dates.

Why I reclaimed my spirituality is because it helped me better understand how the racialised conditions of living in countries like the USA and the UK, broke down my sense of self. You are angry, traumatised, and the systems built in Western countries are not made for us. Without my spiritual practice and educating myself on African diasporic history, I wouldn’t have any foundations for my activism.

I once interviewed Dr. Robert Beckford, for a short documentary I made. He is a Black academic, theologian, scholar-activist, documentary maker, author and racial justice campaigner. He is brilliant and he told me something that I still think about almost every day. He said, “spiritual practice is where black bodies are allowed to be free, a way in which we normalise who we are, and that’s vitally important.”

Every word rang true. Normalising our ancestry, our cultures, is freedom. Being in community with people who think and believe like you do, makes you feel human. What’s interesting is that this also applies to Christianity. I think that at the core, this feeling is faith.

Faith, in whatever form that looks like, whatever you believe in, is hope.

It doesn’t surprise me that Gen Z’s are going back to religion or spirituality. We exist in a late stage capitalist society where we’re seeing 32 degrees in May, everyone is on ozempic, there are multiple wars and genocides occurring, tech billionaire losers are involved in politics, Trump, taxes are insanely high, no one can afford to live, and we’re all watching the world collapse from a metal box the size of our hands whose materials were mined by children in the Democratic Republic of Congo.

With all of this bullsh*t going on, people feel the need to believe in something bigger, something higher above the human plane that has the answers we don’t. Not to sound too “woo-woo”, but I think it’s actually believing in the Earth. Everything is interconnected, the trees, the bees, the flowers, ourselves. Destroying it, is rupturing our cycles of life.

However, these conditions and just having blind faith are also the perfect environments for grifters to thrive. Scammers are everywhere, especially in spiritual and religious spaces. There are always positives and negatives, you just need to be self aware and critically assess whether you should be believing that Tarot reader on your TikTok for you page.

Anyway, circling back to my main point. Your ancestral spiritual traditions are not “devil worship”, they are an anchor for your identity. I’m not telling you to get a cowrie shell tattoo and greet everyone with a “grand rising”, I’m just offering a perspective that helped me holistically self-repair as a Black woman living in the UK.

And one last thing, go thank your ancestors, they are rooting for you!

This perhaps, is the first gift I give to myself at 26.

Knowing that the life that I’ve slowly been building over the past year and a half has come to mean so much and I am home.

I turned to my friend this morning and asked her, “do you think our ten year old selves would believe that these are the lives we’re living now?”

We agreed on the fact that we’d be in each other’s lives somehow, but London? Living together? Not in our wildest imaginations! Look at the girls go go go!

This now brings me to what inspired this article, the gifts that I’m giving my 26 year old self and maybe something for someone to relate to if you decide to read this.

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CREATIVE CURIOSITY & RE-DRAFTING

For the past 11 weeks I’ve been on the Artist’s Way journey and I can truly attest to how transformative it has been. I went through the weeks thinking that “nothing was happening”, but now that I’m reaching the end of my journey, I’m filled with gratitude at how much my life trajectory and artist’s practice has changed.

I am definitely not the person I was when I picked this book up.

I’ve always thought of having a purpose as something that comes later in life, something you don’t necessarily notice until you’re actively doing it. I’ve learned that for some people it’s so clear and for others (like myself) it feels a bit more obscure.

But, this actually showed me that I have a tendency to view some aspects of my life passively. As though I’m watching life happen to me and I’m not the one making the decisions.

Sure, I love to take action, it’s something that comes very naturally to me. Starting something new, changing my surroundings after a few months is easy.

What isn’t easy is staying put and actually building on something intentionally, because it means something and I’m actively making decisions and choices that propel me to the life I see for myself.

To dream it, is to believe it, is to then live it.

And part of this process is the slow building. Nothing just happens immediately, this perhaps is the hardest lesson. What do you mean I don’t get immediate results? Because of this thinking I didn’t realise how beautiful it actually is to just build on something. Ameliorate it, change it, strike through with red ink and start all over again in blue.

It’s not about the end result, it’s really about the journey. This is the gift of creative curiosity.

This is what I was thinking about, sitting in a restaurant in Paris, realising that I’m just one stranger in another big city with millions of people. Anonymous and unimportant but all the same here, alive, and human. I think that is beautiful.

I went to Paris for a solo trip to get my groove back. My groove means my “joie de vivre”. To unravel the block that materialised after I finished the first draft of my script.

I came to find out that this block (yes this probably sounds incredibly naive but bear with me), is actually the fear of failure. It’s the fear of looking back at a page you wrote and realising that it’s shit and you’re actually a talentless writer

and all the doubts that snake voice has been whispering in your ears are true

and you’ll never make a film

and you’re going to fail

and everyone will laugh at you

and you’re stupid

and you’re going to FAIL !

I have a really hard time re-editing once I’m satisfied with something because my ego gets loud and decides that if I go back to the page, I’ll see mistakes galore. But it’s not mistakes really, it’s the opportunity to make something better and let’s face it the first draft is never the best.

A writer I keep going back to, to better understand this gift and lesson is Toni Morrison. The more I read her work and watch her interviews, the more grounded I feel in understanding my artistic process.

“As a writer, failure is just information. It’s something that I’ve done wrong in writing, or is inaccurate or unclear. I recognise failure– which is important’ some people don’t– and fix it, because it is data, it is information, knowledge of what does not work. That’s rewriting and editing.”

– Toni Morrison, 2014, interview with NEA Arts Magazine.

In essence, failing is just another way to help you understand how to tell a story. I thought about this for a while when I was enjoying a dish of black pasta in a lemon sauce. Though the pasta was slightly undercooked, the wine and the generously grated parmesan on top made up for it.

When I ate this, it made me think of this other lemon butter pasta I had in Lisbon, while visiting a friend. The flavours all blended together and it was the first time I ever had a lemon flavoured sauce. It was creamy and tangy, it coated the linguine that was paired with it, perfectly.

It was so good that I’ve been chasing that flavour since December 2024. When I had this lemon pasta in Paris, that wasn’t just quite right, a sudden epiphany hit me. I’ve been looking for a dish that is the exact same as the one I had in some restaurant on a side street I’ll probably never visit again (who knows), actually expecting to find it. I hadn’t realised that actually I can just enjoy it as its own separate dish and other lemon pasta sauces as their own unique creation.

Each version of the lemon sauce has its own identity and those identities or let’s say, versions of the sauce, aren’t a mistake. Yes, it’s not the same chef ameliorating their sauce with new versions, but it’s the idea that perfection doesn’t really exist. Pieces of work all have their own unique, beautiful flavour to them. So re-drafting and rewriting does not signify failure.

This is how powerful pasta is for me.

I had thought about giving up on the Artist’s Way around week 9, but that’s a creative U-turn. I don’t just want to tell this story, I need to. No matter how it’s received, it’s how I see the world and what interests me. I don’t really have to explain that to anyone. It’s about the playfulness in letting my artist just create.

And there’s nothing wrong with creating “bad” art. Assuming every work has to be a masterpiece is stifling.

**Although, for real, bad and tasteless art does exist**

LETTING MYSELF GET WEIRD AS HELL

Which brings me to my next gift, letting myself get weird as hell. Essentially, bringing out my inner teen more within the way I live my life and create.

Teenager Val was cool, she was interesting, quiet, rebellious, so repressed and so weird. I love her.

No one really talks about the healing that comes after you’ve done the work with your inner child. It is then the often uncomfortable experience of excavating and showing love to your stubborn teenage self.

The version of yourself that had more language for the pain you were experiencing but was still so young and confused, just trying to figure everything out.

One thing that the Artist’s Way revealed to me was that I really missed that version of myself and how deeply connected she is to how I express myself creatively. I mean, I used to write for hours and hours. Yes, as a means of escape, but also because writing was a way for me to express all the words I couldn’t then.

This gift, the gift of weirdness, is essentially the freedom to create without judgement. To tap into the interests and parts of myself that I don’t show to the world. When I decided to embody the weird, I felt a wave of possibility for what I can actually create. Ideas that I wouldn’t have dared to express before but now…f*ck it (a very good philosophy to live by).

This is the same advice I gave to my friend the other day. It’s so much easier to give advice than to take it, but this time I was giving it from a place of actually living it. Caring what other people think of you, what you create, or fixating on what you should be doing kills the idea before it has even fully taken shape.

You have to nurture the idea like a precious seed. Plant it into the rich earth, water it, wait, and then watch it bloom. Much like most things in life.

This is what I gift my 26 year old self, I can’t wait to see what this year brings.

What has been your favourite part of the changing season?

Being a journalist and an incredibly curious human being I thought, well, since I’m here why not do some field research for this essay that I’ve been “working” (ruminating and procrastinating while interrogating everyone in my life about) on.

The new year is here, which usually puts me in an introspective mood. That and winter is cruel. The slowing of the season pushes us to rest and reflect, something that I’m not always great at, however necessary. During this time of introspection, I’ve been thinking about my friendships, past and present relationships, my career, my creative goals, and what authenticity I’d like to bring into my life.

One major change in my life last year was the end of a long term relationship, something that in hindsight should’ve been a choice I made earlier, but we can only work with the tools we have at the time. I write this to say that leaving this relationship made something abundantly clear to me which is how easy it is for women in relationships with men to be burdened with the emotional weight of their partner. Of course, not all relationships are structured this way, but so many are.

This phenomenon is called ‘Mankeeping’. And while I sat on the bus and listened to this couple’s argument I realised I was listening to another keeper.

The woman, let’s call her Sarah, was trying to express to her boyfriend/fiancé/husband (I can’t say for sure, I thought it rude to ask-yes even ruder than my eavesdropping on their private conversation for research purposes), let’s call him Troy, how she’s not able to maintain the routines that make her life easier when he’s around.

Sarah was explaining that she slept better this week since Troy was away on some boating trip because she had more time in the morning to prepare for work, make breakfast, and have a consistent routine that didn’t cater to only his lifestyle.

I sat there nodding and thinking, yeah you have a point girl! However, Troy didn’t think so. Troy started getting very upset because to him it sounded like she was claiming his presence in her life was an inconvenience to her and that wasn’t necessarily true. He then started guilting her for having multiple alarms in the morning that disrupted his sleep and routines. By the way, Sarah works in an office, Troy works from home.

So, there goes Troy guilting Sarah for expressing her feelings after not understanding them or even trying to. I understood what she said, she was communicating very clearly, so I wondered what the hell was he hearing? At this point all I could do was roll my eyes.

This is not to say that I know everything about their relationship, or any other relationship for that matter. However, this exact instance is what I keep witnessing arise in romantic relationships between men and women. It wasn’t really about the alarms or the breakfast, it was about her shaping her lifestyle to convenience and cater to him.

In the end, she folded and I rose indignantly from my seat, glad that my stop was before theirs. I went home to tell my friend exactly what I’d heard and ask her whether she had experienced the same. Surprise surprise, she had too. What I found is this is not a singular experience, there are even TikTok’s made about this in relation to the different experience of living with a man versus alone.

“Mankeeping” is not actually a new phenomena, it has been the subject of a research paper that went viral last year, Theorizing Mankeeping: The Male Friendship Recession and Women’s Associated Labor as a Structural Component of Gender Inequality (2024), written by Angelica Puzio Ferrera. Ferrera argues that the decline of men’s social networks has resulted in an increasing and unequal dependency on close bonds with women.

She defines mankeeping as “the labour that women take on to shore up losses in men’s social networks and reduce the burden of men’s isolation on families, the heterosexual bond, and on men.” Essentially, mankeeping is part of the invisible labour that women are socialised and often forced to take on within their romantic relationships. It’s similar and an extension of “Kinkeeping” that Carolyn Rosenthal theorised. Rosenthal wrote about the invisible labour that women carry to maintain, strengthen, and nurture familial structures.

Why this is relevant now is that we’re tired. Women are TIREDT!

Within heterosexual relationships, women become their partner’s unofficial therapists, doing all the emotional labour. They’re expected to become the central piece of a man’s social support system. (And yes I know, this is not the experience of every couple). Within the context of mankeeping, women take on the social and emotional needs of the men in their lives from daily challenges to inner anxieties, to encouraging them to meet up with their friends.

Women often have wider social networks of support than men do, girl time is sacred. It’s sacred because there is a fundamental level of safety, intentionality, and relatedness that our female friendships gift us. We are afforded the space in our friendships to be vulnerable and express our internal turmoil in terms of career, relationships, friends, family, stress, etc.

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The issue here is that men go to their partners with most of these problems. This is not to say that men shouldn’t be vulnerable with their partners and share their problems, it’s to say that they need to invest emotionally in their friendships as they do with their partners. Men need social connection and to be vulnerable with other men, just as much as women do. One single person cannot meet every emotional need that their partner has. Trust me.

This is also one of the reasons why women in 2026 are giving up dating and choosing to remain single. We’ve all read Chanté Joseph’s Vogue article, ‘Is Having A Boyfriend Embarrassing Now’ and let’s face it, it is. The response of all these women relating and supporting it meant that this is something that resonates with all of us. It’s not really about love, that’s not the embarrassing part because women in relationships with men agree with this. I, a bisexual woman dating a man, agree with this.

What is actually embarrassing is the obsession of having a boyfriend as a status symbol in a world that is opening its eyes to the continuous blatant misogyny that women face everyday under the patriarchy and especially within heterosexual relationships. Hence why “having a boyfriend feels Republican”.

Yes in the world of rising “Tradwives”, there is another side of the internet that is conscious of how men need to step up if they want to date women. Women are emotionally intelligent and going to therapy, self actualising, making money, investing in themselves and their friendships, so what can a man who doesn’t do any of these things bring to the table? Moreover, with the rise of “red pill” ideology, incel culture, and violence against women and girls online and offline, it’s increasingly clear that women are taking an actual risk with dating men in 2026.

Which brings us to the so-called “male loneliness epidemic”.

Is there a male loneliness epidemic? …meh. Is this ‘epidemic’ the responsibility of women? Nope! I wouldn’t even go so far as to say it’s an epidemic, the real issue is that men’s social networks are shrinking and that is by no means the fault of women choosing not to date them or have men in their lives. I’d actually call this trend a friendship recession.

On one hand I’d say a huge contributing factor to this is social media and the isolation, anger, indoctrination, and individualism that it brings. On the other hand, I think that the age old “I don’t share my emotions with my friends, that’s gay” is tired and homophobic. The fear of vulnerability ingrained in men in society is doing all of them a huge disservice. Human beings need connection, we need to feel part of a community to thrive.

Insisting that you can’t share your emotional struggles with your male friends or not nurturing that space within your friendships, has somehow become everyone else’s problem but theirs. Men not being able to be emotionally vulnerable is part of the cultural conditioning that can’t separate male emotional intimacy from sex. Male loneliness is growing because there’s an assumption that this closeness is indicative of a romantic relationship. It’s not. Do we assume the same for women? Exactly.

Now, we’re aware that men need more intentional friendships…but why is it branded as a problem that women are the answer to? Yes, I’m talking about you Steven Bartlett.

Bartlett hosts his podcast The Diary of a Misogynist- I mean “CEO”, where he brings on different successful guests to talk about various subjects. He recently and rightly came under fire for finally being unveiled as promoting red pill ideology within his podcast. This was something I had noticed before. Just because you speak calmly and with authority on a subject, implying emotional vulnerability, doesn’t mean you’re not being misogynistic.

The particular episode I’m talking about that’s been making its social media rounds was with guest, Dr K. Dr K is known for helping men articulate their feelings, which is not a bad thing men are emotionally neglected under patriarchy. Though men’s loneliness is not the fault of women, Dr K. Neither should women be the victims of male “existential panic, angst, and aggression”. Bartlett then asks if society should “intervene” with men who become incels, questioning whether society should put systems in place to ensure that they get partners.

I think not.

Why don’t we instead ask why men feel entitled to having partners and “procreating”? As Meredith puts it, “when men’s anger or loneliness is treated as something society must urgently respond to, women stop being people with choices and start being resources to redistribute.” There’s a reason why the 4B movement is happening and why women are purposefully choosing to remain single. The answer is a lot of heterosexual relationships are dehumanising for women and result in invisible labour at the expense of our wellbeing. Isn’t it better to stay single and safe, when the other option is anger, aggression, and dismissiveness?

I think men’s lives would be better and less lonely if they didn’t hold themselves to such strict masculine archetypes and developed ways to process their emotions. Maybe try listening to women, being kind, having basic empathy, and valuing us as human beings? I think that would be a solid start.

The conference usually takes place in New York at the United Nations Headquarters. This year was a special one because it marked the thirtieth anniversary of the Beijing Declaration and Platform for Action, Beijing+30, a plan to achieve the equal rights of all women and girls.

The Beijing+30 Action Agenda focused on: a digital revolution, freedom from poverty, zero violence, full and equal decision making power, peace and security, climate justice, and youth.

Source: UN Women.

As a digital participant, I was able to virtually attend General Assembly meetings and online sessions hosted by NGOs and governments that addressed ways we could tackle the issues on the agenda.

It was an eye opening, educational, affirming, and empowering experience. Being in community with and attending sessions led by like-minded women was inspiring. As women we can empathise with each other’s lived experiences, it pushes us to try to make the world a better place for each other and our future generations.

During the two weeks, I was particularly interested in how different communities around the world are tackling the fact that climate change is disproportionately affecting women.

I attended a session called, Women, Water, and Extractivism: Reclaiming Resources, Restoring Rights, Building Justice.

The session was hosted by NGO Mining Working Group and chaired by Ms. Juana Toledo from Consejo de Pueblos Wuxhtaj; Ms. Lina Fattom, a Palestinian Human Rights Lawyer; Ms. Nicole Horseherder from grassroots organisation Tó Nizhóní Ání; and moderated by Ms. Meera Karunananthan from Carleton University.

The panelists explored the gendered impacts of extractivism on water rights and access, gender justice, and water justice. As we reflected on what solidarity looks like, I was particularly impacted by Fattom’s accounts of water scarcity in Gaza and how it has been affecting Palestinian women.

Source: Amnesty International.

Within the context of colonialism and water extraction in Palestine, during the 58 years of Israel’s occupation they have repeatedly violated rules and humanitarian law to appropriate land and extract water for their own profit.

According to Fattom, every resource is under military command and this has been enforced by banning, restricting, and confiscating water resources from Palestinian land.

In 2023, it was reported that 97% of water in Gaza is not fit for human consumption. Before the war, the population of Gaza relied on a heavily polluted and depleted aquifer, as well as a limited number of desalination plants.

Fattom emphasised that water restrictions particularly affect Palestinian women as they are in charge of fetching water, rationing it, and the cleaning.

Not only does this add to their gendered oppression and struggle to maintain the wellbeing of their families, but women trying to get access to water to bring to their community in Gaza are in real physical danger of GBV from the Israeli military and settlers.

Israel has used water as another tool of extermination and control, as a way to displace and punish Palestinians.

Source: Amnesty International. The writing reads, “Our water is our life so let’s preserve it”.

Now, at this very moment, children, women, and men are experiencing mass starvation. Palestinians are trapped in Gaza with no means of survival and relying solely on aid, as Israel has ensured any self-sufficient ways to get sustenance such as fishing and farming are impossible to do.

David Mencer, the Israeli government's spokesperson claimed that “There is no famine in Gaza -there is a famine for truth”.

For years now, on our phones, our TVs, our computers, we have been witnessing the annihilation of a group of people. There is no normal when we’re seeing children bombed and starved, while Western governments have given measly justifications to avoid accountability.

Within this past week, the United Kingdom, France, and Canada, amongst 24 other countries so far, have come out and said that they would recognise a Palestinian state in September, but I feel it is too incredibly little too astonishingly late.

It means nothing without economic and military sanctions against Israel, a complete ceasefire, and an immediate recognition of Palestinian statehood.

Over the past 24 hours, US envoy Steve Witkoff is visiting Israel for ceasefire discussions and inspecting food distribution. All while this is happening, Israel has killed 91 people and injured at least 600 people who were waiting for aid.

To target human beings who are desperate for food, who are lining up and pleading for help, is absolutely despicable.

What exactly is Steve Witkoff there for if the United States government is openly supporting Israel’s genocide against the Palestinian people? Humanitarian peacocking.

On Wednesday, 7 children died of hunger.

In two years, nearly one in ten Palestinians has become a casualty of Israel’s aggression. Out of the 60,034 deaths recorded 18,592 are children. 27,330 are men. 9,700 are women. 4,412 are elderly.

There is never a valid nor justifiable reason to commit such atrocities.

Source: Am Yisrael Chai. Jewish child during the Holocaust, suffering from severe malnutrition.

I was listening to a news podcast this morning and an account from a Palestinian man has been ringing in my ears all day. The aid that they’ve been trying to distribute isn’t enough. People are desperate and hungry, fighting for a way to feed their children. He was given a jar of tahini. A jar of Tahini. At his wits end he cries, “how am I supposed to feed my children with this?”

Source: The Guardian. Five-year-old Lana Salih Juha, who suffers from severe malnutrition.

In my lifetime I will see a free Palestine. I will see the liberation of all peoples who have suffered under the extractivist and imperialist ambitions of Western governments.

In her manifesto A Decolonial Feminism, Françoise Vergès writes about the true intersectionality of all our collective struggles.

She says, “Western democracy will no longer even claim to protect us once the interests of capitalism are truly threatened. Capitalist absolutism encourages all regimes that allow it to impose its own rules and methods, open previously un-colonized spaces to it, and grant it access to the ownership of water, air, and land.” (12)

Climate injustice, class struggle, racism, sexism, and capitalism are all interlinked. Whether it’s in Palestine, Sudan, or Congo, we must ensure to connect all of these struggles and push to end occupation and apartheid systems.

I will end with another relevant quote from Vergès because I think this sums up the hope of freedom we wish for quite perfectly.

“We do not want to construct a utopian community but to return all of its creative force to dreams of defiance and resistance, justice and freedom, happiness and kindness, friendship and wonder.” (83)

I’m trying to be more honest with myself and my artistry. Turning twenty-five has softly nudged me toward that direction. To live and express myself more authentically and tap into my inner muse.

We’ve had an understanding all my life, she whispers ideas into my ear in the middle of the night and I note them down then ignore them for weeks. Now I feel called to reach out to her and build on those ideas. In a way, it’s also me building a foundation of the relationship I’d like to have with my inner voice.

I’ve often treated my muse like a mistress, someone I go to often when I need consoling that I am actually creative or to make myself feel as though my existence means something. That I am not alone and she is here for me to use at my will.

Well, she is more than that and I do not nourish her as I should. My artistry is not a separate thing from myself as I’ve always treated it. We are one and the same. She is not for me to use, she is me.

I think I really lost touch with that voice after a traumatising experience, but now I’m ready to listen even if it means uncovering layers within myself that are deeply uncomfortable.

No one ever really tells you that when you go through a lot of healing, you’re left on the other side trying to make sense of this new version of yourself, who isn't the woman you used to know.

She is you, but she is older. Wiser. Bolder. The most ‘you’ that you have ever been.

A new age has made me more reflective and more open to becoming one with my muse. There is a version of myself who will look back on this as a pivotal moment and be glad of the steps I took. I’m sure of it.

There is a lot of noise these days, coming from all kinds of places. Social media, people you compare yourself to, your family, responsibilities, the knowledge that active war and genocides are taking place and the helplessness that comes from that. Our world is burning, but maybe something good will rise out of the ashes..

I hope.

I think within all of this, finding your place and purpose is becoming extremely difficult. I’ve always prided myself in the fact that I’ve known from a young age that somehow, my contribution will be through my words.

Although these days it seems to be getting harder and harder to figure out what that looks like and what to say. Maybe it doesn’t have to look like anything. Maybe I don’t need to have some grand plan for my life. Maybe connecting to that inner voice is all I need to lead the way.

The lessons I learned and the places I’ve been have brought me to this exact moment (where I wrote this), sitting under a tree and soaking up the sun in Morden Hall Park. And as I try to not be so presumptuous as to know all the answers, I can at least say with certainty that there are a few things I’ve learned along the way. Maybe they’ll be helpful to someone else. Maybe they won’t, but hey, I did say that I’m leaning into being more authentic. Or should I say, more open, with expressing my personal thoughts online without the fear of being judged and “seen”.

So, these are a few things I’ve learned along the way.

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Comparison is the thief of joy.

I’m sure you’ve heard this saying before, but it really is the truth.

It’s hard these days in the age of social media to not help but compare yourself with your peers, who are seemingly at the same stage of life as you are, while also celebrating milestones you have yet to reach. Especially as a creative.

As vulnerable as it is to admit this, I do struggle with jealousy. Although I’m definitely handling it much better these past four years. I’ve recently learned, in my case, that it comes from a “lack” mindset. I don’t like to lose and I had to ask myself, what is losing? How do I quantify “losing”? Or really, why do I feel as though someone else's win is my loss? Because it truly isn’t.

There is room for everybody and everything unfolds for everyone at their right time.

These words always echo around my head when I feel the anxiety that is brought on by the illogical feeling of some unknown opportunity somehow slipping through my fingers, because someone else had a creative win and all I have is writer’s block.

Once I began to shift my mindset to a more abundant outlook, I was able to see people’s wins as an opportunity. Proof that if they can do it, so can I. I learned to celebrate someone else’s win with them, knowing that soon I will also get to experience that.

Within a capitalist system, it is easy to base your self worth off of your productivity. I definitely have a hard time with this. Sometimes, it is almost impossible for me not to feel like I should be doing something at all times.

Stillness, patience, and rest are things that I’m still learning to be comfortable with. These three things remind me that I am on my own time. It’s not necessary to look over at someone else's clock, because I wouldn’t be able to understand those numbers anyway.

They also remind me to have gratitude for every stop along the way. When I write or start a project, I’ve focused so much on the end result, but it’s really about the journey. It’s thanks to gratitude that I can appreciate this. It has opened my heart in many more ways than one.

There’s a really good piece about this as well that basically altered my brain chemistry.

Everyone, myself included, is on their own journey. So it seems a bit nonsensical to compare ourselves, no?

Hold space for all the different versions of yourself, good and bad.

I really struggled with the reality of turning twenty-five. I know as you read this you might think, really? You’re still young and only just starting your life. Which is true.

What I really struggled with was not being ready to let go of the version of myself that I could feel I was beginning to outgrow.

Generally, I am a person who is very comfortable with change. I enjoy upturning my routines in drastic ways in the name of self development, but this felt different. It now feels like I’m actually growing into myself more. Like I’m peeling off the layers of my onion.

I used to frame it in my mind as: I’m expanding and transforming into something new. Now it’s more like I’m discovering myself again underneath all of these layers of traumas and social conditionings.

Discovering who I was before all the noise came in and I began to change myself to blend silently into the world around me.

Instead of expansion this feels like a return to the self. My true self.

The reason I had such trouble letting go of this previous version of myself is because these past two years have been marked by how much I truly love the person I am becoming. I love her and I’m so proud of her, she is a vision of me that my seventeen year old self used to dream about.

But, she is not going anywhere. That version of me wouldn’t be lost, I’m just evolving into the person I’m meant to be which includes multitudes of lessons and experiences. Even the bad ones.

There is no shame in the earlier unconfident, shy version of myself. Or the one who was jealous and sometimes mean. Those are versions of myself that didn’t know what I know now. I hold space for fifteen year old her, eleven year old her, twenty one year old her, because she is me and is still deserving of love.

Not every version of yourself will be good, but they have shaped you and brought you here to the person you are now. There is duality in existence, not everything can be “light and love”. I wouldn’t be the person I am today without the mistakes I learnt from.

Take risks and don’t be afraid to boldly live your life.

There is something really brave in following your dreams. Allowing yourself to follow your dreams means that you are actively taking steps to make them a reality.

I try to live every day with passion. I wouldn’t have been able to chase my dreams without feeling that flame that sits atop my heart. It crackles and roars when I am honouring my truth. It dampens to an ember when I fold myself to fit into a box that someone else made for me.

This fire inside is my intuition and my guide.

I decided to take a risk last year and move to London having never lived here or have any sort of support system that resembles the one I have in Nairobi. That was my inner fire and voice guiding me. I listened even though it was scary and not how I envisioned things would go.

Every time I had an expectation of where I should be, I was reminded that I have no control over anything but what I do to build myself up every day.

The first few disappointments felt like a slap in the face. But after a certain point, it became a habit for me to pick myself back up again. Sometimes what you want the most isn’t actually meant for you. No matter how much you pray for it.

If you don’t try, then you are not giving yourself the opportunity to see if you can make something of yourself. If you do not try, you are dampening that inner fire.

And the day you plant the seed is not the day you eat the fruit. It takes time to become a new version of yourself that thrives in a new environment.

I also won’t pretend that there isn’t a lot of privilege in having the opportunity to follow your dreams. I do not take it lightly, I don’t think anyone should. Which is why I promise to live boldly.

To take every day as it comes and live as the most authentic version of myself.

To listen to my inner voice and in turn, speak my truth.

To embody love and gratitude.

To live in my purpose and use my words for good.

And I do it all for her and my loved ones who never waiver in their support of me.

Menstruation is a topic that is surrounded by stigma and shame, yet, millions of people around the world get periods.

Biologically, menstruation is a naturally occurring function for those with wombs, so why is there a history of cultural shame towards periods?

Periods have been described as “impure”, “unhygienic”, even a “disease” in the worst cases. The language of shame that is used to describe menstruation is shrouded in misogyny.

I’m sure you’ve heard the euphemisms that people mutter under their breaths, “it’s that time of the month”, “she’s PMSing”, “on the rag”, with an accusatory glance because women are obviously supposed to be happy, smiling, and cartwheeling at all hours of the day.

Does anyone remember getting their first period? I do.

I was so scared, I thought I had fallen ill and was somehow suffering from an incurable disease that would spread to my classmates if they touched me. Ironically, this was prior to the social shaming.

Later that day, I got home and my mum explained to me what was happening to my body. Ah, what relief! I wasn’t dying, I was just experiencing puberty.

This was arguably worse.

I did not feel shame about my period until I was socialised to. Until it was made clear to me that there is a taboo surrounding any conversation that involved “periods”. I became aware that the people around me were not supposed to hear or know anything about the fact that there was blood coming out of my vagina.

Did that make you squirm?

We all have some internalised shame surrounding the topic of menstruation. How many times have you frantically asked a friend to subtly take a look at your behind, to check if you’ve leaked through to your jeans. The instant relief you feel coming over you when they say “you’re good”.

Or, when you were younger, how embarrassed you used to be when buying period products in the store.

Looking anywhere but in the eyes of the cashier, you quickly stuffed the pads into your bag. Once out of sight, you could dare to look at the cashier again and pay for your shopping because the shame was hidden underneath your oranges and laundry detergent.

Shame is a disturbing feeling, it claws at your throat constricting your pipelines making the blood rush into your cheeks. It swims in the pit of your belly, but prefers to lounge at the back of your mind. It likes to whisper that everyone around you is going to point and laugh at you, because of how embarrassing and abnormal you are.

When you free yourself from the shame, let’s be honest after a lot of inner work, you can appreciate objectively how silly it is that we are forced to hide something that is completely natural. Something that goes hand in hand with the creation of all human life.

The taboo around menstruation isn’t a recent phenomena, it has existed for several centuries.

From as far back as 73 AD, men have concocted pervasive myths about menstruation. Pliny the Elder, a Roman author, wrote in Naturalis Historia, Book VII:

“Contact with it turns new wine sour, crops touched by it become barren, grafts die, seeds in gardens are dried up, the fruit of trees falls off, the bright surface of mirrors in which it is merely reflected is dimmed, the edge of steel and the gleam of ivory are dulled, hives of bees die, even bronze and iron are at once seized by rust, and a horrible smell fills the air; to taste it drives dogs mad and infects their bites with an incurable poison.”

“Hysteria”, the damning term that I’m sure many women are unfortunately familiar with, comes from the ancient Greek word “Hystera” meaning womb. Hippocrates theorised that hysteria was caused by the uterus wandering around a woman’s body. Plato added to this theory by stating that the uterus actually became angry at remaining “unfruitful”, therefore obstructing our respiration and causing all manner of diseases.

Yes, ladies. Our wombs angrily stomp around our bodies of their own free will, accosting us with ailments because we deigned not to get pregnant. This, of course, is our sole purpose in life.

How dare women menstruate and have bodily autonomy.

References to the impurity of menstruation are also found in religious texts.

In The Book of Leviticus 15:19-30 it is said, “when a woman has her regular flow of blood, the impurity of her monthly period will last seven days, and anyone who touches her will be unclean till evening.”

The implication of periods being unclean and any object a woman touches while menstruating needing to be “cleansed”, enforces the culture of shame that thrives within the patriarchal system.

Deeming menstruation as undesirable and veiling it in taboo is disempowering. This prevents young girls and women from existing freely within their bodies.

This culture of shame is also present in other parts of the world. In far-western Nepal, “Chhaupadi”, also known as menstrual exile, is still practiced today. Girls and women are forced to live away from the community, often in livestock sheds, when menstruating.

Menstruation is viewed as a “curse”. While this practice is banned by the government, implementation of this ban is slow.

There are also records of negative attitudes towards menstruation in Ashanti beliefs.

Menstrual taboos concerned anything to do with the gods, ancestors, senior chiefs, and even some medicines. If a menstruating woman entered a crafting space, it is said that her state would drive away the spirit of the ancestors and she wasn’t allowed to touch or handle any tools used to make things. They also had menstrual huts placed on the margins of the village, by gravesites.

Negative attitudes towards menstruation are not uncommon. It seems that culturally, the juxtaposition between impurity and cleanliness derives from a sense of fear and obsession of women’s bodies.

Shame is a powerful tool used to stifle the knowledge that as a source of creation, women’s bodies parallel nature’s life cycles. Menstrual taboos enforced by a capitalist patriarchal culture, mar that innate connection to the land and those cycles.

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That being said, not all attitudes towards menstruation were negative.

In the eighteenth century, Cherokee’s believed that menstrual blood was a powerful substance. It wasn’t regarded as dirty or polluting, but a destructive force and a source of feminine strength. Cherokee women were isolated in menstrual huts during their periods in recognition of this power.

Even ancient Egyptians viewed menstruation positively. Ancient Egyptian women would rub menstrual blood on their thighs to encourage pregnancy. They would even mark infants with blood to protect them from evil.

Today, menstruation stigma and period poverty have detrimental consequences for the progress of young girls and women.

Education is vital in giving girls access to the knowledge and resources that enable them to seek economic independence and a better future for themselves. However, with the lack of access to menstrual products a lot of girls are forced to stay home during their periods which impacts their learning and motivation to finish their schooling.

According to Plan International, 36% of students in the UK experience period poverty. In Kenya, 65% of girls and women struggle to afford period products. In India, only 36% of their menstruating population use period products. In the EU, 1 in 10 people who menstruate are not able to afford period products.

Due to the culture of shame surrounding conversations about menstruation, girls and women alike feel embarrassed to voice their needs which can also result in health risks and misdiagnoses.

Without these vital conversations, how are girls supposed to know that extreme menstrual cramping is not normal? Or that they may be experiencing symptoms of endometriosis, fibroids, or PCOS?

By encouraging the taboo surrounding menstruation, we are not only increasing the education gap but allowing millions of women to suffer in silence. Every girl and woman should be afforded the dignity of proper menstrual resources and healthcare.

Although, this is not just on girls and women. It is also vital that healthcare practitioners do not dismiss serious symptoms of larger health concerns by chalking it up to “it’s just your period”.

Moreover, for policy makers to advance these issues on wider platforms in order to have productive and necessary change.

In recent years, menstrual activism and conversations about menstruation have aided the normalisation of the subject in our culture.

Organisations that advocate to end period stigma and period poverty such as Love Your Period, The Pad Project, WOMB, ZanaAfrica, to name a few, are helping young girls and women become more confident in their bodies and have access to the resources that they need.

Opening up a dialogue in safe spaces, raising awareness, distributing menstrual products to combat period poverty, having someone be an advocate for you as well when seeing a healthcare professional, organisations that push for policy change, are all necessary steps to validating and affirming the experiences of young girls and women.

It just takes one little step, be brave and talk about your period to your friends. Have conversations about it and learn from each other. Maybe it will help someone or yourself realise that what you’re experiencing in your body is completely normal and nothing to feel ashamed about.

Here are some resources that I’ve enjoyed recently. You can also find an extensive list on different topics on the Reading and Resource List page!

Notebook of a Return to the Native Land by Aimé Cesaire (free link 🫣)

Compulsory heterosexuality and Lesbian existence by Adrienne Rich (free link 🫣)

A Period that Matters edited by Farah Ahamed

Period: It’s about Bloody Time by Emma Barnett

Every. Day.

Femicide is defined as intentional murder with a gender-related motive. According to Africa Data Hub, in a database spanning from January 2016 to December 2023, 500 cases of femicide have been reported by Kenyan media.

In their analysis, they claim that 75% of murders were committed by a person the victim knew, nearly two-thirds of the perpetrators had an intimate relationship with the victim, and only 15% of cases were the women killed by a complete stranger. The trends showed that women between the ages of 18 and 40 are the largest demographic of victims of femicide in Kenya. 

In an article written for The Nation, The Nairobi Women Hospital has reported about 4,000 cases of gender based violence monthly. Consequently, Gender and Affirmative Action Principal Secretary Anne Wang’ombe announced a national campaign to combat this issue. 

She said, “We recognise the urgent need to establish and improve support systems, including shelters, counselling services, and legal assistance for victims of violence. We also need to improve our data collection on femicide and gender-based violence to inform policy decisions and track progress effectively.”

In late October, civil society organisations such as Fida Kenya, Siasa Place, the Centre for Community Development and Human Rights, Kenya University Students Organisation, Child Space Nairobi, Kibera Justice Centre, Inspire Teenagers, and Superb Nairobi; have called for legislative reforms that would make femicide a standalone crime. They gave President Ruto thirty days to address and acknowledge femicide as a national crisis.

It is a national emergency. How many more haunting headlines must we read before the government takes action? 

Women’s and girl’s mutilated bodies are being discarded in different areas of the country as though they are dispensable. Are women not human beings? Worthy of the dignity and safety that should be afforded to all citizens? This crisis is long past the point of empty promises, we need action and justice.

The cycle of violence against women doesn’t just appear out of nowhere, it plants its insidious roots in the soil of our social and cultural conditioning. Those sexist “jokes” that your friends crack to disrespect women, victim blaming, harmful cultural practices, upholding gender roles, and economic disparities, are but a few of the tools that uphold patriarchal violence. 

Source: https://www.kittyrode.com/portfolio/possibilityseeds

In Kenya, traditional practices such as female genital mutilation (FGM), child marriages, and wife inheritance are still carried out today. Women and girls are kept in subordinate roles that further perpetuate their vulnerability and lead to life threatening power imbalances. 

The violence within these practices are justified as a part of our culture, but they simply uphold patriarchal gender values and are a form of control over women’s bodily autonomy.  

The question really is, are people ready to change their cultural practices? Because this isn’t just about the women and girls in big cities, this is for women in every remote part of the country. It requires accountability and a shift in beliefs which threatens a status quo. 

You can’t be outraged by every news cycle and then sit and do nothing about it. Now is the time to challenge cultural norms and give women the freedom and right to exist without fear. 

Economic disparities also play a role in femicide. The lack of resources, access to education, healthcare, and employment opportunities, results in many women economically dependent on their partners or families. Unfortunately, this leads to many remaining in abusive relationships with no alternatives. 

Furthermore, in the past two years economic hardships have worsened in Kenya. Protests erupted earlier this year against the proposed Finance Bill 2024, which involved changes in the tax system and increased taxes to citizens.

Kenyans are going through increasingly worse economic hardships, while the President asks his people to tighten their belts, as he flashes his own $2,800 Stefano Ricci crocodile belt (#Rutomustgo). 

My point is, that increased economic hardships have a direct correlation with the spike in cases of femicide and gender based violence.

Why? Because within a culture that expects subservience from women, frustrations are often taken out on them. Women and children (girls and boys) are the most vulnerable members of society and are the most affected by violence.

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Another correlation with violence against women, is the rise in “incel” culture online on social media platforms. The “jokes” and demonisation of women online have opened a vacuum of toxic masculinity where violence against women has somehow become justified. 

On January 26, women held a peaceful demonstration against femicide and were met with aggressive backlash from men. In a viral video, two men were seen yelling at them, saying they were tired of women taking financial advantage of men and encouraged killing, “men have suffered because of these women… We are going to kill you.. You women are going to die.”

It’s time to point the finger at the real culprits: the murderers and the cultural, social, and economic systems that feed on oppression. Economic strife affects every citizen, the blame is not to be held with women. The victims never were the problem and the normalisation of violence against women is a sinister degradation of moral values. 

Moreover, the “what aboutisms” have got to stop. When we have conversations about femicide and violence against women, it’s not the time to bring up men. That conversation is separate and when it is brought up, it devalues and reduces the initial point that is: we need to protect the freedom and rights of women. 

This is not to say that we should not also address crimes against men and boys in society, it’s just a separate conversation. 

So, what is to be done? 

To address femicide in Kenya, there needs to be legal reforms and enforcement. The government must be held accountable and collaborate with civil society, community leaders, and organisations to ensure stricter laws that target offenders and implement them. Femicide needs to be treated as the crime that it is. 

We also need to teach young boys and girls, women and men, to challenge gender norms and question their social conditioning. We need to create spaces in person and online that promote an environment of awareness about gender equality and women’s rights. 

Economic independence for women should also be addressed in order to stop the cycles of dependence. There needs to be support services and safe spaces for survivors of femicide and domestic violence.

Lastly, community leaders, religious institutions, and local organisations can mobilise communities to challenge harmful cultural norms and raise awareness to change behaviours towards women. 

Protecting women and girls requires change. An institutional, cultural, and social shift in the way that people view and treat women. Women and girls deserve to be protected and have the right to safety, freedom, and an equal chance to thrive in society. 

As women around the country prepare for another national march against femicide and GBV on the 10 of December 2024. Remember that it will take time but the fight is never over. 

Source: TikTok @Zahaspeaks

As promised, here is the book review for this month’s read: I Who Have Never Known Men by Jacqueline Harpman.

You’ll have to forgive me, but this month’s book club meet up won’t be happening. I’m currently in the midst of moving to a new flat and I’m all over the place! 🫠

Breathwork for Hormonal Health with WOMB

Have you ever given any thought to the way that you breathe?

Last week I attended a workshop, hosted by WOMB, that completely changed my perspective on breathwork and how it can help regulate our bodies. 

Founded by the lovely Sinnead, WOMB is a Cardiff-based community interest company focusing on menstrual and maternity wellbeing. Their vision is a cycle informed culture for a matri-centric universe. How amazing is that? 

What I love about WOMB is how intentional and community centred their approach is to menstrual and maternal health. I had the pleasure of volunteering for the WOMB festival this summer in Cardiff, and it was the perfect respite from working on my dissertation. 

I was delighted to find a communal space with women that I’ve been able to learn from and who have the same vision that I do. If it wasn’t already obvious, I am deeply passionate about women’s reproductive rights and healthcare. 

The workshop was led by Harriette, who is a very talented breathwork practitioner and women’s breathwork coach. She mentioned a fact that I can’t quite seem to get out of my head. About 82% of people will have some kind of breathing dysfunction. Who knew? 

As I wasn’t able to be there in person, I joined the workshop via zoom. After making a scalding cup of ginger tea, wrapping myself in some blankets, pen and notebook at the ready, I settled down for the hour and a half long workshop. Sinnead and Harriette began by suggesting we take a moment to bring awareness to our bodies and to centre ourselves. 

Following a stressful week of house hunting, I was struck that this was the first time, in five days, that I had taken a moment to check in with myself. It feels jarring that my body automatically reverts to a constant state of “go mode”, unless I’m consciously making an effort to slow down. Ah, the woes of living in a capitalist society that measures our worth as humans by how productive we are. 

I thought after moving from New York I’d learned to relax… at least a little bit. But, it seems my cozy, small town uni life failed to release me from the rise and grind mentality. Now that I live in London, intentional rest has come back to the forefront of my mind. Hence, the breathwork.

Firstly, we learned a bit about hormones. I had no idea that we have over fifty hormones in the body? Sure, I was aware of the main ones that filter through the health influencer side of social media. Most recent buzzwords being, “CORTISOL! BAD!” But it’s so much more complex than that. 

Harriette animatedly explained how hormones such as Oxytocin, Cortisol, Insulin, Oestrogen, Progesterone, Melatonin, Testosterone, and Pregnenolone, to name a few, affect the body and why breathing can regulate your hormones. 

According to this study, breathing exercises have been proven to decrease the levels of stress hormones in our bodies. By simply paying attention to how we breathe, we’re able to regulate our nervous systems. This is especially important for women, because our hormone levels fluctuate significantly over the course of our 21-35 (depending on the person) day cycles. 

There have also been studies that prove yoga and breathwork have an impact on our reproductive hormones (oestrogen and testosterone), which can potentially influence hormonal regulation. In my personal experience (I am not a scientist or healthcare professional but a woman with a hormonal imbalance), yoga and meditation have had incredible effects on my mental well-being and nervous system regulation. 

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After a few minutes I already felt calmer and we hadn’t even gotten to the breath work yet! Although I was on zoom, I could feel the safety and comfort that Sinnead and Harriette emanated through the screen. This made sharing our experiences much more comfortable. 

With some meditation music softly playing in the background, we settled in for the breathing exercises that would help during each phase of our menstrual cycle. After consciously slowing down with some diaphragmatic breathing, the first exercise was for our luteal phase. If I’m not mistaken, it was in for 6, hold for 4, out for 6, hold for 4 and repeat. 

After a few minutes, I began to feel my worries melt away.  With each breath count I was returning back to my body. The quiet that replaced the constant stream of worrying, completely soothed my inner state. It brought me such a prolonged sense of peace that I’ve continued the practice every single day since. 

The next exercise was for our ovulation phase. It was a breath in for 8, hold for 4, out for 8, hold for 4, and repeat. As I was in my luteal phase, I found it harder to do. Harriette gently explained that we actually breathe differently depending on which phase we are in during our cycles. 

We also learned about the extended exhale which supports melatonin production. This exercise almost put me right to sleep. As we breathed in, then breathed out for a longer count, I felt my body preparing for a long sleep. And you know what? I slept like a baby that night. 

The workshop ended with an emotional and physical check in. We took some time to reflect on the experience and how each breathing exercise impacted us. As always, I was enthusiastic to share that in the span of half an hour, my mental state had completely shifted. 

I left the session feeling an immense sense of gratitude, not only for Sinnead and Harriette, but for my body. It felt empowering, as though I’ve learned a secret life hack. I can’t help but feel that such an accessible way to regulate our hormones should be mandatory information for all of us. 

As women we must advocate for ourselves because who else will? We live in a society where minimal research has been done for our reproductive health and people still flinch when you say the word “menstruation”.  Our bodies don’t run on a 24 hour clock, so an awareness of our hormone cycles can help us find harmony within. 

October’s resource & reading recommendations

• The Woman Destroyed by Simone De Beauvoir

• You Exist Too Much by Zaina Arafat

• Come As You Are by Emily Nagoski

• Sister of the Yam: Black Women and Self-Recovery by Bell Hooks (free pdf!)

Modern interest in witchcraft has grown over the past few years as practices become more visible and accessible due to online subcultures like #Witchtok. Throughout popular culture, witches have been portrayed as the women who live outside the margins of patriarchal structures. Often envisioned as crooked nosed crones in black robes or women who meet their end through some lesson on sexual morality. Witches have always been defiant in nature. 

So much so that in 20th century Feminist movements, women referred to themselves as witches and reclaimed the term as a symbol of female empowerment and resistance. As modern witchcraft redefines itself, can the reclamation of the term “witch” prove to be intersectional? 

The portrayal of Black witches (or lack thereof) in popular media over the years has always left me feeling unsatisfied. My first introduction to a Black witch on TV was the iconic Bonnie Bennet from The Vampire Diaries. At ten years old I was utterly transfixed, why were Damon and Stefan fighting over Elena when Bonnie was right there? 

In my heavy, ten year old feelings of indignation, I decided to dig up any media I could find that depicted witches. But my research concluded with one burning question, where are all the Black witches? 

Firstly, I should probably explain the difference between Wicca, Paganism, and Witchcraft. 

Paganism is essentially an umbrella term for non Abrahamic, polytheistic religions that originate in Europe. This doesn’t include traditional religions that originate from Africa, Asia, or inidigenous Americans’ religious practice, (but we’ll get to that). 

Under the umbrella is Wicca, a branch of Paganism. However, not every person that practices Wicca considers themselves Pagan and not every Pagan practices Wicca. You get where I’m going with this? 

Wicca is a modern Pagan religion based on traditions, rituals, and beliefs that places emphasis in nature. In Wicca there are two deities, the Goddess and the God. Wiccan rituals include different tools such as a chalice, candles, a pentacle etc. But, not every Wiccan practices witchcraft and magic. 

Witchcraft is the act itself, it’s the actual practice of magic and energy manipulation for a desired outcome. To my amazement, I’ve found that people can be different kinds of witches who practice different kinds of witchcraft. There are green witches that work with plants, kitchen witches that work with cooking and the home, hedge witches who work with spirits, and traditional witches who work with historical practices, to name a few. 

There are also more commonly known practices that we’ve all seen on social media that include astrology, tarot reading, working with crystals (although there is something to be said about where these crystals are being sourced from, an ethics topic for another day). 

One theme that I have consistently noticed with self identified witches is their deep connection to nature that goes in tandem with an inner sense of knowing and heightened intuition. Not to mention an immense sense of admiration for the moon. As it’s a super full moon in Aries as I write this, it feels only right to mention how profoundly connected we humans are to her. The girls are yearning, they yearn for the beauty of the moon. 

Now, the term “witch” hasn’t always been used in a positive light. Historically, women and men who have been labelled as witches were persecuted and put on trial, some were unjustly executed. The Witch hunts of the 15th and 16th centuries in Europe and those in the 17th century in Salem, United States, were a time filled with fear and religious hysteria. Witch hunts occured mostly in Southwestern Germany but swept over to Scotland, France, Spain, and Italy. 

The majority of people accused of witchcraft were women (of course). Although, there were many reasons why someone would be accused of witchcraft, most of them absurd. One particularly insane one is that women were more susceptible to the devil’s influence because of the whole Adam and Eve story. 

Women who were healers or midwives in the community were also often accused of being witches because of their talents with herbs and curing illnesses. Older women, too, or even women who were just caught up in a disagreement with another member of their community…Whatever happened to “love thy neighbour”? Even simply being mentally ill or disabled could have resulted in you being accused of witchcraft. 

Historically, the term witch was associated with a gruesome and violent history toward women. But in the 20th century, Feminist fiercly reclaimed the word. Witches became a symbol of female rebellion and this has carried on to today. I mean, we all remember when witches were hexing Tr*mp on TikTok right? 

Witches have always placed themselves radically against the grain of social normative structures. To self identify as a witch is a form of self empowerment, it’s an act of taking back your power. 

I love what the witch stands for now, but sometimes I wonder where I fit into that as a Black woman. Which brings me back to the question that my ten year old self would ask, where are all the Black witches? Well, they are being misrepresented in Western media. 

Yes, Rochelle Zimmerman from The Craft (1996) and Appolla and Artemis from Disney’s Twitches (2005) briefly scratched the itch of representation. But I was looking for more. This is not to say that there are no iconic Black witches in popular media, take Marie Laveau played by Angela Basset in American Horror Story: Coven (2013), or Tati Gabrielle as Prudence Blackwood in the Chilling Adventures of Sabrina (2018), for example.

Black witches are found in popular media, however, their practices are often offensively misrepresented as they’re bits and pieces taken from spiritual practices such as Hoodoo, Voudu, or even Santería. 

You can find examples of this in Pirates of the Caribbean (2006) Tia Dalma. Or, that Sex and the City (1998) episode where Charlotte goes to a fortune teller and there’s a woman smoking a cigar, surrounded by chickens, trying to scam her out of a few more dollars. 

The lack of and misrepresentation of Black witches ties into a bigger issue of language and the intersection of race. Language must adapt when definitions widen to incorporate different cultures and their own practices of indigenous spirituality. 

In the case of non-Western traditional practices, “witchcraft” has been used as a term to vilify these practices in order to maintain a Christian status quo. Even the term “witch doctor” has been used as a form of ridicule and those who practice traditional spirituality do not like the term “witchcraft”. But where did these practices come from that we see today on TV? 

Hoodoo is a spiritual belief and practice that derives from Haitian Vodou. It was brought to the United States from West African and Caribbean enslaved peoples. Haitian Vodou, Santería, Condomblé, and Trinidad Orisha are also spiritual practices that derive from West African indigenous spiritual systems. They too were brought to the Caribbean and South America from West Africa due to the transatlantic slave trade. 

These practices share similar tenets such as working with nature, ancestral veneration, libation, rituals etc. It connects you to an inner sense of knowing, much like Wicca. However here, the defiance that comes from these practices are against colonialism. This is how we get intersectional and decolonial. 

Are you still with me? 

The proliferation of Christianity was a tool of colonial subjugation. Therefore, the continuous practice of African indigenous spirituality can be considered not only as an act of defiance, but a way to uphold traditions that predate our oppressors and connect us to our ancestors.

From this decolonial lens, we can conclude that these traditional practices have their own language that is separate from Pagan religions that originated from Western Europe. 

As modern witchcraft redefines itself I think that there is a space for everyone there. This is because it’s not the craft itself, the act of doing, but the belief system that is actually just your spirituality. Black ancestral practices resonate with a lot of modern Black witches, but there is no one set way to practice your spirituality. Therefore, no one set way to be a witch. 

It’s really about what feels authentic to you and your spiritual journey. Your witchcraft or spirituality can look exactly how you want it look and nobody else gets a say. I personally identify with indigenous spiritual practices and I also call myself a witch. Thats my tea!

As women it is easy for us to be defined by what we look like or what people want us to be. To be categorised and moulded into what is deemed appropriate so as to be easily digestible by our environments. I myself have felt the pressure of this growing up in spaces that I did not feel welcomed in, not only because of my womanhood but because of my blackness. It took a good few years of work and encouragement from the women around me to realise that the only person that gets to decide anything about who I am or where I’m meant to be is myself. I proudly get to define my own existence, whatever I choose that to look like. 

What do you think of when you hear the word sisterhood? 

For me, it kindles the flame of gratitude in my heart. There is something utterly beautiful in the way that through the pain, losses, and fear, women continue to nourish and support each other. When I think of sisterhood, I think of solidarity. In an increasingly hostile world towards women, safe spaces where we are free to express ourselves and exist are becoming ever so precious. I think it necessary to forge ourselves from the bonds we create with our sisters. 

I who has known sisterhood has known love. I who has known sisterhood has known the unconditional acceptance that gives us the room to become our true selves. Sisterhood is about connection, beyond blood, beyond circumstance. It is the intentional creation of a nurturing community. 

This network is just that, an intentional, nurturing space for women. Created by a woman who believes that freedom is found in the knowledge that pushes you to reclaim the power that has been stripped from us. 

I believe in the wildness that comes with rejecting the increasingly narrow confines of what it means to be a woman. 

Wild Women Network is a project and a space born out of the need to uplift women’s voices in the world. I made this platform with the aim to share my (unsolicited) takes on feminism, womanhood, culture, society etc. As a black, queer woman, WWN is an ode to intersectional inclusivity. A safe space for all who choose to be a part of this network, however you choose to identify. I want to create the space that allows us to align with our truest selves. My only requirement is respect and an openness to learning. 

As knowledge is an obvious theme in my pursuit of purpose, it’s necessary to also add that I will be starting a book club (announcement coming soon!). I will also be creating a fundamental reading list and resource page that is open for suggestion from anyone who would love to add to the long list of impactful work in my quest to educate ourselves. I believe that freedom is found through knowledge and my goal is to build a community that thrives from the support of educating each other.  

Signed 

Valentine, Wild Woman.