Posts

Elsie Kibue-Ngare's 30 day photo challenge

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I'm one of 30 photographers who've taken part in Elsie's November 30 day photo challenge. You can find out more about it on her blog here , but basically we each took a photo, and Elsie produced one in response. Here is my image: And here is Elsie's response: Check out the whole series on Elsie's blog:  https://ek13photography.com/blog/ #photography #collaboration

Bald Black Girls Reign in Sutoyé’s Barbershop

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A note on timing: I started writing this piece in April, 2019, as an assignment for Uni.  Then my mum got sick and passed away, and everything was set aside.  Earlier this year, I came back to this, and decided, despite the time that had passed, to finish it anyway.  Then of course, to quote a friend 'a literal plague' happened. I did finish it, though, and finally, here it is.   Bald Black Girls Reign in Sutoyé’s Barbershop words and images by Wasi Daniju 13 April 2020 “I think I was seeking a community, I didn’t know I would create one’. Ruth Sutoyé, artist and co-curator of Bald Black Girl(s). Installation view of Bald Black Girl(s) , 13 April 2019, Unit 5 Gallery, London. © Wasi Daniju The first time I shaved off all my hair 8 years ago, a male friend told me women only do this as a sign of mourning.    My mother told me that in Islam, a shaved head was reserved for men.    As for my own intentions - it was simply a liberation from the time and energy required to

African Choirboys/Albert Jonas and John Xiniwe

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§   I haven't blogged in a minute.  I felt to share this short piece I've just finished for a Uni writing task - thinking I might expand it a little when I have time. - - - - - - -  African Choirboys/Albert Jonas and John Xiniwe, The African Choir; 1891; London Stereoscopic Company/Hulton Archive/Getty Image ‘You have no control - who lives, who dies, who tells your story’.                 – Chris Jackon, Who Tells Your Story; Hamilton:                        An American Musical, Miranda (2015) Two young boys lean on a balustrade, skin glowing in the studio light, faces turned upwards as though contemplating the heavens, the absolute picture of carefree contemplation. This photographic recreation of the two cherubs from Raphael’s Sistine Madonna is both immediately recognisable and very much its own work -   an homage to the widely known and celebrated piece that influenced it (see below), and an appealing image in its own right. Raffaello Sanzio Raphael, Two C

- reasons i cannot accept your invitation -

Because 'like water for chocolate' was ample warning and 'object of my affection' was a blatant lie Because 'I love you' carried no weight and dropped leaden at 'I'm sorry' Because I cannot calm the factions of your civil war and I never claimed to be a pacifist Because Hiroshima and Nagasaki should never be relevant pet names and our clouds are still dispersing Because exile is no basis for a re-blooming of affection and I do not have the heart for asylum Because I have finally authored the guide to my own sanity and I have no stomach for a second edit

'Lawful killing'? One more verdict in favour of state-sanctioned murder.

It wasn't until late last night that I heard about the Mark Duggan verdict, in a distressed text from a friend: "...how can a shooting of an unarmed man be lawful?" Is it strange that we should both be so deeply consumed with rage and grief at the killing of a stranger? I'd like to think not. Because it seems the only right response. The only possible response when justice is so blatantly absent. When we witness the killing of yet one more young man, targeted and shot to death by trigger happy Met police who, it seems, automatically disengage the safety once they see black.  And when we are forced to see a jury,who rather than dispense justice given the evidence clearly showing that Mark Duggan was unarmed at the time of his killing, instead dispense with it, handing the police their tacit approval of their actions. Another verdict in favour of state-sanctioned murder that indicts our 'justice' system and our society yet again. A response of outsp

I believe the word you want is 'rape'

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(updated tw - generally discussion only of use of terminology of rape and sexual abuse, but note near end of piece briefly mentions an incident of rape) - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - I am so angry right now. Furious, in fact.  That kind of anger that makes you feel like you’re physically shaking even when your body is still, that makes your hands hot, and your mind feel hectic to the point of being unable to focus on any other thing, your outrage snatching your mind right back to its source every time. I’ve just read the Evening Standard’s article * on the case of a 23 year old Roma woman being raped by two members of staff at Yarl’s Wood detention centre.  Only they describe the incident as follows: “Staff sacked over sex with detainee”   “Two staff at a privately-run immigration removal centre for women have been fired for engaging in sexual activity with a detainee.   A third employee at Serco-operated Yarl's

On fear and being far from home when the fascism sets in

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Many others have already written about the tragic and brutal murder of Lee Rigby last week, the aftermath that we have witnessed, and what this signifies.  You can read some brilliantly on point blog posts as follows: @WarOnWar - The Woolwich Reaction @AssedBaig  - Woolwich and the Muslim Response @SamAmbreen  - IC A Muslim There’s also this post , brought to my attention on twitter by  @izzykoksal , on the EDL and fascism:  The above 4, between them, have probably already said a lot of what I feel.  But here goes anyway. There have been moments when I found myself shaking in reaction to events at the EDL/counter-demo this afternoon. And I’m not even in london.  Reports from those attending the antifascist march are terrifying.  Not least because of the sudden swell in support for the far-right ideologies being spouted, following a week which saw a massive outpouring of hatred and violence against muslims and those ‘appearing’ to be.   Not least