You don’t need evidence about sexuality: on being bi and why it’s none of your business
Lately, I’ve become more attuned to bisexual erasure, more so because I’ve been asked questions to ‘prove’ my sexuality, which shouldn’t be anyone’s business anyway. A lot of people tend to say “you’re not bi because you’ve never been with a woman/man” and this is primarily what this piece is about.
When I first met my boyfriend earlier this year, I didn’t expect everything that followed to be so movie-esque. It all unfurled slowly, like the lead up to the conflict that inevitably transpires before the predictable Happily Ever After we all want, wish, and hope for. The search for a Happily Ever After sinks in from childhood, all those fairytales whispering sweet promises of love everlasting, never really looking at the reality of life, but continuing to yearn for the dreamy haze that always comes with a relationship when it first begins.
Being born a girl is hard enough, but coming into the world as a brown girl is seemingly harder: forced to face the most violent, burdensome subjugations of the Diaspora, still holding onto the traditions of lands left behind, a culture so rife in patriarchy, abuse and placing izzat on the shoulders of its daughters’.
A few days ago, J and I went to ‘Where the Pancakes Are’ for brunch during our little staycation. It was a lovely getaway, and having brunch at this place was pretty good, especially considering I could tick off a restaurant on my list after months.
I’m so excited to tell you all that I have had the pleasure of interviewing the previous reigning Queen of teen fiction, Cathy Hopkins. She’s been writing since 1986, and has published over 70 books.
Cathy has always been one of my favourite YA writers, loving how unapologetically British and relatable, feisty and lovable her characters are. To this day, I still adore the Cinnamon Girl and the Mates, Dates series more than others.
I’ve been in education for, I think, thirteen years. I can’t exactly recall my earliest years, but I do remember being in school when I was six years old. I do, also, have hazy memories of a nursery and a sandpit. But for the sake of this piece, let’s just say I’ve been in education from the age of six, minus the three-ish years (I think it was three?) I was working in crappy minimum-wage jobs. Regardless, I am now twenty-two, just starting my second year at university, studying English Literature with Creative Writing, and I’m happier than I’ve been in a really long time.
I’ll be talking about my experience in school and how this impacted my stance on education, and how I decided to come back to it in 2018/2019; essentially my entire educational journey.
Grab a cup of tea and get comfortable, this is a long read.
[This article was first written for and published on The Opinion Panel. This is just a snippet of the article.]
As I write this, I’m a few short weeks away from turning 22, something I am both looking forward to and dreading, because it means getting another year older, but still not having accomplished everything I’d wanted.
When it comes to marital relationships in brown culture, there’s something like a guideline to adhere to, lest we’re told to return to our father’s home and not go back. It’s misogynistic, sexist and dripping with patriarchy.