Tools of violence

Identity violence

Symbolic violence

Communication violence

Historic violence

Revisionist violence

Repetitive violence

Infantilising violence

Nostalgic violence

Communication violence

Prejudiced violence

Tiring violence

Destructive violence

Sexual violence

Gendered violence

Religious violence

Spiritual violence

Class violence

Linguistic violence

Colourist violence

Male violence

White male violence

Co-opting violence

Toxic violence

Co-opted toxic violence

Ideological violence

Paternalistic violence

Patriarchal violence

Symbolically patriarchal violence

Promotional violence

Just violence

Violence violence

Tiring violence

Too tired coz I’m broken and it’s the result of all the above and more violence

Mental violence

Inferred violence

Implicit violence

Bright-eyed violence

Broken souls violence

The once you had bright eyes but then you got co-opted and are stuck but still need peeps and I get it but don’t you get that I get it, so why you gotta erase the stuff we excavate and stop us entering and flinging open the doors-no revision check, not open the doors break all these fracking symbolic capitalistic colonial walls – so that we can all evolve together and your tired eyes can weep and rejoice in celebration with us all, bold beautiful and brave and bound to the forward March of completing our shared ancestors abolitionist principles and journeys to create a new fair fresh deprogrammed society so we keep being we and us, and you and me, happy and free together… urgh! Gah! For f***! *sigh* but you can’t and that’s violent, violence.

So instead here we stand. Ina pyramid and I keep trying to educate and create and collate and collaborate while we survive and you thrive but I don’t even cry coz I’m proud inside that at least someone who got one part of our ancestral spirit souls good side to the table where it’s all about whose there to dine, and whose outside… not about our fellow people who die and are also pushed towards pipelines to die. Whether quickly or slowly, that’s for us all to see with our eyes.

I’m too tired to speak, so I’ll leave it to that… and sleeps for the night.


Year 2021.. Or so it begins


Year 2021

The world is a different place. A place of Cultural creators. Cultural tasters. Cultural dictators. Where it is your link to belief that assigns where you reside. Where birth-right is the only thing that is certain and right. No more mobility. No more integrating. No trust. No hope. In short the world of status quo and neo-colonial control.. Or rather the struggle for control.

The green, green lands of Blightly have been touched severely by years of tension, civil unrest and unsound policy making. Until the landmark year of 2020, August 2020 to be precise.

But most of all a place where culture has ripped away at all that could be, could ever have been and is now used to discourage any integration, mixing or appropriation.. Unless a case is made and upheld in the secular centres of the British Isles.
In the midst of it all. The laptop chimes, beh-beh-buehmm .. those Skype ringtones are old and classic. Though Zaika makes a mental note for the millionth time this month about changing it after this call, she already knows she most likely, probably, most definitely won’t. She can’t seem to pin down what it is, familiarity, nostalgia, laziness or what, but that sound.. That silly old-school bubbley logo, she patched in 18 months ago, that animates round and round.. Buzzing over that S. All of it. Everything. Makes her entire body beam with delight, her life for one brief moment seems light. Lighter than the beams of golden speckled beams shining through the french dormer windows.. Catching all sorts of hazy transient bits of fluff in their nurturing rays. Enveloping her cold pert breast, warming her nipples into some form of biological submission. Making her feel at one and at a loss, simultaneously. Her life is not her own. Her life is not a whole.

All this and more she thinks in the 1 minute and 45 seconds she can bear the ringing sound coming from her comically tall looming white Ikea desk. With the fluid movement of someone who has performed this task a million times, Zaika pushes her slender, naked form off the floor. Her knees and toes taking most of force as they act like fulcrums, while her rough fingers reach out to the soft black shawl, on top of which she had been sat in absorbed contemplation. As her body turns the 65 degree angle needed to silence the monotonous ringing that has faded into the patchwork of her life sounds, Zaika has managed to drape the shawl loosely but competently around herself. Managing to even pin the ends tightly around her face, to build the illusion of constant observance to protocol. Just in time to answer the call to her young overseas nephew.

“Bore da, Yayah”
“Asa’laam walaykum Khala”
“Walaykum Asa’laam Yayah, how are you doing?”

Oh this call is not going to go well she thinks, already her young 11 year old nephew’s eye have narrowed with the intensity of her mother’s. She wonders what sermon will be filtered to her in today’s conversation, she has already dissected the 15 seconds of interaction and found herself to be be seen as wanting. If only she’d just smiled happy and allowed him to begin the conversation. She mutters a hurried prayer to God Allah that her constant interaction down at the centre will at least carry her pakistani and arabic verbal skills through the next 25 minutes. Perhaps for once she can bring some pride to them, and leave a call feeling loved. Her eyes swell a little with tear.. As a flash-forward of herself looms large in her mind’s eye. Zaika is laing naked on the flower, curled up against a hot water bottle and teddy.. Crying like a broken water-works doll.

#NaBloPoMo #29: Poetic Greed, my chained thoughts are not free..

Interesting meeting with a man today. Reminded continually of the frailty in essence of the existence of ‘the’ human condition. How existence is a personal experience, felt, reflected and renegotiated individually in the midst, in the bosom of society and culture.

All guarded I was,
Sat serene, unsure as you buzzed,
My mentality a little tired,
Your soul seemed close-to and cry’ed,
I was set apart,
I wonder what you thought as you set out this impasse?
Some flickering of light shines,
I cannot remember if I have any lines,
My curiosity piques,
But my tongue it still not yet free.
Something murky sits in between,
Communication requires patience,
A quality I cannot quite see.

Yet this condition.. I am drawn.. I wonder if you are you a whole?

I am reminded of the poet,
who has drowned out death,
through languages untold,
since days of our mutual ideological lore.

His refracted words beat in my chest,
I hold them like my faith close to my breast,
My empathic antennae quivering through viscous henna,
Quietly unsure if forces are pushing or pulling,
or that this is a base of trust blooming..

Let me leave you with these petals now,
As I allow my love, my heart to drown;

How long will you talk of the mosque lamp and the fire-temple smoke?
How long of hell’s loss and heaven’s profit?

GO, see on the Tablet how the Master of Fate
Has written what will be, before time began. 

Oh heart, since the world’s reality is illusion, 
How long will you complain about this torment?
Resign your body to fate and put up with the pain,
Because what the Pen has written for you it will not unwrite.

The Ruba’iyat of Omar Khayyam

These stanzas remind me of my love’s viewpoint. Though they stick with me, I feel in someway I am predisposed like Khayyam to keep pushing against these ideals of fate and acceptance. But more so than that to rail against or ponder on the upholding of expectation and falseness, confining cries from a world that only seeks to bind the lights within us that could shine so bright. 


#NaBloPoMo #9: MA Thesis Idea #1

I thought I would share the more academic way, in an attempt to get these thoughts that occur to me. Thoughts surrounding the world we live in from a cultural and sociological viewpoint. I also hope that by doing this I add extra fuel to the fires within me. Fires which at times seem to be nothing more than a few simmering embers but at other times floods of paralysing words, images and emotions.

Below will be idea 1, I thought it best to do one at a time. Please feel free to comment, share thoughts or what you would like. I hope to soon share some form of essay plan and in the near future complete a analytical essay on the matter.

Idea 1: “Presumed Guilty” / “Monsters of our making” 
*Young Asian (& Muslim) Men and their vilification

The attack on the 4th Estate (Newsnight Journalist Secunder Kermani?)

  • What does this mean for the Asian and Muslim Community/Communities?
  • What does this mean / how does this affect Young Girl and Women?

If men traditionally have it easier to integrate… Then notions of power, relative freedom and control over self etc. come into play. A man denied agency in his own being, his identity construction seen to be problematic or deviant then finds it difficult to exist, doesn’t he?

By extension how will this man’s female counterpart fair with this societal judgement and gaze? Especially when living within and without two cultures, each with their own double-edged swords of thorny issues?

#NaBloPoMo #7: Masculinity

For making Saag Paranthas when mum got sectioned,
For letting my small legs dance and showering us with affection,

For the long walks to get us out of the house,
For helping us all get rid of that pesky mouse,

For doing the world of a couple alone,
For keeping everything light and together at home,

For showing no cultural judgment of my mother,
For helping her come back and keep it together,

For the constant cooking and cleaning,
For being okay with your self and other’s jeering,

For living within a culture that is full of two-faced vultures,
For being a man that doesn’t fit on any poster,

A true and masculine man,
Who’s able to use both his hands,
Who was a mother and father,
At times to kids who should have known better,
Who stuck by my mum,
Helped many times to bring her back home,
To fight those inner demons and get normality,
This and much more is why you are all that is masculine to me.

Default Man – Default Me?

So I’ve been debating since midnight whether or not to post this. I mean I’m trying to be disciplined and post something up everyday. If only to prove to myself that I can. But, at the same time I know I’m going to have to run a longer, further, probably even several articles to explain this one.

Oh well, I guess I have to bite the bullet sometime, and pray my paranoid anxieties don’t lead me to dream horrible things.

Today I (re-)ran across theory of the Default Man, pushed to the fore quite recently by Grayson Perry. The idea that the White, Middle-class, Middle-aged man is the norm, the ‘guy in charge’ and prevalent across our society. Now this theory is centuries old, for sure, despite being acknowledge, affirmed and challenged throughout history it hasn’t quite gone away. Just been chipped at, until some may argue even those who own but a small sector of the Default Man’s huge silhouette are having epistemological crisis’s in their selves. Be they white, middle-class, middle-aged or even just a man, any one of these are having the same stinking journey, full of crippling doubt, never-ending ailments and spiritual disease that’s rife in all of us.

Default Man

As a Woman of Colour* , it just got me thinking, due in part to my recent run-in with my old, bad, fucked up self, where do I fit in? What does a Default Woman look like? Is there such a thing as a default Asian, African, Hispanic, Jew, Muslim, Chinese, Pinoy, ..etc. etc.? Or does this one default apply to the entire globe? Because, you know, of course only the Western anglo-guys have ever conquered and colonised all of land and sea, across the whole wide world, right?! Since time immemorial; Thanks Alexander the Great!

Alexander the Great Mosaic
Alexander the Great Mosaic

I guess I would really like to explore what a default woman looks like, behaviourally speaking, but also in appearance and expectation, and perhaps contrast this with what an Asian woman like me, is expected to aspire too. What are the consequences of fulfilling these societal aspirations pushed on us, or for coming up short?

Also, as I thought earlier, if I a WOC, aspire to be respected, independent and content, for knowledge and dare I say some power **, what then? As has been so painfully pointed out to me on my journey to better myself and strive to be acknowledged and respected for myself and my mind, I might be “getting too big for my own boots”. By working towards higher knowledge and independence, I am seen by most people, across the social and cultural divide to be a range of different things; “a coconut”, “a bounty”, “a self-hating asian”, “a curiosity”, “misunderstanding”, “slow”, “silly”, “naive”, “bird”, “unable to get it“, “stupid”.. the list is sadly endless.

So perhaps this is the greatest flaw and one that should be pointed out and yelled louder. Instead of bemoaning that the Default Man is everywhere, maybe we can all try and change the angle. Look at how we treat and respond to those who try and negotiate access to these sites that we deem can, and must, only be occupied by the privileged few. We should encourage people of all colours, all genders, sexes, sexualities to be granted the ability to move freely. To grow, change, to nurture and expect to be nurtured on our way through our journeys in this life. Perhaps then we can begin an end to our unequal past.


*(I know shady term, I will totally explain why I use this another time – stay tunes ;P)


**(Only enough to be left in peace and provide a happy existence)


‘Does Page 3 Make the World a Better Place?’

I found myself rushing from the Spirit Level of the Southbank Centre on the second day of their WOW – Women of the World Festival 2014 to make the Page 3 panel talk. Slightly annoyed that I would be missing out on the ‘Art Will Change the World’ talk, but boy was I glad that duty had the sense to call out to the better part of me.



Thankfully luck was on my side as I settled into an inconspicuous seat comfortably just as the panel of six were being seated. Eleanor Mills chaired the debate, the broadcaster, journalist and chair of Women in Journalism , she had the air of friend’s mum very friendly and endearing though you knew she had a non-nonsense side just waiting for right moment to erupt. Quickly taking control Mills made sure the audience were aware of the order of things, instructing the panel and ourselves from centre-stage of the need to cover ground comprehensively but civilly, thus ensuring that reasonable time is set aside for questions at the end.

Mills contribution to the talk, walked a very measure line between her role as an award winning journalist and columnist, with a particular championing of the empowerment of women, economic and social and that of a female Editor who opposed The Sun’s page 3 back in late 2013. However her opening statements saying that she is and will always be a “champion of free speech defenders”, who make up much of the opposing side to the campaign calling for an end to The Sun’s Page 3 model, and that she was “not affiliated with the Page 3 campaigning” unconsciously brought to my mind a light sway in argument in favour of  Page 3. Even now a couple of days later I find myself in agreement with her stance that “feminism is not about banning or restricting choices”.

Laura Bates, journalist and founder of the Everyday Sexism Project  followed Mills, in what almost seemed like a pre-planned segue. She opened her argument by saying that ‘the campaign against Page 3 is not about censorship or a ban on press freedom”, but one that wants to help The Sun, by extension the wider media, realise that page 3 is nothing short of a sexist phase of life that they should strive to dismiss from the public sphere. Or to put it simply “boobs aren’t news” as she summed up the campaign aims. Her role as an opposer of Page 3, journalist and champion of equality rights and sexual liberation led her to recall some of the real-life events shared with her by contributors to the Everyday Sexism Project. One particularly harrowing tale was that of a young woman raped after being shown the page  by her attacker who then continued to verbally abuse her in view of and connection to the open page 3 of The Sun. While other tales would cut any mother, sister, brother, father to the quick ranging from young solitary girls on the bus being shown the page 3 model  by lecherous old men to young schoolboys comparing and verbally insulting schoolgirls and the Page 3 models themselves.

Katie Price aka once glamour model Jordan turned Businesswoman, Author and The Sun columnist of astute self-promoting fame demurely followed Bates rapturous remarks, the only way she knows best – by being awesome. Now I must confess I was not a fan of Katie Price before this talk, though I did admire her a little for the way she conducted herself in regards to her family being what I would term as a true Essex native, cheeky yes but honest true and down-to-earth, reminding me of my great friend from Witham, Essex. Her fumbling with the iphone, self-ingratiating remarks let ripples of warm involuntary giggles flood the packed auditorium. Reducing the warrior-esque sense of urgency and anger I felt peak up during Bates address. For her part Katie Price in her meandering tour in the life of Katie Price from model to page 3 model to glamour model and buyer of larger tits did come up with great remarks to add to the argument in defence of Page 3. One of my personal favourite being “As I understand it the debate always sees Page 3 as cheap but in fashion when a topless model is paraded on the catwalk or photographed by  a top photographer it’s seen as Art”. For her Page 3 was the enabler of a fantastic journey that helped her created her own “empire of creations” through hardwork and determination.

Lola Okolosie, of Go Feminist, Black Feminists and a Guardian contributor to provide the “Black, British feminist voice in the discussion” as Mills put it. Though Lola’s voice was the one I was most looking forward to, hoping she would be the voice of reason in this interesting but altogether very myopic discussion on Page 3 and Women Equality and Liberation. Sadly though she didn’t say what I yearned her to, though in the course of the entire WOW -Women of the World Festival I did get my very wish on the ‘Feminism and Privilege’ talk later that day. But that’s fodder for another blog post. Reflecting back on Lola Okolosie’s contribution to the debate what I did engage with was her role as a teacher of adolescent boys within an inner-city all-boys school, who as she argued were the most affected long-term by Page 3 and it’s other over-sexualised freely viewable mediated forms of women as sex object. Sharing her classroom discussion with students she was able to colourfully and bravely recount how the majority of these young boys some aged as young as 12 and others as old as 15/16 were “bloody butchering”  the female body. The violent aggressive language the used in connection with the Page 3 models. The boys’ viewpoint that “she isn’t really real”, Page 3 being just an image of a person without feelings and that women on the whole are but a collection of parts that range in importance from arse, tits and face caused a saddened gasp from the auditorium, dare I say it too, I’m certain that I noticed Katie Price’s face tilt in resigned apathy. Okolosie summed her position in relation to the question ‘Does Page 3 Make the World a Better Place?’ succinctly, as she ended for her “No Page 3 does not create a better world, it has had a definite  impact on the world” not necessarily for any good at all.

Martin Daubney of Loaded fame, (he was the longest running editor since it’s creator) took the microphone next. While I confess it was great to get a fresh male perspective on the discussion, particularly from someone who has admittedly has had a large impact on how women are portrayed and received by men, in the UK erotic still-image scene much of what he said was lost amidst his almost unanimous opposition by the audience. However he did not do himself any favour by doing what most (famous) journalist do best, using tantazilizing and controversial news items, anecdotes and barbed comments to prick the audience into a frenzy of voiced disagreement.  As he listed the way in which he had impacted on Page 3 within the UK and international scene, from working on The Sun to launching the Page 3 online website, he made a point to refer to his part in the Channel 4 documentary Porn on the Brain.  For those who keep abreast of such news, you ma remember how Daubney famously changed his attitudes to Porn since hearing how schoolchildren convinced him of the over sexualisation of their youth through the prevailing amount of images pushed at them, yet he still stands in support of Page 3. But in my opinion he did come up with a great point though in challenge to the Page 3 campaign as he pointedly thrust in the faces of the raising voices of anti-Page 3 campaigners in the audience who took offence to his use or twitter troll messaging to colour their campaign – “If you hadn’t have gotten involved, Page 3 would have died a natural death due to the internet. But now it will live on, fighting for it’s right as an institution. You have guaranteed the survival of Page 3”.

India Knight the Sunday Times journalist, author, one time The Sun journalist and just all-round cool book-lover as identified by her Tumblr, rounded off the by now thrice interrupted opening remarks. I found myself admiring this robust, confident woman who cut to the quick of the debate putting forth her viewpoint with such conviction even though as she remarked “the problem with going last is that you want to respond to what others have said before you”. For her Page 3 was nothing short of an annoyance, not something she could hate outright or be disgusted at, rather she just wished it would go away. In her view, which I wholeheartedly agreed with, there were far more important issues to fight for than the end of Page 3 such as equal pay for men and women and the end to sexual violence. She is cool with porn and with making Page 3 an effective platform for cerain kind of ambitious world, she admired working women like Katie Price. However what she could not admire was the inclusion of an outdated Page 3 in our society, as it smacked of an other world. One that is currently being torn down like old pebble-dashed walls almost weekly in the mainstream media, I talk of course of the 1970s once the home of cheeky sexual lib. jokes, Page 3 and all sorts of Carry Ons but have recently been revealed to show the murky sordid reality of institutionalised sexism, abuse and violence particularly towards women. But this still did not excuse the campaign by what she viewed as the “liberal, middle-class left leaning” who were pushing their ideals on people.


  • Catcalling during Martin Daubney’s opening remark, re-focusing his remarks about the trolls who have now joined the ever-growing anti-Page 3 campaign to say simply “this happens with all organisations/campaigns”
  • India Knight telling it like she see’s it.
  • Laura Bates letting Martin Daubney know exactly what stalled the debate in regards to Anti-page 3 campaign, not the trolls but The Sun’s use of Breast Cancer charity Coppafeel to legitiamise their images of topless women on page 3. Hiding behind what she clearly (and rightly) states is “a life and death situation for people”.
  • Katie Price causing a strong ripple of gasps and groans as she inadvertently championed Lesbian rights in relation to viewing Page 3 too and making up part of its audience.
  • Katie Price ending the argument with an ace point – My best quote of the talk , see below.

List of speakers:

  • Eleanor Mills
  • Laura Bates
  • Lola Okolosie
  • Katie Price
  • Martin Daubney
  • India Knight


Best Quote: 

“Nah I’m just listening to the whole of the talk. I actually find myself agreeing with little bits of everyone’s arguments. But can I ask a question to everyone? Does anyone here go topless on the beach?”

-*Queue almost 50% of the women in the audience raising their hands outstretched to the sky*-

(marking themselves as liberated au-naturale warrior women of the highest order – no doubt)

“So what difference is being topless on a beach, a public place to doing it on a paper and getting paid for it?”

-Katie Price

MDX LGBT Society Talk About their Film Awareness Video

Collating my work for the blog. It seems so long ago that I was at Middlesex with a entire gang of guys, gals and in-betweens who enjoyed engaging with the university life. As well as having a sense of ownership of the atrium spaces in the Grove. Beautiful place to film within, it really should feature more in productions.

The Literary Gazette

Sometimes the best events come from the simplest of ideas.

Ahead of the North London Literary festival, Middlesex students are hard at work at many creative endeavours.  Though we hunger for news on the highly anticipated app, other creative committees and students are conducting their events earlier in more public forums. 

On the 1st of February, a few intrepid equality and liberation activists or in other-words Middlesex University’s LGBT Society (MDX LGBT) banded together to create a Campaign Video.

I, the secretary of MDX LGBT, caught up with the President and Treasurer to find out more about why and how the video was created as well as their future aspirations for the Middlesex Society.

I am joined by Peter Dillon, 20, the President of MDX LGBT and Tom Stock, 26, the Treasurer of MDX LGBT, who share their views and journey on leaving a lasting legacy.

View original post 1,252 more words

Twelfth Night

Having always wanted to see a Shakespeare Production at The Globe theatre, I was a bit disheartened by this production at a small theatre on Shaftesbury Avenue. However as with all my pre-conceptions I should not have wasted an ounce of worry.

The Banner courtesy of the Apollo Theatre.

Not only was Stephen Fry playing a whimsical Malvolio, with his luxurious voice and handsome stage presence, but Mark Rylance was the undoubted star of this piece,
The renowned actor, theatre director and playwright graced the stage with his presence in this limited run, with his comedic turn as Olivia. Even Kevin (the boyfriend) who I was worried would hate the show was watching the production with a beaming smile throughout the long 4 hours.

We decided prior to the show to not opt for the stage seats, put on the stage to provide a more authentic experience and how I regretted that! But none-the-less even up the circle sandwich between a so-so couple and a very “hoity-toity” one we had much fun on the last performance before Christmas. The live Elizabethan band serenaded the seasonal spirit into us, helping my first ever christmas spent with my boyfriend to feel like warm milk after honey. Pure Bliss.

My Darling Kevin next to the National Darling that is Stephen Fry
Outside the Apollo Theatre showing Mark Rylance as Olivia