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.


what of my brother?

What of my Brother?

Whose life has moved along many different lines…
Whose experiences could use up all of England’s inkwells,
Whose linguistics could have surpassed even the Bard’s lines,
What of him the large precariat Lion, strong but inwardly howling..

What now? What of his life? What then?
Where should he hide? Why?

Whose only conceivable crime was to be different to the gingerbread cutout for me and my kind.
Who struck out so lonesome a visionary vanguard, misunderstood from every side.
Who wasn’t able to traverse the systems that push him, kick him down and kill his mind, his spirit his chance at life..
Melting and moulding, stuffing it all inbetween and amongst the camps of the lower classes, of the “people-like-me’s” and our kinds.
Whose ambition comes like a seasonally treated windup clockwork, buffed up to a new shine,  But like every internal working it brings attention to itself again, sure as an apple falls from a tree.
Here it is, it stretches out, is hacked at, splutters and withers, congeals and dies.
Every year whenever the sun shines.
The end heralded by a ticking of the clock and an addition of a ‘1’ to the numerical understanding of his life.


This week’s lesson: Know and Respect yourself

Sometimes you have to learn that you’re working on something bigger than yourself. The world. And the ones who know and understand, are the ones who will stick around. After all what else do you need but that?

My internal thoughts to myself.. as I struggle with shedding the overly-empathic and supportive self. I’ve helped many people get the life and careers, or loves and support that they needed. This is and was my year to help myself. But I’m becoming my own worst enemy. Sometimes the cuddly beast within me has to be caged for her own good. Ruthless may not by a trait that is instilled, but being one’s own jailer is the best way to get further in the game.. to respect yourself and your intellect enough to get to where you want to be. Where you see yourself living you’re own little, pleasant, love-filled dream..
Fuck the world and the distractions they upkeep to disable you ever being truly free right? Also, sometimes the most well-meaning of friends and love, can help create or co-create the cells that enchain your promise and your skills needed to make a great change for this world, while we roam it for such an ever-short time.


Life so far… Returning to the place of my awakening construction

So I have returned to snowy Yorkshire after a rollercoaster 3 1/2 day, 3 night return to London. No matter what is said by people from all walks of life about this place and how many times I leave, or come to the realisation that this place just isn’t for me, right now, for many, many reasons.. I cannot think of anywhere else that I feel more like myself. Rather, where I am more able to be confronted by myself and thus allowed some time to consider life and myself.

A great woman in this city taught me many pearls of wisdom. The ones I keep returning to often are those related to family, friends and religion. After all, like the age-old saying goes, “You can choose your friends but not your family”. I’m just struck by how many times and how many people, well-meaningly may attach themselves to or try to help other people but where does this boundary blur?

Often it is when morals, spirituality, religion or received wisdom is discussed. By our natures, we humans are beings who are constantly learning and trying to evolve, in some way or form. But I think when one is overcome with pride over their own ways of understanding the world they fall quickly into greed. It’s greedy to want more than your two hands, two feets, brain and life allows. We are all given one life (arguably). It is only the two God-given hands and feet, our brain, our heart and understanding of our selves that we can and should have any control over. But when you over-ride another’s life or impinge on it in anyway, your committing a grave ill, sin-like. It’s pride and greed rolled into one. Now don’t mistake me, I am not saying that in this case we should all be individuals well and truly and have no interaction. After all by our natures, and especially mine, we are social beings and collectively attempt to understand and construct life and knowledges around us.

Part of this is the age-old awareness-advice-experimentation-attainment model. Say for example, the issue is not being consistently productive over writing, you first have to become aware of the issue, why it’s happening, what can be done etc. Then you may go to someone to discuss it, or even write/call/text/skype to someone or even to yourself t received or form relevant advice, say for example “Write everyday no matter how big or small. don’t look to always having a finished product or polished argument”. Experiement then ensues, as the phrase suggests, you (or I) try this out.. whether it be the exact advice or a reworking of it and others to fit the lifestyle of the person with the issues. Then hopefully some sense of achievement, overcoming or feeling of attainment is left at the end or during the more fruitful days of experimentation.

But when helpful advice, from a place of caring turns into judgement, competition and over-riding another’s god-given right to process and become who the hell they are meant to. You are intervening on something larger than yourself and it is not your place. Yes a discussion, the start of dialogue is welcome and should always be open, I mean even the Prophet Muhammed (PBUH) invited people to ask questions and try and make sense of any commands or the way life should be lived. Communication and the striving for awareness is key and central to our life’s agenda, is it not? If we did not need others to be sane or live our lives, we would all be borne into islands with no social, cultural or religious constructs. As one wise woman said “Even if the way the religion is done annoys me, I was born into it. God choose to make me one of these people, I can’t turn away completely”.


once, ‘people come and go,


Poem from 13th of Dec

Publishing an unknown, unremembered draft to re-vitalise my dearthful creativity. Or rather sharing of said creativity;


Dragged back to this hellhole,

no hope for life, no light,

fizzling, sizzling smiles that belie hardened minds,

no hearts that present all that is fine,

all withered, all cried, all die.


#NaBloPoMo #27: …. Blank space.

Because so many thoughts, fleeted out feet first, taking over hours, clamouring over yet more barriers.

Idiosyncracies met horror, met hurt, met anxiety.. And now I feel, still breathe, all whilst I suffocate in this sea.

trained, trapped and tricked into their histories – this is the life I perceive.



#NaBloPoMo 20 Surrogate – Job Applications & Career Aspirations

So working back in retail has been a very rewarding and interesting experience. Being on the frontline of the new launch of the first ever Westfield development outside of London, in my very own hometown Bradford, West Yorkshire..  has been a once-in-a-lifetime experience amazing! Reflecting on best practice and application of skills within a busy environment codes of best practice are being drawn and re-drawn daily, as the flow of people and goods has yet to find a organisational bed to lay in, is so my ‘cup o’ tea’. As i keep implementing new strategies to increase productivity within my team and the click and collect service I am responsible for.

However I am also increasingly aware of how much further I am walking away from my ultimate career goal, which is to be a researcher in the media production and it’s effects on cultural and gendered norms, within our wider global society. Especially as one of the mid-millennial generation, who has just  left the bustling metropolitan centre that is London, where it seemed opportunities were endless and I had a great network around me. Though I guess I still have those networks and communities, I guess I am finding it a little more difficult that I realised fitting back into the conservative and sometimes a little too harsh North. I mean only recently I was faced with disparaging comments about my potential knowledge of Star Wars, because I was “An Asian Lass”; my sexual orientation and sexuality, oh and general knowledge of Gay/Trans .. like please get to know me, my interests and affiliations please before you judge me for my looks and your prejudiced stereotypical notions. Oh but don’t fret I was the picture of charm itself while facing these and many, many more silly comments.

Silly is a little harsh I know, but I think it’s the best English idiom, as I am again faced with the same circles of “truthisms” and segregated knowledge and power struggles I faced as I grew up in the North.

Little instances that deny me access to cultural products or historical references, are just everyday cases of otherings that deny my personal narrative. They set me apart and call into question my journey to become a citizen and an individual, who faces the same struggles and mental processes as everyone else. Though I must say that it is normally men of a certain background who tend to display these thoughts and actions, maybe it has more to do with patriarchy?

Oh well, I do love to rise to a challenge. Plus, I cannot claim to be part of the movement of “Equality for all” if I don’t work to change prejudices on an everyday micro-level. Above all and especially when I feel most despairing, I must rise with poise, professionally and perfectly formed intuitive retorts to stand my feminist ground.

Also, quick bit of good related news,  I have been spending hours, especially before and after work, study and gym applying for positions with educational environments. I know I have the passion, drive and enthusiasm for learning spaces and supporting fellow students of life, if only I could get an interview. *Fingers crossed and lots of prayers* please 🙂


NaBloPoMo #16 – Surrogate #15

A melancholic sadness,
A softly, softley wide awakening,
Eyes open,
Iris’ flex,
Soaking it all in,
blurring filled with internal rain.
Shaking uncontrollably as we meet,
As we sit, speak, meet, disagree.
Cut deep and hurt, seemingly eternally.
A life is a life,
Flows from low to highs.
The world is shattered and shredded with incessant strife.
I have no place to hide,
I have no strength to cry,
I have no voice to verbalise.

I die as We die.


#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.