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.


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.

#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 #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 #8: The Precipice that could Swallow this Crow.

Waiting for the day when nothing else remains.
When all that we have and were will refuse to remain,
The day that I cease to torment us with this simmering hate,
The day you again love what I -What WE can create,
The time that can be dedicated to ourselves and not,
When love is speared again with our best shot,
But, maybe this is all just indulgent fluff,
Life is not so hurtful, not so rough,
I even have offers from long-forgotten pasts,
Long winding pasts into obscured depts so dark,
I stand momentarily unhinged yet complete,
Seeing new strengths, the many nuances of me,
Filled with such acceptance and love for them all,
The US I created within this exterior crow,
And unconfident, hurtful, sorrowful, unknowable, unlovable lore,
Not worthy of that past yet deserving of infinitely more.



It gets harder each and every day…

.. I feel hollow. Even as I turn to silent prayer.

I know this ain’t healthy, to live in a fetid shit heap.
I find myself finding old scraps I keep, emotions kept dormant.
I’m stuck at a crossroad unsure of where to follow.
For my guide has let himself die.
Since reborn in near-distant shores, knowing full feel I am left lonely.
Focussed on vision on every mark he is leaving, as I stay frozen.
Left hopeless and un able to awaken my inner-conscious.

Maybe now’s not the time to be precious?
Maybe now I should show you true consequence?
Perhaps futures fly only when the past is pulverised?

I state, sat in dimensional gaps, with my temporally shifted cries.


A Gentle Lingering

A Gentle Lingering

Your gentle words make me cry,
But there’s no-one here to dry these eyes,

Your gentle hands type their byes,
But aren’t here to quieten my sighs.

Your gentle words make me cry,
But your not here to dry my eyes.

You didn’t have to be a mess,
I didn’t have to keep applying such stress,

You could’ve helped us suffer less,
I didn’t have to resort to states of undress.

You didn’t have to make this mess,
I share a greater blame, I must I confess.

I still see you opening the door,
I think we long to enjoy it some more,
But are stuck being chained bores,
Stuck in winning only at repetitive plays of score.

We didn’t have to fuck this up,
I shouldn’t have told you why it all sucked,
Roasting our burns and opening our scars,
Allowing our love to be burn and cooked.

Why didn’t your words come out?
Why didn’t your rail and shout?
Why is passion and rage a hidden simmering sight?
Why could you not have put up a fight?

Your gentleness lingers and makes me weep,
My worded passions will forever run deep,

Your emotions play half bright at best,
I hope that God allows me to pass this test.

Your gentle words make me cry.

But you won’t return to dry these eyes;
kiss my lips;
lay in unwedded bliss;

help us move on,
together as one,
forever at home,
within each other’s arms,

forgetting all of this shit.


Days Drag On… What do I find on my phone?

Crazy long day – feel dead and drained and I’m in no way prepared for the mess that will be tomorrow. MA class (not done my reading!) then shifts in another store, as part of my new job! The need to keep balancing between love of learning and money to keep learning, is a hard journey to navigate through.

Sorry for rant. I’m just going to keep it sweet by posting some stuff I re-(discovered) on my phone. Not what I’m feeling right now, but I’m slowing getting over the emotions, anxiety and people-pleasing tendencies that kept me from sharing my words. 


Title: Couplet (date: 06.10.15)

I love you, but I love me more,
in reality; its a falsified bore.

How can anyone be without another,
One will always live as Cartesian succour.


Title: Leaving. Learning. Life. Losing? (date: 28.09.15)

Emotional. Weeping This day
hits me. Travelling waiting my
breath deceives me. Sick of
this sickness that  ails me. Sick
and… Tired of the wishing and
wanting that is snatched from
me. Backward facing travel in a
glittering life. How much
longer will u/I hide?

Tired of the wanting that is snatched from me.
Wishing against wishes that hopes weren’t constant dreams.



Power in speaking

You speak, I speak
and then we hear.
As we wonder separately,
Feigning we are freer.

The line crackles,
my arm stiffens,
as I walk down these streets.

Locate me in the here,
I am stood where we were once to be so near.
Sirens bleed by me,
Reminding me that you are sat in your tranquility.

You speak, I speak
You quieten.
I speak, You speak,
I am stifled.

Are either of us listened?


Will either of us listen?


I’ve been dealing with issues of power and access pretty much all day today. As I will for much of this coming year as my MA in Gender Studies progresses.. My thoughts are still fragmented at best and unformulated naive notions at worst. I’m aware I should paint something or draw but equally my eyes are drooping and my heard a buzzing nest of white noise. So here’s a quick stanza, I hope you found it eleganza!

Apologies for the stilted poetry and the hedging. But hope some parts or forms of it resonate someplace, whether is sound or ideals.


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)