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Things I miss (and things I don’t) – Haley
It’s my first days off after a set of shifts and I’m sitting here thinking that I am quite happy to spend my days off sleeping, spending time indoors and going out to exercise once per day. I am happy to rest on my days off for a few months as work is more tiring than usual.
I am relatively ‘new’ to my team of work colleagues but I still I miss them. I miss working with them rather than working with less people/alone. I miss their support, help and company. I miss dealing with familiar and usual situations at work. But I am not complaining, as the virus has thrown a spanner in the works of many organisations.
After finishing my last night shift I went to the shop to collect some essentials. Then I realised that I missed ‘normality’. Like not having to do strange distanced dances in shops with strangers whenever we find ourselves near to breaching the 2 metres of proximity rule with each other. And being able to cough in a shop without having to see the look of sheer panic plastered on the faces of those near-by.
Going to and from work has been a different experience, as the city centre is very quiet. Part of me likes this- it’s because my pace of everyday life can slow down a bit. There is less traffic, getting onto public transport is no longer an ‘every person for themselves’ situation. I have not had to watch as a train takes off without my said self being able to fit on it. And I don’t have to pretend that I am playing dodgems as I rush through hoards of people every time I reach the city centre.
I am no longer rushing around on my days off, making sure all tasks are completed, all purchases have been purchased, and that I have socialised enough before starting my next set of shifts. My once a day dogs walks are fabulous; the views are great, the flowers are beautiful, the sun is shining, there is no litter on the floors and it is quiet enough to hear the bird singing late into the afternoon.
I do miss seeing people though. I miss going to the pub/food places with friends and meeting up with my family. I miss going to my local park and seeing everyone enjoying themselves in the sun. I miss not doing the things that I had planned to do this spring and summer; like going to festivals, going abroad, and going on days out to the seaside with others.
Whilst technology has helped me to keep in contact with people I care about it just doesn’t feel the same as being in the constant presence of other humans. As it turns out, I cannot live with people, but I cannot live without them either.
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A song for Terry. #BlackenAsiaWithLove
A song for Terry.
Terry was just six when he died.
Not a long time spent on this Earth,
But enough to make himself known to the universe.
There were many obstacles in life waiting for boys like Terry.
If life is a vast ocean, then he only sailed a meager ferry.
Terry was born in a place, in a time and
In a body that didn’t count much –
A poor, southern Black boy and such.
He was loved, for sure,
I’d see his grandmother kiss him every morning,
As she sent Terry off to school.
Like mine,
Terry’s household didn’t look like those on TV.
None of ours did.
There weren’t any of those Cosby kids.
But Terry was like my brother, my dear friend.
I looked forward to walking to school with Terry each day.
He always had something interesting to say.
Terry and I were in the same class.
He lived across the street,
And our school was just a few blocks away.
There and back,
I wanted to be by his side.
Sometimes I would walk to my grandparents’ after school,
And momma would pick me up after work.
No sooner did we get home and settled did I ask to go outside and play,
With Terry.
Our story was short-lived.
Two kids on the block,
On the poor side of town,
We lived cocooned in a world of luxury:
We were cared for and we were safe.
Everyone on the block looked out for all the kids;
There were no strangers around home base.
But, we also lived
In a time and place of misery,
Where things like poverty,
Would determine your destiny,
And all the dreams we would dream,
Would have to fight the sun to live.
A handsome little brown boy,
And a finely picked mini ‘Fro.
An easy smile,
And an easy-going way about him.
Terry was a nice guy.
And did I mention he was loved?
He was not the most popular kid in class –
Naw, everybody feared that guy!
Terry was the one everyone liked.
For Valentine’s day,
The whole class exchanged heart-shaped candies and notes with one another-
All in pink, my favorite color.
My one time of year to shine!
I was so excited to choose one especially for Terry, my brother:
Will you be my Valentine?
Even the teacher got along with him.
Terry never got in trouble.
He got sad-eyed when any of us got marched off to get paddled.
At lunch, I’d always sit with Terry.
Terry got free lunch, and
Peanut butter and jelly is what I got when momma packed mine!
We’d hurry to the front of the line,
And finish our food quickly,
So we could go to the play area the rest of the time.
I didn’t like milk, but Terry did.
And he didn’t care for apple sauce, but I did.
Sometimes we’d split:
Half a piece of pizza for half my sandwich.
We’d trade.
We didn’t keep score, but
We were always even.
There, right in the middle of the cafeteria,
Smack in the middle of the school,
Was a large, carpeted recreational area.
There, we’d play and everything was cool.
After lunch, but also before and after school,
We could climb and crawl,
Spin and jump,
Run and hide,
Seek and find,
And holler as loud as we’d want.
Teachers would monitor from nearby, but
They left us alone and took their break-time.
Our teachers would even rotate who had this monitoring job to do.
We weren’t a rowdy bunch,
So, there were no fights to break-up.
There were neither hoops nor balls to tussle over.
No nets, no bats –
No competition and all that.
Just a space…
Where us kids could be free.
We were free.
Terry died in the middle of first grade.
We had found out from our teacher that Terry was sick,
We’d all heard of sickle cell, many in our own families, like mine.
But none of us knew what it means.
We knew Terry was not always sturdy.
One time he’d had a bad bout with asthma.
Our teacher helped him take his inhaler,
That she’d showed us where it was kept in her desk drawer.
Now, she was telling us that Terry was just spending a few days in the hospital.
The whole class avidly awaited Terry’s return.
She didn’t know more than that,
I needed to know when Terry’d be back.
I knocked on his door, one day
On the way home from school,
To tell his grandmother I hoped Terry’d be ok.
I knew my grandmother would be heartbroken if anything like that happened to one of us.
Kids that little aren’t supposed to die.
Not here, and not of diseases we can’t even see.
Even at that age, I knew this just shouldn’t be.
And yet turn on the TV,
Every day we see signs and symptoms of little Black boys’ morbidity.
Whether from war or starvation in distant lands, or
Dilapidation and disease on these burning sands.
Just like what was happening to Terry:
A casualty of a neglectful society.
I didn’t get to mourn Terry,
Didn’t have some cathartic corral with our classmates about
The fun times we had or how much we missed him.
There was no school counselor coming to our class –
No one explaining the cycle of life, nor
Asking us about our feelings.
I knew how I felt.
I loved Terry, and knew the way I loved him was seen as peculiar;
I couldn’t let anyone know about this one-sided affair.
I was sad, and all this was unfair.
What would I say?
We were only 6 years old, and
Terry was the first boy I ever loved.
—
In memory of Muhammed Ali, another Black boy who survived those same streets and corridors.
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That old familiar feeling
It would seem it’s human nature to seek out similarities in times of uncertainty. An indication that someone somewhere has experience they can share. Some sort of wisdom they can provide or at the very least a recognisable element that can somehow be interpreted to give an indication, that when it happened before everything turned out ok in the end. With the current world pandemic leaving so much free time to think and observe what is going on, one has to wonder at some point if the differences should be a more prominent focus point.
Historically world pandemics are not new. The plague, small pox, Spanish flu, all form part of a collective historical account of the global devastating impacts a new disease has on mankind. I found myself re-reading The Plague (Camus, 1947/2002) and pondering the similarities. Self-isolation and whole town isolation, the socioeconomic impacts on the poor seeking employment, despite the risk to health these roles carried and the heart-breaking accounts of families unable to say goodbye to loved ones or bury the dead in a dignified, ordinary manner.
Early on politicians and media were quick to compare the pandemic with war. Provocative language became commonplace. Talk of fighting the invisible enemy in the new ‘war’, with the ‘frontline’ NHS staff our new heroes giving the country hope we could win. It came as no surprise to wake one morning and see ‘memes’ shared on social media portraying Boris Johnson as the new Churchill.
Media quickly changed. Suddenly films which dramatised pandemics grew in popularity. These fictitious accounts of how the world would respond, the mistakes which would be made and the varying outcomes individual responses towards official advice would have on their chances of survival. Even I have to admit a scene from Contagion discussing the use of hand washing and refraining from touching your face seemed to echo government advice. Fortunately, the scenes of supermarket looting were overdramatic but the empty supermarket shelves and panic buying hysteria was all the same.
There were however, some comparisons made, which haunted me. I’m sure everyone has their own reasons for finding distaste and maybe mine were unique to me. A combination of my academic knowledge and background mixed amongst my own personal views and current situation. As a mother of three, I had suddenly become a teacher with the closure of schools. My recent master’s degree in education fortunately allowed me a basic, self-researched understanding of mainstream education and home education methods.
I watched as friends and family members concerns grew about how they as parents could provide an education. Initially most looked-for similarities once again. Similar timetables to school, similar methods of teaching, trying as a parent to morph into a similar role their children’s teacher has. I think most parents felt overwhelmed quite early on. Many most likely still do, because the thing is, home education is not comparable to mainstream education in many ways at all. That’s not to say one is superior, this is certainly not my opinion. Quite simply, they’re fundamentally different approaches.
I often find myself throughout my academic journey looking for comparison with concepts and areas in which I’m familiar. My undergrad in law and criminology makes occasional appearance in most of my writing, perhaps more often than not, in fact, I used my continued interest in criminological and legal concepts to make my education MA my own. Further reinforcing the idea, familiarity provides some sort of comfort as we enter something unknown.
One comparison which deeply worried me that finds its roots in criminological concepts, is those who have compared self-isolation with prison. Having experienced a long, heated debate previously following a comment I made displaying my disgust for the re-introduction of the death penalty, it seemed futile to raise the issues with this in the only social environment I had access to currently, social media. I remain hopeful, most criminologists recognise the obvious differences between the two.
In the end when we look back at this moment in history, there will no doubt be many more comparisons made. We often look to history to learn lessons and I’m not sure we can do that without recognising some sort of parallels with the situation. Whether that be for comfort, guidance, information or to learn, entirely depends on the individual. I will leave you with a quote of something I heard a few days ago which has stuck with me and provided inspiration for this writing…
“History doesn’t repeat itself but it often rhymes”
With that in mind, I would suggest we take comfort in the familiarity of similar situations, that this pandemic won’t last forever, but the difference it may make on our lives will always be our personal experiences. When we look back and search for comparison of life during the pandemic and life afterwards, we may well appreciate the experiences we once took for granted.
Reference
Camus, A (2002). The Plague. London: Penguin classics
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Is my obsession with cinema just golden age thinking?
The past four weeks we’ve been in isolation is the longest period I’ve gone without going to the cinema in four years. As a holder of a Cineworld card, the cinema comes as natural to me as breathing. However, seemingly, with the arrival of streaming platforms, including Netflix and Amazon Prime, as well as access to films through torrenting, fewer people are going to the cinema when we can watch films at home with the added bonus of pausing it when you want to go to the toilet. And going to the cinema with your family is a pastime that millions of people across the world take part in. For many families, going to see the latest blockbuster is fun, but for me it’s more a home from home.
Flicking between streaming platforms, my books and other forms of entertainment, it’s given me time to contemplate about things I’m interested in, including the film industry
Since childhood, I’ve always had a respect for storytelling through the moving image, being force-fed Disney at five years old. And is it possible to enjoy 20th-century Disney films whilst seeing all the racist, sexist, misogynistic messages and imagery they hold? Nonetheless, from memory, one trip to the cinema with my parents was in the summer of 2005 at the release of Star Wars: Revenge the Sith. Then, I loved it. Now, I loathe it. Yet, in 2005, I recall going to the cinema was a family affair. An event.
Nowadays, your Joe and Jane Bloggs seem to go to the cinema because of an 85% fresh rating on Rotten Tomatoes.
What put it into perspective was when Martin Scorsese’s Silence (2016) tanked in the box office. Alas, subjectively one of the best films of 2016 and Scorsese knows his craft – from Mean Streets (1973), to Goodfellas (1990), to today with The Irishman (2019). You’re only as good as your last, and I don’t think he has ever done a bad film. Film now is less about filmmaking or going to the cinema as an event, and more about spectacle. Whilst board execs of big production companies still wanted to make money in the old days, it’s evident that Old Hollywood still had an equilibrium between maintaining standards of quality and making money in the box office.
I grew up around Double Indemnity, The Third Man, Cleopatra, Gone with the Wind and Giant, let alone Detective Virgil Tibbs, Norman Bates and Miss Blanch DuBois.
Heck, even films like Richard Roundtree in Shaft (1971), as politically incorrect as it is. And many of my family are of a delicate disposition! There are no “movie stars” anymore. Whilst once, people would have gone to watch that Harrison Ford film, as he was was the golden child of the 1980s (Blade Runner, Indiana Jones), now it’s about franchise. Robert Downey Jr. isn’t a movie star, Tony Stark is. Whilst my parents grew up going to see the latest Harrison Ford film, now it’s about the latest in the Fast and Furious franchise, or the next sequel, or Disney remake (as much I enjoy them).
The emergence of the Marvel Cinematic Universe changed the way Hollywood did business forever, especially since 2012 with Avengers Assemble which was unprecedented, let alone Infinity War and Endgame. The coming of these vigilantes has meant the death of filmmaking as we knew it. The [metaphorical] death of movie stars such as Stallone, Schwarzenegger and Will Smith. Whilst films were once made for, at least in-part, due to love of the art, now it’s about making bank in what feels like tinting the lense of nostalgia in the public consciousness. Goonies would never get made today, so let’s put it on Netflix and call it Stranger Things.
I hear the elderly, and even my parents’ generation use terms like “kids today” and the “youth of today.” And I really do feel bad for my brothers’ generation, who grew up with social media and will never know a film industry before the Marvel Cinematic Universe. Born in 2008, he is now twelve years old and was born in the same year Robert Downey Jr. debuted as Tony Stark in Iron Man (2008). When folks say kids today, I’m not sure whether they mean me (I’m 24) or him (12). When I say it, I mean children.
Born in 1995, I came into this world with Jumanji (1995), Home Alone (1990) and Matilda (1996). Moreover, the whole Disney catalogue was rammed down my throat dating back to Snow White (1939). Home Alone would not get made today. Jumanji would not get made today (not like that). My parents had Goonies (1985) and E.T the Extra-Terrestrial (1982), which would not get made today. I grew up with the same references my parents did, including Back to the Future (1985), meanwhile my brother / his peers watch YouTubers like it’s television (which I continue to find perplexing).
The way my parents talk about growing up in the 1980s, makes me envy them even more. I’m incredibly jealous of that generation. Whilst capitalism was still a thing, there was more love for storytelling. Going to the cinema now is about companies making bank, whilst then and even up to pre-2008 it was about making good films that made bank. And I think that’s why a lot of people are reluctant to go to the cinema and spend over £100 for a family of five. Most films that come out of the Hollywood system are bad. I take more pleasure out of independent films, art house, foreign films (big up Parasite) where they often still make films that are good for art’s sake.
I loved Jumanji: Welcome to the Jungle and Beauty and the Beast (2017) as well as, Jon Favreau’s Jungle Book (2016), but do we need to keep remaking films and giving them sequels? Some of my favourites, including Scarface (1983) and Ben-Hur (1959) are remakes, but they add to their predecessors, rather than bringing nothing new to what was already a perfectly reasonable film. The Godfather (1972), 12 Angry Men (1957), Psycho (1960) –lock them in an unbreakable vault and throw away the key! Coming to America (1988), 48 Hours (1982), Annie Hall (1977), you can’t copy that!!
I spend a lot of time at my favourite place, the cinema. It’s bliss. I watch the blockbusters but spend an awful lot of time watching the low-key films. Supporting the types of artists that will probably be struggling due to the social impact of Coronavirus. The fact that I had to travel to Birmingham to watch Moonlight on its release speaks volumes. Many of the films I want to watch get a limited release. The cinema is sacred. I’m not certain we can say it’s dying yet, but the psychology of going to the cinema has changed.
Being holed up because of the pandemic has further shown me why I so enjoy films made before the 1970s, when there were more films that were good made for art sake; however, when they were bad, you could not hide its badness behind stylish camera angles and ostentatious uses of special effects
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“My Favourite Things”: Helen Trinder
My favourite TV show - I don’t generally like watching violence on TV – I deal with enough real-life violence that I don’t find it entertaining, but I love Killing Eve. It’s full of wit, and interesting complex personalities while being far-fetched enough to provide some escapism. In complete contrast, I also love The Great Pottery Throw Down. There’s something soothing and weirdly sensual about watching people doing pottery and I’m fascinated by how easily Keith is moved to tears by the efforts of the contestants! My favourite place to go - There are lots of places I like to go but now that I can’t go anywhere the thing that I miss most is watching my son sail. Since he became good at it, just over a year ago, we have been to a number of sailing clubs across the country, but our home club is just down the road in Haversham. It’s a lovely tranquil spot, only a stone’s throw from Milton Keynes. In a normal summer we would be there three or four times a week, and would often camp there over the weekend My favourite city - Of all the cities I’ve visited, my favourite is New Orleans, although I haven’t been there since it was devastated by Hurricane Katrina. I visited in 1992 and again in 1997 when it was vibrant, jazzy and very cool. I also love Oxford. I lived there for three years and still visit regularly My favourite thing to do in my free time - I play cornet in a brass band. I enjoy making music, particularly with other people, and sharing it with an appreciative audience. No band practice at the moment, but I’m doing more personal practice than I have for a long time! My favourite athlete/sports personality - I think Dina Asher-Smith is a great role-model, completing her degree while also training to become a world champion. I also think that Gareth Southgate is an example of a good leader. He is calm, rational and professional, he listens to his players and he puts their interests first My favourite actor - For the ability to make me laugh and to convey so many thoughts and feelings with his face and body it has to be Rowan Atkinson. And for a huge body of very diverse work, always portrayed with sensitivity, warmth and humour, I choose Julie Walters My favourite author - I haven’t read any of her books for a while (they can be a bit of a marathon!) but my favourite author is George Eliot. She portrays complex characters with all their qualities and flaws, and the gradual ways in which they change over time in response to their experiences My favourite drink - Gin and tonic, preferably with some kind of fancy artisan gin My favourite food - A bacon sandwich, obviously! My favourite place to eat - It depends what I’m eating. If it’s the aforementioned bacon sandwich, then a warm, sunny campsite. Fish and chips taste best at the seaside, seasoned by the sea air. A Sunday roast is best at home with my family I like people who -are enthusiastic, open-minded and willing to look at things from different perspectives I don’t like it when people -are negative or rigid in their thinking. I’m not very tolerant of pessimists! My favourite book - is still Winnie the Pooh by A.A. Milne. Lots of gentle humour and gems of wisdom. My favourite book character - I have a soft spot for Adrian Mole. I first discovered him when I was about 11 or 12 and he was 13¾. We have grown up together! My favourite film - The Pink Panther films featuring Peter Sellers as Inspector Clouseau always have my husband and I rolling round with laughter My favourite poem - My favourite poet is John Betjeman. I like the rhythm of his writing and his use of brand names, place names and technical terms which convey a strong sense of time and place. However, I think my favourite poem is A Gift by Henry Normal. It describes someone bringing an amazing gift (a mountain) which the recipient doesn’t really understand My favourite artist/band - I’m a big fan of 90's Britpop and I particularly like Pulp. I think their songs have clever and sophisticated lyrics My favourite song - Following on from the above, my favourite song is Common People. It is both humorous and moving, with a strong message to people like me who come from a position of privilege and want to promote social justice. However well-meaning we may be, sometimes we just don’t get it! If I wanted some feel-good music though, I would choose Sandstorm by Darude My favourite art - When I was 20, I went inter-railing with a friend from university. We visited the Vatican and spent a good 20 minutes simply staring at the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel. The art is exquisite – so much detail and so much movement and fluidity in the painting My favourite person from history - As a Shropshire girl, and the daughter of an industrial archaeologist, I’m going to say Abraham Darby, who first smelted iron ore using coke instead of charcoal at Coalbrookdale. He took what he had learned from quite different contexts and applied his knowledge to provide a novel solution that kick-started the industrial revolution. And as a Quaker he also took a keen interest in social justice, in supporting his workforce and developing his community
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“My Favourite Things”: Kiera Slaven
My favourite TV show - Let’s start this off by going full nerd and saying that my all time fave tv show has to be Star Trek. Something that resonates with me is that this TV show paints the possibility of exploration of the unknown and as a global society we’ve constructed that reality. Perhaps not to the extent of beaming onto another space ship but certainly sending our own technology out to Mars…. it just fascinates me. fact check: the show started production in 67’ and we went to the moon in 69’ My favourite place to go - Easy… into nature! I’ve most definitely spent the majority of my life at Sywell Reservoir, Northamptonshire has a beautiful countryside to offer, in the spring/summer I tend to drive out into the small country villages and find a nice spot (usually a farmer's field with a public walking path) and just go for a stroll My favourite city - Not a city person! I’ve travelled to many great cities but naturally I drift to the outskirts, the small towns, the countrysides. My favourite town would have to be Alice Springs, Australia. That dirt red town is full of so much life, vibrancy, culture, yes there is an evil side to it but there is so much beauty too My favourite thing to do in my free time - Oh, easy one…. I love visiting second hand, vintage and charity shops. Honestly you find so many great wonders. Usually on the hunt for 60’s/70’s retro vintage furniture. Northampton has a great deal of vintage shops to offer, I would personally recommend the Vintage Retreat, lovely spot for lunch too My favourite athlete/sports personality - certainly an oddball answer, but it would have to be Rey Mysterio. His identity eluded me when I was younger and he’s been in the business a long old time! (wrestling business that is) My favourite actor - Jeff Bridges… what a man My favourite author - H.P Lovecraft, an outsider in every sense of the word. He dove deep into his own mind and questioned the importance of the human race by stripping back the ego that surrounds us, and enforced the notion that actually human beings are not the most important thing in this universe. Also, he brought Cthulu to life My favourite drink - Johnny Walker Red Label and Irn Bru (Scottish Heritage) My favourite food - A sloppy Joe burger with extra rib sauce from Buddies. I'm bit rubbish at this because I can’t just pick one thing, so my other fave food would be my Granny’s home-made stovies My favourite place to eat - Smoke Pit, in Northampton town centre, bit pricey but the food is so worth it I like people who - are honest with themselves I don’t like it when people - act out of fear My favourite book - Collection of books, would have to be the graphic novel series Berserk which follows the lone mercenary Guts, for any comic book/manga fans out there, this one is a must My favourite book character - Sorry but I have spent a few hours trying to figure my fave book character out and its just not happening. In replacement I will offer my fave TV show character and it would have to be Ragnar Lothbrok (from Vikings). Although I'm sure he exists in a historical book somewhere My favourite film - No Country for Old Men. Need I say more My favourite poem - I have never been one to frequent in poems, so I will insert my favourite quote here instead and you may seem to notice a reoccurring theme here (my love for H.P Lovecraft). “The oldest and strongest emotion of mankind is fear, and the oldest and strongest kind of fear is fear of the unknown.” It is certainly poetic My favourite artist/band - Metallica!!! My favourite song - Sam Cooke, A Change is Gonna Come and The Eagles, Hotel California My favourite art - ANYTHING Raoul Dufy. Light hearted bursts of colour that paint the most luxurious and relaxing scenes. Artwork to get lost in My favourite person from history - Marcus Aurelius. If you don’t know who it is get your google on, you won’t regret it. Fun fact: Aurelius’ personal ethics are informed by the philosophical concept of stoicism, a fascinating philosophical concept and one I deeply resonate with
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Things I Miss, or Introverts vs Coronavirus
The thing I hate most about self-isolation is how quickly I eased into this new pace of life. Is that the privilege of having somewhere to self-isolate to or does it come with having an introverted personality? Before quarantine, many would perceive me as a mild-mannered individual. I ask a lot of questions. I guess that’s where my affinity for journalism comes from. Yet, in a global crisis, not much has changed. For someone that suffers from anxiety, one would think I would have more emotional unrest during the worst public health crisis in a generation. But no. I’m content, staying at home.
Whilst this pandemic has been liberating for me, it has shown how much privilege I still have despite being at three disadvantages in society: the colour of my skin, my invisible disability and being an introvert in a world designed for extroverts. Yet, cabin fever does set in once in a blue moon and sometimes it does feel like Groundhog Day. Despite being at comfort in my own space, my concept of time is being challenged. Like, what is a weekend? Not even Bill Murray can save me from this paradox. Not my books, nor Disney+ subscription, films, or The Doctor, Martha and that fogwatch.
What I hate about being an introvert in the buzz term of today – “unprecedented times” – is how I’m not suffering like my extroverted friends. Perhaps this is what it means to live in society designed to accommodate you. The world outside of a health crisis – is this what it’s like? Imagine if I also happened to be an able-bodied, White, straight man as well? Just imagine. Today, extroverts are suffering. Ambiverts are suffering. When this is over will we see an increase in agoraphobia?
And in a society where extroverts are privileged over introverts, the outgoing outspoken marketing professional is valued more than the introverted, reclusive schoolteacher.
Yet, today, we are seeing the value of nurses, doctors, teachers, lecturers / academics and so forth. Many of whom will be introverts going against the grain of what feels normal to them. The person seen to be outgoing and talking and networking is regarded as a team player, in comparison to the freelance blogger or journalist writing away on their computer at home. Many of my teacher friends that talk for a living also love to recluse in their homes, as drinking your own drinks and eating your own food in your own house is great. Can you hear the silence, the world in mute? Priceless.
In my job, I recall in the training we did the Myers-Briggs test in order to get to know each other better. Safe to say I was 97% introvert, which had increased somewhat since I was a student. Coincidence, I think not. In a job where I also go to meetings for a living, and network and people (if I can make a verb out of people), it can be draining. The meetings, the networking, the small talk, the different hats and masks people wear.
As awful as Coronavirus is, I will go back to my intro in saying that this new pace of life is almost like a dream, with intermittent periods of cabin fever. I can recharge my life batteries when I want. I can be alone when I want. I can read, watch films and television series when I want. I like to engage in activities that require critical thought. Self-isolation has given ample time for that. And good things have come from my introspection. Moreover, many conversations with myself. No, I’m not Bilbo Baggins. However, to talk with oneself is freeing. It’s the first sign of intelligence, don’t ya know?
But self-isolation to me and many of my introvert colleagues, it’s our normal. Social distancing is a farce because we are still being social. “Physical distancing” is a better term. Not in this era of WhatsApp, Instagram and Zoom, we’ve never been more social. Coronavirus has shown us a social solidarity that I thought I would not see in my lifetime. To put it bluntly, Coronavirus has pretty much eliminated the quite British obsession of small talk, and given me opportune moments to think.
Whilst my extrovert colleagues want to have that picnic in the park, I’m quite happy to sit in the garden. There lies another privilege. Simultaneously, I seldom feel the need to go out. Where I miss my cinema trips, I remember Netflix, Amazon Prime, Britbox and Disney+. Sure they’re not IMAX but they’ll do. I miss the pub but there’s the supermarket with all sorts of choices of IPA to choose from. Indeed, I have found solace in having my access stripped right back. The freedom to choose afforded to me because I work and live in a “developed country” (I use this term loosely).
For those of us that live in Britain, Coronavirus has swiftly shown that we live in a first-world country with a third-world healthcare system and levels of poverty – highly-skilled medical professionals in a perilously underfunded NHS systematically cut for the last ten years by the Tories.
Unlike University, I can mute social media for a couple of hours, and do some reading. I hate that I am so comfortable, whilst others are not. I often think about international students shafted by visa issues, and rough sleepers who don’t have the privilege of thinking about self-isolation. What about those having to self-isolate in tower blocks like Grenfell? What if we were to have another tragedy like Grenfell during a public health crisis? I hate how Coronavirus has exposed underlying inequalities, and how after this, these systems of power will likely carry on like it’s business as usual.
I don’t feel defeated or bored but the other inequalities in society do make me worry. Having been a victim of racism ten times over, both by individuals and institutions, I know that racism is its own disease and it won’t simply go on holiday because we’re in a pandemic. I know increasing police powers will disproportionately impact people from Black backgrounds, especially in working-class communities, but as Black people (pre-Coronavirus) at a rate of nine times more likely to be stopped and searched than a White person in Northamptonshire is bad enough, isn’t it?
This solitude has pushed me creatively with my poetry and own blogs. Take Eric Arthur Blair, or George Orwell as he was known; when he was sick with TB, he wrote Nineteen Eighty-Four. The book we now lord about today is essentially a first draft. Rushed. A last bout before death. In my isolation, I’m excited for the number of dystopian texts that will come out of Coronavirus, particularly political narratives on how Britain and America reacted. I’m looking forward to artistic expression and if the British public will hold the Government to account. One could argue their thoughtlessness, and support of genocide (herd immunity) is a state crime.
Whilst it is easy to blame the Chinese government, our own government have a lot to answer for and metaphorically speaking, someone (or quite a few people) need to hang.
A good friend and confidant has implored me to write a book as a project. Being naturally inward in my personality, I could do it. Though, I have my reservations. Perhaps I could write a work of genius that goes on to define a generation. Nonetheless, I observe that during lockdowns around the world, there will be both introverts and extroverts applying their minds to art and creativity. Writing books. Painting pictures. Discovering theories, like Isaac Newton did when he was “confined” to his estate during the Plague in 1665.
One day the curve will flatten: we will see each other again at the rising of the sun, folks say we must make use of this time; however, this is unprecedented, so it is also perfectly okay to be at peace with your loved ones, cherish those moments, and do absolutely nothing of consequence at all.
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I wanna be like Mike #BlackenAsiaWithLove
Originally written: 26 November 2001
I wanna be like Mike. Mike is filthy rich, in great physical condition, is well perceived by not only his fans, but also the wider public, and he’s even faithful to his monogamous relationship. Mike is generally agreeable, and you almost never see him expressing aggression towards others outside of the game. Mike has never been ‘exposed’ as gun-totting, neither bashing women nor gays, and he’s even pretty articulate. Rumors spread about his philanthropic efforts the same low-income communities where he grew up in a hard-working family. His best friend and biggest fan is his dad, and Mike is so sensitive and secure with his manhood that he wept before the nation upon his dad’s death. Mike’s at the very top of his craft yet never brags and never rests on his laurels. Mike’s humble and certainly a team player. “Nothin’ but net.” Mike works hard.
This is what America tells the world, and outside of this country (which is neither the center of the universe nor even this tiny planet) many believe that Mike is wholly representative of the American dream. For sleuths of Americans, he’s likely representative of the ideal American. I mean, I am not a sports gladiator nor was I born with a trust fund. Hence, in order to be like Mike, I am in school. I work hard. Thus far I’ve earned a degree from an elite university and am currently enrolled in another. I estimate that so far, my education itself has indebted me over one hundred twenty thousand; and I am nowhere near done. There’s little guarantee that I’ll be wealthy, or even employed. There’s absolutely no guarantee, and in fact, factors are working against me finding a lifelong stable monogamous relationship.
And I am quite privileged. Imagine if you will, most of the world. Most of us have received that chain e-mail which looks at the world population scaled down to one hundred folks. Imagine if this entire Earth’s population were composed of just one hundred people, there would be less than one person with the opportunities I’ve had. So then, how many would have those opportunities like Mike?
Don’t e’rybody wanna be like Mike?
Imagine now, that you have a happy, humble life. You work hard. You live in the south of France and you attend to the vineyard, just as generations upon generations of your ancestors have done before. What are your chances of ever being like Mike? Imagine that you’re a social worker in Kazakhstan with few resources to offer those who present themselves before you, regardless of their destitute. You work hard. Imagine you’re a child soldier in Sierra Leon who was forced to burn his village to the ground after being forced to massacre several relatives. You cling to the drugs your captors make you take numb you when they rape your mother and sister. You work hard. Imagine that you’re sitting with a doctor in Botswana as she tells you that you are HIV+. You join a quarter of Botswana’s population who live with HIV/AIDS. You work hard, but the monthly medical costs of a person living with AIDS is much more than a year’s salary for you and your husband, who is also positive. Now imagine you are their kids. You like basketball, too. And you practice every day with the plastic carton nailed to the tree out back. You work hard. Imagine you’re the same kid, with the same circumstances, only you’re in the ghettos of America, just like Mike. If you work hard, wouldn’t you become an Olympiad? Wouldn’t Obama present you the Presidential Medal of Freedom in the White House with the Gates? Couldn’t your image become a logo?
Be Like Mike in the coupons section of your local Sunday paper!
What are your chances of ever being like Mike? You work hard. Would it anger you that these images bombard your life? This world is big, but Mike’s dream persists…and penetrates every market on Earth. We’re all sold that version of that dream – that anyone, even a kid as regular as Mike, could be like Mike. If he can do it, anyone can (and you can with this can of cola, sports drink, burger, apparel, underwear, or other consumable… be like Mike) Don’t it inspire you? No rim! Don’t you want to be like Mike?
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Within Grey Walls
“Waking up to gray walls and black bars…in the silence of ones own thoughts, leaves one to a feeling of somberness…as those around begin to stir and began their individual day, hope creeps into ones mind….as the discussions regarding legal strategies began, hope then becomes more than just a shadow…as guys began to discuss their potential future beyond prison and being locked in a cell for days at a time, hope becomes more than just a fleeting moment! Silence can sometimes be ones own enemy on death row:-…So I condition myself to discover the “why” I fight through the fits of depression and despair, instead of focusing on the “how’s”….because pursuit of the “why’s” bring about methods of finding a solution….encouragement to remain hopeful!”
Everyone has the right to life, liberty and security of person (1).
Without the right to life, we cannot enjoy the freedoms set forth in the Universal Declaration of Human Rights.
However, what if one’s life was imprisoned and waiting to be ended for crime? In addition, what if a person was to be put to death for associating with a particular demographic?
The death penalty is the authorization of the state to kill a citizen for a crime, whether it’s murder, rape, treason, or more severe crimes, such as crimes against humanity and genocide (2).
Whilst the death penalty can be a deterrent, provide justice, and be the ultimate punishment for a crime and justice for victims, it is also used in some countries to persecute minority groups, such as the LGBT community (3) (4). (In references, there is a link to an interactive map of countries that utilize the death penalty for LGBT groups).
According to the Death Penalty Information Centre (DPIC), around 82% of cases involving capital punishment, race was a determining factor of giving this punishment, in comparison to white counterparts (5). However, the justice system is far from perfect, and miscarriages of justice occur. Due to issues of racism and racial bias (particularly within the American Justice System), this has seen members of minority groups and innocent people put on death row whilst a criminal still walks free. A damning example of a miscarriage of justice, and a clear demonstration of racism, is the case of George Stinney, whom, at the age of 14, was wrongly accused of murdering 2 girls. He was taken to court, tried by an all white jury, and was given the electric chair (6).
This, ultimately, is the state failing to protect its citizens, and causing irreparable damage to others. The George Stinney case is a condemnatory example of this. On top of that, it is hard to measure deterrence, and whether capital punishment actually deters people from committing crime.
However, what is it actually like being on death row?
June 2017 saw the start of a new friendship – a unique friendship. What simply started out with me wanting to reach out and be a ray of light to someone on death row, turned into a wonderful experience of sharing, support and immeasurable beauty. In June 2017, I began writing to a man on death row, and simply wanted to be a ray of light to someone in a dark place.
He has shared some of his thoughts of what it is like to be on death row:
“Perseverance. This is key when facing a day in prison (physically and mentally) because is never “where” you are physically, but your ability and willingness took push through those times of adversity and overcome the very things that have the power to bring you down….such as evil”. BUT- when we examine the word “evil” look closely…. Do you see it yet? ….. It’s “LIVE” backwards and to me its when we lose our patience to “LIVE” that we have brushes with “evil”…no???? So within these walls I do my best to find the “silver lining” and develop the better aspects of me”.
Now, it may seem effortlessly -but- in all honestly….its very difficult to face each day with the uncertainty of knowing whether the presence I have is one that has significance….in here I have to prepare myself on a constant basis in order to be the best version of myself no matter what lays ahead.
Thankfully….I have met an incredible person, who guides me by way of her words…offers me comforts by way of her thoughts and prayer and encourages me through her never ending presence! She is beautiful in every aspect of the word…She has helped me to discover that EVERYTHING and NOTHING awaits beyond forever!
References
(1) Universal Declaration of Human Rights (UNDH) Article 1 Available online at: https://www.un.org/en/universal-declaration-human-rights/ Accessed on 21/01/2020
(2) Louise Gaille ’15 Biggest Capitol Pros and Cons’ Available online at: https://vittana.org/15-biggest-capital-punishment-pros-and-cons Accessed on 24/03/2020
(3) The Human Dignity Trust ‘Saudi Arabia: Types of Criminalisation’ Available online at: https://www.humandignitytrust.org/country-profile/saudi-arabia/ Accessed on 24/03/2020
(4) Death Penalty Information Centre ‘Executions By Race and Race of Victim’ Available online at: https://deathpenaltyinfo.org/executions/executions-overview/executions-by-race-and-race-of-victim
(5) Ibid
(6) Snopes Fact Check ‘Did South Carolina Execute 14-year-old George Stinney, then declare him innocent 70 years later?’ Available online at: https://www.snopes.com/fact-check/george-stinney-execution-exoneration/ Accessed on 24/03/2020
Other
Interactive map of countries where the death penalty is used against the LGBT community: https://www.humandignitytrust.org/lgbt-the-law/map-of-criminalisation/?type_filter=crim_gender_exp
Human Writes: https://www.humanwrites.org
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Are We All God’s Children? #BlackenAsiaWithLove
Warning: This is prose is an original work of fiction about an aching and divided world. May we develop a culture that values the strength to love.
Somebody once tried to tell me that we were all God’s children,
That all people were born into His kingdom,
Flesh of His flesh,
And meant to reign over the Earth on His behalf, with His grace.
I never bought that crap.
If people believed in God, would they alter his garden so drastically, that the earth itself is fighting back for life?
How can we say we were put here by Him,
Only to treat this place like crap!?!
If people believed in God, then
Why do so many of us try to rework the image He gave us?
We prick, pull, peel, perm, slim down and slice up our bodies so dramatically, that
We’re often unrecognizable to ourselves.
If we were created in His image, why do we mutilate it so?
I never bought that crap.
If people really believed in God, then
Why do we give in so easily to jealousy,
Riding the coat-tails of others,
Admonishing those who do good, but
We’re still victims of what we consider to be as ‘perfect’.
You can’t be Woke in this word unless you’re Jesus,
And you see what happened to Him.
If Jesus Christ walked into the White House, The Vatican or #10 today,
They’d crucify Him all over again.
Did I mention today’s Easter Saturday…the one day between crucifixion and resurrection…
The one day when Jesus is truly dead…
Only the believers believe that he’ll come back.
But His followers today would be ready to make Him a martyr all over again…
Just to keep their story straight.
I never bought that crap.
WWJD Today?
If Jesus walked in here today,
I believe he’d be trying to heal the masses with some universal salve that cures all…
But drug companies saw their profits dive and so they crucified Him.
They were out for blood, and with the strength of their lobbying,
Blood is what they got.
If Jesus walked in here today,
I believe he’d feed the needy.
But conservatives would see their power draining,
Since they needed to demonize the poor as welfare losers.
Jesus was giving them a hand up, not a hand-out, and
Many had climbed out of poverty,
Too many climbed out to manipulate, so
They labelled Him a socialist.
Conservatives got together and decided to crucify Him.
If Jesus walked in here today,
I believe he’d rid us of WMD.
That includes guns!
Masses of people are killed by their own guns.
But Jesus wouldn’t want people going around gunning down wild animals for sport, either– Even to the point of extinction.
They called Jesus a tree-hugger because He brought up the near extinction of the North American bison in the same breath as
He gave the stank face to big-game hunters today.
Jesus said:
“Hanging the dead corpse of your kill on the wall was death worship,” and
Questioned if such people could call themselves Christian?
He was here to promote Life.
Jesus said anyone was a hypocrite for restricting access to birth control.
He accused those religious zealots of misusing His name in order to control women’s bodies and wealth through meds and policies.
Jesus promoted reproductive choices with the proceeds people always gave Him.
Jesus even invested in birth control for men, including
A pill, an injectable and a scrotum implant.
He claimed He was empowering men to be able to have that choice.
Worse still, Jesus was not only a carpenter, but an avid horticulturist…
He grew His own.
Everything.
And He had led pilgrimages through forests to hug trees.
He only hugged trees tapped for logging,
Jesus loved hugging trees so much he’d once got several thousand people to go down to the Amazon and chain themselves to the trees high up in the canopy.
He said forests were his Father’s first cities; who were we to tear them down?
Logging was sacrilege.
And as for this tree-hugging crap,
Jesus was a vegan, too.
He said He couldn’t hurt any of God’s creatures, and
Even though He didn’t suggest we all refrain from meat,
He used His YouTube channel to interview more humane animal farmers around the world.
(Oh yeah, there was also that time Jesus went to Davos – uninvited-
He weighed in on fair trade. Isolationists were none too pleased).
He even had vegan cosmetics lines.
He had interviews with His farmers, factory workers, warehousing, delivery, even retailers to show good working conditions and fair pay.
Because of this, consumers said His pricing was fair, and began campaigns to press the other major companies into transparency, too.
LVMH’s sales took nose dive, as did others.
Worse, still, He only marketed His vegan haircare brand, Glory Locks, through
Online tutorials for wooly hair.
His conditioner, Kinky Salvation, became a sensation in the natural hair care community, where
It was discovered that the formula also beat hair loss!
Jesus could regrow hair!
That year, GQ put Him on the cover as The Man of the Millennium.
He caused a bidding war between major cosmetics companies when He agreed to sell His patented mineral foundation, Holy Teint.
There were lines in stores when He released new compact motifs-
The blue dove and the red cross sold out within hours.
Reviews in Vogue, Bazaar, Cosmo and more all said His foundation matched coppery skin tones above all other brands.
His vegan cocoa butter, Divine Skin, had seen sales of Vaseline drop by 50%.
As a vegan,
He was most animate about respecting God’s plants enough not manipulate seed genes that can’t reproduce,
Just so farmers would have to buy more each season.
The giants of pesticides and seeds, beef, logging all got together to take Him down.
Big chicken, Big Fish and Big Pork all joined in the Jesus bashing, too,
For they knew he’d soon come for them.
He’d already posted a nasty comment on a viral video about an industrial chicken farm, for which Netflix had given Him a ten-part special called: Unholy Food, Inc.
He went all vegan, too!
Not even honey was safe,
And the episodes of palm oil and avocado saw those commodities’ stocks dive the day after each debut!
Now, that’s gangster!
Jesus was no joke!
At Michael Jackson’s funeral,
Jesus did an interpretive dance to the artist’s Will You Be There.
At the end of His performance, He suddenly grabbed the mic in tears and said:
“I love my Jackson 5 nostrils, and I believe if Michael had, too, he’d still be here.”
Katherine and Joe Jackson just hung their heads.
‘I love my Jackson 5 nostrils’ quickly became a meme and
Later incorporated into a pop song.
He was accused of being anti-white.
In an MTV interview about the controversial lyrics, He said:
“The clear message here is that…
What we consider beautiful too often has too little to do with our authentic selves.
We do the exact same to mother Earth,
Digging, prodding, cementing over and dirtying up the air and waters of My father’s kingdom.”
Jesus was deep.
He was an avid reader, too.
Jesus wept when He read the Letter from a Birmingham Jail.
When asked for comment He simply said:
“So few in My Father’s kingdom have the strength to love.”
For the 50th anniversary of the Stonewall Riots,
Jesus accepted invitations to lead Pride parades all over the world.
People thought he’d had enough in New York, Chicago, Boston, LA and of course, San Fran.
But many were surprised when Jesus was on the first float at Black Gay Pride in Atlanta and DC!
None were shocked, then, when
Jesus showed up at London and Paris Pride and Christopher Street Day in Berlin.
But no one, and I mean no one,
Imagined for a second
That He’d dress up silly and
Dance with a gay Christian Carnival Crew at Cologne’s CSD Day!
When did He even have time to practice those moves?
Who knew He had such an angelic voice…
Until they heard His rendition of George Michael’s Jesus to a Child.
He brought everyone to tears that day in Heumarkt Square.
Plus, everybody loved the performance He did with Conchita Wurst of Beyoncé and Lady Gaga’s Telephone.
The two bearded men literally re-enacted the whole music video !
Who knew Conchita could do Gaga drag?
They popped-locked-n-rolled in spandex just like in the video.
Who knew Jesus had a black-boy-bubble-butt…
Like somebody cut a basketball in half and hung it off His tail bone.
Both videos went viral.
This was way too much for those in Africa who’d used His name to bash gay people.
They buckled down and passed anti-gay laws,
Nigeria making sure they out did Uganda.
They dismissed this Jesus as evidence of the decay in European values.
When He accepted the invitation to Pride in Cape Town and Nairobi…
Those in the region got ready.
Pride was canceled in Uganda.
Others roused lynch mobs from the pulpit.
They crucified Him all over again.
If Jesus walked in here today,
I believe he’d heal the disabled.
Jesus wouldn’t heal their conditions by some miracle of making a blind man see, a deaf man hear, or a crippled man walk.
Nah, nothing so simple.
Jesus removed what really hurts – fear and discrimination.
He targeted the stigma against disability.
No longer viewing different abilities as a liability,
Jesus undermined entire industries built around keeping them down.
Suddenly, office workers had to compete with the wheel-chair bound because,
Who needs to be able to walk into an office?
People had already seen how Autistic Savants could
Show us patterns in our lives that unfold life’s mysteries,
But Jesus showed the people how every person of every ability had something to contribute.
Charities for the poor fell because,
There were no more poor people – everyone had enough.
Politicians who’d been shoring-up votes by vilifying the Other as leachers could no longer galvanize their base around these fears.
The people eventually elected politicians who represented the people.
Somebody had to “take the country back, to make it great again,” so
Big Lobbying fought back.
Jesus had removed the control large corporations had over these politicians, so
They crucified Him.
Needless to say, because Jesus intervened,
There was universal healthcare that cared for the whole body – any body.
They resisted calling Him a socialist, but when Corona happened,
Everyone saw that unlike society, diseases don’t discriminate.
More of those who confessed to follow Him could see the sense in universal healthcare.
Insurance companies got together with Big Pharma and crucified Jesus for he’d taken away their monopoly.
Jesus exposed all their tricks, from
Inventing diseases to which only they had the cure, to
Hiding antidotes when they could instead sell us life-long supplies of meds that
Keep us just barely alive.
Jesus was fed up with humanity, but never gave up.
Jesus not only made room for the disabled, but
Made sure everyone got looked after.
He had to die.
He was much too good for this world.
It was clear to them that the only good Jesus was a dead Jesus –
The dead one they’d created in their holy books.
This resurrected one just wouldn’t do.
So, Jesus had gone too far.
War-mongers would vilify Him in the UN, and
Circumvent the authority of the world community, and
Wage a military campaign to track Him down.
For these war-mongers would charge Jesus with hoarding WMD.
They preferred the Iron Curtain to the Prince of Peace, so
They convincingly made the public scared of Him.
Big men wielding big sticks hunted Him down,
During a 40-day Vipassana retreat He’d taken in the Judean desert.
24-hour News spent months replaying drone and Body-Cam footage of His last moments,
Where their bullets crucified Him on the spot.
Just as they’d done for Osama Bin Laden,
Crowds of Christians gathered that night at the capitol to celebrate the blood-shedding.
They were death worshippers.
They even built a statue of Him on that spot to commemorate His sacrifice.
Crowds gathered there each Easter for festivities.
