When you're reeling from the prospect of a post-Barack world #Weary

Since I moved to the US last year, I've spent a lot of time thinking about race. Not because I decided to jump on any specific bandwagon or anything, but literally because being here, it smacks you in the face. Growing up in my London bubble, I saw myself as a Londoner with Jamaican heritage. There were lots of us around and that's how it was. Of course, London isn't a complete safe, racist-free microspace, but compared to what this year and a half in the United States of America has shown me, that city is streaks ahead in Black White relations. 

This week, with the Trump election so fresh, I've felt completely overwhelmed by what feels like a very pointed hatred of Black people, Mexican people, Muslim people, LGBT+ people, in fact, everyone who seen as Other by the majority of the White electorate. Of course there were people of other backgrounds who voted for Trump, but the OVERWHELMING majority of White men (63%)  and the majority of White WOMEN (53%) still voted for someone who promises to restrict movement and freedom of people who don't look or think like them. Make America Great Again - when was it great and who was it great for? Certainly not us.

I'm so tired. Emotionally fraught and drained. Mostly I feel shocked and so sad - though most African Americans are shaking their heads at me as they read this going "really girl? How are you still surprised?"

Is this really what it feels like to be Black in America?

Thank God for Solange. 

I'm weary of the ways of the world

Be weary of the ways of the world

I'm weary of the ways of the world

I'm gonna look for my body yeah

I'll be back real soon

I'm gonna look for my body yeah

I'll be back real soon

I'm gonna look for my body yeah

I'll be back real soon

But you know that a king is only a man

With flesh and bones, he bleeds just like you do

He said "where does that leave you"

And do you belong? I do, I do

Be leery bout your place in the world

You're feeling like you're chasing the world

You're leaving not a trace in the world

But you're facing the world

I'm gonna look for my glory yeah

I'll be back real soon

I'm gonna look for my glory yeah

I'll be back real soon

I'm gonna look for my glory yeah

I'll be back real soon

But you know that a king is only a man

With flesh and bones, he bleeds just like you do

He said "where does that leave you"

And do you belong? I do, I do

image taken from Solange's digital book

With love,

Karla x

Johannesburg's Natural Beauties

Mural by Joel Bergner (and US!!), taken from his instagram - see this and more here: https://www.instagram.com/joelartista/

So last month, I spent some time in South Africa, working on the above ^^  mural outside an orphanage in a neighbourhood of Johannesburg called Berea. The work was partnered with an organization called the Sophie A Kanza Foundation, and some of the volunteers from the org were these beautiful young women who wore a mix of gorge hairstyles. I figured, why not take this opportunity of being in Africa to find out how Afro hair is treated here and why I was seeing SOOOOOO much relaxer and so many weaves in the continent our hair is from. So I spoke to them about it!

DON'T TOUCH MY HAIR

This month, I've mostly been singing this. Every time I KILL a twist out look. Every time I want to show off my curls (my hair's getting really long, you guys!). Every time I get near kids while my hair is out and kicking it, enjoying being open to the elements for once. Every time I see a rogue hand racing towards my head. 



Please.

Don't.

Thank you Solange Knowles for putting it so succinctly and so beautifully.

Don't touch my hair

When it's the feelings I wear

Don't touch my soul

When it's the rhythm I know

Don't touch my crown

They say the vision I've found

Don't touch what's there

When it's the feelings I wear

They don't understand

What it means to me

Where we chose to go

Where we've been to know

They don't understand

What it means to me

Where we chose to go

Where we've been to know

You know this hair is my shit,

rode the ride, I gave it time

But this here is mine

You know this hair is my shit,

rode the ride, I gave it time

But this here is mine

What you say, oh

What you say to me [x8]

Don't touch my pride

They say the glory's all mine

Don't test my mouth

They say the truth is my sound

They don't understand

What it means to me

Where we chose to go

Where we've…

taken from Solange's digitalbook "A Seat At The Table"

Read Solange's Digital Book here

Watch Solange's Video here

In fact, just listen to the whole damned album.

Love you,
Karla

The Night the UK Took a Huge #Brexsh*t on My Heart.

Tonight, while I watched the numbers move, the UK as I knew it moves slowly and steadily towards the right. The "Conservative" right. The xenophobic right. The place where people silently gathered together with their torches and set fire to the thin veil between tolerance and hate.

I'm not in London, or in the UK right now and I'm so glad – for me. I'm not glad for my sister or my mother or my nephew or his unborn little brother who are going to have to live in a country where their rights to be there will be called into question more than they are already. If I was given a pound (no, actually, not a pound because that's worth NOTHING right now,) every time I'd been asked “No, but where are you really from” I'd be a millionaire. The colour of my skin renders the answer "London" unsatisfactory to most. But there, the beautiful multi coloured bubble I grew up in, that question was more of an annoyance than a threatening challenge to my authenticity, chipping away at my right to be there. Well, that's what I thought anyway.

OK so 51.9% voted Leave. What now? What happens next? Does the UK continue as normal, just bothering its inhabitants with a bit more paperwork than usual when they want to pop across the Channel? Does this mean that all the British ex-pats living in Spain and France and Germany etc need to return home and put their lives on hold while they wait for the paperwork to legitimise the work they'd already successfully been doing for years?

Why am I so upset? Mostly because I feel like the rug has been pulled out from underneath me. 

Like SURPRISE! WE HATED NON-WHITE NON-BRITS THIS WHOLE TIME!! 

...Although now I recognise that the rug was there extremely precariously in the first place. But now it's clearer. Slowly but surely, they are coming for us. The different looking, different sounding ones. Only now the light is on so they can't creep around us in the dark anymore.

We see you.

Being Black in Britain, Jamaican no less, is a strange and interesting fruit. Sometimes feeling completely accepted – your food and music adored by your peers - and sometimes feeling completely isolated – your hair consistently questioned and tugged and your culture...viciously misunderstood. Running in circles where you are one of a minority constantly called in to answer questions for your people – although, these people who people assume are your people, actually cover a huge diaspora covering continents and mother tongues. I can't answer for them.

But now here I am speaking for them. Because although ostensibly, this vote isn't about my people, whoever they might be. It's not about race, it's about saving the economy, right? It is about protecting Britain from the immigrant strain, right? It's about putting British people first according to Britain First. It's not racist because the people we're hating now are sometimes white. Sometimes Bulgarian. Sometimes Polish. Sometimes Turkish. Sometimes Syrian or Afghan but they're terrorists anyway so it's ok.

Guess what? It's not ok.

I'm taking deep breaths. I'm inhaling through my nose and exhaling through my mouth but the pit of my stomach still feels weighed down by lead and hate and fear and questions. Was the United Kingdom ever really United? Am I mourning the death of a false nation built on false memories of acceptance and mutual cultural appreciation? Nigerian men buying their food in Polish shops. Indian teenagers talking with Jamaican inflected accents. Of course, this mental pictures were all taken in London and of course, London voted to Remain In. For that I can only say how proud I am of my city and what it represents. The city who voted for Saddiq Khan (whose move to get rid of those idiot “bikini body” tube ads was a terrific first move. We learned our lesson after Boris-gate). 

The city that didn't let us down.

For now, what's done is done. Maybe David Cameron will resign (wishful and unlikely thinking). Maybe the backlash of the falling pound will rally the Labour party and the sleeping Brits who assumed the others would take care of their vote, will wake up and show up. 

We can only cross our fingers, hope for no violence, and wait.

My Mandala

                               In 2014 a good friend of mine O, introduced me to what a Mandala was.  She, as it happens, had been told by the one and only Miss Karla-Jayne Thomas, co-founder and co-writer of this blog. Small world huh! The simplest way that I can describe a mandala is that it's an image that's used in different ways but essentially it's a representation of life. Sounds pretty lofty, check the Mandala Project's website HERE for a more enlightened description than mine.

Sand Mandala from the Southbank Centre's Alchemy Festival 2015

Karla had come across the idea of creating her own mandala that she could use to map her intentions for the coming year.  How it worked: she drew herself in the centre with her intended goals shooting off her, and after laying it out on paper she spent time looking for images that she felt represented those intentions.  Karla used her mandala as a daily reminder of her goals.  She would look at in the morning, at night, whenever she needed to visual the things she was aiming for, and it worked! Not always in ways that she had expected, but it worked.  O told me that 2 of Karla's goals had been to end up in New York and to cycle more, so later that year when she found herself cycling through New York with the future Mr Karla on an impromptu bike ride, looking back it didn't seem so serendipitous.

I'm not a life planner.  I tend to float from one thing to another without any hard goals, which is not as fun and spontaneous as it sounds. I want better for myself and not to continue coasting along at life, so in 2014 I followed Karla's lead and drew my own mandala.  It didn't have pictures but I set out all the intentions that I wanted for the year, which was good enough for me.  And whaddya know, it kinda worked, at least partially.  Some of things I thought would be the biggest challenge for me, I actually achieved.  Now I'll be honest, I didn't focus on my Mandala it as much as I could have, or worked on my goals as much as I should have, but nevertheless I still achieved some of the things I'd written down.  

My 2014 Mandala

How did I do?  Well in 2014 I joined a professional Dance group, BOOM! I became the Queen of my Samba school, WIN! I went to Goa for a friends wedding, AWESOME!  I joined a gym, YAAS! Some of my goals weren't realised.  The goals centred on my overall confidence and establishing myself as a writer/journalist are still a work in progress. But I was happy with what I achieved and it made me realise that with more effort I could achieve bigger and better.

Last year I didn't have a mandala and 2015 turned out to be a tough year.  My relationship ended.  I'd been with my boyfriend for a while, but things weren't as they should have been and he decided he didn't want to continue.  I did and still do love him, so coming to terms with not having him in my life anymore has been difficult and I'm still finding it hard.  I was working in a job that I grew to hate and it was making me very unhappy and stressed.  In the summer my granddad was diagnosed with terminal cancer and told he had few months to live. I live with my grandparents and helping to care for my granddad, watching him deteriorate and dealing with the realisation that he would not be with us much longer was heavy.  He died at the end of November.

Mandala under construction: another Sand Mandala from the Southbank Centre's Alchemy Festival 2015

There were times last year when I didn't know who I was or what I was supposed to be.  I felt numb, powerless, alone, sad, anxious and angry.  I was struggling with lots of aspects of my life, and it felt as though the significant things that I thought I could rely or defined myself by were disappearing because of my own inadequacies.  It was very negative space that made me feel very insecure about myself, from my appearance to my ability to achieve anything.

My shitty job had to go!  The week after I quit I went on a long samba weekend with my Samba school and it was exactly the medicine I needed. After that I took a break to look after my grandparents and I surround myself with people and things that made me feel better.  It helped a lot but it didn't stop the low moments when I didn't have a clue what direction to go in, and putting one foot in front of the other felt like the hardest task.  It was only towards the end of last 2015 that I started to feel better about myself.  

I have always fought with feelings of inadequacy and it's the main reason why I'm rubbish at looking after my own needs or pushing myself.  But, if I'm going to tackle my demons and make lasting changes I have to dig deep and start to invest in myself properly, and do so a lot less superficially than I've done in the past.

Gorgeous Mandala by Lisa Chang, check out her Instagram

I'm tired of being too scared to even dare to ask myself what I want, let alone believe that I can achieve it.  2015 went by Mandala-less, but I'm not about to let that happen for another year. If you read my New List post a few years ago, you'll know I'm not a fan of making New Year's resolutions.   But even I can't deny the sense of renewal that happens going into a new year!  So, in preparation for the brand new year I put together a my mandala 2016. It's more ambitious than 2014's.  Some of things on it frighten (me in a good way though) because they will require me to invest in myself more than I have ever done before.

I'm not going to share my Mandala.  For now, its for my eyes only to focus on and be responsible for attracting any of the help and opportunities I need to fulfill my dreams for this year.  I promise though to reveal it by the end of this year and you can help judge how well I've done. I'm excited, daunted, scared! But you know what, change is never born out of being comfortable it is!

Wish me luck!

Kanika xx

Yeah, That's What She Said!

Hello!

So much has happened in 2015 I'm not sure quite where to begin, but here are the basics.
- I have moved to New York to pursue my love of comedy (and stability with the man of my dreams).

- I have begun taking classes in comedy; acting sketch writing etc, and have thus met a wonderful group of creative people who I am thankful for (I'm looking at you, Handsome Bag of Thumbs).

- I got involved with a wonderful feminist network thanks to my dear friend Mensen and have taken my place as a core organiser for a feminist event called Yeah, That's What She Said.

Update...

So, just over two years ago, I wrote a post entitled "When You Gonna Find a Nice Man and Settle Down?"  Well, it turns out that I agreed to do just that last Wednesday when I responded to this very eloquently delivered question:

Mural by Joel Bergner in London's Leake Street Tunnel

Readers, I am betrothed!

Boxed out!

The last time I got braid extensions, I cried!

I was 18, about to go to Uni, and I wanted a hairstyle I could manage without the help of my Gran. So why the tears? Well, (and I still feel pathetic admitting it, but) it was because my Mum and Granma decided to go Bad Cop/Bad Cop on me and ridicule my choice of hairstyle!

They made it very clear that no self-respecting, style-conscious young woman would be seen dead in the outdated, childish style of braids I wanted.  You see I wanted single, not too thick, box braids à la Brandy back in day. Unfortunately my mum and gran insisted on canerow braids à la Alicia Keys. Nothing wrong with that style but NOT want I wanted.  According to them my hair was way too thick for box braids, I have to add too much synthetic hair to my own and I'd end up looking stupid. Just the kinda encouragement you need for when you're about to move away from home!  The humiliation and frustration of supposedly being an adult and not being allowed a say on how I looked broke me that day, hence the waterworks.

                    

                        Brandy circa sometime in the 1990's -
                        What I wanted, minus the burnt ends   

 The style I was strong armed into getting -
Alicia Keys.

 

I hated the braids. They were thick, heavy and I couldn't style them the way I wanted to.  Not surprisingly they only lasted 2 weeks before I took them out and swore never to go there again!


Fast forward 11 years and....I finally went back there, a month ago. As the Queen of my Samba School (EXCITING HUH!! But more about that in a later post) I was having the most amazingly, beautiful costume made for me for Notting Hill Carnival.  The designer wanted big, long hair to go with his eye popping creation!  Hmmmm, up cropped dilemma one. If you've read my Phony or not to phony post, you'll know I prefer not wear hair pieces when I dance, and as you're now fully aware, the last time I had any hair like appendages attached to my own, the experience is not littered with fond memories.  What, to, do?

Do as you're told and OBEY, that's what!

You only get to be the Queen of my Samba school once and Notting Hill is our biggest event, so you goes hard, or you damn well goes home! Besides, I fancied a change, and bum length box braids were one hell of a change!