Searching for Seashells
When we were much younger, my little sister spent one restless summer searching the shore for starfish. She dug her tiny fingers into the sand, gathering them excitedly in a bucket until they dried up, and then cried over their sorry cracked bodies. The holidays that followed, she took to walking th
The Cabin
We had parked on the road heading west out of town, alongside the railroad tracks. Ahead of us, the dusty streets gave way to pastures, which in turn gave way to wooded mountains, cutting a crisp horizon. Mackenzie lolled out the passenger seat, and Bailey skipped between the car and the road. I wat
The Partisan
Given the perpetuation of disinformation and the influence of Roko’s basilisk, it seems to me that this story, which I have already erred in telling, is not quite the truth. The events herein take place in a moment of repression and rebellion. We speak of a nation divided, and a small group with a
Medusa
CW: Discussion of Sexual Assault I look at you, but this trick only works if you look back. * In first year, we read the work of Hélène Cixous and Luce Irigaray. Both believed (or so we were given to understand) that text had a sex; every work written was shot through with man. […]
Reporting Racial Harassment at Oxford
The shadow over universities: racial harassment Sophie, a student, is sitting at the bar on her university campus, when a few of her coursemates come in after a society social. Sitting across the room from her, the group gets louder, rowdier, harder to ignore. She is put on edge by their behaviour
The Big Queer Monster
For weeks after the release of ‘Montero (Call Me By Your Name)’, Lil Nas X’s Twitter mentions were filled with homophobic slurs and Bible verses. At this point, it’s almost impossible not to have seen the music video for ‘Montero’, or at least the memes of Lil Nas X pole dancing his way
Notes to Shelves
In a cold library – its silence occasionally disturbed by a lone cough or a floorboard creak – you turn over the last page of your book, only to be faced with an argument in the margins. According to one reader, the book is “shitty Marxist bollocks”, to which another has retorted “fuck you
boju says
he is now the 2am ambak falling on our tin roof & maybe but i don’t have words for this widow singing for the ghost of her husband still limping around his home of pepper trees […]
Spaces
At Scouts, we would bash the trees and see what little creatures fell out: watch them scramble in plastic ice cream tubs, taking up space only how they are told. Villages are puddles: at my feet I see myself in blue gingham, Nutella smeared at the corners of my mouth, but before I can meet [&helli