One Direction’s capital and community
I was one of the little girls that loved One Direction. Me, my best friends, and the supposedly billions of fans across the world. One Direction was etched into our brains, tethered to our cosmos, and the red string of fate across our pinkies were eternal—or so we thought. When I turned 17,
‘I think of you when I shag my boyfriend’: Are we too attached to celebrities?
The above quotation is not a drunken confession to an ex, but a sign I spotted when I was at a Harry Styles concert. At the time, I was still deep in an overwhelming obsession with ‘Hazza’ and thought the sign was hilarious. It is only now that I have emerged from the depths of […
Coquettes-who-read vs deepfakes
I failed my interview for journalism school. In my application, I had written about my passion for telling human stories—the kind that give depth to reality through narrative. And so, they asked me: “Pitch a human story on the AI Summit” (nothing ironic about that). I panicked and gave
The revolution will not be branded: Art, symbolism, and the spectacle of resistance
What happens when Kendrick Lamar raps “the revolution will be televised” at the Super Bowl halftime show? Gil Scott-Heron’s original poem, The Revolution Will Not Be Televised, was a scathing critique of mass media’s ability to commodify and dilute political struggle, an assert
American Decadence
Every time I open the fridge at my grandmother’s house, two Country Crock margarine tubs occupy the middle shelf. One of the familiar taupe containers holds margarine, while the other no longer does; instead, it is filled with chicken curry, a staple in my grandmother’s household. Within
Princess Vira’s Palace
It is often said that there is a مصر (Masr) and there is an Egypt, the same place but not. Of the Mediterranean, the same is true. There is a Mediterranean of pale Greek islands, of chateaus on Roman rivieras and LSD by Spanish vineyards, one of parties on the corniche, and olive groves by [&hell
Futile Reflections
“If I write what I feel, it’s to reduce the fever of feeling. What I confess is unimportant, because everything is unimportant.” Ideas are futile unless articulated. Ideas are like water, with a transparent nothingness that only solidifies after finding form in the contours of words. But if id
Inventing the Aesthetics of Trans-Femininity
At some point during my first semester of college, I found myself naked in another girl’s room. I was a newly out trans fem trying on her old clothes, desperate for anything feminine to wear. The third or fourth time this happened (call me a heartbreaker), I picked up a slip of fabric with a [&hel
Why should we assimilate?
‘You don’t belong here.’ The painfully familiar words seem to apply even more to Eastern European students than your average imposter syndrome sufferer. But why would that be the case when first generation families have been present in the UK since the 1920s, running away from war, socialism,