What do we do with language that is steeped in colonial history?
All the fashion rules I learned as a girl were informed by the view that women’s bodies are never okay as they are—they always need fixing.
Sea sponges lack heart, lungs, and the ability to move. They perform their ancient tasks because they must.
Breadmaking made me feel purposeful, instead of feeling as if I scarcely had control over anything.
When Etty wrote to herself, I heard her speaking to me, and I took her words to heart.
Most time capsules are enclosed underground, but this one faces the world.
When love and femininity are intertwined, only some of us are expected to do the job of loving.
Sometimes I still think about my suits and the life I could have had. Now I work for myself, and my standard uniform is jeans and a T-shirt.
Platforms like Facebook already act as mediums between the living and deceased.
Fitzgerald was ground down, I imagine, consumed by how to take care of her family. This didn’t make her any less the thinker, writer, reader, that she was.
“We have become so good at seeing our environment—our planet and the people upon it—as a rolling scroll of film.”
“Was I meant to get that desk just to show a stranger the course of her life?”
“Colonial photography perpetually assaulted what became the Nigerian body.”