What I've Written
Articles and essays I’ve shared with the world—capturing reflections, questions, and lived experiences that continue to shape my perspective.
" ..They tell me that the fat I am running away from has been in our family for generations. Haven’t I seen the way their bums fill out the seats, the weight of their bodies threatening to sink them into the ground? Whether I liked it or not, it was how we were made and I happened to have landed in this family where fatness was our portion..."
"... It has become vital for me to associate more and more with queer people to make my living experience normal. I don’t want my queerness to be something I think of. It should be something that flows from me without my being conscious of it trying to tone myself down to be digestible in certain places. It is beautiful to be where queer people are..."
"... Two of my walls are lined with shelves. There is an alternating order which I love. A doll, then a plant. During my playtime, I make the dolls water and tender for the plants. They are thriving and my mates ask what the secret is because their plarenting has been cases of their plants dying. I tell them happiness. They never believe me..."
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“My hair is tamed a little to lay more on my head. The lady then props a pillow to raise my butt so that my head can reach the wash basin. I never used to close my eyes until I saw the women; mothers of so and so, closing theirs while they are being washed before they are put in the wash .. "
“... It is yet another weekend where your mother lacks things to do with other women her age and wants to come plant herself in your space in the name of visiting. Our space really, but she does not know that. She can never know that... ”
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“ ... The finest calligraphed envelopes gained you fame. Every girl wanted to know who the fine boy you had bagged was. To develop a connection with the said boy, they would request to proxy in your letter ... “
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“My hair is tamed a little to lay more on my head. The lady then props a pillow to raise my butt so that my head can reach the wash basin. I never used to close my eyes until I saw the women; mothers of so and so, closing theirs while they are being washed before they are put in the wash .. "
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“... It is yet another weekend where your mother lacks things to do with other women her age and wants to come plant herself in your space in the name of visiting. Our space really, but she does not know that. She can never know that... ”
“... The worst bit about being human is the onlookers. Fellow pedestrians, who like the police system, have learnt to mind their business because they don’t want to intervene in “homely” affairs ...”
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