Everyone knows the name of Chanel Miller’s rapist; we know he could swim well, he liked steak, and that he went to Stanford. Yet, for a long time, we didn’t know Chanel’s name or all that she is: a writer, an artist, a poet, and a sister.
Memoir can do what the legal system can’t: it voices a survivor’s truth, untainted by doubt and toxic myths, to an audience who listens.
Strength has long been seen through a masculine prism.
Reconciling these histories with my own existence here in Australia is surreal. I suppose it’s the jarring feeling of real people being delegated to some overarching label; of complex societies and cultures being summarised in a term; of a set of conflicts defined to a time period.
Jenny Han’s To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before series has irrevocably proved that yes, Asian girls can have their own storylines and yes, they do in fact have personalities. Sometimes, however, media representation – particularly when it’s one of the only outlets that appears to properly reflect your identity – can be a little too influential.
In the English language, we subconsciously place our words in a particular order; articles follow adjectives, with nouns close behind. Perhaps in an example of life imitating art, we order our intersectionality in a manner that mirrors the structure of the English language.
Throughout history, figures in the Gospels have developed their myth, their constant shapeshifting ultimately leading to the deconstruction of their reality. Irish author Colm Tóibín, for instance, challenges the traditional perception of Virgin Mary, the Blessed Mother of God, in The Testament of Mary.
As an asexual activist and a sexual assault survivor-advocate, my personal interest in the curriculum lies in its guidelines on Sex Education. What are teenagers and pre-teens being taught about asexuality, as well as other queer* identities?
The Liberal Party has never been interested in women. The last time it was, Menzies was in charge; but even then, it was only the stay-at-home wives who got a look in.
The fact of the matter is, most books we read (in English-speaking countries, at least) are by white authors. And if you are like me in the sense that you live for magic, swords, and dragons—in other words, fantasy—you will predominantly be transported into worlds inspired by European mythology and folklore whenever you pick up a new book. Which is completely fine… some of the time.