Love of the macabre hasn’t always been isolated to your local goth population.
A visual interview with Elian Au.
A series by Sophia Thompson
I want to feel comfortable in the kitchen and have the ability to cook for others, without feeling like I’m submitting to anti-feminist gender stereotypes. Can society reach a stage where this act is classified as neither feminine nor shameful? Can women reclaim cooking without it becoming a troubling throwback to an age of inequality?
For those of us who struggle to slick every strand of hair back into a Grande-esque ponytail, who cannot walk in heels without twisting an ankle or perform the choreography to ‘Single Ladies’ without falling over backwards, the punk movement provides much-needed respite.
Music is universal; it can simultaneously bring people together and tear them apart. Recently in pop music, we have seen a rising emphasis on the importance of feminism, sisterhood, and girl power.
Every individual has their own aesthetic, and this dictates the aura or environment that they try to cultivate around themselves. Yet, there seems to be a ‘mini-aesthetics’ movement developing and taking social media by storm.
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.
My moonstone ring was bought when I was soul searching and needed balance, and my necklace was a gift from a dear friend which reminds me that we are all connected. My tattoo was also born out of my love, my femininity, my beliefs—it is an unfinished body, an unfinished writing of culture.
It was puzzling. Even as I read other works of fiction and academic writing, ‘The Coconut Children’ stood out even more to me. I began to see that my obsession for the book came from a need to continuously re-experience the narrative, because it was the first book in mainstream Australian fiction I had read where I could see myself and my history being reflected.