Anyone who knows me will tell you that I despise dating apps. I think they’re the pits. I prefer to do things the old-fashioned way; guy meets girl in a bar; cute waiter sends a coffee on the house to the table you’ve been sat at; two strangers mindlessly bump into each other on the street. Alas, life isn’t a Hollywood blockbuster...
I read a newsletter on Black Ballad the other day. Their founder and CEO Tobi Oredein had written a piece titled ‘I Agree – I’m Tired of Being Called Resilient’. She’d written about her experience of being praised as the Strong Black Woman, persevering against all odds and keeping it together regardless of how many knocks she takes...
I am Other. As a person of colour that label was my rite of passage into British society. Other, just like every other visibly non-White individual in this country. Other, one word to describe millions of unique experiences, ignoring the fact that no Other is the same. My Other? Black. African. British. Woman...
Chi-ed-za Chi-kan-za, pronounced as you read it. And please don’t be that guy who pronounces Chi like Chai. I’m not a latte. It's a little bit of everything here, sugar, spice, but not everything nice. A blog exploring the intricate depths of identity and experience. Dissecting the life of the British Other one post at a time. Unfiltered and unapologetic, my truth is my tea. Thanks for visiting, enjoy and I hope this helps you find what it is that you're looking for x
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