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What is Racism?

on September 23, 2020

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I Wish I'd Never Been Skinny

I have always been thin. Thin enough, at least. Sometimes I’ve been chunky. Like when I was travelling in Australia and drank heavy, red wine whilst battling a binge eating problem. I was depressed and my weight seemed to be the devil on my shoulder telling me I was worthless and ugly. How much I weighed became an insidious obsession. It kept me up at night and had me dressing in baggy clothes. I’d stare at myself in the mirror, willing something else to look back at me. I felt so uncomfortable in my own skin. My entire life revolved around food. I had a love/hate relationship with it and would restrict myself so much that I’d end up binging on entire chocolate cakes and huge bags of sweets until I felt sick. I’d feel hopeless, teary, and immensely depressed for the rest of the day. I’d exercise to try and get the calories out and considered sticking two chocolate stained fingers down my throat. The only thing that stopped me was knowing the frightening cycle of bulimia and vowing I’

Look After Our Own

The issue of refugees seems to be quite the nation divider. People appear vehemently for or vehemently against those seeking asylum in our country. It’s something I find painfully impossible to get my head around. The fact that those fleeing war-torn countries might be turned away. I can’t understand how anyone could look at the picture of a man clutching his child and crying, and make the decision not to help. Or see the heart-wrenching image of three-year-old Alan Kurdi, lying face down on a beach, drowned in the fear that made his family flee, the gentle shore lapping at his lifeless body, and decide not to offer sanctuary. This idea that we have to ‘look after our own first’, is profoundly ignorant. For who are ‘our own’? Are we not all of the same human race? We are humans , fundamentally the same. Picture a world in which Britain, our little spit of land, for which we seem to be very proud of, begins to sink beneath the ever-rising sea. Imagine a world in which Hitler won t

I Am Recovered

This morning I received a thoughtful text from my sister saying, ‘Sending love and hugs as I know today is a hard one’. Today is the anniversary of something traumatic I went through a number of years ago. It’s a date I usually struggle with, but actually this year is the first in eight it hasn’t hung over my head for days. I grinned to myself as I walked into Primark to buy myself some pink shoes. I thought no more of it until I logged into my Facebook to waste half an hour. The top of my feed presented me with a four-year Friend-iversary with my best friend. A few hours later, I finished my YouTube yoga session and switched on my phone. I was greeted with a message from my dad saying I’d passed my GCSE English four years ago today. He told me he is as proud of me today as he was then. It may not seem like a big deal, but up until the past few of years, my life has been rather tumultuous, so getting a GCSE in English at the age of twenty-five marked a huge change in my life.

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What is Racism?

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