I wrote about visiting the reef and getting arrested up near Adani’s proposed mine. You can buy a copy of Voiceworks from Express Media.
The sea is rising, the ice is melting, and still we’re forging forward into a strange and terrifying territory of our own making. It’s enough to make you want to cry, but we’re all in this sinking ship together. Join us for a fortifying evening of eco-poetry, speculation and future narratives exploring climate grief and ecological collapse to provide a salve for your soul.
Thank you to the Emerging Writers festival for letting me read alongside Teaote Davies, Georgia Kartas, Reagan Maiquez and Declan Furber-Gillick
After a visit to the Break Room, I became fascinated with anger. How does what we expect anger to be affect the way we experience and express it? Pink Slows the Heartbeat unpicks encounters with anger through an exploration of gender, colour, catharsis and taboo.
[Image: Yassmin Abdel-Magied shot by Atong Atem. Creative direction by Grace Dlabik.]
This profile originally appeared in the print edition of BE. MAG — BOSS.
26-year-old Yassmin Abdel-Magied arrives right on time, make-up on point and with a huge grin on her face. “Man, I really need to pack my house,” she says when she greets us, “you know anyone looking for furniture?”
Yassmin is in town for the Melbourne Writers’ Festival and to pack for her imminent move to London. Since a Facebook post gone awry in 2016, she’s been at the centre of a lot of controversy—and hate mail. Yet despite being named the “most hated Muslim in Australia”, she’s nothing but warm, generous and good humoured when we chat to her over coffee.
With so many accolades under her belt, Yassmin would be an inspiring feature guest for any BE. topic. She’s a feminist, engineer, activist, writer and all-round high achiever. She was the 2015 Queensland Young Australian of the Year, founded Youth Without Borders when she was only 16 years old, and released a memoir by 22. When we told her that our next issue was ‘BOSS’, she immediately lit up. “I’m totally a boss,” she said, “in the B.A.W.S.E sense of the word”. Read More
Nayuka Gorrie is reading Harry Potter. She’s up to the fourth book, she told us during last night’s Melbourne Fringe Show ‘Apocalypse in Blak’. Sirius has just told Harry that Voldemort is returning. All the signs are there: people are missing, the death eaters are back, tension is in the air.
“The apocalypse is coming,” Nayuka said. “All the signs are here.” The waters are rising. People are dying. Trump just subtweeted North Korea. All the signs are here.
Nayuka Gorrie is a Kurnai/Gunai, Gunditjmara, Wiradjuri and Yorta Yorta woman. She’s also big on blerd (black nerd) culture. Comics, fantasy and future-dystopias aren’t just for pasty white dudes. In fact, the apocalypse—and black and Indigenous people’s ability to keep on surviving—is central to Afrofuturism. If you’re not familiar with it, Afrofuturism is a movement, cultural aesthetic, philosophy and literary genre (thank you, Octavia Butler!) that situates black people in the centre of sci-fi narratives. It recognises the struggle people of colour have experienced and celebrates their ability to keep on surviving when faced with real (and imagined future) dystopias.
What can we learn from the people who clean toilets at music festivals? A lot, it turns out. Hot Mess is a story about human waste, wasted humans and how we can learn to waste not, want not.
I once dated a person with terrifying friends. They were loud and confrontational and—in my eyes—terrifying. Still, I was in love, so I made the effort to get to know them. They all hung out in one of those big, run-down share houses where anything goes. They threw massive parties fueled with drugs and sexual tension. Modesty was a sin and shock a virtue.
“Do you like girls as well?” A big, tough-looking blonde asked me at one such party.
I hesitated, unsure how to answer. I didn’t like girls or boys necessarily. I liked people, and a very select few of them at that. My partner, who was masc-identifying at the time, cut in.
“Nah, she’s the token straight girl,” they said. And that was that.
Image: Grace Dlabik.
The relationship we have with ourselves is so important, but it can also be one of the hardest to build and maintain. We’re constantly seeing pictures of perfect lives and perfect skin and perfect hair—we get lost in the comparisons and forget about what’s really important. Recognising that so many young people feel anxious, disconnected and insecure (and that society was doing little to help), Grace Dlabik founded BE. Collective Culture—a social enterprise that hosts talks, workshops, a magazine and a soon-to-be-launched fashion label.
BE. is a space to share ideas, expertise and experiences with some of the most revered and aspirational young people around the globe. Through BE., Grace’s empowers us to explore our relationship with culture, identity, belonging and passion, as well as build valuable life skills. Now BE. is going deep and talking about self-love. We caught up with Grace to find out why BE. is so important and how she practices self-love in her every day.