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First Generation, Second Language

Earlier this year, my Grandpa published a book of poetry. It’s a compilation of over 150 poems spanning half a lifetime, a bona fide history of his experiences in China and then subsequently here, in Australia. There are poems about everything, from the flowers in our backyard to my late Grandma. There are even a good five or six poems dedicated to yours truly.

17 October 2017
Grey Matters

Listen to Liz read ‘Grey Matters’ I vividly remember the first time I saw Piss Christ. If you’re not familiar with it, it’s an artwork by Andres Serrano, formally titled Immersion (Piss Christ) and consists of a photograph of a crucifix immersed in a deep yellow liquid. It’s a confronting image, not only because of its […]

15 October 2017
Sad Content

On Tuesday, my sister Sarah came home in a state. Her face was all red and she had been crying. She told me that on the freeway home her radio stopped working and had started looping the first track of Carrie & Lowell, the 2015 album from Sufjan Stevens.

10 October 2017
The First Thing People See

I think it all started at the airport. You know those security scanner bits that you have to go through before you can go to the boarding gate? I think it all started there. Right there. The security scanners in T2 at Melbourne Airport on a cold, July morning.

Broken Glass

My partner and I have been together for three months now. He sometimes asks me to tell him about my childhood, and every time, without fail, I’m confronted with gaping years of blankness. There are few stories I can recount from ages one to thirteen – many of them are violent and triggering, and recounting them would be like clicking open a screamer video unwittingly. 

Apocalyptic Imaginings

This is not an article criticising the media young people choose to consume. 

Ideological Battleground

When I was younger, and a good church-attending lass, a phrase I heard a lot was “remove the beam from your own eye, and then you will see clearly enough to remove the speck from your brother’s eye”. At the time, I thought it literally referred to my pupil, and poked myself way too many times in the eye trying to scoop it out (common sense did not come naturally to me). Now, of course, I realise it’s a metaphor for hypocrisy and self-awareness. 

9 October 2017
Exorcism and the Church

“And Lord, you’ve given her this assignment. Father, I’d just ask that you would touch her heart as she’s writing it, Lord, that she would hear from you, that she would say what you want her to say, Lord.”

25 September 2017
A Marxist Commentary of Chicken Run

Many people remember the first movie they truly enjoyed as a child, the first movie they really wanted to watch again after the first viewing. For me, this movie was Chicken Run.

22 September 2017
Is My Sexuality Made Of Memory?

A boy in a red t-shirt and high-waisted jeans stains my mind. My memories are haunted by Gordie Lachance – his dark eyelashes and silky hair, his faintly freckled skin. If you had asked me even a month ago, I would have told you that I didn’t have a gay childhood. I can’t describe a sense of ‘knowing’, I had no primary school sexual experiences and no childhood boy-crushes; I have no memory of being gay.

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