Ayonti Mahreen Huq23 February 2018
So, no, I do not have a white name. I wish other non-white people didn’t either. Our names are beautiful. They speak of our roots, cultures, homes we so dearly love. I would rather repeat my name thrice than cut it to make someone else more comfortable.
For more than 40 years, Curry Corner, a tiny store in Melbourne’s CBD that specialises in Indian imports, has been selling spices and lentils. But what catches the eye almost instantly is the large collection of skin-whitening products in the front right corner of the shop. From a skin bleaching cream for “instant golden glow” by Fem to a whitening cream called “Fair & Lovely”, there is a chemical formula available for every part of the body. Yes, even the privates.
Bhenji Ra stands on stage in a bright red bikini, with gold-sequined flames stretching around her hips and across her chest. A pair of red boots lace up to her knees, as she flicks a red fan in front of her face. She has been dancing—dipping and spinning along the runway—but now is still.
Veera Ramayah addresses white allies
Luke Macaronas talks with Benjamin Law about gay voices in journalism and hate-fucking politicians
Luke Macaronas talks to interdisciplinary artist Archie Barry about queer performance in a binary landscape
Luke Macaronas speaks to Jean Tong about writing, upcoming works and her recent ascension to the Australian lesbian canon.
Luke Macaronas on Ash Flanders’ slippery theatre
Comments are closed.