Skip to main content

Zanele Muholi Exhibition

Subject: Zanele Muholi Exhibition
From: Fetsiboomsticks

What:
Only Half the Picture by Zanele Muholi
Where: Market Theatre Photographic Workshop, 2nd President Street, Newtown (About two blocks from the Market Theatre, across the big parking lot away from the Theatre and the Nelson Mandela Bridge, not that next block, the next one, about in the middle of the block you will see large metal gates that have images welded into the metal) then you can park in there and the Workshop is to your left up a tiny little set of stairs, ring the bell and you will be let in).
Why: Lesbian/women/feminist images
Where: Market Theatre Photographic Workshop, for viewing details call 011-630-4460.
When: Until 10 September 2006, I think.
How much: Entrance if free, but there is a book of the exhbition, that I had to get into car, go all the way to vaguely safe ATM, draw money, walk, pay attendant (who didn't believe I would be back again), walk, back in car, drive back, buy book - it's R200, i.e. I had to have the book.
Offer: LOVED this exhibition: If you like, you can invite me and I would LOVE to go again. Am available for coffee after, and will sharpen my labrys.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Facebook behaving badly

So I signed Avaaz's petition to ask Facebook to clean up their act or else I will delete. Wryly. I do believe that instead of saying, "But you Dumb Fucks (that's what Zuckerberg calls us, you can check, those are the actual words) signed our terms and conditions" that the focus shouldn't fall on the victim. "You wanted to get raped, you came to the bar." The onus, the responsibility lies on the powerful to behave better. There's never an onus to behave with honor, with respect, with humanity.

#RapeCulture

Anyway, I tried to get people to leave and come with me to GooglePlus. "But my friends aren't there." I ran a campaign to tell people that I'm not connecting apps to Facebook because the apps demand access to my friends' accounts. My friends still didn't come to GooglePlus.

The irony is I don't care about the data thing. Have my data. When I do something they don't like - be a loud fat ugly hairy man-hating dyke…

Poem: I have biracial hair by Zora Howard

See the performance on YouTube

I have bi-racial hair
Pantene Pro-V waves on the top
Easy to style, comb, rock-
Until-I encounter my naps,
I’m not talking about those-cute detangle with the spray naps.
I’m talking about those, slave naps, like,
No comb, brush, or man can handle the kind of naps I got- like,
No way you are touching my hair-naps like
Back 10 feet up, or we can dance naps
Those naps like-
DAMN!
I have bi-racial hair,
Those smooth and silk rafts hanging all through my mane,
Until you get to the back, and encounter the jungle, in which you can find Tarzan and Jane.
In the front you forget and relax in the pleasure,
Until you get to the back and remember pain
Baby hair slicked back with that good 4 dollar pomade,
That goes with roots and tangles,
Soaked with that same olive oil; mixed with that spaghetti sauce momade.
I have bi-racial hair,
Combs run freely through my fine breezy, just to the part, the most you can make,
Until it gets to the back and
Breaks.
I have bi-raci…

Sexual assault

If sexual assault always affects trust, then #AllWomen are walking around with PTSD and trust issues. I for one don't let THE MANY MANY TIMES I have been sexually assaulted and various other crimes (I do live in South Africa) be a guiding factor of my life. I have consciously chosen to trust on purpose. However, only insane people close their eyes while trusting. I don't shy away from trusting, I just make sure that I let people tell me who they are, and then I LISTEN and respond. 
You would be horrified, but I am not. I am NORMALIZED to this level of violence. It's natural. More sheltered people in my country have no clue what it's like to be a fully-engaged and person-on-the-street. You get used to it. Like children in war. It's the thing happening now and then that adds an anomalous punctuation to your life. You can't spend every day crying. The country is economically stuffed so you have to get on with making money, to eat. It makes you more articulate about…