Woman of Qolour (Explanation)

After much harassment from girlfriend, B, I have decided to start this blog where I will bombard the internet with my thoughts on well, everything. Coming from a family of chief social activists it’s only in my nature to make a general fuss of about even the most arbitrary of issues – like that time a kid was sent home from school for sporting cornrows despite it being representation of cultural heritage and more importantly a way of keeping Afro hair clean and compact. I also have my fair share of opinions on big issues too – if you want to ask me how I feel about abortion rights, feminism and the supposed war on terror, take a seat and don’t make plans for the rest of the afternoon. 

So, Woman of Qolour, lets break it down. 

Woman, well, somewhat self-explanatory but just to paint a clear picture I am a cis-gendered female human being. I consider myself very anti-jargon so I will occasionally forsake political correctness in order to make myself clear to everyone who is not a Women and Gender Studies scholar. I don’t like jargon because it so ironically excludes a large proportion of the population and although so many political and academic feminists (to give an example of a group often guilty of over-using elitist, scholastic language) aim to change the ‘wrong’ opinions of the masses, they often don’t make their points clear and accessible… more on this later.

Qolour. Pretty much a mixture of the words Queer and Colour. Queer being a re-appropriated umbrella term for people of the LGBT community and Colour meaning non-white. I still feel a bit uneasy about the word Queer seeing as it was only this summer (August 2013) that I came out and really stepped into the community of people that identify with that word which I had only previously associated with derogatory slurs directed at oddities in old literature. Therefore, I’ve incorporated the word but not emblazoned it across my forehead. 

Colour is easier to talk about and harder to avoid. I’m a bunch of nationalities and ethnicities making me very mixed and a little mixed up. I explain this much better in an article I wrote in high school. I prefer the term mixed race to biracial but North America has confused me so I’ll interchange those words but I always remain clear of half-caste (more later about why it’s such an offensive term). It’s taken twenty years, four countries, three parents and one rebellious grandparent to make me almost comfortable with my colour – and I still wear foundation two shades darker than my skin tone. 

I’ve also written poem about the pseudonym, Woman of Qolour which is coming soon; I often express myself better with poetry than prose. 

Oh, and I’m British. Hence the ‘u’.

 

 

 

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