I still have to make breakfast and a packed lunch for my three-year-old son, and keep ahead of all his plans for the upcoming term — football, ballet, and a flu injection. So, whilst the PhD was a project, a big, important, time-greedy self-development project, it was never my whole life, and its completion would not leave me bereft.
Last summer, I also traveled, in different formats that retrospectively reflect my various roles in life. On a family holiday in Crete, I ate watermelon, swam with my son and husband, and wrote academic book reviews on the beach.
I attended a one-week transnational comics summer school in Siegen, Germany, where I enjoyed learning about comics from around the world, and I brought my son and nanny as, unusually, there was a stipend for accompanying children. I also enjoyed a weekend in Copenhagen with a comics friend, sharing our challenges and future creative goals and supporting each other. One thing I promised myself in the harried days of endless thesis editing was more time to make art.
To support this creative project, my day is split between making art and applying for grants and other funding for my artwork. When I started my PhD I wanted to take my writing to a new level, to be published in books and journals and to lecture worldwide—all of which, I am delighted to say, I achieved.
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But the cost was having less time to create. Now I am enjoying drawing and painting again after being focused on words for so long, and I have initiated a monthly art crits for the artists on my floor at the studio, through which I have developed friendships with other colleagues.
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My art has always been autobiographical and now my focus is motherhood: in particular, what I term the parallel growths of motherhood—as my son, Harry, grows and I evolve as well, we produce an imperfect equation of learning and unlearning, of progress, regression and fulfilling potential. And if we consider that erosion of form to be a complexly mediated inscription of internalized conflict — motherhood versus profession — then surely this should be taken as seriously as the more highly acclaimed psychic dramas of male artists of the period.
It was particularly difficult for me to give birth when, having just edited my first book, I felt I had, finally, achieved a level of competence in so many aspects of my life. I was then thrust into a world where I was an over-tired novice—facing the bewilderment of breastfeeding, nappies, and the need to assess nannies and nurseries.
She also points out how the language around interracial relationships prior to it being legalised and socially accepted, mirrors the way in which LGBTQ relationships are negatively perceived by some.
What to read: Your suggestions for books on the border
It is a gentle reminder that legality is a construct of the powerful. The writing style is one that is easy to follow and very accessible. Crossing the Colour Line is an essential guide to understanding modern Ghana and Britain as the intersection of empire, gender, and sex paint a unique picture of race relationships in these societies and the discourse around it. Carina Ray. Ohio University Press.
Yovanka Perdigao is a writer inspired by issues of trauma, race and gender.
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The views expressed in this post are those of the authors and in no way reflect those of the Africa at LSE blog or the London School of Economics and Political Science. Our consciousness participates in the speaking forth of Being. We are low-resolution versions of God. We can make order from chaos—and vice versa—in our way, with our words. And that is a tremendous responsibility. Yes, that can be a daunting challenge, but that what human beings are created to be—and the only way to be a true human being is to do just that.
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That is why Christ came: to show us the way to do it, and to, by the power of the Holy Spirit, empower us to begin doing just that. But once you realize your own worth, and the destiny and responsibility God intends for you, you realize that ultimately there really is only two choices: Heaven or Hell. Or as Peterson puts it:.
You could aim elsewhere. You could, in fact, devote your life to this.
That would give you a Meaning, with a capital M. That would justify your miserable existence. Or as T. Through the unknown, remembered gate When the last of earth left to discover Is that which was the beginning. Jordan Peterson is not a misogynist—at least no more than I am. Men and women are different and different is okay. According to the Genesis account Woman was the culmination of Order rather than Chaos.
Creation was not complete till Eve showed up. Archetypes and motifs are not generalizations about groups of human beings. Our post modern culture takes things too literally. This site uses Akismet to reduce spam.