Excerpt from 'Coiled Journey' my personal essay published in the new anthology: Hair Power, Skin Revolution.

COILED JOURNEY

In the beginning
My sister, cousins and I were on a mission as we scrambled through the chest of drawers, pulling out all kinds of jumpers: brown ones, red ones, sleeveless and cropped ones. We laid them out on the bed, mulling over the possibilities. I picked the brown jumper, Chantelle chose a red one, my sister always went for the black cropped and Sabrina was left with the yellow sleeveless. All realistic colours. As we stood in front of the wardrobe mirror, we placed our selected jumpers on our heads, tweaking and pulling until the coils were covered. Satisfied, we continued to play...

Purchase Hair Power, Skin Revolution to read the complete essay.
(Readers outside the UK can purchase here)

ESSAY: Obama Election Result: Where Were You?

At some minutes after 3am this morning I could not sleep. Whether it was due to the surprising humidity (in November!) or because my subconscious was encouraging me to bear witness to the historical event taking place; I am not sure.



From the comfort of my bed, I logged onto the site that never sleeps (otherwise known as Face Book) and I discovered I was not alone in my need to be awake. Plenty of friends (mainly from the UK) were alive and kicking; discussing and celebrating the victory that had recently occurred.



On hearing the news I felt anticlimactic and I immediately began to question whether this moment - this day - equated real change and for whom? Expressing my thoughts on FB I was soon to find out what the rest of my peers thought; old friends and new.



I was questioned about questioning the event. Did I not realise the significance of what had just happened? Not only for Americans, but for people all over the world. Not to mention the added significance for Black people all over the world: African-Americans; Black Brits; Kenyans; Canadians; Afro-Europeans; Bajans; Nigerians; Brazilians; Sierra Leoneans - and the list goes on.



Venturing downstairs to the living room I tuned in to BBC1 to hear the first speech, live, from the President of the United States: Barack Obama. In short, Barack delivered. His speech was passionate, inspirational and honest. The sight of tears from Oprah and Jesse Jackson (for whom I cannot imagine how this moment feels), I began to understand. Regardless of my earlier fears and questions this was a moment to be enjoyed and to be treasured.



As the hours passed and the UK began it’s morning “business as usual” routine; I noted a group of young black boys (no older than eight) on their way to school. With smiles on their small brown faces, they argued amongst themselves and I heard shouts of “I’m Obama!”, “No, I’m Obama!”, “No, he’s the President!” The moment was surreal and I realised that for today, at least, it wasn’t “business as usual.” I have witnessed a historical event that truly means something to me; one that I will relish telling my children in the future.

I know where I was on the 5th November 2008, physically and emotionally, where were you?

© Rachelle Hull, 2008

ESSAY: Italian Vogue: Black Is Beautiful?

Italian Vogue is celebrating black beauty in July.

Or so they say.

Whilst many across the country felt joy at the news, I was still questioning their decision.

According to Vogue's editor, Franca Sozzani, her decision is based on the discrimination that black models face within the fashion industry (as well as the whole Obama phenomenon).

Though I cannot speak for everyone, I have never been in denial of the beauty that exists within my race. I do not need a book, a magazine, or anyone else to tell me what I see every day: in my family, in friends and in black women across the globe.

So I question the need for such a grand display from those who are usually hell bent on making the aesthetics of the black woman appear grotesque, to the rest of the world. For some this moment has been a long time coming, whereas I cannot help but feel a sense of déjà vu. Is it just me or does this reek of the Oscars black out: Denzel, Sydney, Halle anyone?

Is this July issue seriously going to change anything? I doubt it. The fact that Sozzani is reported as having said this will be ‘the worse selling issue’ is not dampening my reservations.

By making a standalone issue the highlight of the debate, ironically takes away from the wider discussion. This should be about a racist institution that makes millions every year from the same women it rejects. This should be about a racist institution that has been allowed to perpetuate its racism without being severely challenged and taken to task. Instead, this is about one magazine doing one good deed for the year, and yet black women are not a charity case. It is not just about the models either, what about the racism amongst the designers, fashion buyers and editors of these fashion magazines?

If it continues to be about the one issue, will this mean fashion no longer has to dole out another pity issue for, oh let’s say, another forty years? If ever again. Maybe I am being a bit too cynical - but can you blame me? This is what the Football Association does when there are cries against racism – they dole out fines that can easily be paid by the clubs and everybody moves on. This is what the (previously mentioned) Oscars did when there were murmurs about the lack of black actors and actresses winning the accolade – they doled out three for the price of one. So now it is the turn of the fashion industry.

Tell me, once the month is out and the sales figures are in, which point will be proven: that black is truly beautiful or that black girls ‘do not sell’?

© Rachelle Hull, 2008

ESSAY: 'We Don't See All of Who We Are'

March 31st 2008:

Wise words spoken during one of Obama’s many speeches; Michelle that is – not Barrack. Throughout history the representation of the black woman has been less than favourable. She is often sexualised and dramatised, whether for comical effect or to further discredit the very foundations of a struggling nation. Her value in society shuffled around like a pack of cards – always the joker, but never the ace. Her very existence often laying at the bottom of the social ladder, or just simply ceasing to exist.

The many complexities of what it means to be a woman, first and foremost, are apparent. Added to this the identification with a race so full of riches and woe, it would seem there are many avenues to choose from. But that has not been the case, until now. Not for a long time has the representation in the media delivered so much promise.

Introducing Michelle Obama: a Vice President of community and external affairs for University of Chicago Hospitals and a graduate of both Princeton University and Harvard Law School. Not to mention wife of Barrack and a mother of two. Impressive indeed, but not the main focus. Her ability to comprise all these areas of her life and not apologise for being active, and determined in each is what makes her a remarkable woman.

I am often bombarded with women who appear to be mere shadows of those I identify with in my own home. Not ashamed of being ambitious, whilst drawing her own guidelines for success along the way and proud of being cultured and passionate beyond belief, I share an affinity with Michelle. For these are parts of the core values passed on to me, like heirlooms, from my mother.

It is rare to see us placed within a context; particularly one that is not limiting and void of any profundity. One dimensional characters are all too easily churned out for the masses to feast on and digest without complaint. All too often we are seen as carrying on in this world alone. According to the media, family is an alien concept for the black woman. With no support system, or rejecting the one that was offered we are portrayed as bitter from our experiences and lashing out at those who look most like us: the male and the female form.

So, what a breath of fresh air to see Michelle and the family unit intact: wholesome and tangible. She is not an apologist for drawing strength from this; recognising the benefits and holding fast. Nor is she an apologist for celebrating selfhood outside of her kin, instead she revels in the dynamics that complete her. She is a card-carrying member of Woman.

© Rachelle Hull, 2008