we gather for the ungeographies of slow death, fast death, silent death, unseen death, unbearable death: Mpeketoni, Gaza, Ferguson, Peshawar, Mandera

What would queer Africa look like detached from racist developmental logics?

How might we understand mourning, when the event has yet to end? When the injuries not only perdure, but are inflicted anew?—Saidiya Hartman

Blind Peer Review: or, the tragic life of imprecise prose

What bodies are being produced as Ugandan? What spaces as public spaces? What intimacies as possible intimacies?

It’s difficult to feel intimidated by maize-eating police. Here, in their space, there’s an at-homeness to police bodies and postures.

Rebeka Njau’s The Sacred Seed imagines that Kenyan women can create and inhabit freedom, justice, and healing.

A trail of small red dots connect Tyna Adebowale’s body of work.

The moment when a feeling enters the body is political. This touch is political.

Pursuing Freedom Dreams

How, I wonder, do the disposable survive?