“We must be good stewards of our gifts” – Interview with Alexis Teyie

“We must be good stewards of our gifts” – Interview with Alexis Teyie

Alexis Teyie

“We must be good stewards of our gifts”

– Alexis Teyie

Alexis Teyie is a Kenyan writer and feminist whose works have appeared in Short Story Day Africa (SSDA), Q-zine, Writivism, and several other platforms.

In her recent interview with Kreative Diadem, Teyie discusses mental health during isolation and shares some creative self-care tips for navigating the pandemic.

KD: Alexis, your poems are deeply emotional and thought-provoking, and a reflection of the heart where they were baked. What are the things that make your heart bleed? What makes your blood boil when you write?  

Alexis: Ah (embarrassingly) still impossible to predict. I hate to see a little dying plant with the same intensity I am floored by intentional communities of care. Lately, I watch videos of dogs uniting with their humans to give me an excuse to cry for all the things I can’t bring myself to cry about (for fear I’ll be overwhelmed, or to avoid seeming petty). The world as it is right now is stripping a lot of us to our small, wild naked selves. This is good and hard. I’m trying to teach myself to sit with the questions, and the difficulty and not to hide from the impulse we’re all being called to — to encounter ourselves and the world we’ve un/built. I’m learning that intensity doesn’t always lend itself to writing, or making. I’m consoling myself saying, as Zora Neale Hurston taught; there are years that ask questions and there are years that answer. 2020 is certainly the former for me. I’m sending love to other de/makers out there: it’s alright to be still, alright to be unmoored, and off kilter. We’ll start again tomorrow.

We must be good stewards of our gifts, so yes, it can be excruciating to feel turned inside out in this thorny place, but that’s why community is so powerful and necessary for writers. Let’s take good care of each other.” — Alexis Teyie

KD: In your interview with Konya Shamsrumi, you talked about scripting ‘Water Lilies’ after eight months of writing nothing and highlighted how the poem lifted you from a depressing state: “… properly sick and drowning in the most acute loneliness of my life.” As a creative writer, how do you handle writer’s block?

Alexis: Writer’s block…gah. I don’t handle it per se. I’m trying to take a lot more of myself lightly, gently. [Matsuo] Basho has this lovely poem that I scribbled outside my last flat’s bathroom:

Sitting quietly, doing nothing,

Spring comes, and the grass grows, by itself.

So, I’m repeating to myself: you’re a writer even when you’re not writing. Attending to life, and attending to the world is a form of prayer central to writing as well. And, if I am patient, it is not a punishment to take a step back from this part of the work.

KD: What do you think is the main cause of depression and mental health issues in creative writing circles? 

Alexis: I am in no way placed to answer this in any meaningful way, especially with zero medical training. For myself, I’ve had to unlearn the toxic idea that all creative work is tied fundamentally to mental suffering. You can be healthy — and should work actively to make it so— and a talented, prolific, insightful creator. Certainly, staying open to the world exacts its own violence upon us; numbness allows other people to move more smoothly in some ways through the world. That said, we must be good stewards of our gifts, so yes, it can be excruciating to feel turned inside out in this thorny place, but that’s why community is so powerful and necessary for writers. Let’s take good care of each other.

KD: As the world slowly crawls out of a global pandemic that necessitated a measure of compulsory solitude, do you think there is a connection between isolation and creative work? And can you be open on how you spent the lockdown if at all it was made compulsory in your corner of the world?

Alexis: I’ve been in Nairobi for much of the year, and we’ve had varied degrees of restrictions in place. I’ve spent the time gardening, making tea, on the phone, staring into the sky, haggling with our dog, making elaborate meals for my loves— all in all, a quiet idyllic set up. I, for one, have been glad for the silence (in some ways) the lockdown has re-introduced into my life. I find myself doodling more, journaling more (thanks to Suleika Jaouad!) and reflecting in a less extractive way than before. In some ways, I’ve become more hungry and protective of connection, and the lovely people in my circle during this time, so I wouldn’t fully consider this period one of isolation.  I’m thankful none of my family has been infected, but as someone in the high-risk category, there is an underlying static that’s pervaded my generally mundane day-to-day, and that fear is hard to shake. We keep at it I suppose.

KD: You once described yourself as “anti-colonial,” and one can only imagine your indignation for racism. Do you think there is any form of racism faced by black writers in literary circles and how can these issues be addressed?

Alexis: We do end up haunting ourselves, don’t we?  But yes, I did say that, and still hold fast to that identity. De/Anti-colonial knowledges are so critical and necessary, especially now. I’m doing what I can, in minor ways, to contribute to growing this archive and canon, by excavating all the wonderful out-of-print African writers I can get my hands on. You’ll forgive me if I don’t get into the big and small violences enacted within our literary spaces — which, by the way, intersect with ableism and class and heteropatriarchy. I’ll just remind us of my favourite James Baldwin quote: “We’ve got to be as clear-headed about human beings as possible, because we’re still each other’s only hope.”

KD: What are you working on now? Is it another poetry collection or a pet project?

Alexis: An absurd mix of things: my darling Roseline Olang’ and I have some fun projects in the works (including making art books, publishing, and collecting East African photography); I’m super keen for Down River Road and the exciting projects in the pipeline, including Michael Onsando’s new poetry collection out in October. I’m also finishing up a collection (finally!) currently titled ‘Mountain Graves;’ figuring out how to properly grow coriander; and hoping to take up film photography again. We really must find our own light this year…

Source: From the Isolation Issue (September 2020)

“It’s important to remind ourselves that we are not alone” – Interview with Tobi Nifesi

“It’s important to remind ourselves that we are not alone” – Interview with Tobi Nifesi

Alexis Teyie

“It’s important to remind ourselves that we aren’t alone”

– Tobi Nifesi

Tobi Nifesi is a fiction writer whose works focus predominantly on socio-psychological issues. To date, he has authored three psychological thrillers: “The Burgess Theory,” “React,” and “Domestic.”

In his recent chat with Kreative Diadem, Nifesi discusses the connection between mental health and isolation, as well as what it means to be creative in the midst of a pandemic.


KD: Tobi, for those meeting you for the first time, what are the top three things you want readers to know about you?

Tobi: Sure, three things:

  • I’m a writer who shares stories and essays about sociological issues.
  • My fiction writing process is highly influenced by Dan Brown’s writing process – most of which includes a ton of research on historical and symbolic subject matter.
  • Like most writers, I have struggled with writing consistently. However, by engaging in small daily habits outside of writing, I am learning more about the nature of consistency motivation and applying those principles to my writing process. When I have completely figured it out, then I may be bold enough to share with other writers. Actually, I hope to – one day – teach the next generation of writers about the technical and psychological aspects of creative writing.


KD: In your works, there is a recurring theme that draws attention to mental health, what role does isolation play in proliferating mental health issues?

Tobi: One of the common phrases that mental health awareness campaigns and activists use is ‘You’re not alone.’ It is so common that I can almost, always, predict that a version of it will be used in any mental health ad campaign I come across. Regardless of how cliché it may sound, it is a necessary statement. It is important to remind ourselves that we aren’t alone because that is what we tend to think when we are in pain.

Like physical pain, the emotional and psychological stress that comes with mental health issues feel – and may actually be – very personal. This idea is amplified when we are in isolation. Isolation convinces us that no one else is going through or can understand or can help us deal with our version of pain and stress. This is the role isolation plays in proliferating and worsening mental health issues.

So, it is important that we remind each other that we are not alone. There is someone else who has felt or is feeling a pain or stress similar to ours. Even if no one understands our pain, there is someone who cares about and is rooting for us, in one way or the other. Our shared experiences can help lift each of us out of our seemingly personal pain. 

It is important to remind ourselves that we aren’t alone because that is what we tend to think when we are in pain.”— Tobi Nifesi

KD: As a creative, I believe it’s not strange to seek solitude in order to stimulate creative juices. Was the global compulsory holiday a blessing in disguise for you? Can you imagine what creative minds would have made from the lockdown?

Tobi: ‘Global Compulsory Holiday’ is a nice to put it. However, I can barely classify it as a holiday because I know several writers and creatives around the world have been under some form of stress during this time.

Personally, prior to the pandemic, my work was mostly remote. When the pandemic came, a lot didn’t change for me in terms of my working conditions. So, it wasn’t really a blessing in that sense. If anything, the blessing in disguise – from all this – for me is the opportunity to learn more about worldviews and social behaviours. During this time, I’ve learnt more about the nature of globalization today and the sociological effects of being separated.

I think there is a good percentage of creatives who may not have been productive or inspired so far during this pandemic – and there are those who may have been. There is no right or wrong group to be in. Yet, I hope that by the end of this pandemic, most creatives and writers would have learnt at least one thing that can make their writing a little bit better or inform their stories, essays, poems or whatever they like to work on.

Tobi Nifesi

KD: Tobi, you have authored three books —psychological thrillers — in the past three years, are you working on a book now and what is it about? Where do you see yourself in five years?

Tobi: At the moment, I’m in the very early stages of developing a story concept for my next book. So, other than the fact that it will be a psychological thriller, I don’t have much details to share about that. In five years, I hope to have worked or be working on a social commentary or documentary that raises social awareness about vulnerable populations in Africa.

KD: As an author in a world recovering from the scourge of a pandemic, what are you going to do differently and why?

Tobi: This is such a good question but I may not have a great answer. Despite the pandemic, my priorities and goals as a writer haven’t really changed. However, I have a clearer idea of the stories that matter to me. I intend to work more on them.


I appreciate the opportunity to share my thoughts with you. Thank you for the interview.

Source: From the Isolation Issue (September 2020)



“Fiction Remains my First Love”

– Caleb Okereke

 Kanyinsola Olorunnisola: Recently, you seem to have made a shift towards journalism from your once-upon-a-time preoccupation with literary publications. From AL Jazeera to African Arguments, you clearly have your plate full. For your avid readers who have been waiting for such massive releases as a follow-up to Safe Journey, is there hope for them (read: us) to get another book from you soon?

Caleb Okereke: For starters, I don’t really see it as making a shift. What I might be doing though is exploring writing and storytelling in new ways because truly, the core of my work has always been stories. That I started out telling stories through fictionalizing them and in the written word doesn’t mean that I have made a shift because I do the same thing now, mostly through real-life experiences and often employing video. I entirely understand your angle, but I must say that while the format or medium might change, the goal remains the same.

I once read somewhere I don’t remember that journalism is what creative writers do to keep body and soul together while they write their first book, I see myself in that quote. Also, journalism for me was about giving non-fiction as much attention and enthusiasm as I gave fiction. It has gone great so far but fiction remains my first love and what it has done is revolutionized my fiction, the type of true stories I am confronted with from doing this reporting work on a daily influences the kind of fictional stories I want to tell. 

To directly answer your question though, I do not have a book in the works. A lot because between reporting and studying, I can barely find enough time to do the hard work that is writing a book, especially because I am aiming to write fiction. I have a few ideas here and there, written a few chapters of some of these ideas but there’s nothing set in stone.

If it helps, I am applying to a few residencies (some of them paid) to at least give me the space and time I need to go past more than a few chapters. But that’s also tricky because I need to find residencies that suit my timeline with school and sometimes what looks like it suits your calendar, doesn’t. I’ve gotten into two this year already, one of them on a partial scholarship but I couldn’t attend because of timing. The bigger challenge nonetheless is that I am looking to have a book out by 2022, this would mean ideally that it has to be written between now and next year if I want to meet that timeline. Well, you can see how that is going.

“Ugandan artists are creating, incredible art, incredible music, my best friend is an amazing musician and actress from Uganda but that this immense art being created rarely crosses East Africa means the knowledge level is lopsided.” – Caleb Okereke

KO: You moved quite a while back to Kampala, Uganda, for school and work-related reasons (I suppose), what was it like moving to a whole new world? Was there a form of culture shock? How did you adapt?

 CO: I love Kampala, I always have. Long before I first came in 2017. Growing up, my father worked for a company that held workshops across the world and so I learned of Kampala first from their training materials. It helped also that my father’s stepbrother is half Ugandan, half Nigerian, make of that story what you will.

To be more specific though, culture shock is something that happens even between states within a country, so yes, there was this new way of life sprawling in front of me that I had to adapt to. And as Africans and owing in part to the gospel of pan Africanism, there is the possible misinterpretation of that concept to mean that Africans have a similar way of life across countries but this is very false and the idea behind a contorted understanding of pan Africanism is to represent Africans within a stereotype, one that subsequently becomes easier to typecast. It’s a case of rather than make this continent of 54 countries diverse, why don’t we make them similar and in so doing, singular? So yes, there was some level of culture shock.

One of my earliest examples happened in the first month I arrived, I was at a Saturday game chill and someone whipped out a deck of cards and suggested we play, the rules were very different from anything I had seen and I who was a champion of cards back home did very badly. Another example was from 2017, I had gone out for dinner with a friend and he suggested that we get a taxi back home so I can get the experience, I said “cool,” imagining that experience referred to something other than Uber which we had been using. I said cool because, in Lagos, a taxi is a special hire, but imagine my surprise when we emerged from this expensive restaurant and my friend flagged down the Ugandan version of a Danfo, I realized then that in Kampala, a public bus was called a taxi.

It might be easier, I would think for a Ugandan moving to Nigeria because Nollywood and the Nigerian entertainment industry as a whole have gone continent-wide, to be honest, and so most Ugandans I meet know a lot about Nigeria. They know Danfo, they know Okadas, they even know Ojuelegba. Nigerian music has crossed to Kampala bars, Nigerian fashion, make-up, but the opposite is the case when the roles are reversed, Nigerians have little idea about Uganda and some of my cousins still think I live in Zambia or Malawi. Only one of these countries is even in East Africa. And it doesn’t mean Ugandans are not creating, Ugandan artists are creating, incredible art, incredible music, my best friend is an amazing musician and actress from Uganda but that this immense art being created rarely crosses East Africa means the knowledge level is lopsided.

Adapting might as well have been facilitated because of this, culture shock is harder when the space in which it happens has no idea about your existence prior, but in some way, knowing a lot about Nigeria meant that most Ugandans were willing to carefully explain things to me and to do so, because they kind of understood the space I was coming from, they did this explanation within context. Boda riders, bar attendants, waiters, almost everyone knows Nollywood (and even though this isn’t an accurate representation of who we are because most people I have met think Nigerians are loud and are surprised to meet a soft-spoken one and that we add “O” after every statement) but this has helped me transition greatly.

KO: From your writings, you are clearly not one to shy from intellectual deviancy. But I’d like to know your take on rebellion? What sort of rebellions do you think are necessary in today’s Africa?

CO: I think rebellion is imperative and I find this interesting because just yesterday I was at a fireside chat with a very famous international journalist who spoke about how being objective and staying out of activism had helped his career. I agreed with most of what he said that night but not that bit, and it is a valid stance to take and one I entirely understand because journalism is about objectivity and taking a stand can often come across as a reduction in credibility, but in my opinion, and what I have known to be true, I believe it is this credibility that in turn leads us to take a stand, that influences the rebellion we choose to take on.

If I am aware that people trust me to be a source of truth, it means that I will invariably take up a rebellion against misinformation and lies. So, one of the rebellions I think is necessary for today’s Africa is fighting fake news, whether from the state or from the masses. 

I have seen firsthand the damage misinformation can do and just a few weeks ago when I was in Lagos during the Xenophobic attacks in South Africa, I literally drove through what must have been hundreds of young people wielding sticks and threating to attack our car, they burned a few, we were just lucky. These people didn’t fully understand xenophobia, all they had seen was old videos of people being killed in South Africa accompanied by new headlines of Nigerians being murdered and this lead both to a loss of life and property.

Another rebellion I think is necessary is the rebellion against how Africa is represented in mainstream media and I like that this is an insurrection that has garnered a lot of support and so people are more cognizant of this typecasting by the West, but it cannot be emphasized enough, because even in 2019, the New York Times can put up an ad for a Nairobi Bureau Chief that; has a tremendous opportunity to dive into news and enterprise across a wide range of countries, from the deserts of Sudan and the pirate seas of the Horn of Africa, down through the forests of Congo and the shores of Tanzania and that this ad went through the international editor without anyone seeing how racist it was? This rebellion is necessary, this anger, we should and be angry and very much so.

KO: Interesting, So, what issues are you most passionate about?

CO: I am very passionate about solutions journalism, this is basically journalism that shifts the focus from what isn’t working to what is working and if you notice, this has been a constant streak in my storytelling. So, the DRC is deep in an Ebola crisis, but what is the DRC getting right? Some of my closest friends are from the Democratic Republic of Congo and they do amazing work detailing solutions in the country.

I am also passionate about minority reporting and not because I think that minorities do not have a voice as most people often assume, a train of thought I find to be very wrong because everyone has a voice, what they might lack, however, is a platform but should they get one then that voice as we have seen in times past, will reverberate across nations. I started Minority Africa in 2019 and with generous funding from the Solutions Journalism Network, we are basically a digital publication providing solutions content on African minority communities and persons using a data-driven multimedia approach that is immersive and interactive.

The goal is to increase the representation and visibility of African minorities in mainstream media and it becomes even more relevant when we consider that in some contexts and in some spaces, we are all minorities. Muslims are a minority in Uganda, for instance, but they are not in Nigeria. The minority also doesn’t always have to be decided by number, you can numerically be the majority but still because of social and economic conditions, be the minority.

So I am passionate about representation, about being seen, about balanced representation and visibility that is blinding. So on Minority Africa, you will find a lot of stories about different minority communities and persons, ethnic minorities, religious minorities, sexual minorities and a host of others but these stories will detail what’s working in these spaces, for these people and not what isn’t. 

KO: You have been involved in a lot of interesting initiatives in the past. What next do you have planned? Do you have any scheduled publications or projects you are currently working on? Tell us what to expect from The Caleb Somtochukwu Okereke

CO: Besides Minority Africa which is my full-time job now as I serve as Managing Editor, I am working on a documentary which will be my first stint as a filmmaker, it’s out of Uganda and is funded by a grant from One World Media.

I am also reporting on a few stories which I think will be huge when they do get out because of their relevance and how much work I am putting into them. I have a freelance writer contract with the BBC but I have only been able to do one piece because I am inundated with quite a lot but you should also expect more BBC pieces from me once I can get some space from school and life to pitch and write.

But primarily, I want you to watch out for Minority Africa and the amazing work we’ll create in the coming months, I am working with some of the best minds in journalism and data from Uganda to Nigeria and with a lot of guidance and funding from the Solutions Journalism Network so it’s almost inevitable that we’d create amazing work.

Source: From the Rebel Issue (October 2019)



“Being a Rebel is About Rejecting Conformity”

– Logan February

Kanyinsola Olorunnisola: What approach do you take to the subject matter of your work? Do you specifically seek to write within a frame of pre-conceived themes or do you, as Ruth Stone puts it, “follow invisible patterns”?

Logan February: I think I’m naturally predisposed to working around themes and archetypes, because I often find myself besotted with ideas. And I don’t know what to do with them—most times I do need to find that invisible thread before any of it makes sense. Otherwise, I’m just talking to myself and not really going anywhere; which isn’t necessarily a bad thing. It can be quite good to talk to oneself. But I’ll hardly ever put out those confused works.

“Toni Morrison had this incredible practice of unapologetically centering her own realities in her writing. It’s kind of sad that that should be considered rebellious, but for a Black woman in her own zeitgeist, it was.” – Logan February

KO: You have a primary reputation for your astonishing poetry. But you have also written some non-fiction (I absolutely loved “The Mania of Queer Desire” by the way) and fiction too. Is there a distinct experience in navigating each of these genres? 

LF: Thank you very much! That essay was a challenge—took me almost a year to write. It’s naked in a way that I’ve been keeping my poems from getting, lately. I guess poetry will always be home base for me, but I also like to leave my comfort zone from time to time. I’ve been reading a lot of Anne Carson—her writing is quite experimental, spanning across genres, styles and forms—and I love the way that she refers to most of her work as “texts”. I find that gets rid of many unnecessary pressures surrounding genres and their rules. I’d rather stick to the serious business of playing with language and having it play with my thoughts. That’s where the pleasure is.

KO: What’s your take on the definition of a rebel today? And I mean that in terms of social justice and the African literary community?

LF: Being a rebel is about rejecting conformity, isn’t it, when you realize it just doesn’t work for you? People should be free to live on their own terms, obviously. I think rebellion can really help people discover themselves; it did for me. And there’s this argument for conformity that conflates it with the civic currency of morality—I don’t buy that. Society is a disordered institution, regardless. What forced conformity does is create boredom and unhappiness, at least for me.

With regards to the African literary community: I’m not a very collective-minded person, but it’s always refreshing to see all the fierce and rebellious spirits on the scene. I think rebellion thrives in literature and among writers. I have to say, though: I sometimes am appalled by the transphobia within the community. I wouldn’t call it a general thing, but there does seem to be a popular intellectual commitment to missing the point, when it comes to transgender issues. For me, as a young non-binary writer, it was disheartening to see how many Nigerian writers reacted to Akwaeke Emezi’s Freshwater being shortlisted for the Women’s Prize earlier this year. I thought it was a good time to have useful, illuminating conversations about gender and identity. Instead, some writers chose to make spiteful comments or congratulate every Nigerian on the shortlist except for Emezi. It was a lot of vitriol; I didn’t like to see that. I want to see Africans supporting each other, not tearing each other down. Embracing possibility in radical ways that dissolve margins and normalize diversity.”

KO: Which three people represent the OG rebels for you? Can you tell me why?

LF: Toni Morrison had this incredible practice of unapologetically centering her own realities in her writing. It’s kind of sad that that should be considered rebellious, but for a Black woman in her own zeitgeist, it was. And that rebellion has led so many writers after her to feel permitted to represent themselves in literature.

In music, one of my favorite rebels is The Knife, a duo of Swedish siblings: Karin and Olof Dreijer (Karin also has a solo career as Fever Ray, who I wrote about in “The Mania of Queer Desire”). The Knife are independent electronic artists; their music is always ahead of its time, and they focus on making the process fun, which allows them to always make something new. Their last record was called Shaking the Habitual—an idea I’ve welcomed into my own life.

Lilith is one more rebel that inspires me; she is an OG in a way no one else is. To have been edited out of the Bible, simply for owning her desire, for refusing submission and self-negation—that’s so chaotic and impressive to me. I guess I just love a transgressive woman.

KO: With your career taking off at breakneck speed, where do you see yourself in five years? 

LF: Hopefully I’ll have written more books, and still be writing and working with artists in other disciplines. I should have a master’s degree in something I’m interested in, too. Travel more. I’d like to be in a place where I can love and live and breathe without as many anxieties. But five years is a long time, man. I don’t really know. I just always try to do my work and go with the flow.

Source: From the Rebel Issue (October 2019)



“I Would Change How the World Perceives Women”

– Frances Ogamba

Kanyinsola Olorunnisola: Congratulations on winning the Koffi Addo Prize for Non-fiction. Your entry was absolutely amazing. How did it feel winning? I doubt you were surprised, I mean you were nominated for both the fiction and non-fiction categories. You were the star of the event already.

Frances Ogamba: Thank you, K. I must confess that when my name was announced I wasn’t as thrilled as I was when the shortlist announcements came. Making the two shortlists was my real win, like it was quite surreal. When friends crowded around me at Kampala and asked how I felt, I was short of words. I didn’t know what to say, didn’t want to hurt their feelings. (Lol.) Yet, winning began to feel exciting only a day or two later when my name splashed across many news sites.

In social justice, activists who rage in their small Twitter and Facebook corners, who hold up placards in the face of injustice or a need are rebels.” – Frances Ogamba

KO: So, what next for Frances Ogamba? Should I clear my shelf for the next Booker-winning novel?

FO: A collection of short stories perhaps. Almost every writer I meet wonders why I am not writing one yet. Writing a book-length story is equally appealing but I am struggling with what ideas to stretch that long. I sincerely admire people who wake up with their heads brimming full with novel ideas.

KO: What does the word “rebel” mean to you? And I mean that in two contexts: social justice and the African literary traditions.

FO: I choose to think of ‘rebel’ as the act of going against the norm, shattering boundaries and daring to spill over the lines. In social justice, activists who rage in their small Twitter and Facebook corners, who hold up placards in the face of injustice or a need are rebels.

Storytelling, as an integral chunk of the traditions in Africa, is thriving and has no fixed styles of delivery. What happens is that writers respond to contemporary times through their stories, and sometimes the literature we read from other continents influence us. But then the human mind is fluid and assumes any form when hit by a thought or an idea. This is why we have writers narrating in styles so different from what we are used to. This may be a form of rebellion. Look at Tram 83 for example, what the author did with all those characters and events, cramming that entire world into a book, replicating the noise in our heads.

KO: Who would you describe as the ultimate rebel? Why?

FO: There are many women and men who speak up against hostile customs. I don’t think of any as the ultimate rebel because all their fights are valid. But I respect people who fight from very uncomfortable corners, especially in religiously conservative societies. I revere women especially (because they bear the brunt of unjust laws) who speak up in countries like Saudi Arabia, Sudan, Iraq, South Africa, Nigeria and the other countries like these where women are placed many rungs lower than men. There is Mariam Awaisu, there is Fakhriyya Hashim, there is Alaa Salah.

KO: If you could change one thing about the world…just one thing at this exact moment, what would it be?

FO: I would change how the world perceives women.

Source: From the Rebel Issue (October 2019)

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