Call Me By My Name

Call me by my name, a simple enough request, though it happens far too infrequently as selective hearing stiffens tongues into mangling and mislabelling, mispronunciations a frustratingly standard occurrence.

A play on the title of the book, film and later Lil Nas X song, here we reverse their theme of disappearing into another person, and instead ask that we are seen, known and recognised in our individuality and in the way we wish to be.  Within this is the choice of how much, how little and what parts we reveal of ourselves, which are for a public gaze and which are kept for our inner circles or remain unexpressed.

And as time passes and we grow, change or evolve, we may choose differently, to share new or different elements, unshare or withdraw others. In all cases, though, this remains an introduction to us, the members of GEM, in our own words. 

Call us by our names.

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A view from high up, looking out over a thick blanket of fog, some high buildings showing through them, to a sunset on the horizon.

“there’s something about the fogginess that speaks to where I’m at right now, but also the light that can be felt everywhere. Also there’s this feeling of manoeuvring/living with the clouds that I really like.”

      – 15 February 2021

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A cluster of deep orange flowers growing - they look to be in a shady place, but the tops of the flowers are bathed in sunlight.

Gentle intentions: While being a part of GEM I hope to think, dream, write, reflect, create, and come together with everyone involved as part of a shared commitment to ourselves and each other. This means figuring out ways to be present and in community with each other, while respecting boundaries and both similarities and differences between who we are and our experiences. 

       – January 2021

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A pendant hanging on the end of a silver chain. The pendant is in the shape of a butterfly, formed from some gnarly natural material, with variations of colour, bumps and dents, and striations. The butterfly is bound by a thin strip of silver all round.

I choose this butterfly because it represents the many layers of my becoming. Oyá, the Orisha guiding my life, is the feminine energy present in the wind, fire, life and death cycle, with the power to shapeshift into a buffalo and a butterfly. Crystals – like the one that takes the butterfly shape in this picture – are also powerful tools of transformation and bring generosity to invoke the force of mother Gaia. I situate my understanding of crystals in the Afro-Brazilian Candomblé cosmology and my mum’s teachings on esoteric astrological meditations. I aspire to be a healer. A herbologist. How radical or revolutionary would it be if people could produce their remedies, treatments and cure free from the pharmaceutical companies? It is an ambitious thought in which my focus is on repairing the emotional and spiritual wounds of the soul and body with my herbs, food, prayers, and crystals.

Reparations permeate the politics of my being, situating antiracist Black feminism as a compass of care, accountability and the intention of co-creating futures in other-wise formats. The butterfly reminds me about the importance of being gentle, even if I have (and I am more aware in how I own conscientiously) the strength of a buffalo. I wear this butterfly around my neck, in love with its earthy colours, wishing for the possibility of flying towards freedom, and thankful for the way she inspires my dreams.

       – February 2022:

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A windowsill, partially obscured by a golden yellow gauzy scarf with a repeated red and gold pattern of small flowers on it. Behind the scarf, more silhouette than fully visible, a plant pot with a a plant with two heart-shapped leaves, another smaller plant with smaller but more numerous leaves, and a plastic bottle. A burst of sunlight is coming in at the top of the image.

The window sill of what was my bedroom in my foster mum’s house at the time I was staying there for some months in 2020-21.  The yellow cloth is an old hijab of my mum’s, giving a little privacy over the bare window and also adding a warm glow to any light that entered the room; the plant with the heart-shaped leaves is an anthurium i adopted and have since nursed back to health; the chilli plant and pilea are both gifts from friends, who i knew from very different places but who  also actually turned out to be old friends. 

This picture feels like it holds so much of who i am, what’s important to me and both the joy and sadness that sit side by side in my life right now.  It also feels like it depicts vulnerability and hope, the delicacy of it in the plants, the possible strength of it in the sunlight, the necessary action of it that comes from caring for the plants by watering them, and how ultimately any outcome is out of your hands.

       – February 2022

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a young woman in hijab and long flowing clothes stands, back to camera, in the shallows of the sea, the beginnings of a sunset on the horizon.

Meet Sahra-Isha, a writer, cultural researcher and brand strategist and the founder of ASRA, a run club and community space centering Muslim women in sports, wellness and sisterhood.  Her work is all around community and the intersections to identity and ways in which we create safe spaces within ourselves and out in the world.

       – June 2023

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An image dimmed because it is taken towards the sun, which can be seen going down behind clouds further in the background, just behind a far off line of trees and bushes. In the foreground, entering the image from the left, a young woman rides a bike; she is waeing a hijab and hooded coat, and riding across a large green field.

Suhaiymah is a seeker of knowledge and believer in things deemed impossible and unseen. She writes to feel, to learn, and in hopes of aiding others. She feels most alive facilitating a room of people daring to be present and creative and hopeful about what we might make together, in community. She is the co-founder of abolitionist group, the Nejma Collective, and author of poetry collection Postcolonial Banter, as well as non-fiction book, Tangled in Terror: Uprooting Islamophobia.

       – September 2022

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Illustration of a white spiral on a black background - the lines of the spiral overlap and cross as it descends.

(So I am still deciding if I want to be called Victoria (my first name) or Ogo (my middle name!)



So you can call me Ogo (meaning “kindness” in Igbo) and short for Ogoegbunam, which means “kindness doesn’t kill me” (as in, to be kind, and even if the results are not in my favor, I will always survive).



I sketched this spiral because I love a lot this symbol and its meanings, it’s cyclical unendingness that reminds us of the nonlinearity in which we approach life (life passes through seasons; histories and memories retain the past as present; we’re always moving forward but shaped by where we have been and what we have been before). This image gives me a lot of affirmation when I am connecting with my ancestors.

       – April 2023