Japan Adventure, part one.

It’s very surreal to finally be standing in Japan. Since before I even booked the flights I’d been imagining what it’d be like to get to be here, and sometimes even felt like I’d already taken the holiday.


Landing in Narita at 6am

I feel a mixture of comfort and alienation. There’s parts of myself that I get to express here that it’s more difficult to express in New Zealand. I feel a comfort being surrounded by the language, and the culture that I’ve obviously somehow absorbed at least bits of during my life. This comfort throws into sharp relief the bits where I get it absolutely painfully wrong. But most people are kind and very helpful, which is soothing when I find myself out of my depth with the language or customs.


Jake and I on the 30th floor of a building we got lost in.

I’m pleased with how much my study has paid off. I felt like I hadn’t been as diligent as I could or should have been, but even the work I have done has helped immensely. I feel like I understand a little more every day, and I’m getting more confident in speaking, even if I know there will be big gaps and mistakes in my language.
A few notes so far:

The Ryokan we stayed at first was lovely. Our room was just enough space to fit us side by side with a bit of space at either end. Both Jake and I love being in closed spaces, and with space being at a premium everywhere in Japan we’re definitely going to be a lot more comfortable.
Ghibli museum was beautiful but very different to what I imagined. While there were homages to each of the movies, the museum itself has its own life and history. It’s compact and the inside feels like an amazing old villa with very Ghibli-esque touches. The building has a beautiful atmosphere and every detail has been crafted with care and purpose. The stained glass windows that frame the building feature characters from all the films and I’m sure many people had hunted them out.

All of the captions are in Japanese only, but there’s enough of an atmosphere that the meaning is easy to understand. I almost had a wee cry in front of the watercoloured storyboards and the recreation of Miyazaki’s office space.

There’s so much I need to work on, but I always knew that’d be the case. This trip isn’t the beginning or the end of my relationship with Japan or my Japanese heritage.
I’ve been stressed and nervous and sweatier than I have ever been in my life, but it’s all been worth it. The people have been kind and helpful, and it’s been great to see the country through my own two eyes, It feels like a weird sort of homecoming where I know I’m home but no one else does.
It’s getting easier every day. We’re in Kobe now and it’s got such a wonderful energy to it, I’ll have more to say about this second leg of our trip soon,
If you’re interested in pictures, you can follow along on my Instagram account.

Good things, Japan and New Stories

Good things

It’s been an excellent week for my illustration work. I had a piece in with the Tiny Travelling Gallery, Art From a Square Planet exhibition at the Academy of Fine Arts in Wellington (which featured giclee prints of Folding Kimono), and my comic Concrete published by Square Planet went on sale at Armageddon. I met a lot of great people, saw a lot of old friends and generally feel pretty good about where my work is heading.


On Wednesday I fly to Japan. I’ll be writing and tweeting and whatevering while I’m over there, complete with pictures. This is an important trip for me for a number of reasons, which I’ve written about before. I’m taking my little brother Jake, who is the same kind of dork as me, so I’m sure it’s going to be a great time.

New Stories

I’m working on two big things while I’m in Japan. More stuff along the lines of Folding Kimono, and a fiction story that seems to annoyingly want to be a graphic novel. The Graphic novel is still germinating and might keep doing that for a long time. This trip will definitely be giving me material for at least these two projects, and I’m sure a bunch more I haven’t even thought about yet.

Old stories

I plan to do some work discovering old stories alongside building new ones. There’s too much to fit into this trip, but I plan to at least get myself grounded. It will definitely be a few trips-worth of stuff to discover., I’m excited to learn more about this branch of my family and find out more about my grandmother and her life before she moved to New Zealand. I’m looking forward to meeting my great uncles and their families, who I only know from photographs.

It’s difficult to think about anything else, but there’s still a lot of regular real life maintenance I have to get through before my flight takes off. Only three days to go now!

New Zealand has a racism problem

This post is written in the wake of racist statements from Phil Twyford and the New Zealand Labour Party. For more information, please read this by Keith Ng and this comic from Everything is Nothing By Itself on Tumblr.

New Zealand has a racism problem and it affects everything in this country, it always has. The British brought their prejudices across with them along with their Victorian ideals and industries and they’ve embedded in the land here – most of it illegally confiscated from the rightful owners and still not returned.

If you look at New Zealand history the racism is visible in the language, in the othering and distancing and control placed on those who were different. It is every piece of legislation designed to strip Maori of rights (that’s most of them). It’s the Chinese immigrants having to pay tax just to be allowed here, where no such restriction was placed on white settlers. It’s the fact this was only abolished in 1944 and only apologised for in 2002.

It is decades of struggle in the face of legislation and rule-making in favour of a particular set of cultural norms. It’s in our current Prime Minister telling us that New Zealand was settled peacefully, and our current opposition party doubling down on painting Chinese-sounding names as bogeymen, after the houses that rightfully belong to ‘hard working New Zealanders’.

New Zealand has a problem with Chinese people. Families who have lived here for decades are called immigrant and a problem and told both explicitly and implicitly they don’t belong here, even though it’s as much their home as anywhere could possibly be a home.

It’s strikingly obvious when you compare this to the white foreign nationals who move over and are accepted, accents and all. Welcomed and asked what they like best about us please please tell us, your approval is everything. It’s a refusal to acknowledge the brown faces who make up our cities, unless it’s to blame, ridicule or regurgitate hateful phrases at them. And while this might not be your experience, while you as a white person might never have said or done anything directly hateful to an Asian person or a Pasifika person or a Maori person, it is nonetheless happening every single day in this country, and probably to people you know. Maybe they’re telling you right now how hard this is and how much it hurts.

My family is not Chinese, but we are East Asian. It’s in the surname I choose to wear and in my father’s face and my grandmother’s accent, even though it’s been over 50 years since she moved here. The otherness was thrown as rocks at her and as slurs at my father, and while I am privileged to look white it cuts me in a thousand tiny ways as I try to move around as myself in this country, attempting to connect to who I am and where I am from. My name gets mispronounced or unpronounced (I can hear people avoiding to say it), and I am left feeling like Tinkerbell, slowly starving because the vowels in my name are inconvenient for Western mouths.

Once the topic of my ethnicity is raised things go from silence to choreography. The lines are so routine it almost feels like people must be reading from the same hidden script. “I knew you were something” “On your mother’s or your father’s side? And his mother or his father?” I always want to ask if they know a half Japanese man or an elderly Japanese woman and they’re wondering if we’re related. People do punnett squares to decide just how Asian I am, and their ruling is always final. I’m categorised by phenotype like some biological specimen, I have no right of reply. Once they’ve made up their mind, that’s the topic settled. I’m pinned down.

This is only a very small piece of what it means to have an Asian-sounding name in New Zealand. It’s not always friendly or comfortable. And because I have a white-looking face my experience is milder than most. Racism Lite™, a study in microaggressions from your friends and co-workers.

This is why it is unacceptable when our politicians, our representatives, stand up and tell the country that people with our names and names like them are the problem in our country. It inevitably means eyes point to us and yet again we have to say we live here, we’re from here, we’ve made our lives here.

I want to live in a New Zealand that respects and understands all the facets of herself, but we are built on a colony that broke indigenous backs and we have to work every single day to undo this. White New Zealand is intolerant of those who are different, who present a story outside their designed narrative. As a person descended from colonists and immigrants it’s my job to work to dismantle this oppression every day, as the damage done only began in the 1800s – it has continued in many different forms and stages since then.

We need to stop being scared of using the words that describe this. Especially the word racism. We can’t dance around and pretend it’s only a thing in the super really bad cases. Racism is not just hatred, it is a system and structure designed to favour one group of people over another. In New Zealand this group is undeniably white New Zealanders, and those of us who fall into this category need to work a hell of a lot harder to understand what this really means.

Expense, Heritage, and Radiation

Visiting Japan is a big deal to me. A really big deal. It’s big because it’s expensive and far away, and until recently it felt completely cut off from me. It’s big because the Japanese part of my identity floats like an island desperately looking for home. It’s big because this year is the 70th anniversary of the Hiroshima bomb, the aftermath of which my grandmother witnessed, and which has undeniably shaped the course of her life.


Money has always flowed through my life like water. Mostly in trickles and occasionally streams, it’s been enough to keep me fed, safe and clothed. Comfy if you sat just right and didn’t question the lumpy blankets. Necessities had to be planned to run out at different rates, and emergency overdraft penalties stung me nearly every pay. Any extra lining at the end of the pay cycle would go to the next-most-necessary thing, and the list was endless.

Japan was too expensive to even cost up. It wouldn’t fit within a pay packet and saving would be overtaken by essentials well before I reached any realistic goal. It felt superfluous to want something so decadent. Dream smaller, just put it towards nice sheets.

Now I’m working in a stable space and am afforded an income that will nourish the Japanese part of me. I keep wondering whether it’ll be taken away, but I’m reminded I’ve earned this, and I’m working hard. It’s feels more like luck than anything. The work’s the same, it’s only the stream that’s different.


The stubborn iron in my blood has been dragging at me like a compass point tugging north. It tells me ‘Japan’ and I say ‘Yes, I know’, when I don’t know. There’s big holes in my knowledge, my manners, my understanding. And I want to say ‘watashi wa nihonjin’ but it comes out sounding like ‘gaijin’ as my accent trips over the unfamiliar vowel sounds. And my voice is right, I’m foreign.

I can’t point to Japanese on my skin or face, but I can sometimes point to where ‘white’ isn’t. It’s funny, because they’re usually the points I hate the most about myself, and yet I wish wish wish sometimes I’d just be properly Japanese. Proper, complete. Like I’m missing three quarters of myself as I float away like an island, cutting what I am into slices that fit more completely with the story. Editing my heritage to suit my intended narrative.

But we all edit ourselves, right? Maybe it’s okay. History belongs to those who tell it.


I can really only describe it as an absence. It’s a big silence and pieces forever missing from my family. I’m on the periphery, where things are growing almost normal again, but this thing happened and it hollowed out so many many lives. I don’t understand and I don’t think I ever will. But I will go and I will stand with the people who still mourn, 70 years later, the worst thing their families ever saw.

I haven’t been before.

I don’t know what I am expecting.

I don’t know how I will feel.

This trip is getting rounded out with the fun frills of a holiday. I feel guilty as my original solemn purpose becomes couched in the cushiony joy of cute quirky must-sees, as my list fills with tourism. But no one can tell me this isn’t a pilgrimage. I might visit famous cats and sightsee and put on my best excited face for it all, but through all that a part of me still feels like it’s finally going home and I’m so grateful.

I know I will come back with different things than I intended to find, but I am lucky that this is unlikely to be the last time for a decade, like I thought not so long ago. I will be back to do more things, both the fun and the solemn. I will begin to know Japan in person, not just as imagined from a distance.

Thank you for reading Folding Kimono

Thank you for reading Folding Kimono. I appreciate everyone who takes the time to read any of my comics, but especially this one. It’s been an interesting and odd comic to work on, and I’m so overwhelmed and inspired by how many people have engaged with it, and have felt connected to the story I’m telling. Thanks especially to Chromacon, who decided it was worth 1st place in this year’s Chroma Art Awards (Joining 2013’s 1st place winner, Sunshine).

Writing autobiographical material is a weird experience for me. I’m accustomed to writing about myself and drawing myself, but it’s uncommon to combine the two. It feels strange to take parts of me that are raw and personal, and edit them for timing, content and flow the same way I do with my fictional stories. In a way I’m fictionalising myself, turning into an avatar through which to tell stories. I don’t dislike it, but it’s an odd experience.

Writing about my heritage is a lot more hurty than I was expecting. It’s difficult to explain to anyone who doesn’t have mixed heritage, but there’s often a lot of pressure to behave like just one of your cultures. In my case, I’m pressured to behave and act white most of the time, and I can get weird pushback sometimes when I want to talk about the Japanese parts of my heritage (which I’d prefer not to go into detail here).

I often feel like I’m overstepping my bounds, because I have been raised in a predominantly white culture, surrounded by white people, white media and white entertainment. It makes me feel inauthentic, even when discussing my own identity. A part of me wonders why I pursue my Japanese/mixed heritage at all, it’d be very easy to quietly leave it to one side of myself, and just bring it out for fancy dress parties when I’m in need of a good costume.

It’s decidedly harder to examine what it actually means to come from a mixed heritage background and how to proceed in the world after accepting and identifying with these parts of myself. It’s taken a lot of contemplation to gather myself to the place I am now, and I feel like this is only the very start of my journey. I want to bring all parts of me along equally, and one I’m committed to exploring exactly what this means in more depth. For me, this will mean more comics as one avenue of this exploration.

I have been so moved by hearing other people of mixed heritage (especially mixed Asian heritage) talk about how my comic made them feel. I had people telling me they’d never seen their experiences recorded so accurately, that the piece resonated very deeply within them. I made at least a couple of people cry. Tumblr reacted in overwhelming numbers to show they appreciate and care about this piece.

I am so glad that I have finished this comic, and so grateful to know it resonates with people. I am feeling more connected to my heritage and to the larger community than I ever have before in my life. I’m hoping that you will continue to listen to my voice as I talk about heritage and culture, and what they mean to me. I will continue to write with the best of my ability. In comics, in essays and anywhere else that will have me. And I’m always happy to hear from you, if you want to talk to me about your experiences.

Thank you so much everyone.


Internet freedom and the EFF’s anti-harassment statement

(This post was originally written for Geekfeminism.org)

I’d love to say that the statement EFF made on the 8th of January was anything but a disappointment, but it is. The fervent devotion to free speech over everything else ends up alienating me (and many others, I’m sure). Yes, I believe in the vital importance of freedom of the press and the freedom from being censored, prosecuted or incarcerated by governments based on the expression of thoughts. But I also believe that harmful and dangerous abusive behaviour by individuals and hate groups needs to be identified and actively stamped out. It needs to be the responsibility of us all, not just the people who find themselves targeted. This is the responsibility that we take on as members of a community. We’re watching people’s lives burn to the ground and the EFF brings a watering can filled with weak platitudes.

The Internet isn’t built for everyone

Internet freedom. It sounds pretty good on paper. An open and uncapturable internet with truly utopian beliefs and ideals about equality. In our rosiest narratives, the internet is one of the most incredible and liberating human inventions in recent history, and it’s certainly changing how we all live our lives. However, this utopian internet — a place where we can all live, work, socialise and act harmoniously together — has never and most likely will never exist. This is because the internet is largely built with the same patriarchal, cis, white male structures that “real world” societies are built with. It’s built from the same essential building blocks, and those blocks’ stresses, cracks and faults continue to harm the same people.

The internet is designed by and for straight, white, cis dudes. If you look at any of the startups currently vying for your valuable time and attention, you will see numbers of far, far more men than women and almost every single one of them will be white. The higher up you go, the whiter and more male it gets. If you follow the money that’s funding these ventures, you’ll notice a lot of them bear a striking resemblance to each other and also to a tall glass of milk.

White, hetero, cis male privilege is unaware of itself, but this is in part because it’s unaware of everyone else. And if these people are building our infrastructure, then there’s an awful lot of essential tools they’re missing because of their ignorance.

The places these people build are becoming increasingly more essential to our businesses, our work and our social lives, whether we like it or not. The dominance of platforms like Twitter and Facebook is strongly influencing we all use the internet and who can safely use the internet. When push comes to shove, the system protects the people who designed it for their own use; but everyone else is constantly placed at risk both in their online activities and in their physical space.

The thorny topic of harassment

Harassment was the hot-button word of 2014. It seemed like things reached some magical media tipping point and all of a sudden, women receiving rape and death threats online counted as proper “real world” news. But as many of us who are the targets (or potential targets) of this kind of harassment know, this behaviour isn’t something that’s just sprung up magically in the last year. It’s the festering muck that’s been lingering at the bottom of potentially every page, probably since the comment section was invented.

Being a woman on the internet is like playing with a ticking time bomb where you can’t see the timer. It could go off any second, or never, or in five years. It could go off because of something you said or someone else, or something completely unrelated to you. It could be because you like a hobby mostly boys like, or you’ve written that you’re fed up with inequality and sexism, or you’d just like a woman’s face to be on a bank note. It’s all stuff that it’s well within our rights as humans to discuss and have opinions about. But if you do so as a woman, you risk being hit with a harassment bomb.

When a harassment bomb detonates, it ruins lives. Private information is shared, companies boycotted, parents’ phone numbers called. Death threats are sent to conventions where victims plan to speak. Victims are blamed and accused of being “professional victims” all the while, the harassers push for their own financial and social profit.

It’s a constant struggle to write, share, and operate normally in the face of constant harassment. Not all of us are strong enough to stand against a tsunami of verbal and visual effluence day after day, and still manage time to build, construct, run, and manage a business. It’s exhausting even to witness from a safe distance, let alone live through. (Those that do manage, let me just say that I love you and everything you bring us, and your voice means the entire world to me. But I do wish you didn’t have to spend so much of your brilliance keeping your safety watertight.)

Since the targets of online harassment are most often marginalised people, this means we are losing voices. Targets are more likely to be women, of colour, trans, disabled, poor, or informally educated. Usually a mix of things because humans don’t tend to sit nicely in categorised boxes. Not everyone who faces this harassment can cut it, and they shouldn’t have to in order to do a simple thing like be active on the internet. We have no idea how many people have quit or won’t even start down this path because of harassment.

What’s wrong with the EFF’s picture

The EFF as an organisation stands up for a lot of the same things that I want to stand up for. Removal of restrictive DRM, power to people instead of governments, critical looks at spying laws and tackling issues of security. But when it comes to matters that involve harassment or the internet’s own structural biases, they are comparatively quiet. Since harassment silences and self-censors so many of our most marginalised voices, I would assume that an organisation like the EFF would jump onto the issue with all guns blazing. They have commented in the past in small doses, but they often take a relatively conservative approach in order to protect the “real” issue of actual proper free speech.

I’d love to say that the statement EFF made on the 8th of January was anything but a disappointment, but it is. The fervent devotion to free speech over everything else ends up alienating me (and many others, I’m sure). Yes, I believe in the vital importance of freedom of the press and the freedom from being censored, prosecuted or incarcerated by governments based on the expression of thoughts. But I also believe that harmful and dangerous abusive behaviour by individuals and hate groups needs to be identified and actively stamped out. It needs to be the responsibility of us all, not just the people who find themselves targeted. This is the responsibility that we take on as members of a community. We’re watching people’s lives burn to the ground and the EFF brings a watering can filled with weak platitudes.

What we are seeing with online abuse can’t be mistaken for a disagreement of opinion. It’s not a couple of people having a swear-off or even just one person losing their cool at another. It’s constant, structured campaigns of active and malicious behaviour, much of it already illegal under existing law. I’m confused as to why it’d even be controversial to take a strong stand against it.

The EFF blames victims. The focus of their suggestions is on potential victims and users needing to learn self-protection, rather than addressing the very clear underlying systemic and cultural elements that allow harassment to flourish. They discount that many victims do already protect themselves — as much as online systems can possibly allow. Even with significant amounts of filtering, muting and blocking, their time and energy is being diverted from enjoying their time online to a constant battle for space and safety.

The EFF say that if only Twitter unlocked its API, third party creators could develop better tools to protect users. And yes, that’s a possibility. But for this possibility to be viable, someone needs to devote an awful lot of their time, skill and energy just to ensure a platform becomes marginally safer, which Twitter should be doing for its users in the first place.

Companies that profit from our data should be doing more to keep us as users safe. We should be able to have systems in place to protect us, built by full-time staff who are paid a living wage. We shouldn’t have to donate our own time to build such systems for ourselves, on top of whatever other work we need to do to keep ourselves and our families safe, fed, and sheltered. It’s your system that’s broken; you need to fix it. Pay someone to fix it. Put it in your business roadmaps. Hire people who know about this stuff. Stop building on top of the same structures that punish marginalised people.

It seems to be the EFF’s position that harassment needs to be condoned to some extent if we want free speech. If we get too tough on harassment, it’ll mostly end up getting used to punish free speech by governments instead of harassment at all. This idea that censorship trickles down is ridiculous, because marginalised people are already facing self-censorship of their work on a daily basis out of fear of harassment. It’s already happening, and we’re not being helped or protected except by each other.

The internet is white. The internet is male. Most of the internet speaks English. If you aren’t or don’t do these things, you are actively and continuously put under pressure to ensure conformity. If you continuously fail to conform, you are sent harassing messages, death and rape threats, and have your whole life twisted upside down for you and then blamed for it.

I love the internet. It’s my home. It’s where I’ve met most of my friends and how I keep connected with my family. It helps me to connect with new clients and keeps me informed of current events. It’s been a teacher, a friend, and my external memory component (effectively making me a cyborg). It improves my life in little and incalculable ways every day. However, the dark, hostile side can’t be ignored or tolerated. In order for the internet to be the best internet it can be, it needs to be better for everyone. We need to all be safe online, not just those of us who know how to protect ourselves or are lucky enough to never be targets. We need it to be a priority of the bigger fish, of our governments and of our advocacy organisations. We deserve to be safe.

Learning Kanji

Photo 10-12-14 15 29 56

Ever since I was small my grandmother has had a glass cabinet filled with Japanese dolls and figurines. I used to spend hours at her house, memorising the shape and colours of each one, fascinated by how beautiful they were. Sometimes my grandmother would let me play with the tiny porcelain frogs that sat there. The green glaze sat darker in the crevices and they were so beautiful and delicate to me.

My diet has always included the staples of rice and nori, usually with a healthy serving of furikake, which was nicknamed ‘sprinklies’ in my house. We’d ration them like treasures because Napier didn’t have a Japanese food mart, so our supply would come in care packages from my aunt who lived in Auckland. When our local supermarket brought in a Japanese shelf to the international food aisle we were overjoyed, and we could have an entire serving of furikake per meal instead of a tiny hint, and I’d eat nori in sheets as a snack.

I had a Japanese doll in a Kimono. The fabric was a beautiful blue and her hair was so soft. I could never tie her obi quite right after I foolishly undid it, and her hair ended up with a kink in it that would never quite flatten. Plastic katanas, lone copies of ongoing manga anthologies, cassette tapes of nursery rhymes, a small and ratty popup book with Japanese I couldn’t read. This was my exposure to Japanese culture as a young child. I was fiercely proud of it.

At the same time I hated the things about my own face that in part came from my Japanese heritage. My dark hair and eyes caused me constant anguish throughout primary school,  where I desperately wanted pretty blonde hair and lovely blue eyes. I cried a lot. As a teenager the dark hair on my body made me feel anxious and ugly. The thick strands blended into a forest across my forearms, reminding me that no matter how much I plucked, shaved, bleached, waxed or stripped, the truth of my other-ness would seep out again, exposing my very DNA for anyone to look at.

I found comfort in the language. Japanese is so beautiful to look at, and it felt like a big hug to learn. I was connecting to a part of myself. They say you carry the experiences of your grandmothers within you. I know it’s meant in a scientific statement relating to significant trauma being read in your DNA, but I like to pretend there’s something poetic inside me, like a compass needle that pulls me towards magnetic north. When I am learning Japanese I feel it tug.

I am grateful to the times I have spent learning Japanese, but the experience in a New Zealand classroom always felt strangely artificial to me. The language is cut up into chunks that didn’t make sense to me and called curriculum. My own knowledge of Japan and Japanese-ness was brushed aside and discarded as irrelevant in the context of the classroom. What I knew was small and inconsequential and not Proper Japanese Stuff. I learnt the language in the same way my white and English-speaking classmates did, and this little bit of exposure created an imperfect filling to connect the fragments of Japanese I knew from my own life.

I have only visited Japan once. A month in Hokkaido in January, staying with my aunt. I was sixteen and freshly diagnosed with depression. I didn’t know much of anything, but those few weeks helped cement something in me that has stayed solid ever since. Just little things in the eyes of anyone else, I’m not sure I could even properly describe it. I’d use images like kotatsu, tatami rooms and the soft un-sound of proper powdered snow. I found something there, in between the sushi and shu-creams and television shows. It’s a little space that was empty before, but afterwards it knew that there was a piece of me that belonged to Japan. Not just as a part of my heritage, but as a part of myself.

My life is in New Zealand, and I’m not sure if I will ever be brave enough or lucky enough to live in Japan like I imagined I would at sixteen. However, I am still connected and just because I might never call the land home, the culture is still a part of me. My time working in a Japanese-run sushi shop helped me to connect my life in Wellington to Japan, exposing me to Japanese language in a practical setting for the first time in my life. I found a lot of my clumsy cut-up school Japanese flooded back to me, and I was able to understand quite a lot more than I imagined. By the end of my time working there I was proficient at understanding enough Japanese to make and sell sushi. Since then I’ve tried to be more active about what I expose myself to and connect more with other Japanese diaspora online, or at least quietly listen to them when they post.

I am currently learning Kanji. It makes me happy in a way that I can’t quite explain in words. It’s that little ping, heading me towards magnetic north. Having a mixed racial identity can be confusing, especially if like me your cultural marker points have been thin and spaced out. I have been lucky to have the kind of support that I do, to have white-passing privilege 99% of the time. My anxieties are mostly personal and internal, which is a luxury because I can choose to untangle this knot on my own time whenever I feel like it.

I always assumed that learning and knowing kanji would be an unobtainable dream, something I would never be able to find the time and structure and energy to achieve, even in the slightest. Having the ability to finally come back and unlock this door after so long waiting and wanting to is a rare gift I am grateful for. Occasionally a word I know turns up in its grown-up kanji clothes and something clicks into place in my head. My years of exposure to the word flood back to me across time, from my childhood to know, and I am learning the true form of something that has always been a part of me. In another couple of years I will be able to read kanji, and I am looking forward to further unlocking the doors that I know are waiting for me behind this first one.

Games for Girls

(This post was originaly written for OnTheLeftNZ.com)

Girls like video games, but video games don’t always like girls. In fact, video games can be an actively hostile environment towards girls, and it starts young. But that isn’t universal and there is a growing trend towards great games that encourage and support girls as players. I’ve compiled a list of a few titles I’ve personally enjoyed throughout the year.

As a disclaimer, these are all games I have personally liked or enjoyed in the last year, this isn’t the be-all and end-all list of games for girls. Some of these games feature some problem or other, they don’t necessarily have feminist values and they aren’t girls-only games. They are games that can be enjoyed by people of all ages and genders. Please also take my age suggestions with a grain of salt. All children are different and have different environments/needs/parents.

(Click on images for full-size versions)

Child of Light

PS Vita, PC, PS4
Jem’s suggested age range: 10+ (Scary monsters, tricky gameplay)

Child of Light

Child of Light is a fantasy RPG about a young princess and her adventures in a magical land. With an absolutely gorgeous illustrative style and an engaging yet traditional battle system, Aurora is clever and powerful, and her adventure helps her to grow and discover her strength. Sounds pretty standard for an adventure game, yes? It is, until you realise girls never get to do this.

Well, never is a bit of a stretch. But it’s definitely almost never. So close to never it deserves highlighting. Child of Light feels like a game I have played before, but instead of being relegated to a secondary character as usual, I am the star of the show. I don’t think I have ever played a game so absent from casual sexism. Considering that even Tetris can be sexist, this is a notable achievement.

When playing video games I’m constantly waiting for something to spoil or tarnish my experience. Some sexist comment, eye candy character or death-for-the-sake-of-story. I have learnt after years of gaming that it is far too much to ask for a game to be free of sexism. It doesn’t matter if it’s a game meant for children, sexism makes its way in there. Child of Light never had this moment, and that’s a part of what made it such a special experience for me.

Character conversation in Child of Light

Two hours in I realised my party featured more girls than boys and my heart did a little excited flutter. Even in female-led games, the protagonist is so often alone. Being one girl in a strong team of girls felt magnificent. We were the warriors, the mages, the jesters. We were varied, which made us strong. With so many women to design there was no chance for the “token girl” trope to take hold. Instead the game features deep characters with personalities and motivations wholly their own begin to emerge.

I can’t remember if I have ever played another game where every single major character was a woman or girl. Every. Single. One. There is something so powerful and deeply comforting about all the major protagonists and antagonists being women, I’m not sure I can ever fully articulate how special this experience was to me. I guess this is how boys always get to feel.

Child of Light received criticism for being the same old RPG thing. For me that’s exactly why I liked it so much. It’s the kind of game boys have always had, but finally I’m being recognised as a member of the audience.

Broken Age Act 1

Jem’s suggested age range: 8+ (scary monsters) 


Broken Age Act 1 is a point and click adventure/puzzle game from Doublefine. Doublefine make excellent games and pretty much anything from their studio is going to be great, but I’m going to mention Broken Age here specifically because of Vela. Vela is one of the two main characters in Broken Age, and she is AWESOME.

Vela gets the action storyline. She is hungry for revenge and her whole storyline is shaped around killing the monster that terrorises the local villagers every year. The monster reads as an allegory of the patriarchy with the villages offering up their girls to the monster as a sacrifice. When Vela tries to draw attention to how this is wrong and young women shouldn’t have to be sacrificed, she’s told that no, this is how it is and how it has to be. Vela has ideas of her own, though.

Broken Age Act 1

Concepts like revenge and action are typically ideas applied to boy’s stories, so it’s interesting to see them applied to Vela. Vela’s story isn’t masculine in any way, she remains feminine – dressed in pink and speaking softly, she solves puzzles by talking to people, earning trust and using her wits to get the things she needs. However, she is still a warrior and never at any point does she lose sight of her goal. Not afraid to break rules when she needs to, Vela’s half of the story is interesting, funny, and compelling.

Vela’s story is only half of Broken Age. Shae’s story is just as good. Since he’s a boy, I’m not going to write about him here. There are plenty of other reviews that talk about both of them.

Broken Age Act 1 is the first part of a two part series, but it plays well alone. The second half is in production and will be released at some magical point in the future.

Monument Valley

Jem’s suggested age range: 8+ without assistance, any age with a helpful person to guide them through.

Monument Valley

Monument Valley has been the darling of iOS gaming this year, and rightly so. A beautiful perspective puzzle game, the character guides Ida around the world, adjusting the Escher-like perspective to guide her path. The narrative is light yet powerful, the environments themselves carrying the bulk of the storytelling power. Ida’s adventure is about an hour long (and the expansion of an extra 9 levels about the same) which is the perfect length for a game like this. 

I had a delightful time playing through this game myself, but nothing was more awesome than sharing the game with my 7 year old cousin. She was completely mesmerised by it. And even when she complained that it was ‘too hard’, usually she wasn’t more than a minute or two from solving the next step of the puzzle herself, which made her squeal with delight. My mother, who has always been a huge supporter of play and video games but never a player herself, is happy to say that Monument Valley is the one game she’s played.

So, Monument Valley! A beautiful puzzle game with a female protagonist and beautiful environments.


Nintendo handheld consoles since 1995
Jem’s suggested age range: 8+ 


I will likely always love Pokémon. It’s a very special series for me, which in some ways marks the start of my journey as a gamer. In the early versions you couldn’t play as a girl, but your character was so pixelated it didn’t matter much anyway. Better to play as a boy than to not play at all, that was for sure. The early games were an amazing adventure, and as a 12-year-old kid they made me feel powerful and connected. I was a part of this amazing world. You become quite connected to your team, who you train, choose abilities for, and battle with to defeat tough opponents or capture new potential team mates.

It did bug me that so much of the interaction was based around fighting. I wanted to hang out and get to know my companion pokémon for more than just their strength. Later versions and spinoff titles of the franchise have expanded the world and given players a range of ways to engage with the lovable creatures – from photo games to card games to puzzle games. In the main titles some pokémon now evolve based on their friendship level with you, and a strong friendship bond earns special bonuses. It’s not surprising that pokémon who evolve in this way end up being some of my favourite teammates.


The versions of Pokémon released last year (X and Y) cultivate a rich experience where you can customise your gender, appearance, hair, and outfits. I was sad that this flexibility hasn’t carried over to this year’s re-release of Ruby and Sapphire (Omega Ruby and Alpha Sapphire), and that your character choices have boiled back down to only gender options (Pictures here are screenshots of my character from X and Y). However, I am still playing Ruby and really enjoying the blend of features from the previous games with the locations and pokémon from an older generation.

The interesting thing about this current generation of Pokémon titles is the way you can connect with others. It’s almost like a background to the game. If you want you can stay connected the whole time, getting boosts from other players from all over the world, conducting mystery trades or even battling other players. Your identity is at least partially anonymised and there are only a set number of phrases you can use to communicate to prevent harassment.

Players can easily choose what kinds of engagements they want, and opt out of the kinds they don’t want. It’s also very easy to not engage at all if the feature is unwanted. As a fiercely solo player in most of my gaming spaces I was surprised how much I enjoyed the online aspects of the game. It was especially nice to play alongside my younger brother, who played my old Pokémon cartridges after I abandoned them.

This list was originally 10 games long, but that seemed a bit excessive for one post. If you like these little game reviews, please say so! I can certainly write more.

Being mindful of mental illness

 (This post was originally written for OnTheLeftNZ.com)

There’s a lot of mental illness stigma in New Zealand. From the friend or family member who tells you just to ‘get over it’, to the many little ways that living with a mental illness in an unsupportive environment slowly erodes at you. Whenever I see a new campaign set out to help inform and educate people about mental illness I am heartened, but often end up feeling a tad disappointed. Campaigns tend to focus on depression, but other forms of mental illness are still so very rarely discussed.

The kind of depression that gets funding and celebrity campaigns tends to be episodic depression. I guess its appeal is that it can hit absolutely anyone and it’s treatable. If you have an episode of depression you can get out the other end and have it be over. It’s got to be very appealing to have your campaign finish with a happy ending, especially if you get to put a respected celebrity face to it. This is great, and I’m happy that campaigns like this exist, but they aren’t structured to talk about anything other than episodic depression, and so they don’t do much to raise awareness for other kinds of mental illness. They still lead into the idea that mental illness is the thing you should completely recover from, and that complete recovery is your only option.

I have clinical anxiety. My brain is wired this way and will always be a bit funny about certain things. I am prone to having flare-ups and relapses, and intense situations (especially social situations) can provoke my condition. I am currently choosing to function without medication specifically for my anxiety, as I’ve found treatments for my PCOS helps with the worst of my symptoms. This is a choice I make that is currently right for me, but this may change in the future.

I’ve had periods of depression on the top of my anxiety, but the anxiety is there through everything. I honestly thought it was just how everyone went through the world until I was finally diagnosed at 19. Knowing that this was a thing my brain did and would likely always do was a bit of a shock, but it has ended up opening a lot more doors than it has closed. I now know what behaviours I needed to watch for, monitor and how to manage my warning signs. This lets me live in a much happier space than otherwise.

I was lucky enough to see a good psychologist, who helped give me the tools that get me through my daily life. Now, even when things get tough for me, I can open this mental toolbox and use any of the tools I find inside there. I’m sharing a few of my tools here with you today, in case they might be useful to others.

I’d like to state that I am not in any way a qualified psychotherapist and the information I provide is as a sufferer and support person of others. If you have mental health concerns please take them to a professional first, as everyone is different and needs different things. Please also keep in mind these are my own personal tips that help me, and that other people need different things.

Be mindful of warning signs

My anxiety operates around an all or nothing thought pattern. If something doesn’t go quite as I expected I might think something like: “This didn’t go exactly as I imagined, therefore I am a dreadful person everyone hates”. This poisonous thinking sets off a chain reaction that in bad cases could lead to a panic attack. Often it leaves me feeling deeply uneasy and wary, unable to enjoy anything at all until the feeling passes, which can take hours or days. Often I’ll completely forget what the initial trigger was and be left only with this heightened sense of worry, it’s exhausting.

After a lot of practice I easily recognise my warning signs and can create my very own counter-serum using the power of my own brain. By recognising the hostile thought as an anxiety warning sign, I can work to dissolve it and neutralise the harmful effects. The way I do this is based off Cognitive Behavioural Therapy. It feels stupid at first, but reinforcing positive memories and pathways helps to cement them, and helps to counter or overwrite the negative pathway trying to worm its way in. Changing the thoughts influences changes in feelings with enough practice.

As an example, I’d counter “I’m a dreadful person everyone hates” with “I get along well with good people” and think about the friends I’d had positive interactions with lately, and how awesome they are. They have time for me, so I must be at the very least tolerable. Thinking like this is usually enough to stop the anxiety spiral from revving up, especially if each thought has its own specialised counter-serum.

Forgive failures and setbacks

In particularly stressful times I quite often miss my warning signs and end up in an anxiety or depression spiral. Some days become completely unrecoverable. But hey, it’s hard to stay on top of your game all the time. Once I’ve slipped I make sure to instantly forgive myself for doing so. Just like that, forgiven. I wouldn’t be critical someone for slipping, so I shouldn’t give myself a hard time either.

Forgiveness for being human and for having a mental illness goes a long way to me feeling like I can pick myself up again. There’s a voice inside me that demands I perform at 100% optimal capacity every minute of every day. By telling this voice that no, it’s okay to be at 40% right now is comforting and makes my recovery easier.

Look back often

I make sure to always look back to check how I’m coping with how I’ve coped in the past. It’s not always better, but the overall trend seems to have stabilised for me in the last few years. Even though I am relatively stable, I still find it useful to look back to when I wasn’t coping well to help reinforce how much I have improved since those times.


When I feel like I’ve done something well, I like to reward myself. Usually it’s something small, like a nice meal, a fancy drink or even just some time playing a new game. It’s nice to give myself a little acknowledgement at getting through something that I’d otherwise find intimidating.

Self care

When discussing mental health within the context of cognitive behavioural therapy, there’s a model made of three parts: thoughts, feelings, and physical self. I consider self care to be the soothing ointment that you put on one or all three parts. Self care for me is escaping into video games or buying some lollies or soda and curling up in bed. Self care is of course an entirely personal thing, but it’s a thing to do to make your thoughts, feelings, or physical self feel better, even if only for a short time. Sometimes all you need is a small respite from the constant active self monitoring that comes with long-term mental illness.

Safety nets

Safety nets are important. They are the people in your life you can talk to about how your illness might be affecting you today. They might not completely understand, but they can still be supportive and helpful in other ways. The most important thing to remember is that relationships are two way streets. While the people around you will hopefully have time for you, it’s important that you respect them, their energy levels and ability to engage with you on your needs. Even completely neurotypical friends get worn out and need time to themselves. If someone can’t help you, don’t take it personally, just ask another person in your net. If your net is small, reach out to other support online, in centres or over the phone.

Everything’s okay

Seems pretty self-explanatory, but it’s always worth saying. Things are okay. I’ve had to do a lot of work to get to okay and I have to do a lot of work to stay here, but it’s working. I feel like a person who has a lifelong condition but can manage it in a way that affords me a pretty great quality of life. I feel very fortunate.

If you need support and are unsure how to get it, below are some New Zealand-based support networks and organisations.

http://www.mentalhealth.org.nz/ Mental Health Foundation
Suicide Prevention Helpline 0508 828 865 (0508 TAUTOKO)
Lifeline 0800 543 354
Youthline 0800 376 633 or free text 234
Samaritans 0800 726 666 (Lower North Island, Christchurch & West Coast)
04 473 9739 (other regions)

Tech Freedom Vs Feminism

(This post was originally written for OnTheLeftNZ.com)

[TW for mentions of harassment, sexual abuse charges, Julian Assange and literal nazis]

Ever since I was small I had an absolutely overwhelming sense of justice. This informs and influences my world at every level, permeating through everything. It makes sense to invest myself deeply in the things I care about, and to me that means fighting for justice where I perceive it lacking. Two such things are identifying as a woman and the internet.

For identifying as a woman it’s feminism, and for the internet it’s privacy, the open web and general internet and information freedom. In my heart I feel like fighting for feminism and fighting for Internet freedom should go together like the best of friends, but in truth these are two sides of my activism that constantly clash, and leave me a mess in the middle.

The tech industry and the open internet movement have a very pervasive and ever-present misogyny problem. This dominant rhetoric makes it increasingly difficult to interact with a movement that is supposed to be about freedom, privacy and security. It gets even more horrible when prominent members within these communities are known abusers, misogynists and outright hatemongers.

Several prominent tech freedom organisations choose to align themselves with and refuse to depose these kinds of men, no matter how horrible the shit against them is. The men themselves get away with harassing and abusing women because they are seen as being ‘valuable’ to the movement. Once you’re up on a tech freedom pedestal, it seems like it’s impossible for someone to bring you down.

Take Julian Assange – Editor in Chief of  Wikileaks. Wikileaks as an organisation is doing work for tech freedom and transparency in government that I’m desperate for. Their part in exposing the ever-looming TPPA is invaluable. However, I am absolutely not in any way desperate for information about an alleged rapist, or to hear from any of his apologists (if you say ‘honey trap’ to me I will kick you in your honey trap).

Assange comes across more as an embarrassment than anything else, and his presence at events creates active hostility towards rape survivors. Reminder: He lives in the Ecuadorian embassy hiding from sexual assault charges, not for anything related to being a Wikileaker. You could say that these charges have an unusual amount of weight behind them and are politically motivated, but that doesn’t stop them from being sexual assault charges. You can’t wish away the abuse here.

If anyone steps up to criticise Assange’s continued presence or airtime, there are many, many men willing to come out in active support of Assange, or at the very least wanting to ‘debate’, Sea-lioning the conversation. It makes it uncomfortable to be in tech freedom spaces and feel safe. Not only are people happy to defend Assange beyond all good reason, you are also expected to listen politely and not get annoyed about their derailing conversation. [Note, if you’re considering jumping in to try and tell a woman she is wrong to be suspicious/critical of an alleged rapist being in a position of honour, you should probably think about jumping into a skip bin instead, because you are behaving like trash.]

And this doesn’t just happen in one organisation, it’s a prominent and consistent problem throughout tech and tech freedom. The Electronic Freedom Foundation do good work combating unfair copyright laws and have a comprehensive campaign dissecting the TPPA. But they also support Weev, the man who has harassed Kathy Sierra off the internet.

Kathy Sierra, for those who didn’t get the chance to see her on twitter, is one of those fantastic minds that helps people to reinterpret the world in a way that makes better sense. She brought better ways of thinking, learning, and engaging with tech. She also took the most fantastic photographs of her Icelandic ponies. Weev is a Literal Nazi, known troll and destroyer of lives. While he did spend time in jail when he shouldn’t have, he is a trash human who delights in manipulating and gaslighting women. Despite his known status as the owner of a swastika tattoo, he still gets a pass from EFF. He just gets called ‘controversial’ before he’s mentioned. How shit a person does someone have to be before it outweighs their ‘value’ to the tech community? It seems like we haven’t reached that limit yet, and I honestly doubt we ever will.

(If you want to read in Kathy’s own words what being a victim of harassment is like, her farewell essay Trouble at Koolaid Point is the place to go to get some understanding and to get angry.)

I struggle to support EFF and their ‘free speech’ mantra. Yes, freedom of expression is important and necessary element of a free society. The right to be critical and speak out against oppressive organisations needs to be safe from prosecution and censorship. However, EFF push the freedom of speech line too far and take it to mean freedom of any speech on any platform. Recently The Verge published an article about twitter possibly trialling anti-harassment filters. EFF came out swinging against these policies, decrying censorship, or possible future use of censorship. This, at a tool that is being used to stop anti-semitic abuse. Last time I checked, hate speech and free speech were different things.

Funny how EFF stay bone silent when women are driven from platforms like twitter by harassing behaviour, but take steps to try and curb that harassment and they begin speaking about some kind of bizarre case of trickledown censorship. If you take that kind of line it means that we can’t ever do anything about neonazis or misogynists, and their victims get to continue to be victims for some imaginary ‘greater good’ reason. C’mon, people. I’m pretty sure we can have anti-harassment policies and still be firmly in support of freedom of speech. Abused and harassed people shouldn’t have to endure suffering for your ideology. If they do, your ideology is harmful and toxic.

It seems the mere mention of tools that support and encourage marginalised people to be a part of the tech industry incites a frothing flame war from the privileged. Mention a Code of Conduct or Anti Harassment policy or any kind of diverse speaker or employment strategy, and you will be met with a bunch of people angry that they don’t get to run around the net like naughty children anymore. Yes, there are consequences to your words. Yes, the internet is real life, it always has been.

It seems like these tech freedom organisations aren’t so much about liberty or freedom but are designed to support the status quo. When you support the stories of men who abuse and hate to the point of idolisation, you are doing so at the expense of the people they have hurt and will continue to hurt if unchecked. This apparently seems to be secondary to the all-important ‘freedom of information’ or ‘freedom to privacy’ or ‘freedom of speech’ that these organisations champion. As long as they have the right to say and do anything without any repercussions, they’re happy.

Unfortunately I don’t have any answers. The organisations who are doing internet freedom work are also the ones who are idolising and absolving the various hateful actions of men. It all adds up to build a pattern of anti-women rhetoric and it’s certainly one that makes me feel absolutely unwelcome. It stops feeling like it’s very much about freedom or privacy. It’s certainly not about the freedom and privacy of those who a typically and historically stripped of it (minorities, women, LGBTI or people living with disability).

This was a difficult piece to write. Not because of the subject matter, but because there is so much subject matter that it’s difficult to know where to stop. I have watched women be driven from tech and driven from their homes this year thanks to the harassment they have received, and I see organisations like EFF and Wikileaks being complicit or outright wooing their harassers. If you’re a woman in tech, you soak in this environment every day. It’s not special and over time it stops being particularly outrageous. But it never stops being disappointing, angering or horrible.

Why stay? Because despite all of this stuff. Despite the misogyny, the threats, the abuse and the torrents of shit, there’s some truly wonderful and amazing things that can be done with tech. It has such a beautiful and unlimited potential and it can and does bring so much good to people’s lives. Misogynists don’t and never will deserve to win. So I look to stay here and dig my feet in and be loud and fight while I can.