Grace Federico Awi

GOD before everything...
In My Dark Skin I WIN...I Love The Skin I'm In...
I write what I feel and I feel what I write...
I love art, I am art and art is me...
I Love food, cooking it, eating it, smelling it. (drools)...
I Love Africa...
My Spiritual self is a citizen of the universe....
My Human self is from The RepublicOfSouthSudan (Nimule) & Sudan (Nuba Mountains)
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On my break had time to whip up dinner spicy pork chops, boiled then seasoned potatoes, onions and spinach flavoured….shame I dont have an appetite for meat. 🙈🙈🙈

blackfashion:

Fresco Mills, 24

Philadelphia, Pennsylvania

Jacket: House of Ra’oof

Jeans: Righteous Rebel Denim & Apparel

Sneakers: Nike

bespokebinny:

NEW! Now available for purchase on etsy: Adzo handmade Ankara lampshade www.bespokebinny.com #bespokebinny #lampshade #handmade #ankara #africanhome #africandecor #africanprint #everydayafricanfashion #africaninpired #etsy #shopetsy

Palm Sunday….church flow… 😘 (at Leeds)

dynamicafrica:

Newly unveiled Afro-emojis make some people on the internet a little upset.

As an avid user of the mobile app Whatsapp, texting for me these days just isn’t complete with the use of emojis. I’m an expressive being and some times, when limited for space, the use of a picture or an emoji really does say a thousand words. Other times, it simply animates the conversation.

That being said, despite having a vast range of emoji’s to choose from, from the app that I installed on my phone, the only non-white emoji comes in the form of a brown-skinned grey-eyed emoji wearing a turban. In the world of emoji’s, dark-skinned and black people don’t exist. Heck, even in the food and geographical categories, there is nothing distinctly African there. No pap, no plantain, no pounded yam, no poulet yassa, not even a potjiekos. I’ve updated my emoji app with every new notification from Apple and yet not single African flag has been featured. This is why I was glad to hear that Mauritius-based mobile company Oju* Africa has heard the cries of us darker-skinned folk, spearheaded by MTV journalist Joey Parker, and come to our rescue beating Apple in the process. So far, the app is only available on Android devices. As soon as it moves in to the iOS market, I’ll be the first to download it.

Despite the warm welcome its received from people all over the continent, this sort of tech diversity is something that some white people just can’t get with. The underlying cause of most of the criticism of these Afro-emojis comes from whether or not the emojis are indeed white or simply neutral, being that they are yellow. Some people think that because emojis are yellow, they have ‘no colour’ and are therefore applicable to everyone regardless of skin colour. In the same vein, this twitter user believes that by introducing Afro-emojis, this is simply a case of people trying too hard to push a racial agenda where there is none.

Regardless of whether you see the yellow emojis as non-racial, if you feel threatened by brown skinned emojis then that’s an issue you need to deal with internally. There’s no harm in representation, especially for those of us who’ve too long felt ignored by the wider Western world.

With time, hopefully the app will include more and more Africa-specific icons to their emoji range.

*(oju means ‘faces’ in Yoruba).

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All Africa, All the time.

pulitzerfieldnotes:

"I lost my husband on a Monday afternoon of April 1994, killed by a group of people that were our neighbors. I started running with my two children towards the West of the country. At each checkpoint, I was raped by soldiers. Now, I live with HIV and must raise my kids alone.” — Martha

Image by Tomaso Clavarino. Rwanda, 2014.

Forthcoming Pulitzer Center-sponsored project “We Are the Past.”

(via dynamicafrica)

dynamicafrica:

Giving thanks to Alek Wek: The importance of a supermodel.

I never tire of reading Alek Wek interviews. Her presence in the modelling world did wonders for my often down-trodden self-esteem whilst growing up. It still does.

Wek, often the sole black face amidst a sea of the many white visages I’d see in the pages of the fashion magazines I became obsessed with was always greatly outnumbered. Few other black faces accompanied her on the runway and in print. Similarly, I constantly found myself in social settings comprised of the same demographics.

Before high school, most of the schools I attended were majority white. At one particular school, I was the only black student in my year for an entire semester, and the only black girl between grades 4 and 8 for that same period of time. You can imagine what this sort of alienation did for myself esteem being in my highly impressionable and formative pre-teen and teenage years. To my non-white friends with flowing hair and skin that was either much paler than mine or at least a ‘nice kind of brown’, I represented all that was undesired in the world of beauty. I was not white, I was not mixed or exotic by any means. I was black, another synonym for plain. My skin? Too dark. My hair? Too stiff when natural. Relaxed? Not even close to what they had. And so the list went on.

Oddly enough, you’d think I’d be somewhat relieved to see someone like Alek Wek receive the kind of seemingly positive attention she did from the fashion world. Au contraire, mon frere - at least at first. At the time, I couldn’t understand why they’d chosen her. She seemed to represent all the things that seemed wrong with blackness in the eyes of my non-black peers. Her skin? Much too dark. Her hair? Much too stiff (if she weren’t bald). And so the list went on. How, in any way, could I look to this woman as a source of inspiration when nothing about her seemed to comfortably fit the standards of beauty defined, and often confined by, whiteness? After all, these standards plagued not just my personal life, but that of the world I lived in. Why had fashion chosen her, or at least someone that looked the way she did? Was Wek chosen because she represented an anomaly in the world of beauty? Or because despite all the notions of beauty that seemed to stand against her, she defiantly refused to accept them and in doing so, redefined how we see and construct beauty and what we consider beautiful?

Being of Dinka descent, Wek stood out physically not only from the white models that overpopulated the fashion industry, but also from the small number of black models the West had heralded both before her and during her time. Her looks seemed to make a statement, whether she liked it or not, in a world that, rather oddly, both embraced and rejected her at the same time. Where she was hired by top Haute Couture designers and graced the covers of numerous high fashion magazines, she was often a token in the fashion world and seen as exotic by the very people that claimed to celebrate her beauty.

In all of this, I found it extremely difficult to interpret, at the time, that Alek Wek’s presence was important primarily because she was there. Not that there hadn’t been black models before her, but her particular beauty had never been celebrated in such a manner before. Whether or not the world approved of her beauty was something that didn’t matter to Alek Wek. She was visible - highly so, and she was not going anywhere. Whether I was aware of it or not, Alek Wek’s visibility was important for the reasons that made me reject not only her but myself during that time. Alek Wek was important because her presence assured people like myself that we deserved all the things we were made to believe we were not worthy of, and needed no one’s permission as proof.

This recent Guardian interview of Alek Wek highlights so much of why Alek Wek is truly one of the most important women in the world of fashion - ever. Here’s an except that demonstrates why she’s so incredibly important and inspirational.

Wek was born in South Sudan, arriving in London when she was 14, and was acutely aware of how different she was from the other big models of the day, women such as Kate Moss, Claudia Schiffer and Eva Herzigova; while growing up, she had no knowledge of trailblazers such as Iman and Grace Jones.

“There was no concept of fashion and catwalk shows where I came from,” Wek says. “There were no magazines. I never saw women in makeup, or with different hairstyles. Absolutely not.” Now, she says, there are so many South Sudanese girls working as models it is not a big deal; in the late 1990s, she was one of very few successful African models. “There were black models, but no one as dark-skinned, and none with Dinka features, that’s for sure.” Even so, she was regularly mistaken for Naomi Campbell, an entirely different-looking model from Streatham with a Jamaican-born mother. She laughs at the ridiculousness: “A black woman is not ‘a type’. I never had any interest in those jobs that asked for only black girls. What the hell is that? Would you be comfortable saying you wanted only white girls, or Latin? Are you kidding me? It’s baffling.”

At a time when black models were considered commercially more viable if their hair was relaxed, their complexions light, Wek (very dark skin, cropped natural hair) was confident of her value. I have interviewed many models and, without fail, when asked if they always knew they were beautiful, each of them has given me a look of mock horror before going on to list their unsightly features as a child: big feet, too tall, gawky features. But when I ask Wek, she immediately replies, “Oh yes, of course.”

(Read more of the original article ‘Alek Wek: ‘You don’t have to go with the Crowd’)

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snapette:

We all know it’s Monday but just remember guys that YOU’RE #AWESOME🙋 #regram @corrimcfadden #words #inspo #monday #snapette #cute

dynamicafrica:

Unique furniture designs by Senegalese artist Babacar M’Bodj Niang.

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All Africa, All the time.

Senegalese artist makes unique furniture….

dynamicafrica:

Fashion meets illustration in this Gaschette Magazine beauty and accessories editorial.

Titled “Weekend Special”, the spread features various models adorned with elaborate and statement jewelry, bold make up and dynamic illustrations by various South African artists - all photographed by Steve Marais.

All but the second-last image sit well with me. It’s animal themed racist colonial imagery is just another example of how the fashion industry uses the excuse of ‘art’ as a way of declaring itself immune to the repercussions of history, paying no mind to cultural sensitivity.

Gaschette Magazine is published 8 times annually by Gaschette Digital Independent Publishing in Johannesburg, South Africa. 

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All Africa, All the time.

dynamicafrica:

Duplicity' by South African photographer Chris Saunders.