Tina Abena Oforiwa

When a little Black girl chooses Elsa, it’s not just a phase. It reflects a world that still teaches her who is worthy of admiration.

Black women are among the most educated groups in the West, outpacing their male counterparts in degree attainment and leading the fastest-g

So many of us are striving. Performing. Surviving. We code-switch, we work ten times harder, we carry the weight of ‘Black excellence’ on our backs—often in spaces that were never built with us in mind. But what happens when the cost of success is your well-being, your peace, or your sense of self? In this reflective piece, I write honestly about navigating white-dominated systems as a Black woman, redefining success on my own terms, and choosing wholeness over hustle.

This got me thinking about this ‘London’ identity which I don’t believe gets enough attention. London isn’t just a place—it’s a culture, a rhythm, a shared language that crosses race, class, and background. Whether it’s a white working-class lad saying ‘wagwan fam’ or a South Asian student speaking in Cockney slang, it all reflects what it means to be a Londoner. It’s not imitation—it’s identity.

What happens to a people when their gods are cast as devils? When their ways are labelled wicked, and their stories erased? This piece is a reflection on the spiritual consequences of colonisation—and a call to remember the sacred paths we once walked.

Shedding colonial skin, one truth at a time.

Self-love and acceptance are spaces many struggle to reach, tethered by a need for validation and the fear of rejection.

Even when they have no children, when they choose to be single, the independence of Black women has been positioned as some kind of failing.

Home is calling, and I am extremely inclined to respond. Even if it’s just for a short while.

A powerful glimpse into a father's quiet resilience, his unseen burdens, and a child's heartbreaking realization of his sacrifices.