The Lion’s Share

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I look back at my childhood and understand why and what my parents had to do to survive. Every time a new wave of immigrants enters the  western world people start to talk:


“the immigrants…taking our jobs”


“coming here living on benefits”

“What are they doing”


I remind these people that there are always two sides to every story.I often resort to my story…


The Lioness and her cubs.


On the coast of Africa, in a place where the grass hits your feet like emeralds waiting to be touched and the sun blinds you with its light, hypnotising you into a deep sleep, suffocating you with its heat. There in the depths of the tropics laid a Lioness and her one cub. This Lioness was  the most beautiful creature in all the jungle. Her mane, smooth, golden glistening with the sun’s kiss. This Lioness, was the heart of the sun, reflecting light beams of hope, dreams, love and desire. Although a predator by nature, the Lioness was gentle and kind, even to the point that the birds, the deer’s, the snakes, all the other animals from the various tribes loved and adored her. No one could understand how such a graceful enticing creature could be left by the King, all alone with her cub.  The “King” of the jungle as some may call him, was a nomadic cat. It is believed he was actually part panther, part lion. He didn’t like being in packs, an elusive character, there one minute gone the next. He was always looking for the next prey, the next cat to evolve with, always looking for the next cat to lay down next to.


The Lioness by herself tried so hard to hunt and protect her cub, but at times this was troublesome as there was no king to protect her baby. Although she was a fierce creature and could out run and out hunt any other cat, she knew the reality of having a cub and hyenas constantly around, all it takes is for your back to be turned and then….snap. Cub. Gone.


For days and months, the Lioness prowled the jungle with her cub beside her. Trying so hard to hunt for deer. But the green emerald grass was changing…. the grass was becoming thick, dark, lifeless. With no grass there is no deer. No food. The Lioness looked at her cub, the baby was so playful so curious, so bold. She looked at her cub and wept. Wept and hoped that there could be something…. someone who could take her to pastures new.


Another sunset, another day gone by, another moment of despair. The Lioness and her cub, lighter in fat, forlorn with no food in sight. Their eyes slowly, slowly closing. Living on the cusp of death. As their heads become limp, dropping into the burnt dry land.  Suddenly a shadow comes across their faces. Standing tall and strong was a lion, with a dark charcoal mane, hair as black as the night sky. The Lioness unable to lift her head , she was startled by what she saw. Was this the devil himself, or an angel? The Lion, the “King of The Night” licked her face, and placed her cub beside her. The King of The Night disappeared for a moment and as if by magic appeared with a leg of deer. The Lioness and her cub overwhelmed with hunger ate every last bit of meat, bone, fat…everything. The King of The Night, whispered in the Lioness’ ear, she paused,then nodded and looked at her cub with sorrow.


Another moon, another night gone by, another moment of despair. The Lioness and her cub, eyes heavy with tears, she leaves her cub with a neighbouring pack of lions, as she ventures to new lands with the King of The Night with a promise of more food, more stability. The cub, sick with sadness not knowing if she will see the warm eyes and the honey glow of her mother again.


For many many days, the King of The Night  and the Lioness walked side by side, until they arrived in a strange foreign land where the grass is short and sharp and a sky with clouds that disfigure the sun, making it look distant, grey and bleak. It was a wonder how in such a land, where the sun does not shine so bright, there were plenty of deer and prey for the Lioness and the King of The Night to feast on.


With glee, the Lioness and the King of The Night started to hunt but they were greeted with the cruelty of tigers and leopards. Who having grown accustomed to the cooler weather were more agile and sly with their hunting style. At every chance the Lioness and the King of The Night  could get to catch some food, stripes and spots would obstruct their way. The only food they could get were scraps of meat to which the Lioness and the King of the Night, would divide, eat a little and save a lot for a rainy day.


Another sunset, another day gone by, another moment of despair. The Lioness and the King of The Night hopes, dreams and desires slowly dwindled, day in day out they are reminded that they have no patterns on their hide. They’re neither a leopard or tiger just two lions with pride.


Many many moons go by, many many moments of despair. The Lioness and the King of The Night, jaded by the land they live in, they have no spots no stripes just heartache and hunger. The Lioness eager to go back home to the cub she left, hunts tirelessly, saving scraps and putting them in ice to send back home. The King of the Night with disheveled dreams has a disheveled heart, roams around this new land looking for a place, that makes him feel like a king again.  The Lioness and the King of The Night still holding on to their dream of going back home providing for their family and ruling the jungle.


With each two seasons come another cub:


2 season go by……4 seasons go by 6 seasons go by.


Three new cubs in total, and one cub in the land where the grass hits your feet like emeralds waiting to be touched and the sun blinds you with its light. With every hunt the Lioness and the King of The Night, feed their three cubs, save some scraps and send it back to their native land, helping other cats in the family eat. Day in day out, they are reminded that they do not have spots or stripes, that they do not walk the right way. Every single day, there is a slight dent to their pride.


The years go by, and their 3 cubs grow to become 2 Kings and a beautiful Lioness. The other cub in the distant land, now grown and is the resemblance of her mother, a gorgeous Lioness. She is now present, in this, a strange foreign land where the grass is short and sharp and a sky with clouds that disfigure the sun, making it look distant, grey and bleak.


The four cubs; the two kings and the two lionesses with the physicality and mindset of Lions but an insight of Tigers and Leopards manage to navigate in this desolate land in a way that their parent’s never could. Having been raised on hardly anything and accepting their parent’s plight of being providers for their motherland. The four cats, with nothing to their name no foundation, no inheritance, no lion lair passed down by generations have to go out in the world and start another legacy.


A legacy where the Lions are the main hunters in this strange foreign land.


A legacy where the Lions have a place to rest, a patch of land which is theirs.


A legacy where the Lions actually get the Lion share.


But with so little to start with, they know that their journey will be much like their parents however this time they won’t let the stripes of the tigers or the spots of the leopards sabotage their hunt.


It takes a lot for a person to sacrifice everything they once had to start again. If my six-year old self could know what my adult self knows now, I would not have been a child full of sorrow embarrassed by my lack of wealth but a child full of pride knowing that there is a lioness deep inside me, who knows how to hunt, knows how to navigate in a world that is mainly kind to tigers and leopards.


@AnniwaaBuachie: I am not a writer, just a blabber, a lady that asks many questions but never knows how to collate the answers. Just a normal lady with nothing more to say, than words that mean nothing but say something.


Bitter Sweet – Sweet Delight

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I was taking a sip of my coffee when my colleague, an actress of a delicate, yet raw beauty resembling Kate Moss blurted out with such distaste:

“Everything is so diverse, now it’s hard for me to get auditions…. there are no parts for white women.” 

Wow! I thought, let me get a violin and tune it up, because this lady was expecting me to play!

Are roles for white women REALLY becoming extinct? Um, NO. Well, I certainly don’t think so.  

For years, the small percentage of roles that have been available for women, have been played by white actresses. White actresses have had access to a myriad of roles that have enabled them to exercise their talent, emphasizing the fact that characters/people are multi-dimensional. Which in turn allows an audience to be willing to invest in their work, their creativity.

Roles that could have been played by women of colour have often be given to white actresses. Elizabeth Taylor, Scarlet Johanson, Angelina Jolie and Emma Stone are some actresses to name a few, that have benefited from the act of white washing. The act of white washing has been happening in the entertainment industry for years, since the silent movie era.

Executives and producers in the past, justified it by claiming that there was not enough diverse talent out there or that in order to green light a film it is necessary to put a white well know actress in the leading female role, and just put them in ‘black face’ and all is good!

Was there a complete disregard for what an audience of colour, a PAYING audience of colour thought?

For so long, films and tv shows that have a lack or no diversity have been seen as the norm. 

An overdue progression is now happening in the entertainment industry, after years and years of underrepresented creatives standing their ground and fighting for their stories to be told. Despite the lack of funding, despite the disregard or the naysayers saying that productions by or featuring black people won’t sell’ there were still a number of black crusaders that have gone above and beyond expectations.  You only have to look at the success of Black Panther, Get Out, Girls Trip, Scandal and How To Get Away with Murder to see that there is craving, a need for productions which dispel the idea that there is only one narrative, one perception.

However, the very slight increase of women of colour in productions has not suddenly eradicated white female roles and it never will! White actresses still and will have a place in the majority of productions…whether created by a person of colour or not. 

Going back to my Kate Moss look –alike colleague, I didn’t bring out a violin but asked her a few questions:

Is my story taking away your freedom, your confidence, your voice, your existence?

Is my progression not as important at yours?

Do I not deserve to see a positive representation of myself, my experiences as you do?

There are many hurdles that female creatives of ALL shades, have to overcome, I am not disputing that. Truth be told, there is still a hierarchy which curbs the progression of all women in the entertainment industry, we are constantly having to fight, sexism, ageism and in some cases classicism, colourism and racism just to be seen and heard.

It does not have to be a bitter sweet victory to have much more diverse female roles, it should and can be a sweet delight for all.

New fresh, dynamic stories are being told, bringing new audiences and interactions. Presenting two women from different backgrounds on screen, may actually surpass the Bechdel Test.  Finally letting  conversations that really matter appear in the foreground.

As we all know, a great woman, always comes before a great man.


@AnniwaaBuachieI am not a writer, just a blabber, a lady that asks many questions but never knows how to collate the answers. Just a normal lady with nothing more to say, than words that mean nothing but say something. 

A is for……..


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Happy New Year! 

This year I am going to be selfish. Yes, I said it out loud.  It is not within my nature to be a selfish person, it’s the complete opposite of who I am. I loathe selfishness, I detest it. From the moment, I stepped onto this earth I have been taught that selfishness is a bad thing.  As the youngest child of 4, I constantly had to think about other people…..whether I liked it or not. However in this moment, at the start of the new year I realise, I have to be selfish. I have to temporarily rid myself of empathy, of giving so much to other people and just focus on myself and only me.




Because I need to understand and appreciate what I have achieved and the power that I have within me. 


I know it’s a complex simplicity, a contradiction merely because as an Actor people are your craft; your audience your inspiration, your material your reference. As a typical extrovert person, I am energized by being around other people. For the most part I enjoy being around people, working in a team. I like to discuss concepts with people, gain an insight into their minds, their backgrounds their perception of life. I used to think that this was the only way to feed my curiosity, my creative hunger. 


Yet as the days turn into months and the months turn into years, my situation has changed slightly. I no longer have as many human interactions as I would like. I am always working… a true workaholic does! Generally, people tend be so focus on living their lives with their partners or their children and only make contact when a bad situation arises, or when they need money… to which I am summoned to play the role of a mother, a sister, a friend, an agony aunt or a bank.


With each interaction, I observe the many cotton threads that are being pulled out of me, one by one. I once was stuff teddy, cuddly warm, loyal and cute but the wear and tear is slowly showing, I get thinner, every time someone takes and takes the cotton stuffing out of me. 


There is only so much giving you can do, before you need step back to recharge. 


Sometimes one just needs to take a moment to be still and do nothing and shake hands with loneliness. Take time out and stop giving and start embracing…. embracing yourself. Acknowledge solitude and welcome it.  


Loneliness is not only just a product of physically being by yourself.  I have felt loneliness with a lover, in friendship groups, in family settings, around people who claim to love me. I used to try to ignore that feeling but now I understand that in my solitude I can root myself. I can take time to relight my vivid imagination by imploring myself in the arts. The serenity I feel when I read a book in silence, attend an art show by myself or watch a film balances the effects of loneliness. I am able to gather my thoughts and soak up the colours, the perceptions, the visuals and the words without the drama of another individual. 


It is in my loneliness that I can honestly check in with myself, I can be vulnerable, tell my story with no qualms and really divulge my talents, my ideas, my thoughts, my strengths. I am able to express myself with no restrictions.


By being selfish I can ensure that my foundation is stable and solid. I can grasp what makes me unique, and how or why I need to keep a part of myself for me and only me.   It’s when you solely celebrate the positive attributes you have that you can step back into the limelight of people. So when the time is right to open the gate to my life and let people back in again, I can give, I can provide support, I can provide loyalty, I can love till my heart hurts, knowing full well that I am a  sturdy cuddly teddy bear, perfectly stitched up with all my stuffing intact. 


@AnniwaaBuachie: I am not a writer, just a blabber, a lady that asks many questions but never knows how to collate the answers. Just a normal lady with nothing more to say, than words that mean nothing but say something. 

Forgotten, Hidden, Discarded

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This months’ blog is  a little different. I was invited to write an article about my experiences as a black woman for online Magazine: @AYOMagazine. SOOOOOO on this occasion, check out my blog here:


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@AnniwaaBuachieI am not a writer, just a blabber, a lady that asks many questions but never knows how to collate the answers. Just a normal lady with nothing more to say, than words that mean nothing but say something. 


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“Wow….your hair is tough.” Those words ran through me sharply. Those words spilled out of my cousin’s mouth as her hand unwelcomely touched my hair, neatly braided in two French braids touched with a finesse of London rain. Her hair, resembles a Rastafarian Rapunzel, long, dreds, sleek, beautiful and black. Yet it baffled her why I would not want to do anything with my hair……but just keep it natural. No Braids. No Weave. No straightening. No wigs…. just your regular 4C West African curl.

All my life I have always kept my hair the way it has always been. The way that it came fresh from my mother womb, tight, curly, frizzy, kinky and black. Yet all my life I have always had to justify my “natural state” to people.

Caucasian women put their hands through my hair exclaiming:

“ It’s wooly,”

“ It’s oily,”

“why is it harder than the mixed race woman hair in the office on floor 2?”


Mixed race people with the looser curls, look upon my hair with disgust chastising me with:

“ Your hair is Nappy,”

“I thank god my hair is not as tough as yours.”


Asian people:

“ You should get a weave, Indian girl, human hair…..we have the best hair.”


Caucasian men:

“ Your Afro is soooooo cool”

Yet some never want take you home to their mums without you “de-blacking” yourself with hair bone straight- Chinese weave or alternatively you can be that novelty negro with the afro…..there for the summer but never for winter, the home or for life.


Black women: Respect you, most salute you but some can’t understand why you would let their secret out of the bag. (Rebecca who works in PR, you know the black girl on floor 2, her hair doesn’t grow down and straight… grows up and curly sssshhhhh don’t let the secret out of the bag….)

Black men:  Some respect you, some salute you but a couple can’t stand the mirror that you are, the mirror that is placed in front of them showing their blackness in its entirety.

It’s exhausting constantly having to explain, justify and protect your natural beauty all the time, to EVERY. SINGLE. PERSON.  Whether it be to your family, friend or work colleagues.

As an actress, my job is to tell a story from the perspective of a character. I have to evolve and give a voice, life and soul to a character. However, as a black actress, before you even get the chance to sink your teeth into your character, you have to convince someone to see past your “hair issues” and actually take note of your acting.

I know it sounds ridiculous! But believe me, in many cases it’s the truth.  A friend of mine *Sapphire a successful actress in her 40’s recently had a meeting with a management team. The meeting was going really well until the Manager a young middle-upper class women *Pearl, started to educate *Sapphire about wigs and the need to ensure that she had a range of wigs for auditions. Yeah like *Sapphire hasn’t lived her life as a black woman for the past 40 years! Girl bye! I am sure more often than not *Sapphire has walked on many sets, and seen that look of worry when a basic makeup and hair stylists sees her. So for the sake of an easy life, she has a range of wigs and is seasoned in doing her own makeup to tv standards!

We have fabulous black actresses like Issa Rae switching up the hair game every scene on Insecure (with a couple of hair pieces/ wigs which match her natural hair texture.)  But even before you get to the silver screen, a black actress is still made to feel that they have to spend ££££$$$$ on wigs to disguise their natural hair. There are some creative people who lack imagination and are unable to focus on a black women’s acting if her hair is in an afro state when she auditions.  Does the same apply to a white actress who has peroxide hair or ginger hair? Are you unable to focus on that women’s acting because her hair colour or hair length is not the same as what you envisaged for the character? OF COURSE NOT, because we all know that you can just place a wig on that woman or ask her to dye her hair a certain colour…. but heaven forbid you do the same for a black woman.

It amazes me just how many people of all walks of life are concerned about a black woman’s hair, beauty and demeanor but hardly anyone is concerned about the constant oppression and silencing of black women in society.

In response to my cousins “Wow…. your hair is tough,” I quoted: “Don’t touch my hair, when it’s the feelings I wear” … Solange… cheesy I know….but I had to!

*Made up names.

@AnniwaaBuachie: I am not a writer, just a blabber, a lady that asks many questions but never knows how to collate the answers. Just a normal lady with nothing more to say, than words that mean nothing but say something. 

A Lion, A Scarecrow, A Tin man

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© 1st MAY 2017, Anniwaa Buachie


“ Okay lets go again, 2nd take, you ready Anniwaa?”

“Yeah, let’s rock and roll”


“Okay……quiet on set”




“Camera rolling”


“XXXXXX Take 2”


“& Action”








I fainted, passed out, loss consciousness. I had a simple action, stand up straight, look straight into the camera. But no, despite my body appearing to be ready, my brain…. Well my brain just decided to shut down.

This was my reality, a few weeks ago. I had a record breaking minutes upon minutes of my eyes closed.  I awoke to the smell of alcohol, feeling like I had just left the arms of ‘The Starman’ Bowie spoke so fondly about. Realisation hit, I was not Wonder Woman, not Rogue from X-men, not the super being I so desperately want & try to be. But an actor who for the first time in my life was physically and mentally helpless….. I needed a moment to catch my breath.

Until recently, I always felt that health is rarely ever discussed openly in the creative industries. I mean, sure most of us spend endless hours of the day making sure we are physically healthy, but how often do you check in with yourself and ask yourself if you are truly okay?

Mental and physical health issues have been highlighted in the media by artists such as Laura Mvula and Stormzy shedding light of their journeys. However, there is still a stigma attached to admitting that sometimes, the constant knock backs, will wind you at some point…and if you are not careful they will knock you the F@* out completely.

As an actor working your way to the ‘top of the ladder,’ every time you are offered work is a blessing, you take on projects despite your body or mind shouting out at you to TAKE A REST. You ignore your inner voice and work, because work generates work and nothing feels as good as performing. It’s your drug. There is a fear with actors that admitting exhaustion, depression or fatigue will hinder future work opportunities.

Creativity stems from the inner depths of your sub-consciousness. Neglecting who you really are, your thoughts, your true feelings blocks you in more ways than you know. Acknowledging and accepting your trials and tribulations will allow you to recreate, rearrange, rebuild your canvas for whatever life throws at you.

Acting is one of the only forms of art where you inherently have to be someone else. In order to do that to the best of your abilities, you need to ensure your foundation is solid, that you really know who you are before you can be anything else.

It is important as an artist to check in with yourself. Ask yourself:

Is the end game, what you really want, emotionally, mentally, financially, physically and spiritually?

Is what you are working so hard to achieve worth it? Will it contribute or jeopardise your happiness?

When if any will there be a time for you to stop?

Do you feel that your sanity is deteriorating under the constant gaze of casting directors, directors, producers and audiences?


I think it’s admirable when people are honest with themselves, so many of us are just keeping up with the joneses!

We all have physical and metal hiccups, seeking help, sharing experiences and finding ways to be a part of a community is the first step to transform, sadness, anxiety, fear depression into happiness, excitement & confidence.

Whenever I feel like shutting down, I watch the Wizard of Oz. Dorothy was lost in an unfamiliar land with an unfamiliar path. Yet she manages to ask for help, build friendships, defines what it means to have wisdom, love and courage. And after her long adventure, who and what she thinks is the “Great and Powerful Oz” is not what she imagined at all! Dorothy’s journey makes her realise that she always had the power to change her situation. When she wakes up, she is surrounded by people who love and support her, she had a support network in her sub consciousness and conscious state.

Waking up from my moment with ‘The Starman’ made me understand the importance of having a Glinda, a Lion, a Scarecrow, a Tin man and an Aunty Em in times of fragility.

I am not a writer, just a blabber, a girl that asks many questions but never knows how to collate the answers. Just a normal girl with nothing more to say, than words that mean nothing but say something.   @AnniwaaBuachie


Friend? Enemy? Frenemy?

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loren-mansfield2Not everyone is going to be your friend. The minute you accept this statement, the more you will enjoy your life to its fullest.  I believe this is a statement a lot of people either, ignore or try to change, particularly in the creative industries.  

Developing a career in the creative industry is a rocky road as of course, it is mainly based on perception and opinion…everything is subjective.  For this reason, many creatives believe that the key to success is ensuring that everyone is your friend, your number one fan. Truth be told this helps but the reality is life doesn’t always work out like a girl scout club.

In the entertainment industry creatives find it easier to be supportive of friends who work in tech, hairdressing or any other field… long as they are not  an actor! I mean the competition is high and the roles are sparse!  Desperation and envy makes people do a lot of strange things. Many a times I have been exposed to interesting behaviors. ‘Friends’ who in some twisted way, deep down believed that they were ‘above,’ or on a ‘next level’ to me.

Which resulted in them constantly undermining me or telling me what I was capable of achieving!

What warrants someone to think their ‘above’ or on a ‘next level’ to somebody else?

It varies, but as I delve deeper into the labyrinth of womanhood. My career, society and culture reveal to me just some of the things which makes one believe that they are a cut above the rest.

In some cultures, success is measured by the number of children you have pushed out your mini-moo before the age of 30. For some people, success is measured by the number of holidays one takes, or the number of properties you own, or by the numbers of cars you have and whether you are married or not before the age of 30.  

In the entertainment industry, I suppose success is measured by the acknowledgment that you are going after your dreams and despite whether you are earning £££££££££££$$$$$$$$$ what is important is that you are valued as great artists by your peers. Winning the popularity contest!

However, as a woman, you are constantly reminded that you cannot have it all.

The perfect career, the beautiful family and the friendship group. One of those three things, supposedly, will suffer on the way to success and the media never fails to remind us of this!

It can be hard to see your friend, the same friend you know from back in the day, the same friend who you shared a Happy Meal with at McDonalds because you were both broke, reach a level of success that you feel may be more deserving to you.

As women, we are constantly encouraged to be a part of a sisterhood. We are one vessel breaking down the misogyny of this world. However, with age comes wisdom and impatience.  It is easy to look at your friend’s life and become envious, or project your regrets on to them. It is easy to have many excuses as to why your ‘friend’ is or is not successful.  Whether you like it or not, as humans there is a little part of us, which sometimes wishes we can be in a different position in our life.  However there is only one person in control of that…..YOU.   Learn, live and love your journey and your friends. Because when it comes down to it, success doesn’t mean anything if you are not able to share it with a friend,  the same friend you shared a McDonalds Happy Meal with all those years ago. JUST REMEMBER: Whatever is meant for you will not pass you by!

I am not a writer, just a blabber, a girl that asks many questions but never knows how to collate the answers. Just a normal girl with nothing more to say, than words that mean nothing but say something.   @AnniwaaBuachie

The End Is The Beginning

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This is nothing. Nothing is important. Importance is creativity. Creativity derives from experiences. Experiences like this make you realize how lucky you are to have more happening in your life than some. Some people are bitter and twisted because, they fail to really succeed at what they truly wanted to do. Do they even have a heart anymore? Anymore joy to give. Giving is the formula which keeps you alive, present and warm. Warmness derives from being open. Openness comes from when you are at ease within yourself. You are the only one who knows your greatness, do not allow vile human begins to take. Takers are fakers, hollow, just a mere shell, meant for being buried. Buried far away from anything, that breathes, lives and has a soul. Soulless people roam this world, with their vicious tongues, fake smiles and their crooked ways. Ways to hypnotize you with power, love, money, bullying and entrapment.

Trap yourself with your own love and you will avoid the black hole of negativity. Negative energy, can be poured into an ocean, and what stares you in the face is a narcissist. Narcissist the man, who had no care for anything, but himself, nothing was good enough for him. For him you would do everything but for you, you did nothing. Nothing is important. Importance is creativity. Creativity derives from experiences…….

I am not a writer, just a blabber, a girl that asks many questions but never knows how to collate the answers. Just a normal girl with nothing more to say, than words that mean nothing but say something.   @AnniwaaBuachie

We Laugh, Cry and Bleed

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The world is on edge in so many ways at the moment. Which unless you have been in hibernation or someone who is living on cloud 9, it is hard not to escape the tension. It is not surprising that the Rio Olympics seems a little down played in comparison to the London Olympics. I mean this is the time when we should all be coming together and enjoying the world’s best athletes compete against one another right?

No instead we are on edge, people are resorting to medieval perceptions of the each other despite the fact that yes we know the world is not flat, yes we know the earth spins around the sun and yes although we come in different shades of melanin, we are all of the same species.

Xenophobia everywhere.

Growing up in London I cherish the fact that there are a variety of people from different nations, different religions, different perceptions. (You can imagine how I felt about the UK leaving the EU.) My own parents were immigrants, they left Ghana and came to the UK, to start a new life, as did so many. And like my parents so many immigrants had to forgo their former qualifications, to do low paid jobs because their former credentials were not acknowledged in the UK. Luckily my parents spoke English, for some people language is just many of the barriers that they face as an immigrant.

Yet a western person can go to any non-western country and be hailed a professor, simply because they studied in the UK, Europe or America.  It’s okay for a Westerner to go to a country and dictate how people live their lives or refuse to even speak any other language besides English. If I had a penny for the amount of times I have been to a foreign country only to hear some douchebag say ‘speak English’ in a country where English is not the national language! (Colonial residue)

There is so many factors that an immigrant encounters that a citizen, if placed in the same situation would slit their wrist! In reference to the recent influx of Syrian immigrants, can you imagine leaving your family, everything you know to go to a place, where you know no one. Where you are not accustom to the culture or language. Where people assume you are a terrorist, because you are Muslim. Where you are seen as a rapist!

Rarely ever do the majority of people place themselves in the shoes of immigrants before we place a judgement.

This is where I come in…..well not me exactly, but artists, creative people. I used to think to myself,  ‘I’m a drama queen…. what am I doing, I’m not a doctor, I’m not saving lives.’ But that is not quiet true.  I know this sounds corny, but Art does save lives.  It’s down to artists to create work that opens narrow minds offering an intelligent insight into the social and political consciousness of the invisible and the marginalised. Which as a result, hopefully articulates fresh and unfamiliar perspectives, awaking society.

Films like Brick Lane, Dirty Pretty Things, Persepolis have enlightened me and I only hope I can create or perform in productions of a similar calibre.

We all have different motives as people, before making any assumptions about immigrants, we should remember that they are people and we all laugh, cry and bleed.

I am not a writer, just a blabber, a girl that asks many questions but never knows how to collate the answers. Just a normal girl with nothing more to say, than words that mean nothing but say something.   @AnniwaaBuachie

P.s  I will be appearing in the guest star role of Survivor’s remorse. Episode 6 ‘No Child Left Behind.’ More details here

In a Marvel Universe

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Comic books, since their existence have always been the staple way of entertaining a diverse audience. Often stereotypically associated with geeky white boys, the surge of comic books turned TV/ films has encouraged a new audience to discover the magic of this pop-phenomenon. It’s an exciting time in the entertainment industry, as this genre is an avenue with endless possibility!


I have always had a love an admiration for comic books. Sneaking into my older brother’s room at the age of 8, I was obsessed at marveling at their Marvel collections (excuse the pun…lol) The fresh smell of those glossy covers entrenched in vivid, bright illustrations, it was exciting to cast my eyes on pages which stole my imagination and awkwardness from me and placed them into other worldly characters. The stories were always compelling and entertaining but also taught me to embrace my differences, my quirks and celebrate them.


Every child goes through a stage where they feel like they don’t belong, some more than others due to societal prejudices of race, class and financial means. There are people who don’t relate to a western ideal of ‘normal.’


Reading about the X-men, and learning about the constant inner turmoil’s the character’s experienced made me feel like I was a part of something.  It was interesting to try to understand why some ‘mutants’ chose to destroy the human race and why some chose to preserve it.  I mean, saving a species of people who don’t understand you nor care about you, yet fear you………..for a lot of readers hits home and for me it was not an escapism but a reflection of my reality.


These modern day fables hold a magnify glass to the flaws which make us humans. This is why I love the surge of comic book films and TV shows. It provides us with the reality check and an appreciation of our lives. Most importantly, the beauty of comic book dramas is that they give space and room for casting to be diverse and to go beyond stereotypes, woman can be seen as the protagonists rather than servants to to male story and ethnic actors are not the token sidekick!


On that note I cannot wait to see the Black Panther movie. This is the first time that there is a black male lead in a story which centres from his perspective. Not a slave story with a white messiah, not athlete story of overcoming racism but a story of a brilliant tactician, strategist, scientist, of royal African descendent. The name Black Panther holds so many meanings within history but to me as that awkward black girl, the odd tomboy all those years ago who hid my love for comic books it means a skilled warrior, the King of the most important country on the planet in a marvel universe. A man who despite his challenges and setbacks realised that his love for his heritage and his people is what gives him the power to live another day.


I am not a writer, just a blabber, a girl that asks many questions but never knows how to collate the answers. Just a normal girl with nothing more to say, than words that mean nothing but say something.   @AnniwaaBuachie