Welcome back to this new season of WANDER with even more fantastic writers! I’ll also be switching it up a bit in some of the episodes this time. Some of the guests wrote specially commissioned pieces on the theme of WANDER. There was no stipulations as to style or length – just whatever the word WANDER conjured up for them. And you’ll hear it’s a very varied and individual response for each writer.
My guest today, Sandrine Ndahiro, is the first to read her piece, and a big shout out again to the Arts Council – without whose support we wouldn’t have been able to do this.
Sandrine Ndahiro is a writer and activist who moved to Ireland in 2006 from Rwanda.
She’s the co-founder of Unsliencing Black Voices and co-editor of Unapologetic. An interdisciplinary, cultural literary magazine that celebrates marginalised voices who tackle social issues here in Ireland. The first issue of Unapologetic featured literature, artwork and articles on the theme of ‘Change Makers’, and the second issue on the theme of ‘Inbetween’.
Sandrine has a Masters in African Literature from Limerick University, and her work has appeared at the Dingle Literary Festival and at the Frederick Douglass Festival. She’s also a regular contributor to the online publication, Rogue Collective, and is currently starting to put together the third issue of Unapologetic.
If you’re a writer yourself, keep an eye out for when submissions open for Unapologetic Magazine later in the year – and you can read the first two issues for free there.
She reads a piece specially commissioned for this podcast, inspired by a photograph of when she was a child growing up in a refugee camp – and we’ve a great conversation about her background, her influences, and how she sees the future of Ireland developing.
Huge thanks to Sandrine Ndahiro for such a great conversation, and for her beautiful piece inspired by the theme of WANDER.
TRANSCRIPT:
Bairbre Flood
Hi, and welcome back to this new season. I hope everyone’s been okay, and thank you for tuning in again. A huge thanks to the Arts Council of Ireland for funding this season again, and I’m really delighted to be able to bring you even more fantastic writers.
I’ll also be switching it up a little bit in some of the episodes this time. Some of the guests are all specially commissioned pieces on the team of wanderer. There were no stipulations as to the style or length, just whatever the word wander conjured up for them. And you’ll hear it’s a very varied and individual response for each writer.
My guest today Sandrine Ndahiro is the first to read her piece. Sandrine is a writer and activist who moved to Ireland in 2006, from Rwanda. She’s the co founder of on silencing black voices, and CO editor of unapologetic. unapologetic is an interdisciplinary cultural literary magazine that celebrates marginalised voices who tackle social issues here in Ireland.
The first issue of unapologetic featured literature, artwork and articles on the theme of changemakers and the second issue is on the theme of inbetween. Sandrine has a master’s in African literature from Limerick University, and her work has appeared at Dingle Literary Festival, and the Frederick Douglass festival. She’s also a regular contributor to the online publication Rogue collective, and is currently starting to put together the third issue of unapologetic This is Sandrine Ndahiro…
Bairbre Flood
I was just reading the Unapologetic The second edition. They’re excellent.
Sandrine Ndahiro
Oh, thank you so much. Thank you. It was a bit stressfull to put it together but worked out at the end.
Bairbre Flood
I love the artwork. I mean, who did it? I didn’t know who did which art piece, like the the one with the two black men. And he’s got a mask over his face with the flowers, you know?
Sandrine Ndahiro
No, that was actually like this artist from Ghana. So we got like international artists, as well. And then the team like there was like an art department where they kind of like mesh the pictures together. But again, it was kind of one of those things where we started it off. Like I never thought like people like internationally would be like sending us their art pieces or anything like that.
Bairbre Flood
They’re really beautiful. The pieces are gorgeous. And for people they should go and look it up. It’s online. Two issues on the Unapologetic website.
Sandrine Ndahiro
Yeah. So we’ll be on the third issue this year.
Bairbre Flood
Okay, when are you putting thosout? You’ll be looking for submissions?
Sandrine Ndahiro
It will be the end of the year again. So like we’ve kind of like just always decided to just do one issue a year and kind of just do like talks and stuff like that. And in between, to kind of like raise funding for issue. So we’re hoping now this year that we’ll be able to kind of like apply for funding and make a hardcopy instead of everything just being online. But so far, like the last few years, like, we’ve been lucky that everyone it’s been online, like we’ve gotten like good reception of the magazine. Once we release the issue, everyone is like, what’s the next day? And I’m like, that’s just to finish one thing first, like, let the second issue kind of be John first and then see them like, again, like because with the themes, like we always want to, like create something that’s very broad that like, again, like everyone is able to identify with and everything like that,
Bairbre Flood
I mean, the theme of the first and was changemakers was the second in between what made you choose those themes? Did you sit down and have a discussion about it obviously wasn’t just your decision, like, so how did you come to that?
Sandrine Ndahiro
Yeah, I remember, like when it came to change makers, it was kind of like, it was just the height of 2020. And we were talking about this sense of like, where there were so many, like, let’s say like social movements with BLM and like activism. And then like I remember was my dad is like, diabetic, so I couldn’t really go out and protest. But then I was like, oh, but like I’m writing creative pieces. And I’m writing academic like, this is making change and itself because like, again, I’m kind of like am changing people’s opinion. And that was the exact same for Gareth Brinn who’s like the other co founder and CO Editor in Chief, where again, like he was writing things about again, like what it’s like to be a gay man in Ireland.
And we were kind of talking about like, how changemakers isn’t something that you have to be like in the streets and like you’re yelling and like you’re doing this and we found that with a lot of people who were talking to they’re like they would have had like anxiety and other stuff but like they were like maybe on their insulin Under, we’re posting stories about, like different things that were happening around the world. So we just really wanted to take that word like changemakers. To be like, anyone can be that and like, again, you don’t have to have like, this big voice with this big platform of be known by everyone to like, make a change. So that’s what we really went with changemakers.
And I thought, like, it was just really good that we kind of, again, approach academics, actually, this artists in that regard because like, they kind of have like that dilemma, as well. Because I know myself, I with academia, you’re kind of told, like, yeah, if you write a piece five people are gonna read it, that’s about it. But my fear still, I gotta keep contributing to kind of like them, shaping the cultural landscape of Ireland’s, like you’re still making a change in that. So that’s why we kind of came up with our first one. We change makers and then in between, it was a lot of the time last they were kind of talking about how like, the nature of Irishness is changing, and like how like, we’re Gareth now I could be born and bred in Limerick and again, like I would have moved around and then Kerala then limeroad. I’ve been in Limerick now like nine years. So we’re kind of talking about like that in between space especially like even when it comes to something like my accent was like, I can’t tell where you’re from, like it’s African by South African. So we just kind of talked about that like how like that sense of like, belonging, but then we were like, in between like isolation various like identity guarantees in regards to like sexuality, but we were like, Oh, we could just open that up and see how people perceive it. So like with a lot of the pieces we got was again, people moving abroad and not feeling at home where the missing Irishness, like that’s the sense of in between, or again, being reminded of a blackness everyday being reminded of your mixed race identity.
So I think we always really pick themes that are personal to us first, because then we’re able to be like, Okay, if this is personal to me, and this is how I view it, I wonder how someone from Ghana is going to do it, I wonder how someone from this, we always just pick something that’s personal to us. And then but like, opening it up to like, the sense of other people are gonna, like take their own interpretation of it. And it just got to create a sense of something of this being like, it’s a fluid and like, again, like fluid and it’s ever changing notion of like understanding of changemakers or like, in between or identity or Irishness and software that we always like, pick something that’s very broad, but then again, it can relate to anyone, like in Ireland or abroad, because I think we’ve all had these feelings, or had these moments of kind of, like confusion of like, who am I? Where do I belong? And anything like that. So like, that’s where we always kind of go thematically.
Bairbre Flood
Yeah, there was a great breadth of experience with within that second issue, particularly, I mean, the, the artistic eye as well. I mean, you touched on the, you know, anyone can feel in between or, you know, it’s but also I liked was Paula Martinez piece. You know, it’s obviously it’s quite difficult to read that as an Irish person, when you kind of realise how difficult it is, for people here I don’t know, like, as a white Irish person is it’s always good to read pieces from other people who come here and, like face that reality. Like we like to think we’re very welcoming. And then some ways we are, you know, you could argue that whatever, but we don’t often hear about the other side of it. And I think that was a really really good piece really sad piece as an Irish person to read it and go with Jesus. Like it’s terrible that people have those experiences when they come here.
Sandrine Ndahiro
Yeah, and I think like that was why was really important for us because like, with me, and Paola, like, I would know her and I know all her work and like, that’s one of the one thing we talked about, like where when I talk about, like my sense of belonging, it’s always when I was younger, not as an adult like I’ve found my place and Irishness, so like even me like hearing her stories being like, Oh my God, you’re still 26 And you’re still experiencing this I was like, when I talk about is like when I was 1011 up until I went to college then like I was I don’t know maybe it’s because like my accent then I was able to back off from Kerala like how can you make up your from Kerala so that it’s like, Are you one of us? But exactly like with herpes, it’s like, it’s just a constant reminder of how like, even though like, let’s say, you are we are welcoming. And then like, we do have that sense of like, Oh, my friends are for more than that my friends are from Nigeria. Like, we still don’t understand that fresh perspective of someone who’s been here three, four years.
And again, they’re still trying to grapple with the Irish society and then when they’re talking to someone like me who’s like a dual identity and it’s like, also like it does get better but then I’m like, Yeah, by takes years because now I’m 27 and only the last two years since I was 25. I felt like a sense of belonging as I’m kind of like hanging in there. But again, like we shouldn’t have to be like hang in there I’ll get better. So I think like something like that does expose that element of it being like yes, like we are able to see how Ireland has like multicultural as growing as different Heritage’s. But again, like we don’t really ever really take the time to be like, but how are you adjusting and how have people been welcoming?
How have they not like, what can we do? Do more I think like that’s where then like the power of writing comes in because you can’t deny her story and like, there’s no way you can read it and be like, Oh, the ground up like No, no, I wonder her vibe and welcome into someone like, because I remember when I was reading that and like oh, with international students, but she came to Ireland as an international student. Have I been welcoming? Do you know, it’s kind of one of those things where I’m like, Oh, it’s just the Irish humour. It’s just the crap but I’m like, but have I like stopped and really been like, how are you adjusting to this, I think stuff like that.
It’s just, it’s a good way to like humanise how the other especially like when they’re just new into Ireland. And again, they’ve been here she’s done the word like she’s an activist, everything like that. But yet there’s that sense of resistance that takes a long time for people like me, then who’ve come into the country that it’s our whole childhood, until adulthood that we feel that sense of belonging and so coming in as an adult, to Ireland to try to feel that like, it’s a different way. And like, again, it’s just that new ones that we really wanted the magazine to, like, portray how, again, it’s one thing coming to Ireland as a three is different coming into Ireland like 2122 and then trying to feel a sense of Irishness, like what’s the length that you feel it? Like, when do you feel Do you ever feel it? So I think that’s why with the magazine, especially with that in between it was like just even the time frame, it changes from people to people.
Bairbre Flood
Yeah, like the thing I got from as well as that it’s the it’s the visa thing like so even like black Irish person who’s grown up here and has an Irish passport or dual passport. It’s, it’s more it’s like, she has to go for visas constantly. It’s so much more precarious. And so like, I think, do you think a lot of it as well as to do with our immigration system and the way we treat migrants here? And obviously refugees, the system is just so hard and hard to navigate. So bureaucratic, it’s, um, that just leads to not feeling welcome. Like, obviously, because you have to do so much work just to get permission to Yeah, I
Sandrine Ndahiro
think it’s kind of like, whenever I talk to my friends who are like, again, like international students, and stuff like that, it’s like they always say like, they just have a hoops to jump through where it’s like, I’m just trying to go on a holiday. I’m just trying to do this. And like, it’s a constant reminder that you are an other when you have like 20 million steps to take when someone else is like, Oh my God, I didn’t even realise that. Because I remember that would have been the case now when we moved to Ireland, because my dad would have been in Ireland before. So we came to my family reunification. I remember it was like fourth year when we went to a school trip to London, and I had to get like a visa because I hadn’t had my Irish passport by this. And then this again, like it was that sense of like, you have to go to the embassy, you have to do this, you have to do that. I’m like everyone in school is like, why you don’t have an Irish passport. And then you kind of have teachers be like, Oh, this might cause difficulties. And then it’s kind of like, oh, here, thank you for reminding me like that. I’m another and I remember like, that’s something that I always talk about where it’s like, the moment I got my Irish passport, I was like, Okay, now I’m definitely Irish.
Like I don’t have to go through these struggles of going to like the visa office and stuff. But I get like that’s just still like a delusion, because there’s still another way of making me feel like another. So I remember like, even when I was really empowered this piece, and I was talking to her and I was like, you know, once you got our Irish passport, like they’re still going to be something that always remind you that you are another I think like it’s a great fantasy that you’d have been like, Okay, once I get this the no one can question you when I’m coming back from the airport, and I’m joining the Irish line, and I have my passport. But there’s still other elements of it, where it’s like, you don’t fully belong.
Again, like I think I was 16 when I got my Irish passport, and that’s the only password I’ve ever had. Because, again, I would have been like a refugee coming to Ireland and stuff. So it’s like, for me, I was like, Okay, this will be my moment this and then it was like, Oh, there’s another step. There’s another step. So I think like I always tell my friends like when they don’t have an Irish passport. Like, they’ll still do something, they’ll still be something that you will, you’ll be reminded you are another and then so it’s like it’s bureaucratic in that regards that again, there’s that there’s just that sense of us versus them for like a really long time where it’s like, I think you kind of had like as an individual you make peace with that yourself and then you define what Irishness means to you or like what jewellery identity you have, because I just think like society will just always remind you of like, not not because like even in your passport, it still has like your place of birth. So even that itself, it’s like well, you weren’t born here in Ireland, you know, So little things like that.
But again, it’s always just interesting to hear it from different people’s perspective. Because again, I was a child like so I don’t remember like the process of getting an Irish passport like my parents would have done all of that. So now here we get from my friends, but like, oh, it takes years. I’m like, Oh, I’d never thought about that. Because again in my head I’m like, I’ve just always had one. So yeah, it’s like it’s a good perspective to just hear again, like with the whole Full essence so people having it’s been like, okay, the passport will be away from a visa or passport will make me feel Irish but then still being like, No, this is going to be other hurdles. And they’re like, well, you’re kind of trying to like, again, like, figure out your dual citizenship.
Bairbre Flood
Yeah. And that’s the I really liked the title as well. unapologetic. I mean, how did you come to that? title of the magazine?
Sandrine Ndahiro
Yeah, I think it was just it was one of those things like growing up in Ireland have been when the US and Irish I think it was always I always had to apologise for one or the other. So like, where, again, if I felt like, oh, like, that’s where my accent has gone Irish are like Carlo Carlo accent. And then I’m like, Oh, I’m kind of letting down my roadies heritage, because then our home like we’d be speaking Swahili and stuff like that. So I think it was always kind of having to apologise for being bored. And I think when we started the magazine, that was the one thing like I was telling Gareth and the other editors just being like, no, it’s kind of like the sense of like, just not being afraid to be who you are anymore. And not again, like just defining who you are. So like, if I want to be black Irish born to be Rudy’s, I actually want to be Afro Irish.
It’s like, that’s my identity. And again, like, I’m just not going to apologise for it. So like, that’s where then we just really got that sense of unapologetic. And again, Gareth was able to relate to it in a different sense, other people were able to relate to it in a different sense, but for me was just again, just struggling with our sense of being in the in between, and like that liminality on my identity, and always having to apologise for like, I don’t know, not being Irish enough, not being black enough, I’m being like, not I give up, this is where it is now. So I’m just unapologetically just me. And again, it’s like, everyone just has their own definition of like, their identity. And especially like, if you just have a dual identity, it’s like, everyone just has different interpretation of that.
Bairbre Flood
And what is like being like from Rwanda, what does that mean to you now, like, as an as an adult?
Sandrine Ndahiro
so it wasn’t really until like, I became older. And it wasn’t until like I was, in my fourth year of my undergrad that I did, I stumbled upon the class African literature. And we were doing about the role of genocide, but I wasn’t ashamed where it was very, like, I felt very empowered, where I was like, Oh, my God, like, there’s been so many writings about this. And again, like Africans are writing back and they’re reconstructing their own identity, they started to like, really, like resonate with the writing, and I feel really proud. Proud of it. So like, it’s taken me a really long time to like, again, like, identify with Mike my Rwandese side and being like, what is an Irish like, with a sense of pride as, as opposed to be like, Oh, I’m gonna have to explain about my upbringing, everything like that. So like, it’s something that’s always like, evolving and changing. But like now like, I feel like very, very, like proud of it. Yeah. Good. And
Bairbre Flood
did you find like, so any of the writers that stood out to you on that African Literature course?
Sandrine Ndahiro
I think the main person that always sticks out to me is Frantz Fanon. So like with his book and black skin, white mask, where he was just really writing about how black bodies like navigation of whitespace I think like, it’s something that growing up like I never really like, I knew that like Ireland was like, predominantly white. I knew like I face like racist experience, but I never really like thought about it in regards to like, how I navigate or how I take up space and how, like when I go into spaces, where there’s predominantly white people that I’d become quieter, like I’d like, literally go inside my body and everything like that. So like reading that theory, I was like, Oh my God, this was like in the 1960s. I was so so relevant. Now. So like, that’s one thing you and I want to hear is that like I really really like stuck with Mike has just really like helped me like understand again, like just all these like, biases, like again, some of them are just like unconscious biases that are really just in place there.
So it’s kind of like really, how to like navigate the world. But I’m another theorist. It’s like Homi Bhabha, so you write a lot like about stereotypes and like the other like our sense of identity and belonging, so like, anytime, like I do, like creative pieces, or like academic pieces, like Baba and Fernando like the people that I really use, kind of like just even like situate myself and understanding what it means to be wrong. These Irish are like how to again, like, take up space, like an Irish cultural landscape where it hasn’t always been, like forthcoming to like, again, like give space to other voices and like minority voices and stuff like that. So I’ve always again, like just that course like, fourth year, like just change the direction of my life where I was, like, I’ve just talked about on like, that’s where even our my PhD, I’m still using those tears. I’m still, again, like really grounded in my work and the importance of just giving space to like another. Yeah,
Bairbre Flood
brilliant. Yeah. I often think that sometimes it would be a good thing to teach in schools, you know, they could have it as another subject, like a falafel The three subjects that people could take even separate or incorporated into the English curriculum or I don’t know of us.
Sandrine Ndahiro
Yeah, because I just think it makes such a huge difference or like in college now, like, in second year, there’s like a class on theory. So you kind of get introduced the post colonial but like, it’s only one week. So like, you’re not really, as introduced, like you’re not really like, delved into it. But I remember like being like, when I was in fourth year, and I took that class, I was like, I would have benefited so much if this was like, in first year, because then I get like, I would have felt like, more confident in my writing more confident, like, just in my voice.
Because again, like in college, I was the only black person in all my modules. So it was just one of those things where, like classes like that, and even like if they’re sorry, should I like secondary school again, just like in a philosophy, because there’s different writers, especially now like, black Irish writers, like Mulatu, like with this hostel life, and like Emma, who you don’t touch my hair that like if you gave that your kids are such like, a young age, and they’re really exposed to like reading their narratives, or like, again, like things that resonate with them to some degree, it really does, like shaped their identity and shaped their sense of belonging and understanding.
I’m like, it’s always one of those things where, when I finished my PhD and do lecture, I want to, incorporate those stuff from first year onwards, because that’s something that I would have definitely benefited from, like being exposed to just like, other narratives that aren’t just like, white, you know, like, I would have really, really just benefited from that, because I always say like, that’s why this took me such a long time to even like start writing creatively in Ireland, where because I was like, Well, I don’t see anyone who looks like me who’s writing about what it’s like growing up in Kerala with again, like we run these parents and then like, you’re speaking English, but you’re going home or you’re speaking a different language and stuff like that. So like, like things like that do really like make a difference. Just being able to like see yourself like, again, whether in cinema, or like books, or poetry or anything like that. It really does make a difference. And to have just that opportunity to see your story or someone who looks like you tell some elements of it. Yeah.
Bairbre Flood
Yeah. Do you want to read the piece, the piece that you wrote for this?
Sandrine Ndahiro
Wander
Every time I go home to visit my parents my eyes always wander to the family photos consisting of graduation ceremonies, communions, confirmations, and school photos. One photo in particular always stand out to me. It is a baby picture of me in a refugee camp in Tanzania. In that picture I am around two years old. The picture is placed in the middle of our mantel piece. In that photo I am oblivious to the enormity of the situation of being born in a refugee camp. Something that I don’t think I will ever truly grasp. When I look at this picture a million emotions jump at me all at once. Mixed feelings of discomfort, sadness, and an overwhelming sense of pride. The photo acts as something that always keep me grounded as it always reminds me of how far I have come. Whenever I feel lost in life, I always return to this baby picture as it always gives me a sense of clarity and purpose.
I am at a point in my life where I look at this picture and feel happy, but this hasn’t always been the case. There are distinctive moments in my life where I have been reminded of my past upbringing. I remember when I was around 10 years old and moved to Ireland and my classmates started to innocently ask me about my childhood. In particular they would ask about bedtime stories, favourite Disney films and family holidays that were part of my childhood. I would tell them about my upbringing in the refugee camp without understanding the enormity of the situation. I thought this was the norm as my parents at this point had never sat me down and fully explained what it truly meant to be a refugee. I quickly noticed that the moment I uttered the word ‘refugee’ my classmates were somewhat familiar with the phrase as it was a constant stereotype projected onto people from Africa. They equated refugee with Africa. Something that they had learned from their parents and school. Their shocked faces indicated that my childhood was not normal. Immediately once they knew they would treat me differently as I could tell they felt very sorry for me. A feeling that I am still uncomfortable with. It is something that I had never fully thought about until those interactions. I remembered at this young age asking my parents about my past. Especially trying to understand everyone’s pitiful reaction to my upbringing. They tried to explain as much as they could but we didn’t have a proper conversation about it until I was in my early twenties. Of course at that age they could not go into the ins and out of the politics of Rwanda and why I was born in a refugee camp. All I remember was feeling overwhelmed with the idea that I didn’t have a ‘normal’ childhood and that I was born as a displaced person. The feeling of displacement is a feeling that I still struggle with.
When I look at that picture my mind wanders to what life would have been like in the refugee camp. I have read books and watched films about the lived realities of life in a refugee camp. Yet, every time I try imagine what life would have been like growing up in in a refugee camp my mind completely goes blank. It’s as if my mind is protecting me and trying to retain my innocence. When I ask my parents about life in Tanzania, they just describe how I was a happy kid, unbothered by the chaos that was happening around me. I think about how I took my first step in that small tent. It makes me think about all the times I would have wandered around the refugee camp in and out of other people’s tent not knowing any better. My parents tell me how they would stay up wondering if the confine of the tent is all that I would ever know. My mum painfully recalls watching me crawl around the small confines of our small tent unbothered of its size. She found her attention wandering to a million possibilities of how her and my dad would provide a future for me. Would my future be bright or was all that I was going to know is suffering ? They did their best to shield me from any trauma and created a safe space for me. Something that I am forever grateful for.
The story of my upbringing contributes so much to my feeling of liminality when it comes to the idea of belonging. I struggled with the idea of identity as I moved around a lot when I was younger so it was hard to truly feel like I belonged. When I was younger, and someone would ask me ‘Where are you from ?’ I would panic and innocently list out: Tanzania, Rwanda, Kenya, and Carlow. I would associate my identity with all the places that I have lived without fully understanding the complexity and nuances of nationality and citizenship. The older I got that picture acted as a tool that would taunt me and remind me of how I belonged in an in-between space. The in-between space was a place where I didn’t feel Rwandese and where I was trying to construct me new Irish identity. I would feel Irish in school then come home and be confronted with the picture that would remind me about my past. I didn’t understand that it was possible to have a dual identity. I was trying to construct my new Irish identity that I hoped would pave way me for me to have a better sense of belonging. I had hoped that the moment I received my Irish passport which is the first and only passport I have ever had would mean that I was able to look at that baby picture and not be reminded that I don’t belong. Instead, when I received the passport, I felt more confused about my identity. I had yet grasped the idea of existing and having a dual identity.
It wasn’t until 2020 when I started working on creative projects concerning identity and the fluidity of Irishness did I start to feel like I belonged. The in-between was a space that I now confidently occupied and took up space. Now when I returned home and my eyes would wander to the baby picture I no longer felt a mixture of emotions. Instead, I felt one strong emotion. I solely felt pride. I was proud of how far I have come. I am amazed that young baby in the picture has accomplished things beyond anyone wildest dreams. I have accomplished things that I never knew were accessible to someone like me. Every time I look at the picture, I am no longer ashamed of my past. I understand how all these moments shaped the person that I am today. My past has helped my quest in humanising the ‘Other’ and creative outlets where voices on the fringe of society feel seen and heard.
Bairbre Flood
How important is for you, as a writer and an activist as activism as reflected in writing? How important is that for you personally?
Sandrine Ndahiro
Yeah, I think really until like 2020, I never really thought about like activism and writing could go together. Like, again, I think like whenever I thought of activism, like I think of like, you know, the civil rights movements and, like BLM in America, but like, it hadn’t really been a thing in Ireland until 2020. And so like, I’d always put them to very, very separate and like, even with writing, it was like that sense of like, where I do academic writing, I’m trying to do creative, it’s even just trying to find like that appropriate line of being like when do I bring in theory and stuff like that. But then when 2020 happen and I started writing about the racism I’ve experienced in Ireland, it’s it took like, I really wanted to ground my experience and theory I think that’s where like then the activism came in where I was able to look at like different theories like I mentioned earlier, like fans of unarmed black skin white mask and be like, okay, he’s talking about it like after colonialism by still so relevant here. And by me writing this, this is a form of activism because again, it’s amusing my voice. And I think that that’s where Like, it really became important to show people like their different modes of activism where again, it isn’t doing like social media, like, I’m not really big into like social media campaigns, like, that’s just not my thing. But like, for me, I’ve always been like, I’m a nerd. So like, writing is just my outlet. And I never thought that before like that writing would again, like let me become an activist and use my voice there and like, will use theory to ground my experience, and then again, be able to tap in and out of academic writing and creative writing.
So I think it’s really like that for like, anyone who’s like, really, really passionate about something. But like, again, they feel like maybe like doing something like grand like protests. And that’s just not my thing. But like, Oh, I love creative writing, or like, I’m an academic, but then I’m also like an activist, how do I like you can still exist, like in that sense. And I think that, again, just being really comfortable in that and being like, in a place where people actually did want, like, we’re reaching out to be like, please write a piece about this. It was like, I was very, like, privileged in that sense, where people were like, Oh, we actually want to hear, again, from like, an Irish person.
But from like, this other perspective that isn’t in mainstream media, and again, by just writing that, like I was using, like an activist voice, but then also like academic and personal. So like, all three things like we’re coming in, and coming in at once, but I got like, I wasn’t being like, Okay, I’m just going to like write solely an activist or solely as a, as an academic or solely as a creative, I was able to be like, well, this is me. And I like delving, dipping in and out of all of these things. And I’ve been really lucky that any place that I go, like even academic places that I’ve asked me to, like write books, papers are still let me write it in an activist and creative way, and just bringing academia into it in and out of it. But like, again, they’ve just really given me the control of below, we understand your later like, right from different perspectives, or like, you have the room there.
I know that it’s only like my generation out or like, we’re really, like privileged in that sense, like where people really do. But people which are genuine really do want to hear our voice. But again, it’s going to be really, really beneficial to the younger generations. And they’re going to like grow up in a sense where I get like, they can go into like creative outlets and be like, Wait, why do you not have a perspective from someone and direct provision of indirect provision I want to write about us, like, they’ll just take up that space without asking permission. That’s something that like we’ve had to ask.
And again, we’ve had to like really, like, be like, Hi, we’re here, like, we’ve been here, like we’ve been writing, we’ve been doing creative work. We’ve just haven’t been given that platform. But I really think that the next generation, like they will know that like, oh, I exist in a dual identity. I want to write about this, or I want to produce a movie film about this. I want to do an artwork about this, that it’s like, just take up that space without again demanding for it.
