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nOir By Farai Brodersen 3
CONTENTS
THE IMAGINARY GARDEN p. 8
VULNERABLE p. 42
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HOME p. 58
WITH LOVE, GRACE p. 128
FIGHTER p. 98
OUT OF THIS WORLD p. 78
THE MIDNIGHT WESTERN p. 110
DON'T TOUCH MY HOUR p. 170
MISS PANTHER p. 152
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AUTHOR'S LETTER The new normal, oh how beautiful today is Mask upon mask. Peering curious eyes falls between the curiosity of the united world. No one’s exempt. A shared human experience that bonds but separates the stratosphere in many ways. Stay vigilant they say. Proceed with caution they emphasise. All words that crush us, when all we want is embracing comfort with our loved ones. What keeps me going? What keeps me sane? The sheer beauty of Mother Nature. The one reliable thing in this desperate time of need. She shows up in the most incredible ways. She is there for us to lean on. Oh, what a beautiful day it is. How Calm and soothing the wind yearns to be. Summers gone. Autumns creeping in. The sun still shines occasionally reaching my delicate skin. Oh, how the sun makes everything feel better. Its radiating light seeps into the pores of my skin. Setting my being alight and awakening the soul from within. Please don’t leave. In a world full of uncertain coldness, you’re the warmth that we need. As the tree leaves fall and swift peacefully, my mind rests into oblivion. With hope, I feel. 2020 what a year you have been. A year full chaos and confusion. A year clouded with uncertainty. Oh, how I crave normality again. Amongst the disruption, the world stands still as I look into the clear blue sky. Stillness feels relaxing amongst the raving madness. The singing birds in the background give me joy. They seem alright. From day to night. I’m grateful for another day. Blessed, to say the least. People losing loved ones senselessly. Snaps my psyche back into existence. How precious life is. Embrace the new normal. Accept it. We are still alive. Life comes in many forms. Let your mind flow freely amongst the breezy wind. Oh, how beautiful today is.
In light of the problematic previous year the world has had dealing with both a health and racial pandemic, one thing the tragic events showed us is when humans come together, they really stick together. The pandemic has shown us unity and solidarity no matter where we come from. After all, we are all human. We have been taught to look out for our neighbour, to emphasise and to listen. 2020 sparked a vast societal change, only time well what that will be. With that said, welcome to Noir, an unworldly experience of the black women. The celebration of their unique existence. The understanding of their complex journey, expect to see the black woman as a beautiful multi-layered being.
With love Farai Brodersen.
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the imaginary garden
The imaginary garden is about the black female represented in a world whereby she is deemed beautiful, poised and elegant. The story aims to break down the negative stereotypes attached to the black female by placing them in a narrative whereby they experience the joy of a fairytale-like world where they get to be the princess. Editorial inspired by 1997 adaptation of the legendary tale Cinderella. The film was groundbreaking upon its release because it featured a vibrant cast, and black girls finally got the chance to see themselves reflected on the TV screen. Growing up, I never felt like I was good enough or pretty enough because I never saw people who looked liked me represented in fairytales. Many black girls around the world feel the same. They want to have somebody to aspire to and reflect the same characteristics and features as them. The Imaginary Garden aims to celebrate the black girl in all their beauty and give them their happily ever after. 8
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Your blacknes is a blessing.
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Be proud of the richness of your skin the texture of your hair the curves of your body.
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The future is yours grab it with both hands.
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Everything you’ve ever wanted is on the other side of fear.
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vulnerable
A concept that centres around the black female experience in terms of their vulnerability and femininity. The concept will explore the complex nature of their womanhood and the uphill battle towards adopting an authentic identity. Black women in mainstream media do not get the luxury of being fragile, raw and delicate. This concept will shed black women in this light.
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Vulnerability is not weakness.
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Our life is shaped by our mind; we become what we think. Joy follows a pure thought like a shadow that never leaves.
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Take each day as it comes.
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home
“Home” is inspired by my mother’s strength, resilience and beauty. Home is about placing a different lived experience in an unfamiliar world much like my mother’s journey of relocating to the UK from Zimbabwe, aged 18. Editorial is a about her experience in a new place she now calls home. A place she needs to physically adpat her being in order to fit in. Home is wherever you want it to be. Styling themes of the shoot represent the roots of British heritage clothing. The model of the shoot is my younger sister who is my mum’s twin.
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To my daughters, My sweet, beautiful daughters. I want you to know you are loved. Your colour isn’t a crime, I promise. I write this account of my journey as a woman of colour. This, I hope, will help you to understand my struggles as a black woman. But to help you grow and fight for what is right. As mentioned earlier, your colour isn’t a crime. Your blackness is a badge of honour. A powerful resistance nothing can break through. Remember that. There are obstacles you may have to overcome, but with my guidance and wisdom. You will be ready for whatever life throws at you. Good or bad.
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Thirty years ago, eighteen years of age, naive to the world. I packed a bag and left Zimbabwe for the UK. Eager for a fresh perspective on life. I was scared but ready. My home, although beautiful, had its rooted flaws. Waiting to spill from beneath the cracks any chance it got. In my home country, white was the minority, but supremacy was well and truly alive. Whiteness had a way of trickling deep into our society. Controlling the narrative of our lives. Reducing us down to anomalies. But fight, we sure did. Our own people, the “freedom fighters”, had fought endlessly for our human rights, were whittled down to “terrorists” by the white leaders oppressing us. Unbeknown to the young, innocent mind, we feared the liberators because of the lies fed to us through political propaganda. The white leaders wanted to break us down. All we wanted was freedom. The chance to live where we wanted, go to school where we wanted, and buy housing where we wanted. But that was too much to ask for.
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Not only were we controlled, but we were made to believe we weren’t worthy enough. That we lacked contribution to the world. I tell you this for you to understand your value. You are worthy, I promise. Nobody can tell you otherwise. Believe me on that. Our education was inherently compromised, designed for us to fail. Every exam came from Cambridge University in the UK, its syllabus challenging beyond belief. We were not equipped. Exams were required to enter High school, failure resulted in not being admitted. Which doesn’t leave many opportunities for those less fortunate. The education system was not strong enough to allow our people to thrive. Opportunities continued to fade away from existence. I panicked. O-levels came around faster than I could say, boo. There was so much built-up pressure to get it right. Failing them three times resulted in being kicked out of school without a second thought. Black children who failed were left with menial jobs. I wanted better for myself and my future. Failure was not an option. My mother, your grandmother, built me as strong as iron.
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Sat on a plane to the UK. I was ready but scared. I wondered how my blackness would hinder my chances in a white-dominated society. Would I struggle? Would they like me? Would I be alone? All I wanted was to study. The thing is, my perception of white people was built on fear back home. They were the enemy. I was fed the narrative a good life with opportunity could only be built in the west. So off I went.
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I finally arrived. I did not expect white people to speak to me, let alone look at me. Back home white people dehumanised us, treated us like dirt. We experienced verbal and non-verbal abuse. Black and whites operated separately and did not mix. Here in the UK, racism took form differently. Silently, hidden beneath the surface. It snuck up on you when you least suspected it like a ghost waiting to scare you. People smiled in your face but secretly wondered why you were there. That I could tolerate although it was wrong. It hurt deeply, apart of me preferred the overt racism back home. At least I knew where I stood. But here, it was a different story. Nevertheless, my goal was finishing university for a better life.
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Three years later, I graduate. Now a fully qualified nurse. Beginning my life as a fully functioning adult. I love my job despite the racial hurdles I have to dodge. I am thinking of my future, a better life for the family I would like to have. To create opportunity and a loving home. Things may be different ten years down the line; you may not have to face what I’ve faced. Or struggle the way I have. Times move forward, they getter better, I hope. I have faith you will be protected and nurtured for as long as I’ll shall breathe. Yours sincerely Mum
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out of this world
Out Of This World is about a world where black women are accustomed to limitless opportunity. A chance for their future’s to be bright and optimistic. A world that no longer continues to oppress them or marginalise them in a way that hinders their success. The shoot was inspired by the 1982 classic film E.T the Extra-Terrestrial, whereby the model is an unworldly figure found amongst a utopian world where they can be anything they wish to be. There are no restrictions to what they can achieve. 78
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Everything in the universe has a rhythm. The essence of my being has no limits.
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You are out of this world.
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There is no place for the past in the realm of the future.
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A force to be reckoned with. 94
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fighter
Fiesty INSPIRING GLORIOUS HEROIC TANTALISING ELRCTRIC REBELLIOS 98
There is a considerable gap between a black female in the anime and comic world. The shoot “fighter” is inspired by protagonist Michiko Malandro in the anime show Michiko to Hatchin. Whereby the black woman is portrayed as a badass, multidimensional character with so much to offer. Through their power and toughness, their unique beauty shines through, making them a boundless entity.
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the midnight western
The book Noir explores various narratives of black women, many narratives we are not privy to. To my surprise, I came across an interesting article that revealed that the image of the American cowboy we are exposed to through western movies was not accurately representing an authentic narrative. One in four black people during the 19th century were cowboys, so why isn’t this represented in popular culture. The black cowboys built the wild west because of their strength and how they worked on the farm ranges regularly. These findings inspired the series the midnight western. The midnight western represents the black cowboys not being seen or heard but emerging from within the shadows whilst hiding in plain sight. This notion will reflect their invisibility from society whilst highlighting their mysteriousness because of it.
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Blackness Blackness a colour so dark and hallow Leaves a mysterious question mark to the naked eye What lies beyond my presence? Who am I? Why am I here? Its blank void stimulates curiosity. In ways, I knew why The exterior of my being
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A hindrance to my life God, I didn’t choose this journey. I wonder what it would feel like. To be invisible Drifting like smoke peacefully Blissfully like stardust I feel like a shadow amongst brightness. Killing a sweet sunny day. Black is the colour people fear. Empty beyond belief I’m led to believe my existence. Is void of any love. A colour so bold it masks over anything. So why do I feel so cold? I wake up still black No amount of clear water Will wash my blackness away Hoping to leave my home Receiving no flack Wondering what the day lies ahead. A passerby spotting me from an endless distance The deep tones of my exterior cannot be hidden. No amount of layering Can hide me, shield my blackness Far far away. My blackness I presumed Would acts as an immense shield Protecting me at all costs Instead, it’s dark exterior. Is Bolder than life. My colour still, on show The first thing they see Beyond the interior of my humanity I laugh, cry and love just like you. I want to be seen and heard just like you. Simply walking and merely existing. I have so much to bring Is my being simply too much to ask for?
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Today, forever I speak so loudly. A fire inside me wanting to burst out Earth shattering defiance No justice, No peace I’ve finally had enough. Our blackness, not a crime An everlasting death sentence Waiting on trial upon trial. My almighty colour as robust as can be Limitless with heaps of potential Ready to conquer the world Our voices, no longer stifled I promise you that. Change is close, yet so far Centuries of fight God we are tired. Please hear us Understand the pain of our past We can no longer fight this A sentence too long What did I do to deserve this? Existing like others alike Our minority made to feel menial Irrelevant to the world Day and night goes by But nothing changes. Silently, hidden beneath the surface. It sneaks up on you when you least suspect it. Like a ghost waiting to scare you. People smiling in your face But secretly wondering why you are there. I feel like an imposter Killing parts of my actuality Hiding truly who I am Out of fear and worry I put a mask on day in day out. Hoping to get by
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Dodging the blue, red and white sirens Fearing for my life. Death looming over like judgement day is near. Life isn’t fair, I really wonder why? The utterance of my mother Clouds the cells of my brain A humble reminder gets me by Day by day To my daughter, My sweet, beautiful daughter Your colour is not a crime. But simply… A badge of honour. A powerful barricade nothing can breakthrough. My mother as strong as Iron Armoured me to cope She knew what lays ahead What experience I would absorb and feel Much like a sponge Waiting to be squeezed. A sense of relief I yearn for.
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with love, grace
The iconic Grace Jones magnetic persona inspires this story. The shoot will explore futuristic, nostalgic 80s themes and styles whereby the black woman is flamboyant, free, fun, and quirky.
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Embrace everything that makes you unique.
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Let your light shine amongst the darkness.
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Be a rainbow in someone else’s cloud. 139
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Always stay true to yourself.
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The essence of my being has no limits.
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miss panther
The shoot Miss Masculinity is inspired by the black panther movement of the 60s, whereby black people were fighting the racial injustices of the world. The shoot reflects the confidence, power and force of the women at the forefront of the movement. Editorial explores what appears to be a bulletproof nature on the outside through masculine silhouettes and themes. Expect to see experimental contrasted tailoring, reflecting the black female in A robust, secure light.
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Layers I hurt I cry sometimes The inside flows like liquid Liquid you could pour freely I want hugs Sometimes. To be held so tightly I sink into the ground As soft as a cushion You could lie on I no longer want to be strong, armoured like iron Unbreakable beyond belief I want to feel fragile, delicate Floating through the air in all its femininity A flower that sits poised, admired by peering eyes
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To be in a dream-like state of feeling free, Dipping my toes into a blissful alternative reality As light as a feather, drifting through life without a care in the world You are strong, they say As solid as cement Take it on the chin Your wired that way No..... I want to be as fragile as glass sometimes So delicate, I shatter into a million pieces
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Life isn’t fair Why do I have to hold it in? You see, I’m human, just like you A human multilayered with emotion From sad, to happy, to angry I come in layers Layers that you could peel Revealing my deepest darkest secrets I’m not the angry, strong black woman You make me out to be God, how many times have I heard that before You see, it hurts Your sharp words They cut through me like a knife Piercing my soul So deep I am forever damaged
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I want to be vulnerable. Pure beyond belief My emotions spilling out of me Like a rushing waterfall Releasing the weight of the world off my shoulders
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You see, I am human. Just like you Our skin colour separates us But our red blood runs the same We all have a heart To make us compassionate A brain. To make us understand My experience My livelihood I may be black but I still am layered. 168
don't touch my hair
For many years, black women have felt the need to hide their beautiful, unique hair to avoid prejudice; however, a new natural hair movement has encouraged us, black women, to embrace its authentic beauty. Don’t Touch My Hair explores the relationship black women have with thier hair.
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To my younger self… With love FRO 10 years ago, … 13 years of age, little did I know The significance of the FRO. Conformity please, my subconscious mind uttered Growing up, I hated you. Wishing you weren’t mine Why isn’t it straight, shiny, and glossy? Like those other girls with porcelain skin. Why does it stick up as high as Mount Everest? Why doesn’t it move smoothly against the airy wind? Its stubborn distinctive curl pattern has a mind of its OWN A young girl in a world I thought I knew Rife with racism on things I cannot change My hair is one of them. An identity of self expression Oh, how I wish I knew how wonderful you were. Curious eyes peer, wondering what blooms from the depths of my scalp. Intrigued by its outward nature Much like a tree Standing tall against the world Proud to say the least Of this beauty, I wish I knew was mine. Can I touch the world utters? No, you cannot My hair is hair just like yours. Look at the damage you’ve done. A part of me I should not change. Sodium peroxide running through my veins Frying the existence that makes me ME Oh, whiteness, I felt pressured to conform to you. To feel love and accepted By you. With that, I denied my blackness. Told it to go away Hoping to be embraced by you. My hair in a state of recovery With relapse so afar Bye bye poison You will not be missed Destroying the delicate, dainty curl I thought I knew. With the hope of a straight lifeless existence God… You’re merely a ghost of the future’s past Floating away into the depths of unconsciousness Forever, never to be seen again.
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10 years later... 23 years of age My hair blossoms in beauty like the month beautiful month Spring Full of life and energy Thirsty for acceptance Amongst a new world Full of optimism and hope. Day and night, it flourishes Through the ugliness of this world. Persevering with courage and resilience Its gutsiness can withstand anything. Season after season, my FRO stands tall. Much like you and me Our blood and veins run the same. With the simple difference of hair texture Pulling us apart
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My hair full of character A forever evolving evolution in many ways Reacting to the natural gravitas of earth With rain, my bouncy curl Shrinks into a comfort ball. I could hug endlessly, until I slip away. With sun, the radiation stimulates the curly coil Giving it a new lease of life. With wind, the almighty FRO Resits movement, cementing its colossal power. My hair feels like a cushioned springboard. A trampoline you could jump from earth to mars. Floating in the realms of space Waiting to be brought back to reality. I am forever grateful for The memories that you provide. The internal bond built The experience I shall cherish. Sat in a chair for all of eternity From hair strand to hair strand
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Coil to coil. I feel your delicate touch Through your poised hands Relishing in that uniqueness that becomes of my hair. From braids to twists to cornrows to FRO Whatever it may be I am thankful for the bond. Built by commonality Glued together Our FRO brings us together. To swim in, nurture, and grow To water like a plant Yearning to thrive To live life to the fullest Brave beyond belief. Against all odds We together understand community Built upon decades of brutal oppression We fight, and we fight Singing, laughing, chatting away Whilst I sink blissfully in the comfort of that chair. Grandmother, Mother, Aunt We relish in this experience that binds us together. As sticky as glue The journey of your hands traveling through my hair Bringing the existence of my FRO alive Proud to say
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Something, I I now
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now call call
mine mine.
acknOwledgementS Creative Director/ Stylist Farai Brodersen Photographer Kwame Dapaa
Models Nomonde Bhebe- Mkandla Paris Rose Mariana Jaguite Kira Hinds
Make-up Artist Nyasha Brodersen Retoucher Adam Lupton
Tiannah Chisanga Mwila D’Mitri
Assistants Megan Jones , Nomonde Bhebe- Mkandla and Kintija Sluka
Samara Laboriel
Designers Stephanie Uhart Sarah Elizabeth Curran Gisele He Charlie McCosker Ellie Misner Fennual Butterfield Rebecca Caolum MacCaba 182
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Black is Beautiful With Love. Farai 184