In these pages, you will find Honi’s feature on the USyd Gaza solidarity encampment. After four weeks, the encampment has grown to over 90 tents and represents a united front across multiple factions who are all uniting to participate in the struggle for a free Palestine, and the moral reckoning of our time.
Browsing: editorial
Central to the edition is the ongoing Gaza Solidarity Encampment. Although it may be passed absent-mindedly on your way to Courtyard — a historical reckoning of our time is sprawling over our previously, perfectly manicured Quad lawns.
Although I no longer believe in what it represents, I still pass that neon blue cross every morning and night. When it was first installed, all I could do was stop and stare. I hope that you have the same feeling — a mixture of blind awe, fury and grace — as you explore the brilliant work of each writer and artist who has contributed to this edition.
I wonder who is reading this right now. For history assignments, students like myself comb through real/digitised sheets of newspapers and periodicals. I wonder if this will one day be done to this paper. I hope students today and tomorrow find a sense of intimacy when reading these pages — in the familiar settings, feelings and issues. Our lives are worth literary attention.
In a panic to think of prompts for Honi reporters for this edition, I suggested Cliques, Chairs, and Chancellors as points of inspiration – the trifecta which governs one’s experience at the university. Cliques are immaterial but ubiquitous. Cliques are contagious.
The mythology underpinning modern Australia is as vast as our continent; incorporating various influences through a contested, often violent and surprisingly turbulent history. From the burnt orange sands of the red centre to the wiry brown grass of the northern savannahs; from Queensland’s blacksoil plains to the diverse hubbub of Sydney and its turquoise harbour — the stories we tell ourselves about ourselves are unendingly interesting and intensely complex.
Born from the ink of Palestinian cartoonist Naji al-Ali in 1969, is Handala, a faceless figure, back turned and hands tied, as consolidated in 1973. By depicting a 10-year-old Palestinian child who doesn’t grow up, al-Ali uses art to represent how the world — including the Arab world — has turned its back to Palestinian dispossession and deprivation of basic human rights.
Honi: Beware the Ides of March. Beware wage theft. Beware the police at Mardi Gras. Beware the healthcare system. Beware what lies underneath. Beware faux-feminism in literature. Beware stupid white bastards.
I hope this little community that Honi has created stays with you in some small way, wherever you go and wherever you may end up.
CW: Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander readers are advised that the following content may contain images and stories of people…
