Running along the South Bank in London a few years ago, I caught and passed a male runner. He shouted “bitch!” at me as I ran past and tried to sprint to keep up. I can be hot-headed and so while I primarily felt angry and astonished, it was also frightening. It’s not in my nature to care too much about what other runners around me are doing because the primary person I’m interested in…
You loser. You: loser. And me. Last summer, the English football team did well in the World Cup in Russia and a lot of people in this country were elated and surprised in equal parts. It was a lot of fun, even as someone who was raised on a steady diet of All Blacks rugby: the weather was hot, the theme song was catchy and England was winning. And then this advertisement surfaced, shared repeatedly…
In the haze that rises off Manukau Harbour, the hills stretching beyond West Auckland are known for little but their leafy suburbs and relative inaccessibility from the city by public transport. After homes at the end of Titirangi’s evergreen crescents give way to bush, Auckland’s city limits are thought to come to an end, but once the sharp, clean asphalt has surrendered to trails, there begins a trek through the ranges that has become synonymous…