Entry into McDonald’s: sleek glass sliding doors framed by stacked stone walls—the modernist’s indoor-outdoor flow, with the rigidity of austere corporate Bauhaus; and within: strict regimentation of monochrome tables … More Fascist Nostalgia, Libertarian Disaffect: McDonald’s as Everything and Nothing
Born into colonial Aotearoa, I had no right to my heritage. It had been defined three hundred years ago, by an expert panel of British imperialists, who’d divided the world by civility and barbarism. Socialised white, the mock of genetics wrote itself on my skin. At age six, the kids at school climbed the fence … More This lack is not my own.