‘Every time I get your newsletter, I know it is Friday!’- SJ + AD
‘Your brain should be in a museum’ -FK
‘Holy f**k, your writing/mind’ - AD
I’m Hima, and this is my living journal! According to my healer, I was a seer in my past life, which essentially means that I see for a living.
And so, I write about what I see - in my inner space of existence, the political and social imaginary we collectively occupy, the inexplainable odd, wonderful, and mundane nature of humanness, and the seeds of futurity that are present in the periphery. I write about what I see, and then I try to find the humor in it all because life is mostly absurd.
I have a bit of a foolish obsession with getting to the ‘root’ of a matter and holding the complexity of our reality to arrive at richly woven simplicities. At all times, my energy is somewhere in-between #fuckthesystem, #itsalljustforfun #croissantsarelife, and #Icantgetup.
My main concern is justice and collective liberation, because, um, obviously. This sounds and is serious because, in the end, I want us to all have the grace to #livespaciously as ourselves with each other, have the space to experience the mouthwatering magic and freedom of being, and get back to FUN. MORE FUN!
A short bio
I am a writer, performance artist, curator/producer of experiences and conversations, and community organizer growing in the practice of abolition. As an artist, I am dedicated to an emergent creative process as a form of play and surrender, the spiritual growth within co-creation, and mediums to transform grief and rage.
In addition to writing this journal, I am:
Curating a series of audio meditations on possible futures of Toronto, imagined by artists called Desire Paths, produced by Luminato and foresight studio, FromLater. I am biased, but each piece is so rich with possibility. This project has been a dream.
Co-producing a series of abolition murals with Toronto Prisoners Rights Project as part of ArtWorxTO through a community decision-making process in four corners of the city.
In previous lives, I worked in global health across India and Africa with agencies such as the Clinton Health Access Initiative and the UN Foundation, read and wrote many academic papers, co-founded a non-profit organization called Reset that produced an annual tech-free festival for adults to practice play, presence, meaningful connection, and equity and took this design philosophy into other spaces, experiences, festivals, and conferences.
My north star is to be. To see, live, and breath beneath the surface. Heal intergenerational trauma and rewrite the story of who I am and who we are.
All while having a really good time.
I am a South Asian, medium brown skin, cis-gender, able-bodied, straight woman living as a settler on the Indigenous lands, T’karonto. I was born in Scarborough, raised Gujarati-Jain, middle-class, with English as my first language. My father is an accountant and my mother was a domestic engineer but ran a flower shop and side gift basket business for some years. My parents immigrated by choice via London and East Africa and are still together. I have two sisters and no extended family living locally. I experience ADHD symptoms. Much of what I write is informed by some of these lived experiences.
What to expect
Afternoon Dreams arrives every Friday in your inbox. Journal entries vary in form, and I like to experiment with essays, stories, poetry, imagery, lists. You can expect me to reference the end of white supremacy, capitalism, patriarchy, and colonialism in some capacity in almost every post because I believe we write the future into being, and that is the future I want for all of us.
I share links to conversations and experiences I am hosting, and occasionally, I share links of artists and work I am vibing with, articles and resources to encourage political awakening and analysis, and other things on the Internet that are truly delightful.
My DMs are open
Feel free to write me if something resonates with you. If I deeply offend you. Or if I am totally off-base. I’m here for love, feedback, and dialogue. Unless you cross my boundary, in which case, I will not respond.
Thank you for being here. I hope I elevate and bring care to the time you give this space.