Hello! There are quite a lot of new subscribers between this edition of Ginkgo Leaves and the last, so welcome! Just a quick note to say you can read more about the project and its format here.
I recently read an interview with designer Phoebe Philo in the New York Times. Seven years ago, Philo suddenly left the fashion industry without an explanation. This moment stood out:
“There may have been an expectation that I could have provided everything to everyone immediately,” she finally said. “And that’s just not possible. It takes time and effort to make most things that have meaning. One has to stand for something.”
These lines resonated with me (although obviously, our situations and industries are very different and I am certainly not as chic as Philo is). In the days, weeks and months since gal-dem closed, I’ve been asked if I’d be interested in setting up another similar publication. Gosh, I thought, her body isn’t even cold yet! Let her rest in peace! Was I referring to gal-dem or myself? Maybe both?
gal-dem closed one year ago this week. I’ve resisted doing many interviews about it, and I’ve felt deep trepidation and discomfort around those that I have done—partly because it still feels too fresh in some ways, and partly because I’ve wanted to speak and write about it on my own terms and in my own words.
My first interaction with gal-dem was via Facebook in 2015. It was an era when everything was organised online and sporadically, ideas for articles came from cackle-worthy comment threads, and the first print magazine was proof-read while huddled over mismatched mugs of tea at Peckham Pelican. There was a scrappy spontaneity to everything, the prevailing attitude of not sure how this is going to work but we’re going to make it happen anyway! And we did.
It’s no exaggeration to say that the connections and community that gal-dem created shaped careers, friendships, and lives. I include myself within that. gal-dem offered something unique: a space to tell our stories authentically, with autonomy and with a sense of humour within an industry that all too often flattened or quietened the perspectives of people of colour from marginalised genders.
I feel so much gratitude for everything that gal-dem was and is. The overwhelming outpouring of love for the project moved all of us so deeply after the closure. To read the anecdotes and the memories of those who had been involved, whether that was in the early days or more recently, and how the platform changed the trajectories of their career, was truly beautiful. To see people reshare their favourite stories from the archives, and how they still hit years later, was so gratifying. To see one of the first commissioning emails that I wrote to Nicole Chui about an illustration in 2016 made me cry. Even after 12 months, I have not been able to properly sit down and read all the kind and supportive comments on my Instagram post about it.
At the same time, I feel the need to be honest here about some of my frustrations and disappointments. The months leading up to the closure were frankly, a shit and traumatic time for everyone involved. There are many things that I wish I had done, and that I wish had been done, differently. I was grateful to have a strong support network that helped me get through it, but I don’t think I was quite prepared for the aftermath of the closure — both in trying to make sense of what had just happened but also the response to it.
I was left speechless by some reactions and interactions. I scrolled through the public tweets of established figures in British media offering eulogies for gal-dem’s demise and support for its contributors, which never materialised when actually followed up on. Such is the grandstanding and patronising nature of the mainstream British media class—still undervaluing gal-dem and its contributors, even after the project’s end.
I created an email folder called ‘gal-dem vultures’, where I filed messages that felt gleefully opportunistic and somewhat vampiric just hours after the announcement. I quickly learned how to discern when people were asking me how I was out of genuine, authentic concern and care, and when it was more out of an unabashed curiosity to get straight into the ‘gossip’. Of course, I understood this desire to know—but coming immediately after the redundancies of the entire team and myself, and the loss of a project that was so meaningful for so many people, my answers to these questions caught in my throat.
I realise all of this may make me sound rather cynical and bitter. I have to admit, the whole experience has hardened me somewhat. In speaking with a dear friend shortly after, I said I wasn’t sure if I’d ever get over it. That’s ok, they said gently, having seen me at every stage of this menty b, snotty cries and all. Maybe it’s not a thing you have to get over, and that’s ok.
In one of my first classes at City in autumn 2023, a student asked me if I thought there was still a space to tell the kind of stories that gal-dem told, now that the publication was no longer. I felt my chest constrict a little, thinking of all the lost possibilities. There have been so many times, particularly over the last six months, when I have thought, ah, that would make a great gal-dem story. I know others have thought the same.
It’s true, media is in a dire state right now. I don’t think anyone has the answers as to what the future is going to look like—despite the many false prophets out there who do proclaim to know what we’re all meant to be pivoting to next.
But I don’t think the ending of gal-dem is an excuse to let these stories languish, forgotten and passed over. In fact, it is a clarion call to the very opposite—its mission rendered even more urgent now without its existence. The responsibility to continue that mission lies with all of us who still care (which, I suspect, is a great many people).
For some, that may look like setting up a new venture, or bringing a new idea to fruition (in a way, this very newsletter, and
are manifestations of this, and both have taken time and deep consideration). For others, that may look like enacting change within their publication or organisation. And for others, it may look like something outside the realm of journalism and media altogether, yet infused with the gal-dem spirit: that of tenacity, ambition, and sheer bloody-minded grit to just make it happen, whatever ‘it’ might be.There is so much that could, and should, be written about gal-dem’s history, and the triumphs, mistakes and challenges in building and sustaining such a project at this precarious time for media. I hope that one day, perhaps with some more distance, that that oral history will be recorded for future generations, both as a space to be inspired by gal-dem’s successes, but to also learn from its shortcomings.
I know I felt the expectation to provide everything to everyone immediately, particularly during the closure and in the aftermath. But, as Phoebe Philo says, that’s just not possible. Instead, I have spent the last year trying to figure out what it is that truly gives me meaning and fulfilment. This process of becoming takes time. Slowly, but surely, I think I am getting there.
Three Leaves
You may have seen the devastating news and images emerging in recent days from Al Shifa hospital in Gaza, where there are no functioning hospitals left. Last week, it was a complete honour and deeply moving experience to be in conversation with award-winning surgeon Dr Ghassan Abu Sittah, hosted by Amnesty International. Ghassan spoke to a full house about his experiences of working at Al-Ahli and Al-Shifa hospitals in Gaza in October and November 2023. Even when asked about his own process of coping with trauma, Ghassan’s answers always returned to the bravery of his colleagues and the responsibility he feels to his patients. The conversation was recorded and will be available to view via Amnesty’s website and social channels in the coming weeks. Ghassan will also be taking part in this online talk with Makan on Thursday, on 'Reframing Normal: Disability, Dehumanisation, and Solidarity with Palestine'—more info and registration here.
On the theme of bringing new ideas to fruition, I’m so proud to have launched fragments— a new collaboration between
and myself exploring sibling loss and grief in all its forms. We have been totally overwhelmed by the support for the project, and we are so looking forward to seeing it blossom and grow in all kinds of unexpected ways. Thank you for your lovely responses <3I’ve been in a bit of a reading rut lately, but just started a new novel that’s reeled me back in. Butter by Asako Yuzuki (tr. Polly Barton) is about the uneasy relationship between a chef accused of multiple murders, and a journalist who becomes fascinated with her case. It’s devilish and brilliant.
And updates from me
I loved hosting Asian Tones’ event a couple of weeks ago to celebrate International Women’s Month — check out some clips from the multitalented, multigenre icon Princess Xixi’s set here.
Some of you will know that I did some work last year with the Migration Museum on their new exhibition, Heart of the Nation: Migration and the Making of the NHS. My mum’s story is also featured in the exhibition, which came home to Lewisham shopping centre last month after a multi-city tour around the UK—I’m so proud of her! The exhibition is on until the end of July, so you’ve got plenty of time to make the trip over to south east.
I have three new (and very different!) stories out. First up, I spent some time at Bishopsgate Institute delving into the UK Fetish Archives for Dazed—I’m always interested in stories about overlooked and erased histories, and efforts to preserve them. Next, I spoke to photographer Jamie McGregor Smith about his new photobook on modernist European churches for CNN—the photographs in this story are quite spectacular. And lastly, a conversation that
and I had a few months ago, on what it means to decolonise the garden, has been published in the latest edition of Where the Leaves Fall in print and online.I’ve been doing some work with the amazing team at Global Witness over the last few weeks, specifically around a new investigation that has launched today uncovering how YouTube approved dozens of election disinformation ads ahead of the Indian general election. The story was broken today by none other than
at TIME—you can read his full report here.
Thanks so much as always for reading and engaging with Ginkgo Leaves, and I’d love to hear what you think about this edition if you feel so inclined. I’ll be back in your inbox in two Tuesdays’ time, when I’ll be writing to you from Rome on my way to the International Journalism Festival in Perugia, where I’m speaking on a panel on the Saturday 20 April.
Until then, ciao!
Suyin x