#8: BDS, and little shifts for hopeful change

Plus: a very mini layer-cake of reads, feeds and shares

Hello friends, and welcome to another edition of Copy & Cake. I know it’s been a while: I have been busy with work things, yes (not very exciting things like a lot of university marking and some scholarly work, the latter making me feel a little rusty as I had not done any research since I submitted my PhD) but I’ve also been at my lowest of low moods. I hope you’ll excuse my transparency, but I believe being honest about one’s mental health is important, and mine has been extremely poor of late. I’m taking slow steps to heal, but for now, I appreciate your patience, and hope you enjoy today’s newsletter, which is light on the layer-cake round-ups (because I’ve not been able to enjoy or focus on much) but hopefully worthy in other ways.

Three weeks ago, while at an author’s book reading, I noticed a young woman wearing really cool sneakers. They were pink, with an artwork that looked like a heart on fire on them, and they didn’t have any visible branding, so I assumed they were some obscure, limited-edition pair from a brand that older, less-cool people like myself would know nothing about. A week or so later, waiting for a Chatime with my daughter, I saw the sneakers again, and this time, I didn’t hesitate in asking their wearer about them.

‘They’re Skechers,’ she told me as she shoved a straw in her drink. ‘I got them online.’

Thrilled, I hopped online immediately, typing ‘Sketchers [sic] heart flame pink sneaker’ into Google and coming across a limited-edition collab with a Spanish artist named Ricardo Cavolo. Yay, I thought, immediately adding to cart from inside a shopping centre. But just as I was about to insert my PayPal details, I was moved to double-check if Skechers were a BDS brand. And then of course, I closed the window on a potential purchase.

Up until recently, I knew very little of what the BDS movement was, couldn’t name more than two companies on its no-buy list or outline any of objectives. But in the face of exhausting all other attempted avenues at doing something (anything) to get our leaders to halt the relentless bombing and starvation of Gaza (contacting MPs, donating money, signing open letters, having strategy meetings with various groups, attending vigils and rallies, and even penning a widely-read op-ed when I felt the pile-on on a Palestinian author to be far too much), I’ve decided to change tack, and use the only thing that seems to matter in this world: currency.

As such, I’ve been closing a lot of purchase windows of late, often with great reluctance. Sometimes I’ve even had to close them in the flesh, like when my husband and I were in the CBD and he pressed me about why I wanted to “just look at the things in Zara”, even when I knew I wasn’t going to buy anything. “If you don’t want to support them,” he told me, “don’t even go in”. So I didn’t.

But I can’t help but feel like I am also closing the window on a part of myself that is so intrinsic to my identity. It sounds shallow, and maybe it is, but it’s also honest: I’ve always drawn great pleasure from elevating my life with beautiful things. Aesthetics matter to me: the appeal of a nice serving platter, cute dessert spoons, a stack of pretty coffee table books, an artisan candle, a curated closet, a chic outfit (you get the gist). So does the longevity of a purchase: I want to know I am getting bang for my back, and will spring for the pricier item if I believe it will last. I have always scrimped in many areas of my life in order to splurge in others (in high school, I saved my canteen money to buy stationary from Morning Glory; these days my splurges require years of saving; and even I agree that the cost of luxury handbags now far outweighs their worth, but I still love ‘em). The splurges usually happened when there was something to celebrate — a milestone, a career win — and often after much debate and careful research.

Pretty details, including the Chanel Boy bag I saved for years to buy

But now, all the longevity that a pretty item promises can’t make up for what certain companies represent, or where they’re investing my money. Half the time, I am not even motivated by the things that appealed to me before. Like what’s the point of wearing nice clothes when people who speak and look like you are being decimated on the other side of the world? Everything feels different because it is.

Which begs the question: What do I do with what I already have?

I haven’t figured out the answer, or how I will move forward, because every time I research something I end up more confused. Is it OK to still carry something I bought myself for my 21^st if that brand is on the BDS list today? Is it OK to wishlist something by a potentially-problematic brand, but only buy it if I find it with a reseller because that way the money is going to someone else? Or is simply sporting the brand an issue too?

Needless to say, I have a lot of thinking and learning to do. And truly, my attempts to do so are genuine. If I am faltering in those attempts, it’s because I feel like I am entering a whole new world, negotiating parts of myself and unlearning things I internalised for decades.

Some of this will be uncomfortable. A shedding of old skin, an embracing of something newer and more radical. But what’s the alternative? Everything we saw on and after October 7 has been brutal and alarming, a confrontation that reminded us that the clocks did not start that day and that real change is going to take radical effort.

If I have to stop buying pretty things to make even the tiniest of differences, then so be it. I am ready to shift, uncomfortably, from the world I've always ensconced myself in, if I am to realise a new one.

READ: This Q+A on BDS, thanks to Al-Shayma Nahya, who generously answered some questions for me.

What's the easiest way to describe BDS to someone who's never heard of it?

A non-violent anti-racist movement focused on applying strategic and effective pressure on the settler-colonial Israeli state to end its occupation of Palestine and the oppression and subjugation of its people. 

What does it seek to achieve, and how does it differ from other initiatives?

BDS targets the settler colonial state through strategic and direct actions. Economically [this might include] targeting investments, institutions and companies that are either built on indigenous Palestinian land, financially sponsor the growth of illegal settlements across Palestinian territories, or go to making the weapons and surveillance systems that generate a life of terror for Palestinians; culturally [it involves asking] artists and consumers of art not to support Israel until it complies with international law.

More importantly, BDS provides the individual with complete agency to take the action into their own hands while also calling on them to achieve the goal collectively. These tools can be as simple as boycotting a consumerist product or as effective as pressuring companies and institutions to divest from their sponsorship of the settler colonial state such as with our campaign that pressured Puma to divest from their sponsorship of the Israel Football Association. 

Boycotting requires a considerable shift in how we live. Why is it important, especially in the wake of October 7, to give it our full commitment?

Boycotting is inherently a model for ethical and moral consumerist interaction. More importantly, the continued support of BDS campaigns and its organisation upholds the remaining internationally-validated avenue of Palestinian resistance. Since Oct 7 the shift of support has increased not only because social media has spread awareness of the genocide but because more and more people are searching for a way to express their grievances over the blatant massacres of children, women and men in Gaza and the destruction of their homes. 

Any successes of BDS that you can share?

Following pressure from the BDS movement, RMIT University in Melbourne ended their research partnership with Elbit Systems, one of Israel’s largest weapons manufacturer [and] directly complicit in the genocide in Gaza; and Sydney City Council voted to divest from weapons companies [and from] investments in any of the 97 companies that the UN has listed as complicit by operating in the illegal settlements.

Our current ongoing campaign that has seen much success in terms of growing participation, is the superannuation funds campaign. Many Australians have joined the call in asking their super to divulge all information on any investments made [in] companies named by the United National Human Rights Council as being complicit in Israel’s human rights abuses in relation to illegal Israeli settlements. You can join the call and check [in] with your superfund providers.

FEEDS

I’ve spent the last few weeks moping about or at my desk, marking assignments or writing an academic book chapter, so my feeds have mostly been girl dinners and unhealthy snacks, except when I am cooking the family’s dinner which is usually something I make off the top of my head. But I did make the chocolate quince cake I mentioned in the last newsletter, and it was wonderful. We served it warm with blobs of thick cream, and although the kids picked out the fruit slices, it was still a hit.

Salty chocolate cookies, next to a trinket dish filled with paper slips of movie titles, because my kids can never decide on a film; Emily English's cottage-cheese breakfast 'brownie'

I also made time to make two brownie-adjacent recipes: the first, by Emily English (one of my favourite Instagram nutritionists), is a bit rich to be called a brownie but is still a yummy healthy-ish breakfast option, high in protein thanks to the cottage cheese. As per her suggestion, I warmed it up slightly and topped it with yoghurt, honey and berries.

These cookies by Alison Roman (I am working my way through her cookbook) are a cross between a brownie and a soft, chewy biscuit. They are extraordinarily rich, very fudgey, and kind of morish, but in a very grown-up way. Not for those on a health kick either: there’s almost 300g of icing sugar in them.

If you’re not doing Dry July, Chapel Hill’s The Devil Shiraz is a new vintage that celebrates the winery’s 50th birthday. Only eight barrels were made produced so it’s truly a rarity, and if you’re partial to a full-bodied red, you’ll love it.

SHARES

This piece in Vogue, on whether or not people like you, speaks to my anxiety at its most basic level. I never had anxiety before I had Instagram. It’s only when I started seeing what everyone was doing a million times a week that I started questioning whether or not what I was doing was right.

As someone who has a very short attention span, I was swayed by the idea of a distraction-free phone. I’ve done a mini test of the theory and removed some of my most distractable apps from my homescreens, and believe the theory penned here is kind of legit: I definitely reached for them a lot less.

So many new substacks popping up! Loved this piece breaking down substack best practices and admittedly, I got a lot of it.

And a few pieces from The Guardian: Sisonke Msimang on Senator Fatima Payman; a truly great read on bookshops following Booktopia’s demise; my latest file, on why men commit DV. The latter is a bit confronting and not as holistic as I would have liked it to be, but that’s a word limit issue and hopefully there’s more reportage allocated to this topic so we can understand it in a more robust way.

That’s it for today, folks. As always, thanks for reading. If you’ve found your way here via social media, or some other avenue, please subscribe and share for more notes on the business of writing, plus reads, feeds, wares and shares. After all, it’s nice to have our cake (and eat it too).