Amy C, Museum Education Professional, WRITER , ACTIVIST, QUEER.
A portfolio and online journal by Amy C, Museum Education Professional. Sharing original poetry, articles, artwork, and reflections on museum education, social justice, and personal values including feminism, LGBT+ rights, anti-racism, and equality. With over three years in learning and engagement roles, I contribute to Birmingham Museums Trust by fostering meaningful, inclusive experiences that celebrate diverse histories. My expertise lies in audience development, team management, and delivering creative programs that inspire a love of learning, particularly in the domains of feminism and the ancient world. At Birmingham Museums Trust, I led the development of impactful events such as the annual 'International Women and Girls in Science Day,' emphasizing collaboration and community engagement. My mission is to create accessible opportunities for learning while empowering teams and contributing to organizational growth.
Category: Values
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You stare down at your phone. Maybe if you turn your phone off, something you haven’t done in years, the need to reply, ‘It’s okay.’ To forgive, oestensibly, but never forget, what they did will go away. You would rather not, engage in yet another conversation about, why they don’t want you anymore, about how…
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Honestly, is barely eating, sleeping a ton, getting burnout/overwhelmed easily, Not socialising, Not exercising, Coping? The question hangs in the air. The reality is troubling. The answer is obvious. You ignore it, of course. You want to be better. You are still not sure if you even deserve better. Or, what better is. You are…
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That house is burned into your memory. Branded, with a hot poker, onto the soft flesh of your brain. Nothing feels safe. And he wants nothing to do with you. He has no use for you anymore. You have little worth once you’ve taken your body off of their menu. You watch, marriages, breakups, love…
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You’re 15. Sat on an uncomfortable, ugly, blue, plastic chair. In a circle. Facing your peers. You’re all exhausted. It is raining outside. It is November. It’s PSHE. You’re learning about rape. You listen to the definition. You suddenly feel violently nauseous. The room spins. And his face flashes across your eyes. You blink. Rub…
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You have memorised his number plate, Where he parks his car. Just in case, The deep gut-wrenching despair, ever matures into anger. An emotion you have not allowed myself to feel, For fear of it swallowing you whole. Sometimes, You forget a version of you existed, before this, Before his hands. But, was there? Was…
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After today, my lips will be set in a permanent scowl. I will no longer be meek, or compliant. Because, They aren’t. They spew their vitriol with the confidence of a God. State sanctioned hatred. Misplaced, forcibly redirected rage. Whilst, we, like a lamb about to be slaughtered, to the very same corrupt God, Are…
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Is congratulations what you say? When, after, what feels like an eternity. I resent the standards, I was held to. Both spoken, and in whispered conversations, overheard unintentionally. A knife in my chest, which I try to cut out by cutting deeper into my organs, but I can’t find the source of the bleeding, my…
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For A-Level, my favorite subject was Classical Civilization. My favorite topic was Ancient Greek Pottery. It is hard, but I think this is my favorite vase. Ancient Greek vases represent one of the most fascinating windows into classical antiquity, evolving dramatically over nearly a millennium while reflecting profound changes in Greek society, religion, and artistic…
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I can rationalise, Empathise, and process, with the best of them. Faster, than I thought I could. I type until I can sleep, still there’s neurons firing, adrenaline pumping, with nowhere to run to. As if, someone, (owner? father? husband? master?) Left me, bleeding and broken. without a charge. Or a spark. For years, a…
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Northern, Miner’s Strikes Protest is in my blood. Geordie accent, NHS workers, the Beatles. Beaches in winter, building sandcastles anyway. Billy Elliot. I try to force myself to assimilate, speak in Geordie or even brummy, never in my dialect, never in the tongue of my people. Never show them fear, you were born here. But,…
