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: writing
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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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There has got to be more to life than this. You want more from life. You just don’t know how to get it. Or, If you even deserve it.
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Overall Reception: Mixed to Positive The production has been described as a “messy” but “entertainingly messy” raucous new take on Euripides’ Greek tragedy [timeout] (https://www.timeout.com/london/theatre/bacchae-review) , marking the debut of new National Theatre director Indhu Rubasingham. Key Strengths Visual Spectacle: Critics praised it as a visually spectacular production with exciting sound and lighting, glittering, and…
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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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Warm showers at the end of a long day. Those moments at 4 AM when you should really be asleep, but you dont want the night to end. Books. Music. Dance. Rain. Nature. Friends, real, genuine, friends. Patience. Laughter. Laughing so much it hurts. Not being able to stop laughing. Laughing when it’s probably not…
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‘I wanted happy endings in those days, and happy endings are best achieved by keelingvthe right doors locked and going to sleep during the rampages.’ Centres the voice of penelope, Odysseus’ wife in a retelling of Homer’s ‘Odyssey.’ Summary of Margaret Atwood’s ‘The Penelopiad’ ‘The Penelopiad’ (2005) is Margaret Atwood’s feminist retelling of Homer’s ‘Odyssey’…
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I have been spending the last 6 months, Falling back in Utter. Total & Complete love, with life. All over again. As though you only just woke up. From a nightmare, From a dream, A long slumber. Like something out of a fairy tale, Told at bedtime, To little girls who will grow up to…
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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…
