It’s that same story all over again, another black soul, voicing her injustice to a faceless, un-interested audience.

My story is most likely similar to another black or ethnic minorities past, born into a country of war, flown to another country to be taken into the care of an aunt (who I’ll unknowingly refer to as mother) and my life will forever become tainted by the acts of those so-called adults. However I cannot blame them, for if it weren’t for their decisions would I even be alive today?

Growing up the English old-fashioned way, which is very much still of fashion for all African families, girls and women cooked, cleaned and took care of the children, although these are all great essential skills in preparation for the future, how do they serve they’re purpose to a first class graduate female, still living at home, working in life-sucking profession with no success in the field she’d stressed and cried over for the best part of four years? Oh and let’s not forget unmarried and unattached!

Someone tell me what it is that holds us (women/ minorities) back to the point of total breakdown and depression? Am I not working hard enough or is it that I am just not good enough at what I want to do. Too much focus is drawn towards having to live that sensible life where the bills are paid on time; house is clean and washing done. For a new generation of “free-thinkers” and creative’s I’ve read one too many articles unconsciously telling my mind to stop the ho-ha of this financially unstable dream and get the husband, family and “waiting to die” life. It started with one Orlando Bird’s knowing when to stop (http://bit.ly/170KNT4), then Francesca Borri’s Woman’s Work: The twisted reality of an Italian freelancer in Syria (http://bit.ly/1cGnz4h ) and now Jack Grove’s Black studies centre aims to tackle academic whitewash (http://bit.ly/17rwdlL ).

There are always the odd moments when I lack faith in my own ability, forced against the lack they have in me, matched with the recent anti-lifting articles makes you wonder where on earth people get the motivation to do anything in life, especially if that anything doesn’t bring financial security.

I find myself waking up in anxiety attacks thinking of the mountain of debt that has been dug out for me in order to have a degree, which should have made finding ‘THE JOB’ easier yet the myth of ‘Black and Jobless’ or Black and Unsuccessful’ wishes to follow me around like a dead corpse which has replaced my shadow.

What is the issue with being a success and why am I searching for it?

I tell myself it’s not for the money until another red-marked letter comes in the post or that I’m doing this as it’s MY PASSION yet all the employers clearly do not hear that tone in the way I’ve been taught and re-taught to structure a successful resume.

What is the meaning of success because I’m stuck between Google’s definition and the multitude of interpretations the world has set me.