illustrated by Marta Parszeniew; photos by Emily Bowler

Everyone who has experienced one can remember their first panic attack. Mine came in my third year, while on a year abroad at UCLA, when I stopped on the side of the road on the walk home from another long shift at the coffee shop I worked in, partially hid myself in some bushes (no idea why) and hyperventilated and sobbed while passers-by awkwardly skirted around me. After calming down somewhat and walking home, I climbed into bed fully clothed and didn’t leave for 24 hours.  ​

As a black person, simply existing in institutional spaces can be a trial. When these spaces are soaked in colonial legacies, and cater to white cultural norms, expectations and experiences – just navigating these worlds that were not built for you takes an extra level of effort and energy that may be invisible to people around you.

The Colour Of Madness is a seminal BAME led & curated anthology, comprised of poetry, fiction, essays, memoirs, and art submitted by BAME writers, academics, mental health workers, artists and those still navigating life with mental health problems in the UK.

Illustration by Ana Jaren
As the cost of living climbs in the UK, millennials are flocking to their parents' homes to save cash on rent – but are they paying the price with their sexual autonomy?

In a world where asserting that your life does in fact ‘matter’ is a radical act, it can feel impossibly naive to dream of equality, of a black life lived in dignity. Patrisse Khan Cullors, co-founder of the Black Lives Matter movement, dares to dream of that radical future.

Six stories about Black women's hair.

When They Call You A Terrorist by Xenia Latii
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It strikes me that to be labelled a terrorist by the US Government – along with the likes of Angela Davis, Assata Shakur, the entire Black Panther Party and countless other black rights activists – is nothing short of an honour. They called Martin Luther King Jr. a terrorist too, but the white American cultural memory is short.

Conversations about mental health are never pleasant. Some are easier than others. Sometimes I can calmly bare my soul to a room full of people about my struggles with anxiety and depression. Other times, I stumble over the word "citalopram" and pretend that my antidepressants are vitamins, for fear of being treated like a "cr*zy person".