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ZORA
Unapologetic. Ours. A publication from Medium for Black women.

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THE RAG | WORK

The more marginalized identities you hold, the less Insta-worthy it tends to be.

Laptop on brick wall with view of ocean and town behind it.
Photo by Nomadic Julien on Unsplash

One pandemic silver lining has definitely been the transition to more flexible working arrangements, something women have basically been asking for since they entered the workforce. Bosses are trusting their team members to get shit done outside the office and normal working hours.

With many countries opening borders and offering special visas to remote workers, it may actually be possible to live that #digitalnomadlife and clock in from overseas. I mean, who wouldn’t want to conduct Zoom meetings with an ocean sunset at their back and an umbrella cocktail in hand?

As a Black lady freelancer based in Istanbul, Turkey…


Kristen Gray’s deportation is an internet fallout consequence, but further details attest to a bigger, more important story

A photo illustration of a beach view of Bali shattered like glass with a giant hole in the middle.
Photo illustration, source: Nora Carol Photography, brainmaster/Getty Images

In 2019, Kristen Gray, a then Los Angeles-based graphic designer and creative consultant, was getting fed up with living in America. Just a year earlier, she was a tour manager when her stint abruptly ended and she says was not paid for her labor. Thrust back into the 9-to-5 life through short-lived tech gigs before freelancing, Gray was looking for a change. She, along with her partner Saundra Alexander, saved $15,000 to temporarily move to Bali to clear their heads. They had already vacationed there back in May 2019 and found other Black expats who were living lives of “ease”…


The country I returned to was nothing like the place that had formed my tough, resourceful parents

Credit: Yongyuan Dai/The Image Bank/Getty

My first trip to China had been billed as a family homecoming — a way for my parents to reunite with their mother country and for me to see it for the first time. I was seven years old, and the only country I’d ever known was America, and when I stepped off the plane on the other side of the world, everything seemed louder and more chaotic. Cars wove in and out of traffic, stirring up dust in the streets. I met relatives and in-laws whose relation to me I quickly forgot. We stayed in their homes, where I…

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