Writing Our Visibility: Workshop with Rhiannon Mudaliar

This event is part of the Scottish Mental Health Arts Festival 2024.

When it comes to our mental health as people of colour, what does it really mean to be visible? When is visibility empowering, and when is it harmful?

The UK’s BPOC population is caught in a paradox of mental health visibility. We experience higher rates of mental illness than non-BPOC people yet have less access to mental health services, timely diagnosis, and effective treatment, and are disproportionately targeted for detention and sectioning. Our intersecting marginalisations - such as physical disability, identifying as LGBTQ+, or housing insecurity, among others – are often ignored for a sole focus on race, which makes this in/visibility even more isolating.

This in-person workshop led by Rhiannon Mudaliar aims to give writers of colour the tools, space, and confidence to (re)define our mental health visibility on our own terms. Through writing, we’ll explore our relationships with mental health, in/visibility, self-definition, and creativity. Activities will include discussion/sharing, collage, and repurposing old texts to express ourselves. 

The workshop is open to all Black writers and writers of colour in Scotland. All experience levels welcome, including those trying out creative writing for the first time! 

Although the workshop officially ends at 1pm, we will have some extra time afterwards for attendees to decompress, have a chat, and/or grab a tea or coffee for the road.

We have a limited number of travel and carer/childcare bursaries available for attendees. Please contact us at scottishbpocwriters@gmail.com if you would like more information.

This event adheres to SBWN's Safer Spaces Policy.

About Rhiannon

I’m a newly minted arts graduate with ambitions of saving the world! That’s not too overly ambitious for a debut project, is it?

Photography, poetry, and documentative art film are my mediums of choice. My work primarily concerns itself with uplifting marginalised groups, the rituals of intimacy, and the perpetuation, consideration, and photographic capture of queer joy.

When I’m not filming, writing, or reading, I like to knit. I used to proclaim myself a cat person, but I feel that has changed of late, thanks to a very small dog which recently entered my life. 

I also consider myself now to be a coffee drinker, a habitual glass clinker, a recreational hooligan, and an avid videogame vivisector. I am queer, mixed race, unapologetically huge, and always looking for an excuse to dress up. It is my most dear belief that people, when given the chance, are just the absolute best.

Find me at home, ensconced among many blankets and loved ones, most likely watching an animated classic.