He once said...

" The tongue doesn't do much justice to what the heart feels"

We can't forget, We won't forget.

Dear Person ( most likely judgemental or not)

If you see us, women, looking for the answer at the bottom of the bottle or looking for it at the base of the ice cream tub or anything seemingly indulgent; do not judge us. Do not accuse us of trying to forget our problems. Do not accuse us of not dealing with them. I am. I'm dealing; She is dealing; Her problems are being dealt with, okay?

 

the stories, the problems, the arguments, the disappointments

they are etched in our wombs, already

unfortuantely

it is impossible to forget

even if we try to do so

without dealing

the Forgetten Stories will attach themselves

to the belly buttons of our blessed babies

 

I'm not trying to forget; She isn't either.

 

We are merely looking for silent companions as we absorb the true gravity of the matter at hand. And then we shall take up the task of dealing. Well, I can vouch for myself, atleast.

 

So, why won't you become my box of hotwings or tub of ice cream? Why won't you be her bottle of wine or vodka? Why don't you become our comfort _? Why don't you just sit next to her as she digests..cries...as I cry? Why don't you just sit next to me and breathe with me? Perhaps then, I'll show you how I deal.



Once it leaves the mind...

I'm afraid.

Of what, exactly? I struggle to phrase that properly for you.

I dont even know if it is a person,

I do know that it is my mind that I'm most scared of.

The ideas that she comes up with. The resolutions and solutions that she finally reaches and comes up with. I understand her beauty, my mind, but I fail to understand why she would be the the cause of me falling in love with people's possibilities and not what they actually do. Isn't love related to the heart? Why is it now affecting my mind?

And this is why I say, Once it leaves the mind, Ideas have a life of their own. And unfortunately, I didn't have 9 months to prepare for the birth of my ideas...and that isn't even enough for some mothers.

So my ideas spew out prematurely, and I am shocked by their behaviour. How can such beautiful things come from my simple mind? How can such repulsing things sneak through the maze that is this mind? How does this Brain handle this?

Once it leaves the mind, I have no control over it. Once it leaves the mind...the ideas bully me into corners that I was not ready to venture into.

Changing my major at university had always been a dream; an idea. Yet, once it left the mind and it meandered into someone else's thoughts, I had the obligation of changing and achieving the dreams attached to it.

And this is why I'm scared. Ideas leave my mind and I have to commit to them. Ideas leave my mind and by default my mind makes a promise to uphold and achieve the idea.

So I say once again....Once it leaves the mind...

Some Lightness.

Above is a little push in the right direction. Because sometimes, as humans, we falter. But also, as humans, we must forge forward.

And above was a picture taken November 6th 2012, on Khensani's birthday. It's by far my favourite of us. All Love.

And above, to each his own :)

N,
xx

I dont know, hey

So many emotions and opinions dance inside my mind.

They crawl like worms in the sand.

How is it possible that one person can bring about so much emotion?

How is it possible that one person can bring about so much thought?

I want to write to you, I want to open up to you. But life has taught me to be cynical, Life has taught me to love Erykah Badu, Myself, and all males you have the potential to do wrong to me and right as well. Life has told me to hold back.

I want to love. I've said this countless times, but...I want to. Because it's my fear, it's my hope, it's my dream, it's me.

Changes.

*exhales*

Rape.

What did you first think as you read the word? Did a friend come to mind? A night out with friends? An uncle? Darkness? Blood? Screams? Tears?

As I typed the word out, I thought of how the word only has four letters. Just four. And how I wish that only four emotions accompanied being raped. That only four tears would render one ‘okay’ after such an ordeal.

This topic, like many people, makes me angry. I wish my vocabulary ran deeper, so I could put a more fitting word. A word adequate enough to describe the feeling that consumes me when the radio says a nine year old girl was raped by her uncle or when the newspaper says an elderly woman was gang raped.

What makes me even more angrier is the way my society tackles rape. In Africa, where I live, often once a girl is raped, it is assumed that the girl somehow brought it upon herself because she wore a dress too short, because she left the house at night or better yet, because she ‘asked for it’.

The point here is that being raped is seen as something that the female is wholly responsible for. It is somehow completely up to the girl to ensure that it does not happen.

My question is, what role does the male..the rapist himself play? Besides delivering to that female, the worst day of her existence?

Why are we not teaching our sons, our brothers and our cousins the art of discipline? Why do we make excuses for them? Why do we strip them of responsibility and instead place a crown of arrogance? Why?

Now, we can sit here.. And blog about it, and read about it, and listen to stories about it at the salon and in taxi’s..but personally, I feel we’ve done enough talking. This kettle has boiled. It boiled a LONG time ago.

It’s time, as a society, we started doing more than we’re talking. And it’s not going to be easy. Anything worthy never is.

But I’m making a vow at the unknowing age of 18 to never condone rape. I’m vowing to cultivate an environment where such is forbidden and non-existent for as long as I am breathing and living.

My son, when the time comes, will drown in my affection. He will love God. He will love Me. And he will Love Women. He will see beyond the lengths of skirts. He will see beyond a drunken, sad and destroyed girl at a party. 

My son will not be a rapist.

N,
xx