“It is for the beauty, that a woman holds her breasts when she runs. It’s not because they’ll fall to the ground if she doesn’t.” -Ashanti Proverb
It is out of discipline and self-respect that a wise person holds their tongue and closes their mouth in response to disrespect. It’s not because the other person’s mouth is bigger, or because they can speak better.
Love is for people who can’t say “love”. Love is for people who can’t see “love”. Love is for people who can’t hear “love”. Love is for people who can’t write “love”.
Love is for people who have no knees or legs to propose with. Love is for people who can’t afford to buy diamond rings. Love is for people who haven’t stepped out of their native countries. What we sometimes celebrate in the name of love is the lack thereof.
Love is for everyone! There should be no discrimination in love. Love is for me; love is for you.
Whenever differently-abled people or people with special needs especially step out to share their pre-wedding photographs and whatnot, like the other human beings that they share the earth with, they tend to get very terrible reactions.
“Oh my God! He’s a dwarf!”
“Is he blind? The woman must be stupid to marry a man like that.”
Yes, he can’t see, and so? Also, you’re the stupid one.
It’s just ridiculous.
Keep your pity, feelings of disappointment, feelings of disgust, ridicule and scorn in your pockets. If you have nothing nice to say, shut your mouth; it’s simple.
Love is for everyone. Love is for me; love is for you. There is no “them”.
He doesn’t want to eat whatever meals she prepares; the old him wouldn’t even be satisfied with just one serving. Yesterday, she made this delicious plate of yam-pottage for him. He gets home, heads straight to the dining table, ignores her greeting and her presence, and calls his eldest daughter. She responds, and he asks, “Sade, talo s’ounje yii?” [Who made this meal?] She says it was her mother. He gets up to pour it into the dog’s bowl. “Sade, make me another meal with the ingredients in that bag.” He points to the nylon bag that he arrived with. “I don’t want to be poisoned by this witch.”
Art by Liberian Artist, Ehi Obinyan
She says “good morning”, and “good evening”, and “good night”, and the days keep going by, but he never responds. He doesn’t sleep beside her in her room like he used to; he doesn’t sleep with her. He sleeps in his own room, and it’s been 10 months. He’s an angel of evil; nice in open spaces, psychopathic behind closed doors.
It all began the day he yelled at her for taking too long in the market and she, being very stressed and upset, briefly apologized but called him a “short-man devil”. He has always been very sensitive about his height, and it really hurt him. He swore to himself to show her how much of a devil he could be.
He hasn’t really spoken with* her since then; only the children know about it. They speak to each other briefly when they have visitors or when they attend social functions together but that’s about it. She has apologized many times. She even slipped an apology/love letter under his door one night, but he tore it into shreds after a quick glance.
It’s domestic abuse, but a different kind- the kind that kills the soul. It’ll be the 11th month in 10 days; it hasn’t stopped.
It’s one thing to be Black and proud. It’s another, to be an African, or with African roots, and proud.
How can it be, that children of the same parents don’t regard one another as siblings, as brothers and sisters?
“Faces”: Abstract African Art by Nigerian Artist, Ezekiel Udubrae.
Romanticized Queen Africa Has the Strength of a Thousand Men. She Has Large, Perky Breasts and Big, Round Buttocks:
Many of the Black people of America are so proud of their “Ancient-Egypt roots”. Their ancestors spoke Yoruba, and Igbo, and Twi, and Hausa, and Tiv, and Qanawuri, and Etuno, before heavy chains were tied around their hands and feet. The sad truth is these ancestors were not all titled king and queens, but Móremí’s sons and Idia’s daughters would prefer to claim that they were directly breastfed by Nefertiti.
An Egyptian lady told me she’s from the Middle East, not from Africa. You’d expect that if anyone was to be proud of Africa, it’d be her.
The Chained were set ‘free’ [whether or not they are truly free]. The Free wear the chains now.
The only way to be a man is to not be human. Don’t cry; be sad, but don’t say why. Don’t feel; hurting someone is the best way to heal. Don’t express yourself when you do feel, and if you must, do it with clenched fists.
The only way to be seen as strong is to insist that you’re never wrong, and if a woman isn’t under your absolute control, you can’t be a man on your own- you can’t possibly be whole.
If man could fly, the earth would be uninhabitable.
People would have committed suicide by trying to kiss the sun or get to Heaven, and the birds would have been bullied a lot if the first man was created with wings.
Oh, the chaos!
Slavery would have happened still. People’s wings would have been cut off. Someone would have sprayed something in the air and rendered people’s wings useless so they could be captured, especially for migration reasons. “Fly back to where you came from!” “Get out of my way! No, fool!”
Maybe God didn’t give us physical wings because we are each other’s wings. We just haven’t mastered the art and act of helping one another and flying together yet, if we ever will. Greedy, money-hungry, power-seeking people don’t deserve wings, for one. Life would have been unbearable if we could do more evil with the aid of wings.
Privacy? Haha haha haha.
The air would have been poisoned more as a way of maintaining territory. Blah to the blah to the blah.
Were there terrible men and women in your lives, relatives or non-relatives, at any point, who found it pleasing to compare your beauty to someone else’s, in order to get to you and make you think less of yourself or get you to agree to whatever perversion they wanted to try with you.
“You are fine but not as fine as your mother. Why are you feeling yourself? Remove your skirt, let me see your legs” and such.
I bring you healing. You are beautiful, and I’m not just trying to patronize you. Don’t ever let anyone determine what you think of yourself.