The past few days have been some of the toughest that I’ve ever been through. The one thing that has kept me going and stopped me from drowning under the weight of it all has been my village. My friendships. My people.
If you want to hide something from an African, put it in a book.
Dear Dark skin girl
Trigger warning: this one is going to be a little dark.
In my teens, I watched a movie about a girl who loses her brother in an accident. She goes to a singing camp where she overcomes her stage fright and learns to properly grieve her brother. And everyone hugs at the end.
I have always been odd. Weird. When I was younger, I stuck out like a sore thumb in a time when it was extremely cool to fit in. I have had an overwhelming desire to be more than just the mould that society had cast for me even before I was born. My life was set in stone but I wanted that stone to be one I could write on my own story. A stone I could chisel and create something different than what was expected of me.
Picture this: You’re seated in front of a computer, excited to write something. You open the app that you use to write, MS Word, Google Docs, Notes. You crack your knuckles and delicately place your hands in readiness to type out the next Great Novel, or the award winning story. And then…. Nothing.
A couple of weeks back, a beautiful person approached me and told me that she enjoyed my writing and my blog. I was so amazed by the words she spoke, words that encouraged and inspired me. So this blog post is for Loretta; thank you awesome human.