I have seen the sociopolitical issue about black girls having to be mindful of their school hairstyles. And how black hair is being policed in schools. But seeing this translating into adulthood spaces was not on my bingo cards for this year.

I have always been comfortable with my Afro hair. Wear it in lecture halls. During high stakes presentations. Going to the mall for a quick errand. Absolutely for anything.

In retrospect people have always been bothered. I wonder why. But countless times I've been told my hair is untidy. Be it as a confrontation or passively. I did not pay it no mind because I knew what my hair was and it was nowhere near untidy. One time I was told “I wish to not care about anything like you” I asked what made them say that they said “the state of your hair is a depiction of not caring”. I stepped back, examined that encounter. There it was anti-blackness internalized. Because you can't tell me presenting myself in my most natural form is seen as self neglect. What's in the water?

But I saw and known that people are regressive by nature. If your views are not well informed you will always regress.

But this?

Yesterday I was scrolling on TikTok and came across a beautiful video of this creator. She looked very beautiful, designer dress if I'm not mistaken, for a beautiful event, she looked breathtaking. I acknowledge her beauty and class in my heart and kept it moving. Today I bump into her video addressing nasty comments about how her hair was unkept and not fit for the high function she was a part of the previous day. The one comment that stood up to me was “atleast kama ke oe” “atleast you should've comb it”. And my instant reaction was why? Why should I comb it? If I like it this way and I'm comfortable walking around like me why should I do that? And who are you to even police my hair?

Their unsolicited argument is that she should have combed the hair before she went to the event. She should have atleast worn a wig instead because that was such a classy event for a natural hair. Why not braids they said. Haibo?? Where are we and who are you? What is relevant about you that you think your unsolicited 2 cents matters in any argument?

I looked at it and it clicked. People haven't really deconstructed a lot of concepts that doesn't belong to them. They have failed to differentiate between prefarance and requirement. You can't come into my life and tell me how to wear my hair.

The most ridiculous argument I keep seeing when it comes to this topic is that “natural hair is unkept”. Do you know how much effort goes into keeping an Afro hairstyle? Hair wash day alone is an expense to the soul, and for the love of it all I am willing to pay it— and then a lousy Palesa comes to me and tell me my hair is unkept. I should've combed it? But I didn't and how does that disturb the bread price?

Anti-blackness and internalized hate black people still swim in does not look cute. It will forever be an opposition to the mandate we have to carry out as black people who seek liberation.

Great liberation will never really take place within black people because things like these still prevail.

I did not kill anyone. I just arrived in my natural hair. I got to face trial for it.

Black people emancipate your minds, a wise woman said and we laughed but really we do need a huge amount of emancipation.

My hair is an integral part of my identity, attacking it is a step in dismantling my whole identity. Let us be respectful of other people regardless of how brainwashed you prove to be!

Subscribe

1. My name is Asanda but one incident resulted into a pet name Sisanda. I love the story behind it so it stays.

2. I am a first born of 3 siblings, but I have older brothers and sisters courtesy of being an African. Biologically I have 2 little sisters though.

3. I come from a polygamous family, my grandfather had two wives, my grandmother being the first wife so you already know the nice-weird setups lol. Still a big family of crazy characters, I think a reality show would be a great fit there trust me. Mzansi bioskop has nothing on us.

4. A great lover of books, writing, and generally creating. When I was in primary I used to learn any syllabus for a grade I'm still yet to go to and my mother used to enjoy bringing me the material from her school. Also conducted public speaking activities, wrote debate points, poems, etc for my mother's school during competitions or school plays.

5. Hard to believe but grade 8 & 9 I was non-existant, was alive though but not present.

6. In grade 10 I went to a Catholic all girls boarding school. That is where I was alive and present. That school did more than my mother thought it would do, I will forever cherish those times. Of course not everything was roses and petals but it was a good run if not great.

7. I love being of service to others. It doesn't matter with what just acts of service? I'm there.

8. I am a very considerate person, hence I will always wish for the same from other people. Not in a bad way though.

9. I always tell people I don't have parents, I know how that sounds but it's just funny to me honestly. But I do have parents, my mom and my dad (step dad) I've known him all my life, my biological dad is no more. & His death is my favourite thing to brag about.

10. I am neurodivergent.

11. I have two degrees (including an Honours degree from University of Johannesburg).

12. I despise alcohol.

13. I studied psychology at some point in my life. Still enjoy psychoanalysing people to this day.

14. People find this abnormal but I have never dated during my time of study in University. It was a choice nothing deep.

15. I love dancing & singing but one of them I can't do. (Singing).

16. My childhood traumatic adversities are sometimes a motivation or a distraction depends on where I am at that time.

17. I strive for perfection and when things don't go my way I malfunction.

18. Before you plan on doing something with me make sure you tell me days before, so that my brain can familiarise itself with the routine. (I am on the spectrum at the end of the day which is something I don't admit everyday) But yeah doing things on the spot should be for small activities not a whole drive to the mall I will overwork my mind and have to sleep to recover from that. If my mind fails to ease itself into our plans they're not happening unfortunately.

19. Once was in a talking stage for 4 years. Do you believe it or notto?

20. I do not take lightly being shouted at. Do not try me.

21. My brain is the one organ that tires my body the most. There's nothing I can do about it but try taking small steps, which tends to put me in trouble a lot and some people may think I do not want to part take in something but they're just unaware of the fight I'm pulling with my brain. & Sometimes I can come off as strongly decisive even on people's decisions but it's just my brain looking out for my part in that decision.

Thanks bye till next time here on the showww!

Subscribe

It was close to 8pm in the evening. She tossed and turned in bed.

She gathered all the material. She thought she had it in her. Well she did.

If only he didn't call. It would've took a different turn.

She got up, looked for what she needed. Gathered all the material. And decided it was time.

It was time. For her and her all.

She cried. She was tired.

She thought of what had been her life. The burden her life had turned into.

It was too hard to recognise it. It was not her life. It had changed.

She didn't know how she got here. She was tired. Worn out.

The only way out was that last decision.

She gathered all the material. She sat defeated in her bed. Not defeated because there's nothing she could do. No defeated because she had betrayed herself.

This was not the way she wanted to go out. She had dreams and aspirations. But they seemed too far for her circumstances.

She sat on the bed ready to end it all.

Her phone rang.

He called.

She didn't know to say just in time or wrong timing.

But he called and the phone rang.

She wiped her tears, got up and picked up the phone.

Video call?

That's what he religiously called her with anyways.

But he couldn't see her like that.

She answered the call absentmindedly.

The camera facing the ceiling.

She only could see him.

The big smile.

The excitement of finally speaking to her.

After a long day that was his favourite thing to do.

She silently sobbed again.

Thinking about what just happened.

She lowered her voice and told him.

You saved me.

He was hurt, said you don't have to do that.

Please.

She said well you've disturbed me already.

I don't think I have the courage no more.

She knew his call brought her a sign.

She just didn't wanna say it to him.

She remembered how loved she was.

How capable she is.

How beautiful she was.

How loved she was, how loved she was.

She was loved. He loved her too.

So much love. So much chance. Why not take this as a sign.

They spent hours on a call. He didn't wanna hang up. Scared of the unknown. But she knew he had changed her mind.

The following day he was at her door step.

She felt safe again. Secured again.

He didn't offer pity. He offered presence and love.

He didn't offer a shoulder to cry on. He offered assurance. Silently so.

He restored without knowing he did.

She started to see life differently again.

She started to try taking the steps.

She tried.

She really did.

Now it's back.

She wants to call him and tell him it's back again.

But the last time he's the one who called.

But still it's back again.

Could it win. Or could he be the saving grace again.

No one knows. Thunder doesn't strike twice in one direction.

She hopes it doesn't. And it all ends.

It's coronation day.

She’s in a hoodie, track pants, and slides. Comfortable as they come. Sitting at the back seat of a car. The sun is about to come out, the streets are quiet but not too quiet. Cars are in a line you'd swear they are all part of a convoy unknown to them. In the front seat is the driver and another passager. They are having a full on conversation. And as they entered the car she was already so done with the trip. She knew this was not just another trip. But a one way ticket back to hell. They were taking her back to what she refers to as “no choice”.

She focuses her eyes on the window. Looking at cars passing them by outside. The birds flying freely, chirping harmonies not known to human race. They look overjoyed, and free. Which she can never know if she goes back to that place.

She stares outside the window enough for tears to grace her eyes. At first, she feels sorry for herself. That she has to go through this. Then, she feels her heart breaking yet again, why me. Abruptly she let her self feel the stig of the tears welling up her eyes. She can't do anything about it. The tears grace her eyes as she keeps on thinking about where they are taking her.

It was not hard to stop the tears from rolling down her cheeks. She has mastered the art of it. She cried so much but still she didn't let the tears fall. Because if so the two people who have been so generous to her would have another burden to carry. She was grateful of their presence. She was even more grateful for how they treated her. With no bounds, they offered her love and a place to stay.

Couple of times her conscience dared to betray her. But she fought. Couple of times she wanted to just let the tears fall and poke the passager and tell her “please don't take me back”. But she fought it. She couldn't put that burden on them. It was unfair. They turned back a couple of times to check on her she kept a straight face. No words came out. They concluded she was tired because of the early morning for this trip. But only if they knew.

A couple of daring moments she wanted to say “I don't wanna go there”. A couple of times she wanted to say “please save me”. She didn't. It would've been unfair.

“You, come get me” she wanted to say but her conscience couldn't let her.

She thought about it all. The burden going to where she was going was. The draining environment she has to pretend to be fine in. She thought about it all. Only if she could leave she would but there's no other place to go. She thought of the amount of burden she had to carry. Other people she had to carry out. People's needs she had to fulfill. The amount of self-abandoning she had to swallow. She was tired. But there's nothing she could've done.

She wanted to tell the driver, come get me. She couldn't. The driver has responsibilities. Same as the passager.

She died countless times on that back seat and no one knew. She died countless times on that trip and no one saw. She died isibili and still no one knew. Because she couldn't ask for help.

There's nothing that she wants the most as getting out of where they were taking her to. But taking her there was already a sacrifice to the people present in the car already.

“Cry all you want I've cried enough” she said.

YOU, come get me.

Subscribe

Thank you for reading, please subscribe!

“Ngizomtshela uMalume” that was young Marasa proclaiming to her entire family. She said that bold statement after her mother used her uncle's coffee mug and broke it in the process. Although uncle was not around her niece had his back. He was going to get the news freshly served with cookies and tea even. That summs up how much Marasa adored that man, still do. But times have changed sadly everyone grew up.

On a random day Marasa’s uncle pitched up, and as soon as Marasa saw the car near the drive way she ran as if she was part of the Comrades Marathon. Ran so fast to be the first one who opened the gate for him of course. But she knew deep down what she wanted to do. As soon as her uncle drove inside and the car came into a halt infront of their house—the unpaid radio station started delivering unscheduled news. Marasa was what we can call News24 but unofficial. “uMamethu broke your cup” “and they said I must not tell you”. Those two sentences was a Hi and How are you from Marasa to her uncle. And funny enough the uncle expected briefing already but it was still hot news so he had to keep composure. “Haa wenzeni? inkomishi yaMalume pho” said her Uncle. “Yes and she said I must not tell you” insists Marasa with a big smile on her face.

Her uncle grabbed a plastic that had a bunch of bread loafs inside and gave it to Marasa. He ushered her inside. Although she was in the front. “I heard uMarasa told me someone broke my cup” says the Uncle to Marasa’s grandmother. And everyone just bursted out laughing. A couple of “I knew it” came from different people present. Marasa was so proud with a mischievous smile on her face. Because honestly they knew she was gonna tell anyways. They just gave her the benefit of the doubt.

A couple of moments later Marasa and her sisters were washing uncle's car. But because Marasa was younger they just made it look like she was also washing the car but she was just there for show. Then it happened one of her sisters scratched uncle's car slightly with a broom, you could hardly tell there was a scratch. But not to Marasa she was ready to tell. Ran inside the house to tell Malume what had happened. uMalume came out to inspect the car, I guess he saw it was something minor and didn't want to crush Marasa’s bubble of being his security guard. He said “go tell her uMalume said yeyi" with a stern voice. Well that was enough to send Marasa on a new mission to serve her uncle and break these threats to her sister.

When uncle came home uMarasa was the happiest soul alive. When uMalume surfaced anywhere it had to be known that was her uncle. Her uncle was and still is strict. But young Marasa couldn't tell and that's the beauty of it all. But old Marasa knows very well not to come close to the man.

The air that occupied her lungs to keep her alive. She grew and She grew again. Gone are those days.

One day. It all stopped. She grew. It slipped away from her. uMalume felt like a star in a galaxy you couldn't reach. Too far to reach yet too close to gaze on.

Marasa’s uncle still comes home randomly, Marasa still goes to open the gate with emergency, but the sense of agency has changed. Now she opens the gate with a sense of agency that someone is at the gate and if you take too much time to answer he's gonna not like that. Young Marasa’s sense of agency was filled with anticipation of finally grazing her uncle's mind. Finally seeing him again, he was her hero. Now, yes the plastic full of loafs of bread is still present, but now you need to think fast, look inside the car and check if the plastic is there so that you can take it, greet, and move along quickly.

Marasa still loves his uncle as young Marasa did. But times have changed. She's grown now. Life experiences have changed her. As well as her uncle. But he still remains the greatest man in her life. Her uncle did his part, did it all. Marasa did her part, did it all. But sometimes we need to come to terms that we experience people differently in different stages of our lives. Although Marasa would have loved to stay with that version of their relationship, that would have meant she stays young forever— unfortunately growth is unstoppable.

When he surfaces she might no longer run towards the car, she might no longer delivers breaking news, she might not sit on his lap and graze his mind, she might now run to her bedroom and stay there till there's something that needs her concerning his arrival. They are still bound for life. There was no decision cutting their cords, just silent growth.

“Marasarasa kaMalume” he still says. Goes straight to my heart and find its solitude as it used to. “Mrasez” he says again and I remember what we are. “Mshana kaMalume” see it is there. Despite growth I see us. And I love it all over again. I want this to be clear, no matter where you find me bad-mouthing my uncle he is still one of my greatest gifts to date, he might sometimes do wrong but his rights do surpass human understanding.

Love

Marasa,

Subscribe

Thank you for reading, please subscribe star!

I am a star.

Why?

Just because I am.

As the conversations are flowing, the house comes into unrehearsed silence as ‘Uncle Gradz’ as Njalo calls him pitches from the kitchen. “Aw the house is full, I swore I could hear Mfana’s voice” he says. (By Mfana he's referring to Jay) Uncle Gradz is Grandmother's partner/Jay’s stepdad.

“Hi” gives Jay. Everyone just looks at him including both his sister's that had joined us in the sitting room. Now everyone is waiting to see what happens next. Gramz clears her throat and says “Makoti I didn't know you guys were coming” I assume that is directed to me. But why do I care about the presence of this man? It's not like the prices of bread are disrupted by his presence honestly I could careless. But Jay cares so I guess. “Ma we will leave” says Jay abruptly without a warning. “Sir can I talk to you outside for a bit” that's me looking straight into my husband's eyes.

We both stand up and go outside. The scenery here is so worth it. The hills, trees, curated forests, rocks like statures— oh I love. As I'm just admiring nature I feel Jay's hand over mine. I take a deep breath “Baby can we stay just for Njalo she was so excited we were coming here” I say. “But baby that man is disrespectful not only to you but to me too, because disrespecting my wife is disrespecting me ten folds” Jay says in frustration. “I know my love but just this once, or maybe an hour then we leave”….”it's fine Sanda as long as he won't try anything because I can't stand you being disrespected”.

I hold his hand tightly, bring him closer, and on my toes I kiss his forehead with his help of course. This man is so tall I have to emphasize that but I guess he is the hill I will always seek comfort in. My good and sweet tall Sir.

We move to the sitting room where everyone is. And I notice Jay’s aunt who was not there when we went outside. She's such a breathe of fresh air you'd swear in the past we didn't cross her. (yes me and Jay but that's a story for another day). “Ma ninjani” I say greeting her with a hug. “Sanda Sanda syaphila ninjani nina” she beamingly greets back. “My boy boy usayiphethe kahle ingane yami” that should be directed to Jay. “yebo Mamkhulu you know so yourself” Jay replies with a smile. “That's what I will always want from the both of you, you know how much trouble I went through so that you guys can happen” Jay's Aunt whispers the last part. I just laugh on the inside thinking about those times. What a journey this has been. With people against this, us afraid of what this was, Gradz showing us why we should stay away from them…..it was a rollercoaster but here we are.

Today has been an okay day honestly, I'm thinking about how Jay responded to his stepfather, how his mother had to apologize for not knowing we were coming—which is unfair considering that we are all family, how Jay’s Aunt being there brought so much joy to me, how Njalo fit like a glove in that family, how Lelo spends time with his Dad’s nieces and nephews the whole time when we are there, how Jay loves his family with all he is but love us even more, how I wish things were different but can never be because love conquers all and without love we wouldn't be where we are……..I'm brought to life by Jay’s hand on my thigh since he's now driving us back home, I turn to him and give him a nod………

At the presence of a certain influencer or a celebrity, energies go high, learners make well deserved noises, teachers move closer to have a piece of the famous figure present. It downed on me that we are in a crisis.

Does these pitches take something away from the original concept of this event? Or Am I thinking too much about it?

Look at this, if it was your matric dance and a particular celebrity pitched up. And now everyone was making a fuss about this, teacher's behaving out of the ordinary, learner's jumping up and down to this. How would you feel and how would that shape your one in a life time experience?

Let's say you heard you guys will have a matric dance and you go out of your way to get a famous influencer to be your partner. Great. On the day you pitch up with him/her, then it happens— the learners are hyped up by the famous person’s presence, we forget about you, what you are wearing, who you were that day; the only thing that matters at that point and time is the grand entrance of the famous person. You are no longer the main character for your big day, someone else is. We're screaming, crying, and pleading for your designated partner for pictures. Because really that's who makes a statement when placed on the side of the ordinary. How would you feel? How would you remember your day? Maybe you will feel good because we are living in a new age where kids values the presence of the people who are out of reach than regular people. Maybe for now it's an important stimuli to you. Maybe your class will praise you for that. But one day we will be in touch with reality, your reality; what would that look like?

This is not an attack to anyone, it's just a thought of a curious cat. Because if you can look North, look South, look West, look lokhunjana phansi you can also kinda see it.

Is an MD now a high status event to showcase how famous your partner can get? Or is this the new age us? Where we have influencers on the creek for absolutely every life experiences even the one's we should be experiencing alone?

I wouldn't know.

Subscribe

Thank you for reading, please subscribe star!

“So my beautiful people I was thinking how about we visit Gramz it's been a long time since we saw her” says Njalo after taking a seat. “it's been a long time"?” asks Lelo with a frown, because just last week they were at their Gramz. “for your own information Gramz is my lifeline I can see her week in week out no one is counting” replied Njalo. “Okay but don't say it's been long that's a lie” Lelo being adamant. “Shut up you, Mommy my good Ma'am, Daddy my good sir can we go” pleaded Njalo with a rehearsed sorrowful face. “First of all who's your good Sir? I'm Mommy’s only good Sir” says Jay her father as he holds Sasanda his wife's hand under the table….. “but Dad” Njalo remarks…..”we will go if your mother agrees” says Jay. That earned Sasanda a very serious stare from Njalo. “Of course we can but after I've seen my proposal from you little miss girl” her mother says. the table goes quiet with Njalo beaming with joy since she will be seeing her grandmother today, and she knows the proposal is what kept her up last night so it's done.

*They all eat while exchanging conversations on general stuff, work debriefs, and their journey today

“I am driving” exclaims Njalo as they approached the garage. Jay just tosses the car keys to her without contesting.

Jay and Sasanda get inside the back seats and Njalo occupies the drivers seat while Lelo becomes the passager. They take their drive towards their Gramz place. As they are a few minutes away they detour to a nearby mall. “Gramz love these Mama should we get them” asks Lelo as he looks back to his parents holding a packet of green apples. “yes boy we can” answers Sasanda. They get all the groceries they need and continue with their drive.

The car comes into a halt on their gramz’s drive way, near the gate since there are other cars already in the drive way. They get out and kids start running towards their car. “Malumekaziiiii good day ma'am” says young Nonny. Nonny is Jay’s niece. “good day my Angel” Sasanda greets back lifting her up with a smile. “So your uncle comes second now princess” says Jay with a smile. “No never Njalo comes second Malume, but as for you maybe forth after Bhuti Lelo” replies Nonny with a side smile just enough to rattle her uncle. “Oh wow now I'm forced to turn back with someone’s new clothes, damn this life” says Jay pretending to be sad. "Nonny jumps out of Sasanda’s embrace and attempt to climb Jay’s “Malume I never said that, maybe Malumekazi sent me to say those things” says Nonny as she tries to grab Jay’s Tshirt yet again. They all just laugh and continue offloading the groceries without Njalo in sight.

“Sanibonani” Jay greets as he enters his mother's house. “Sanibona Ma” says Sasanda shortly after. “Yebo bantabami come in, ninjani kodwa” replies Jay’s mother. “Ninjani bantabami for real” remarks Njalo from her grandmother's lap, you'd swear they didn't come here with her. Jay and Sasanda just ignores Njalo and greets his mother and everyone present. “So many cars who's home” asks Jay. “Both your sisters are home” says his mother. “And Uncle Gradz is home too” chirps in Njalo without a warning. Jay and Sasanda look at each other and signh, Jay’s mother just gives them an apology face……

I am Sasanda Mnguni-Sangweni married to Jay Sangweni, We have twins— A boy named Lelothando lwamaNguni Sangweni, and A girl named Lumenjalo uThando lwamaNguni Sangweni. They are 20 year olds turning 21 this year. Both students Lelo studying Medicine and Njalo in the Engineering space. Jay is an Auditor, while I am a policy-maker and mental health advocate but also being everything at the same time. Can you come along as I depict what gender roles will not be tolerated in my household??

“Mama good morning Ma'am”, that's my beautiful baby boy Lelothando emerging after I called for him…. “How are you this morning baby”— “I'm fine mama” he says with his calm soft voice.

It's a Sunday morning and I woke up to a clean kitchen but the bin is not emptied, so Lelo has to come empty the bin since his sister was responsible for that last Sunday.

I don't even know why I had to call him for it. “Mama let me take out the bin I will be right back”. He walks out. I continue with making breakfast. I can't cook to save my life but with breakfast trust me to give out all my cooking tricks.

“My sweet Madam good morning”, I turn to my husband's voice, oh what a beautiful man this one is. “Morning my sweet Sir how was your night?” enchos my morning deep voice yet again…. he moves closer to where I am standing and gives me a short hold and smiles then says “mmmh let's forget my night my morning has been just blessed by your beautiful voice”….I push him a lil bit and look at his face with a frown “beautiful voice you say? Don't try me it's still early sir” I say. He just smiles and let go of his grip on my waist.

“Where's Lelo I heard you calling his name”….”he's outside emptying the bin, he forgot to do it and that's unlike him” I say. “Oh yeah maybe he overslept, shame my poor boy” he remarks….. “Daddy Good morning Sir” says Lelo as he enters the kitchen again with an empty wastecan. “Good morning Lelothandolababa” he says as he brushes his head that has zero hair. Lelo smiles and places the bin where it should be and disappears in the passage.

*Lelo and Njalo in Njalo’s room

Lelo softly removes the blanket from Njalo’s face and places a perk on her forehead and Njalo moves to the existence of Lelo’s warm breath on her face….”bhuti good morning” says Njalo with a smile. “Good morning my princess” Lelo replies with yet another perk on her forehead. “Wake up let's get ready for breakfast, the Madam is fixing us a feast as always, says Lelo. “yess when last” says Njalo with a big grin on her cute face.

They get up and go wash their faces and apply lotion and stroll together down the passage to the kitchen where their parents are having a light conversation.

“Ma'am good morning, Daddy good morning sir”, says Njalo with a big smile as she approached her parents with Lelo’s arm around her shoulders. Both parents turn around with smiles plastered on their faces to greet their princess….”good morning Lumenjalo ka Mama” says her mother affectionately….”good morning Njalo ka Baba” says her father moving closer to give her a hug. “Morning my beautiful people” says Lumenjalo with a loud, raspy voice. (They believe when she grows up it's gonna be deep like her mother's since growing up hers was raspy like that)….”before I fill you guys in on what I have in mind for us today let me go check the car oils since Lelo said the other two cars seemed to have an oil problem” Njalo says and move past her dad towards the garage.

“let me grab an apple so long” Lelo moves towards the fridge and grabs an apple as his parents just looks at him and smiles…….

I am struggling with my mind

my thoughts are dark and scattered

tried running away from this confession

but I had to leave you behind and face it myself

head on—

really head on or just face on?

head on would be an exaggeration for your clouded head,

nothing can be faced head on rather

attempted head on

even so;

the dark clouds seem more upset

than me

Who was done wrong?

Isn't me?

So why are the clouds in my head so dark?

even feels like the thunderstorm

started there first

one can even assume

but no—

it started right here

I felt it all,

Physically before it went

emotionally then spiritually,

Will thunder accompany the storm?

Or is the thunder also a sign

of even much more struggle?

I will never know,

But who got to know?

Can never be me.

I am struggling with my mind

my thoughts are dark,

sorry I couldn't take you with me

the storm was getting even too heavy

for me alone,

imagine carrying it alone, carrying you and yours?

At the same time?

No I would have decided I was done even more sooner;

you were my escape

but now let me face this sober

you cannot dilute my sorrows with your softness no more,

I've pushed the door

yes not too much it could close,

but I did push it to an appropriate distance

catch me when the weather forecast in my head has changed—

Storm decipated….I don't know just catch me

By Sisanda M

Subscribe

Thank you for reading, please subscribe star!

Often times we are told to decenter men, which is a good theory on paper. Even in its practicality for others. I will not lie and say I didn't look into the concept and try to understand what it required of me. I did. I realized I have decentered men before, a long time ago even. But for me unfortunately the results differed. People always talk about how liberating decentering men is. How free they often feel after. The consistency with self-love, appreciation, and validation. I envy that. Truly and in it best form. Because for me it has been the opposite.

I tried to decenter men, but everytime I find myself centering them even more. Unintentionally I find myself and every decision catering for men. For their needs, doings, and existence in essence.

When I looked up the definition of decentering men this is what sparked my interest. “instead of revolving decisions, emotional states, and self-worth around men, women places themselves and their goals at the center”. Then this means instead of decentering men all I received was centering them even more. Because almost all my decisions, emotional state, and needs goes back to center men. Hear this clearly.

When I want to go outside for a little I have to think about the possibility of men being outside and being possibly hurt. So I stay inside. I loved going to the beach and swimming, but now when I go to the beach it raises some hazards from me. I still go to the beach but I do not swim anymore— because I have knowledge of what men have done to women in that environment. I could never be home alone during daytime and have doors not locked, because what if a men like the one I saw depicted on the womenforchange page comes and I'm just unlucky that day. Not to mention being inside an Uber alone with a men, can never be me— again because there's a possibility a men might just be on their hustling spirit. I cannot let my guard down at the presence of any argument with a man because remember how SA was declared the GBV capital. And there's a man involved. That's why all my decisions, and determinations of what happens in my day mostly centers back to men. I have centered men in social media times where they preach decenter men.

I despise the idea of men. Do not come here and show me how hard it was for you during comprehension lessons. on some “but your partner is a man”. yes he might be a man, granted. When I say I despise men; I largely include my father, my brother, my partner, and the list goes on. Yes my father might not be the one who goes in public and practice harrassment. Yes my brother might not grab a woman while she's trying to swim and enjoy her time without consent. Yes my partner might be my sweet boy. But at the end of the day they're men and we all know the analogy of potatoes.

I do center men. And I am not afraid to claim that. It is beyond my control, the nature of my surroundings has forced me to. Before any decision I make I evaluate how will a man be able to harm me; will I be able to get out of here if a man became my harm's way; how will I escape his grip if he holds my wrist too hard; i will share my location incase a man decides to be one today but can I prevent this by staying at home first; how important is my presence in this place— that is how my mind functions before a simple not so simple decision of stepping outside is taken.

I did not choose this life it chose me by arriving here biologically female.

Pinterest

Subscribe

Thank you for reading, please subscribe star!

She said feel…..

How does it work actually

Will I start to feel eventually?

As I sat I started to shutt

As I tried I started to cry

I tried not to cry

but it seems not much training I had,

Trained for years and lost

They said these things require experience

Then I guess I need to enquire my fault.

She said feel……

Feeling requires vulnerability

Then feeling is not on my ability

Couldn't put it in words

cause we were put in this world to suffocate

Suffocation births failure?

Then I am failing everyday.

She said feel…….

As I enter my room I laugh

My surroundings laugh too

What's different is our laugh

mine is a mask, what would my surroundings be masking?

Recently I've laughed for control

Reluctantly control was gained

Someone once said, “if I don't laugh I'll cry”

but I say—

“If I don't laugh you will lose me”

You lost me when I talked to you

You will lose me now again

Guess what? You wouldn't be able to

talk to me ever,

She said feel…..

Feeling is overrated so as life

Stop generalizing, your life!

She said feel right? Here we go:

I don't feel nothing

The nothingness kills me everyday

my experiences have gave birth to a baby

and I named it nothing

people say I'm defensive

well guess what I did that for

20 years tell me something I do not know!

I feel angry and sad????

no none of those are in my vocabulary

maybe let's try

Defeated oh wait what about gloomy?

Or miserable! Yes that's how I feel

almost everyday when I wake up till

I sleep.

She said feel…..

By Sisanda M

Subscribe

Thank you for reading, please subscribe star!

Stand by me….

Hope is a powerful word

Hope is also an action word

Hope and faith heal wounds

Heal yourself and other's wounds

yes with hope and faith.

A lot of people tend to surrender

A lot of people don't remember

that hope is alive and faith

can be put into action,

This passage is a tunnel for unity

This passage has panels for hope.

Life has shown most of us

how life itself can change in a minute

but that doesn't make us stop being in it,

A young woman once said “stand by me”

hear me out, not to her loved ones

tear it up, she told this to strangers

those who needed guidance to go on another,

We are all different, We struggle different

We are diverse in colour

regardless let's stand today

Say it out loud to the unknown who needs it

STAND BY ME

Together we can build each other

Together hope and faith won't

Wimp and fade

Stand by me….

By Sisanda M

Thank you for reading, please subscribe star!

Subscribe

I was the only one who had to do more.

I was the only one expected to understand.

I was always put in questionable situations.

I had to always bow my head and move past.

I had to mind my own tongue in response to what they said to me.

I had to be the bigger person.

I had to suffer the pain of not belonging.

I suffered the pain of identity.

I suffered the hardships of not having.

I suffered the hardships of conforming.

I had to get less attention cause I was matured and knew what is right and wrong.

I had to grow up very fast to fed for myself.

I was expected to allow us to pick up from where we left after I was done wrong.

I was expected to go ‘no contact’ with an elder after they've done me wrong.

I had to know not to expect an apology because I knew that's just how you are.

I had to give myself all the apologies.

I was the only one who was expected to understand, I was the only one who was expected to understand, I was the only who was expected to understand, I was the only one who was expected to understand.

And I did.

I was tired.

I was drained.

I wanted to put an end to this.

I wanted some sleep that didn't force me to wake up and face them.

I had no desire to live.

I wanted out.

I was done.

They drained me that's why I was done.

They still do, still is……

I was done remember? I found escape in an app that I believed was ruining me. The brain rotting, the constant scrolling, the short form content, it was a lot. I was convinced I was doing it just because my brain had no business not rotting I was done anyway. What is the reason for me to not get used to short form content, it will be no use where I was going anyway. Although I wasn't sure, I think I had hope it had no use.

I kept scrolling on that black and white app. I scrolled for days, months, maybe more months. My fingers would even hurt. Then one day, one random morning. My next scroll was some comfort. A glimpse of hope, or so I thought and hoped. I scrolled and came into a halt when I saw a familiar face, familiar clothing, familiar voice, familiar demeanor— “Oh I know him” I said to myself more than to anyone. I knew him. From years back. I didn't even have to think where do I know him from, I just knew. I knew who he was, what he did, where I know him from. I last saw him years back but still I knew who he was.

Fr. Ngcobo. That's who he was. A glimpse of hope. I stopped and looked at the video. He continued with his thought, and I knew right then. I had found solace in his familiarity. (Father Ngcobo) for those not familiar with Catholic abbreviations. He sat there and spoke. I sat there in my bed, and listened.

He said “you are known by God” and continued to translate it and said “uNkulunkulu uyakwazi”. He's well known for his translations, he used to translate for us even back then. He paused and said, “Kukona konke unkulunkulu uyasenzela umusa” / “in it all God still gives us grace”. Fr. spoke so much but in essence he was saying— you are known by God, whatever season you are in’ in your life, be it hardships, uncertainty, being made to understand even if you don't, carrying the world's troubles on your shoulders, YOU ARE KNOWN BY GOD. So much so uNkulunkulu ukwazi even with all your anxieties. I sat there listened intensely again, I felt like he was speaking to me. It didn't matter when last I prayed, when last I believed in God truly or wholeheartedly, he said whoever you are you're known by God. He did not exclude me because of my troubles and what I am carrying, and what I have been through to come into a conclusion I was done. No. He said we are known. Me, You, Him, Them, everyone of us.

You are known by God. This made me think that if I am known by God to the extent Fr just described why am I sitting here. Why am I in this shadow of darkness with no wish to come out. But I am known with all I am. I said to myself — take a step back you are known, don't act like someone who is not known. Uyaziwa and nawe uyazi. Where life has placed you is not a true reflection of who you are. You are known and you know that.

Fr continued to say in your pursuit of finding this peace that God comes with always know “noma ngihamba ethunzini lokufa angiyokwesaba okubi ngoba wena unami”. You shall not fear any setbacks, any uncertainties, any anxieties, or any blows. But even if it happens that you fear, ithi I do not fear cause you're with me. (in the midst of all this he was throwing in verses I should mention that). But although anxieties will be there, do not fear uzubonise, you're not ordinary, you are known, and you know it.

This stayed with me so much so I started to dissect my reasons for deciding I was done. Am I done because I forgot I am known? Or am I done because I forgot people can not decide I am not known for me?

I decided I am known and I have always knew. I just happened to forget for sometime. I got lost. Still is. But I am known atleast.

Seeing Fr Ngcobo made me remember what Fr Sithole said that stayed with me for years. He said “okungenzeki kubantu kunkulunkulu kuyenzeka”. He said it with so much belief, I could feel it radiating through me and quite frankly that day is still a little bit blurry but I remember what he said. I remember before I decided I was done I used to carry that like a hand bag. I also do not know how I let go of it. Maybe it's because I forgot I was known. I started looking for answers of who I am in the wrong direction. All along I knew who had the answer I just thought he was also done but akukho okungenzeki kuye Fr said.

For years I have turned to the red app for Fr Ngcobo’s video of the hymn: Nami nginethemba kuwe. It goes like “Wamhawukela uMagdalena, walithethelela isela, nami nginethemba kuwe”…. because really the thief was forgiven, uMagdalena had so much mercy — ngubani mina? Wathethelela isela? Surely I can be forgiven and given grace and mercy. I have trust in you. Nami nginethemba. And likuwe.

I love this hymn with all my heart and if I can I'd listen to it everyday.

then, as Fr said in relation to Isaiah 49, I've written your name in the palm of my hand awuyokuya ndawo, no one will snatch you out of my hand.

Let it be like that for me too.

Maybe I thought I was done.

Still is.

Maybe no one will snatch me out of your hand, even if it's me…..

Subscribe

Thank you for reading star!💌

It is a very disheartening and alarming occurance when memories are distorted. When childhood memories are only reduced to questions and confusion. Growing up together should have been the best memory I still hold, it should be what I first think about when I hear of you. But no. Life chose to repackage your life differently. I might not know if life repackaged your future differently or you chose it yourself- regardless you were better than that and I wish you were different than what you are now.

Growing up I had many best of friends and he was a part of that. We had fun, played to our own satisfaction, ran races we didn't think would end. We shared different packets of sweets. You offered me a packet on Monday, I offered you a packet on Tuesday, and on a random Friday you put yourself incharge of taking care of my stuff because I had dance classes to attend to. You were a big part of my childhood and a big part of my life. When people spoke of you they would automatically know of me, when people spoke of me they would automatically know of you. It was a good time. Still treasure our time together.

We shared our childhood so much so what you think you went through, I also went through. What you think you experienced, I also experienced. I remember people used to frown upon our friendship, because “what is a girl and a boy friendship”. They always proclaimed it forbidden and very out of the ordinary.

In primary school we used to share one desk during lessons and it was a ball. We used to laugh at teachers not because their jokes were funny but because they thought their jokes were funny, but only me and you understood what was really funny. Passing around our exam papers to each other during that one EMS test, and laughing at how the mistress looked at us and just continued strolling cause well we were so unrully for her. We shared our beautiful childhood. You were mine, I was yours in the most platonic way. They did not lie when they said who you date resembles your habits in the long run. But with me and you we were not dating never, but I found myself standing in the boys line during assembly. I found myself laughing at silly jokes the crew would make. And that one time I had to go up the stage to receive an award only for us to not hear my name because I was at the back with you in the boys line, in our own world. The whole school had to give a helping hand and shout my name, still we didn't hear then they started shouting your name just to grab my attention. Oh we had a good thing going on.

How did that get stolen from us? What went wrong? My love what happened? Is it growing up? Is it the hardship of this world? Were you lonely to that point? What happened? Who did this? Yes I know it's you but why did you do this to my precious boy? Everytime I remember that one day we went on a school trip and you had those saggy pants, holding our food like the keeper you were for own grade. Your pants started attempting to fall off, and absentmindedly our teacher called my name to come fix them because really that was the only logical thing to do. You were my boy and the only person you would be comfortable pulling up your pants. And I honor that.

• But you distorted my childhood memory of us. Why.

Some people may just see a printer and a laptop. I see your successful attempt in tempering with my mind. You ruined it and I still mourn what you once were. Now that beautiful, young, adventurous, polite boy is nowhere to be seen. I know we grew up. And people change as we get older. But is this the change they were talking about? Now you are something I cannot recognise. I once heard through a grapevine that you changed drastically but this is not what I had in mind. Drastically seemed like an understatement after what I got to witness you to have changed to be.

This here my good people is a printer and a laptop. They may be from Pinterest but I was trying to depict those that belonged to my mother. My mother a very deserving lady of stature. Maybe if I say it like this it will make much sense. My childhood best friend distorted my whole memory of us by choosing to break into our house and steal my mother's furniture. But to me that's not what he only did. He stole my chance to cherish our memory forever without any disturbances.

He got into our house when no one was around and stole a printer and a laptop that belonged to my mother. That laptop was so essential and valuable that we didn't even bring up it cost when we were dissecting this, the only thing that was of interest was its value of what was inside. Gone it was. I digress.

The following day after that happened my mother pleaded with my brother to go spend the night in the house to keep guard. Only for my best friend to come back that day too. He didn't know there would be anyone around. He came at night as usual (I would like to assume). The only thing that sparked my brother's guard was the sound of a window creaking open. He went to stand near, as my friend was trying to get inside- because my brother knows this man. He's been in our lives forever growing up (although we lost touch after primary school) he was known. As he was getting in, he got the shock of his life and got shocked by my brother's presence and his first thought was to run. As we all know flight or fight, my brother retells it to us how startled he was, the only thing he could do was stand there and shout my friend's name in disbelief. I understand him very well because if it was me I would have responded the same way.

Now you are something I cannot recognise. He got inside our house, did what he did, and changed the whole trajectory of my memory. Cognitive dissonance is the right term to describe my stance on this issue. I hold two contradictory thoughts at the same time about him. Old knowledge of this boy and knew knowledge of this man. The conflict in my head, the discomfort in my consciousness. You did a number on me.

I was helping you pull up your pants not so long ago, now I don't even know what colour your pants are.

Growth may have us dealed with different blows that had to knock us to our knees. But this is a different pain growth didn't prepare me for. I am so sad of what you have become. Furniture can be replaced, heck we have knew printers now and a knew laptop, but your integrity can never be replaced. And maybe that's what hurts me the most. My precious boy or Mr Nobody. I am not sure, still to decide. Maybe we should have remained young forever….

How my childhood best friend turned out.

Subscribe

Thank you for reading, please subscribe star!

Allow love….

Falling in love is out of context,

Attract love and allow love to love,

Falling is risky

I was a minor, I used to fall a lot,

but luckily I had an elder that used

to catch me everytime I attempted to,

but only this one time she wasn't around

guess what? I did fall and broke my arm

I mean I didn’t know it will hurt that much

but it did….

What I am trying to say is

be inlove, do find love, let love find you

but make sure you don't attempt to

fall inlove,

I asked my mother why does my arm hurt

so bad

she said, “because you fell”

that is where I got to realise that

when something fall it breaks and there's pain

And vowed I will never fall again

time went by my peers were falling inlove

I was there sitting alone wondering

does it makes me less of a person?

yes I mean not to fall?

and I got to remember the arm incident

and came back to my senses,

I will never fall,

not inlove, not on the ground,

Introspection made me find words

in my mind

the perfect one I got was “allow”

hence I allow love but falling inlove?

no too risky for my liking…..

By Sisanda M

Thank you for reading, please subscribe star!

This is not a blame to anyone or any group of people, it's just a question from a pattern I've seen. It maybe a pattern created by stigma but this is a question open to critique or informative comments. With that being said can I ask my question? I heard a yes so let me get into it.

I have always asked myself why do gay men seem to gravitate more towards homophobic heterosexual men. Never got a definite answer. Always got maybes and history lessons all the time.

So I thought let me ask this question to maybe an audience that can have answers. This is based on purely my observations and experiences I've been a part of. So feel free to hold your horses and let me lay it down for you, you can answer me after.

Why do they feel like that? Why do they feel like it's their duty to gravitate towards homophobic heterosexual men? In many instances we see gay men even going out of their way to cater to homophobic straight men for reasons best known to them only. Hear me out NOT ALL GAY MEN do this. But a number of them does. Why do they feel like that?

Why is it evident in their day-to-day behaviour? I have witnessed many situations where they resort to insults at the existence of questioning their affection for homophobic heterosexual men. You maybe in a club with your gay mutuals and they see a guy and a person tells them he's straight. Trust me that is their tickets to a rabbit hole to find that particular guy. Once they hear someone is straight I don't know what happens inside of them, they seem to get this drive that says “now it's timeee let the mission begin”. I have failed to understand that and I'm sure someone outthere also cannot understand this without actually asking. To me this is so concerning and at the same time sad. Why would you see danger and make it your mission to be part of that danger? Please make me understand.

Why does it look like an inherent behaviour pattern? Spending time with gay men and also seeing them online and on TV. I have made a plausible kind of semi-conclusion that it is an inherent behaviour. Yes for some of them it might not be an occurrence but to the most I've observed it does look like an inherent behaviour. It looks like they doesn't have control over it. Which is why I am here to ask. I say inherent behaviour because they look so comfortable in their pursuit of homophobic straight men. So much so it can be translated to inherent behaviour.

I am concerned. This is not a woke culture kind of thing I am genuinely concerned.

Recently I have seen the circulating TikTok live video clips. Where gay men go live with straight men who show homophobic traits and it is entertainment. No I'm not uptight. No I'm not reaching. It maybe entertainment but I would like to believe it is more than that. These people are there belittling other people and it is called entertainment and people are enjoying this content. Yes it maybe entertaining and I for one would agree it is entertaining but there's a subtle questionable line that gets blurred. You would be strolling on TikTok and a gay guy is live and a straight men enters the live and starts throwing jabs at the said gay guy and the gay guy would laugh it out and try to make the straight guy say more homophobic rhetorics and it will be for laughs. Don't get me wrong they seem to be enjoying this and it's okay I'm just concerned. And sometimes it would be the gay guy going out of their way to find a homophobic men to pry on and then get the expected reaction and then we all laugh. (Funny right?). I think these people who thrive in these settings are so comfortable at these tables it's a question worth exploring.

Are they male-centered or is it self-ranking that is too low? Ukungaziboni? I am so confused even asking these questions. But I think it's not being male-centered the normal one we know, I think it has connotations to it.

Oh the one that makes my blood change color more is when they prefer homophobic men than homophobic women. (None of both is right) But for the sake of the argument we will have to look at this. When a woman is homophobic it's like a granade exploded, when a man is homophobic it's acceptable and it's cute he's playing hard to get. Oh kill me now before I make sense of this! Are homophobic men really playing hard to get or they're just homophobic as the woman may be homophobic in this instance?

I know some may say men have always been homophobic and women are the moral campus of the society. Who's the society? Who made these claims? For intoni?

When men are homophobic it's expected right? Typical masculinity stuff? It's normalised? And it's all norms, guys let's change this, why is this normal, why are we upholding these societal standards and norms? I digress. When women are homophobic society doesn't expect them to be because they can't be the source of such hostility. It sometimes feel like betrayal cause they're our moral campus. But when these are put out in debates women get much more scrutiny than men all the time.

When the topic is about homophobia depicted by women the topic needs much more seriousness and no dense mindsets. Really guys? And trust you me some homosexual people's true comments on such a discourse may paint women to be “the monsters we think men are”. It has been happening. But that's not my topic of today.

I did some research on this and what I found is some of the things I have thought about. Internalized homophobia, Power dynamics, and more. And with the research it could answer nothing I've asked here because I am not looking for an answer from a book or an article written in America in 2007. I want real answers from real people that I live with. Especially the new generation. What are we playing at?

Is it because there's no validation that women can ever give to them that men cannot better even more? Is it because something forbidden and dangerous feels exciting and the thrill of it all is tempting? Is it because rejection intensifies desire?, the fact that akangifuni makes me want him more? Is it a trauma response? Is it a form of coping mechanism? Nithini please answer this raging mind of mine.

Is it patterns created by stigma and I don't have to look too much into it??

Subscribe

Thank you for reading, please subscribe star!

We fall and We rise again…

you managed to rip my clothes off

you managed to convince them off

you took the right time to pull this off

you knew exactly I was at my lowest.

you reminded me the proverb my father always said, “don't get too comfortable life is a dice”,

Little did I know what he meant

Little did I know he wanted to prevent such,

all along I thought it was love

I guess you looked at me and said “if only she knew”….

I guess everything was meant to be

but in this way, I doubt

I guess God took a quiet nap to allow this to happen.

But still God will never give you what you cannot overpower.

I was on the floor crying

but he was too deaf to hear me

my body was as stiff as ice

I begged him to differ, but invain

all it was,

then I remembered “if it was meant to be then who am I to argue”.

Had his was with me, took my pride in the most cruel way.

Forgiving myself got me this far

you cannot believe it's the end of you

while God still wakes you up,

Today I stand tall and say

you're the only Captain of your ship

no matter the speed of the sea….

By Sisanda M

Thank you for reading, please subscribe star!

Let your progress be yours….

When I think of a lady with brains

I think of you, little Missy

I think of the girl doing it all

I think of you, for you

I know sometimes you can lose your faith

I know sometimes you can be blinded

I know sometimes you can rethink everything

I know for sure everytime you regain it all,

I know of a young inspiration

and that is you, little Missy

I know of a beauty with brains

and that is you indeed,

A person who doesn't let the world detect her spots

Yes that is, you little Missy

you have conquered this far

I doubt there can be any conqueres on

your castle than you,

Continue to shine above the sky

Like the beautiful Rose you are,

A wise person once said, “don't measure your progress using someone else's ruler”

I said to myself that is her in distance

Yes these words reeks your language

Be the go getter you've always been

Once again you've come this far

you can be there too

you just have to believe in time.

By Sisanda M

To my sister Mbali

(Written as a hard copy in 2022 listening to Shine by Elaine)

Thank you for reading, please subscribe star!