I think some people only like you when you’re easy to love. When it’s convenient for them to show up for you or when you provide them with emotional support at the drop of a hat. Once you set boundaries, speak up for yourself, start doing better than them, point out inconsistency or the need for reciprocity, it’s like they have no use for you anymore. Just like the saying goes: “everybody wants you to win until you start doing better than them.’

Performative Kindness is Still Selfish

I’ve always wondered why anyone would pretend to be fond of you but in reality not like you at all. Then I realized it’s an act deeply rooted in selfishness. If someone pretends to like you than they can still have access to you. Your advice, your time, your effort, your energy, your ideas, your comfort, YOU!

For anyone who has ever gone through this you know that it’s one of the most draining experiences ever. I had a friend who only ever called to ask for a favour or to talk about a problem. For a long time I never saw anything wrong with it because I do believe that acquaintanceships ought to be somewhat transactional, especially in the early stages. My problem with this particular arrangement was that my efforts where unrequited, yet this individual insisted that they wanted to form a deeper friendship with me. I remember thinking but you can ‘barely maintain the relationship we have now.’

Performative kindness is very difficult to discern because it manifests itself as genuine. But one of the major signs I noticed was it often came with superficial compliments like: ‘hey gorgeous’ or ‘hey beautiful.’ Alongside a request for you to do something for them while they tell you about how terrible their day was. Everytime you mention your own success or failures, its often met with a quick applause and an abrupt comfort. Sometimes you will get a question about how you’re doing but it’s exactly that, a question. Nothing more, nothing less.

The Kind of Women We Become to Be Liked

Women are the biggest culprits when it comes to performing. One area we have mastered the art of performing in is pregnancy. Women who have never had a conversation with you a day in your life will suddenly take an interest in you the minute they find out you’re pregnant. I think it’s because there’s a silent rule that we should treat pregnant women well because we may one day find ourselves in the labour room too. Or maybe it’s because having a cute little human makes you easier to love. I can tell you I knew someone who only talked to me when I was about to get married, about 5 times when I was pregnant and when they needed me to pray for them. They eventually ghosted me during the second trimester of my pregnancy and sent me the: ‘hey beautiful’ text a year later after my baby was born.

Cold Cuts or Slient Boundaries

I’m terrible with boundaries. And it’s mostly because I have to remember I don’t like you at all. I prefer cold cuts because I don’t have the engery to always explain why you shouldn’t have done something that should be obvious. My now best friend Andy was approached by an ex situationship of mine I had in college. The minute he tried flirting with her, she not only ignored him but also blocked him on social media before he even got a chance to add her on anything. These types of friendships are golden because you don’t have to explain loyalty, respect or reciprocity. There’s already a mutual understanding.

So in the debate between cold cuts vs silent boundaries I will always prefer cold cuts. But realistically you can’t cut everyone off. They’re some people you have to maintain relationships with for professional reasons. So silent boundaries come into play. The most common one is: no phone calls (espeacially FaceTime), no voice messages, no oversharing, hide your stories, mute accounts, restrict accounts, respond at your convenience. This works well if you’re still vetting new people in your life too. It may seem like a lot of work but it is worth it in the end to protect your peace. Especially if you’re someone with a soft spoken heart. I’ve had to learn the hard way that some people only want to be around you for all the wrong reasons.

I know they’re words you’re afraid to write. Feelings you can’t avoid so you push them far beneath the human gaze. I challenge you to write them anyway.

Writing is like the highest form release, where healing is achieved through written therapy. The art of writing is like admitting you are a tiny spec in this vast world. And somehow that sets you free. Writing isn’t a chain made to make you bond. Or a prison of identity created by characters whose stories you sustained.

You are who you are whether or not you finish that final chapter. Or hit that journaling landmark, just write it anyway. For a silent audience, for a singular one, write because the gift is abundant and the well of words is ever flowing.

A mosaic of life experiences that continuously forms and will never be truly defined, but forever remembered. When you think your words are too cringey to see the light of day. Write about that imperfection either way.

For the broken hearted, the poor in spirit, for the words you once searched for but couldn’t find cause no one had written it. Write with pure intentions without any demand or entitlement for applause. Write because it needs to be documented and recorded, the art of literacy is slowly being restored.

Write always, write now, write it anyway.

A modern day love story

Our talking stage only scratches the surface

We play house for bit and I forget what day it is

You say we’re friends but the relationship lacks all the benefits

Of what true empathy and mutual respect is

To say I love you would be an understatement

But I bite my tongue because I know what your take is

It smells like weed and broken promises

So you don’t have to keep lying I get the message

Just wrap me in a bow and save me for later

It smells like weed and broken promises

The empty replies whenever I asked: “What this is?”

Don’t worry you can take your time

Just save me for later

I’ll wait for you in every lifetime

There is beauty in the wholesome

There is beauty in the silence

There is beauty in waiting

Avoiding what’s lukewarm

Swapping it for the truth

Facing reality in your solitude

There’s beauty in believing

“The evidence of things unseen”

There’s beauty when a shy rose

Comes out of hiding

There’s beauty in hoping

For better days even when

It snows in the hour of spring

There’s an ultimate beauty

That surpasses everything

When the unbeliever finally

Starts to see his always

Known the truth but never

Had the courage to believe

Or when a wounded father

Heals enough to love his son

Without fear of being misconstrued

There’s beauty in the vibrant

There’s beauty in the faint

There’s beauty in it all

Labour isn’t punishment but an invitation to expand on your gifts. A call for community and service, the art of togetherness that helps everyone feel less lonely on the journey ahead.

Then “the sleep of the labourer is sweet,” because rest feels fuller when you’ve honoured your purpose. Whether you receive praise for it or not, whether you get the raise or not, your slumber is sweet. You haven’t just attempted to do, you have done what you set out to accomplish. “The best is yet to come.” Your rest is set to come.

“Where are you rushing to?” my mama always asks. “You barely know where you are and have no clue where you’re going, so rest now and eat, for the journey is long.”

Enjoy the landmarks, customize each memory in your heart, cherish the ones that love you, and forgive the ones that didn’t know how to. Walk with a pep in your step as you master the art of continuous rest. Look no further for external validation, but trust the intuitive thoughts that whisper suggestions and guide you on the road ahead.

Remember, you have nothing to prove, but everything to steward over, so maintain it well. Remember, you have nothing to lose, because ownership is fiction and no one truly owns anything in this world. Choosing anxiety over peace is a foolish game, as no one is in control of anything.

Unless you can replicate the sun, you have no right to determine when it shines, and you could never dim its light. Affection is free, give plenty of it, because the world is full of quite the opposite.

Rest is not laziness. Rest is not stagnation, but an opportunity to reflect and interact with peace. Remember that rejection is sometimes just an invitation for continuous rest.

To think a thought so deep it pierces your conscious

Overriding all your moral codes, your body is on over drive

What does postpartum feel like?

It feels like the body’s ultimate betrayal.

A system that once grew and nurtured a human being now ceases to care for it properly

But if my little one could speak she would testify in favour of me

Knowing I fought through the mental hurdles just so she could feed & grow peacefully

If any conclusion is to be obtained, it’s that God wanted it the very way.

“Now are you even a good mum if the baby isn’t breastfed?

Doesn’t matter if you’re an under supplier it’s a sign of negligence.

And who did you let into your home again?

Beware of the silent enemies that whisper in despise, they work with CPS on their side.

Secretly judging the home you so carefully curated, with minimal resources & divine provision.”

So why is my brain wired this way? Why don’t you recall things well?

Postpartum memory loss. Or something like that….half of my mind was left beside that labour ward, along with the corpse of the old me.

“If I write a letter to the one I love, do you reckon he would understand me? Or would I remain a champion in his eyes, a hero that helps fulfill his dreams, of carefully breeding & raising his seed.”

To think a thought so deep it consumes me.

2 under 23

Can exist in harmony

Despite the hormones

My light doesn’t dim yours

We can co exist together

I discovered some new vulnerabilities

And they made me love you more

Some made me build walls

I never knew I had

Eventually the distance

Becomes too heavy for you to fight off

So then you drift into a lecture

You think it’s helpful

I think so too

So I let you continue

With no interludes

But my head is spinning

Far from calm

Existing in a world of misery

And you are not there

Just me & my fears

The doubt gets deeper

With every passing moment

I am a victim of thought spirals

“But wait, wasn’t marriage

suppose to heal me?”

Wasn’t I suppose to feel

less lonely?

You ask again, echoing softly,

begging almost….

Are you ok?

I recently hit my mid twenties and i’m finding girl friendships extremely hard to maintain. A lot of us have got the parasocial aspect of it right. You know; sending each other memes, liking stories, commenting on instagram photos, creating meaningful birthday posts and just hyping each other up. The problem is most of it feels superficial and doesn’t translate into the real world.

Ambitions

Everyone is busy, so working and coordinating schedules has been so challenging. I can’t tell you how many plans I’ve canceled rescheduled or simply not attended this year alone. I have friends who’ve moved away, are building their careers, starting families and creating businesses. I love that everyone is perusing their passions, but sometimes that comes with its own challenges. Not to mention the corporate world tends to pin women against each other. So the workplace now feels like a silent battlefield, with an: “each man for himself and God for us all” mentality.

Sharing is Caring

Everyone has a tight knit circle that they have carefully curated. No one wants to mix and match friend groups or share proximity. I’ve only met one friend in my entire life who was willing to share her community with me. And through her generosity I was able to land my first job. That doesn’t happen as often any more, no one wants to share anything. Let alone a connection or potential plug. Everyone seems to be either secretly competing with one another, too insecure to share or often times is gossiping about one friend to another so they wouldn’t want them in the same vicinity.

Inauthenticity

Social media has perpetuated inauthenticity. People have a life they portray online that doesn’t reflect in their personality in real time. It’s like you’re a character on the internet, playing a role. But the real you is far less interesting. In reality, you are way more guarded and difficult to figure out.

I’ve personally fallen victim to this. I find it easier to express my vulnerabilities on the internet to a silent audience, than in real life where the presence of others is painfully obvious. And I’m aware that this may read to many as inauthentic, but it’s almost like I can’t help it.

Pick Me

I’ve come to the realization that “girls girl” is subjective or it’s a term people use loosely because I’ve meet very few. In fact, more often than not you will meet women who would rather tear you down than lift you up. Embarrass you to make themselves feel better or just completely blindside you. I’ve made 3 best friends in my adult life and 2 out of the three have talked beyond my back, tried to steal my romantic partners and weaponize my insecurities.

Honesty

So I’ve come to the conclusion that maybe I’m not as good of a person as I think. Maybe I’m not the best person to be around. Or the most caring friend, but I do know that everyone deserves the bare minimum and that is honesty. The hard truth is we come across so many people in our life time, and not everyone is meant to be friends. Some are better off as acquaintances, others are better business partners or colleagues. I just wish women were more honest and open about it. Like “hey we are only friends because I know your friend,” or “I wouldn’t like to pursue this friendship any further because I feel we are incompatible.” It’s also completely ok to outgrow your peers and put people into friendship categories. But how do we prevent category based friendships from being transactional? And how do we create meaningful bonds? Society has advanced but our way of making meaningful connections has not. We need that sense of belonging more than ever before, but the girls aren’t friends anymore.

My relationship with food has always been unhealthy for as long as I can remember. Recently, after giving birth to my daughter, I’ve had to ask myself the real and hard questions: “What habits do I want her to emulate?” “Am I living a life she would benefit from or be proud of?”

After a deep dive into my thoughts, I concluded that for my child to reach her maximum potential, she needs a strong foundation, and that base starts with me.

When you’re trying to break down a habit, you have to get to the root cause if you want a permanent fix. After some deep contemplation, I concluded my complex relationship with food began when I was 9 years old.

My parents owned a family business for most of my early life. They had a dream of building an empire that involved family members from both sides. My cousins worked at the store, I babysat my nieces and nephews, my aunt supervised the tailoring school and Bible club, we had pastors present for spiritual guidance, and family friends for hospitality and encouragement.

In other words, the house was always full, and everyone was hungry. We had a tight budget, and certain foods felt like a luxury. Some days there was a big braai with a variety of meat, and other days we had sardines on a bed of carbs with just enough vegetables to get by. By no means were we struggling, but we definitely weren’t constantly comfortable. Because of this, my mum always urged us to finish our food and not let anything go to waste.

This principle never left my nervous system, and it seeped into my adulthood. Even now, during mealtime, I always rush to finish my food completely, forgetting to stop whenever I realize I’m full. The sense of urgency I developed towards food resulted in me neglecting my body and perpetuated my gluttony.

I have 225 photos of food on my phone.

Yet, after every meal, not once did I feel truly satisfied. Eating out of urgency leaves you empty and exhausted. This sense of abruptness has been my identity for so long that unlearning it can feel impossible.

I try developing small habits of eating only when I’m hungry and keeping my food for later once I’ve had enough. Accountability has been a safety net for me too, holding myself to a better standard and relying on my community to do the same. Surrounding myself with people on similar journeys, cleaning out my mukbang-centred FYP, and still loving my body along the way.

The whole journey has been a redefinition of my identity.
Who am I without food?
What do I do in its absence?

I’ve come to understand that I was never meant to be ruled by consumption—whether of food, opinions, or anything else.

Instead, I found my identity in a gentle walk of faith.

My mum calls it “Lesa uwakuposha”—the God who heals you.

And the more I sit with that truth, the more I see that:
I was never meant to fill myself to feel whole. I was meant to be restored.

In that understanding, food loses its power.
And the version of me that was defined by it becomes a distant memory.

For as long as I can remember, I’ve always compared myself to my siblings. Mostly because they excelled academically while I struggled, and partly because I always assumed I was my parents’ least favourite child.

Both my siblings seemed to have something going for them that I didn’t. My sister is the firstborn with the highest IQ, while my brother is the only boy and the most athletic. Then there’s me, just awkwardly in the middle. I was the creative child who played an instrument and sang in the choir. But creativity wasn’t given the same admiration that it’s given today. In the early 2010s, it was pretty much ignored and not nearly as normalized as it is today.

I remember being constantly asked why I wasn’t as intelligent as my sister or as extroverted as my brother. My dad constantly compared us to encourage healthy competition, and that created the overachiever in me.

I picked up a reading hobby in high school, and this was my saving grace. I received literature awards two years in a row, almost always received the outstanding performance award in my history class, and business studies became one of my leading courses, with a perfect score. It felt like I was finally in my parents’ good graces, and by societal standards, I was making them proud. I was still an indifferent child and an independent thinker. I never went with the crowd and rarely gave in to peer pressure. I had one best friend I loved and adored dearly, but that was it. I’ve never had a conventional social life, and I found joy in the simple things like: baking my favourite chocolate peanut butter cupcakes, perfecting my homemade chicken nugget recipe, having sleepovers with my friends, getting a new outfit for civilian day, and picking out a new flavour of lip gloss every Saturday. Life was simple and mostly blissful for a bit… until it wasn’t.

I can’t remember when exactly my high school life took a turn for the worse, but I recall one day realizing my grades had dropped, my peers and I weren’t seeing eye to eye, and I felt significantly smaller.

My mental health weakened. I stopped attending class and eventually had to be homeschooled. The change felt drastic to everyone, but I was already mentally checked out of school. The pressure simply became too much for me to comprehend. My mother was very supportive, though the school mostly viewed it as a tantrum or the mere act of a spoiled child. My emotions were extremely real and heightened by the high-pressure environment.

My low iron levels didn’t help. I remember one time casually walking to class with my classmates when my knees gave in and I fell to the ground. I later learned that my anemia caused me to have presyncope, which is like a drop attack or more specifically, a state where you feel like you are about to faint and your body goes limp, but you remain alert enough to realize what is happening. What may have seemed like a mild trip or fall to many, was for me, the beginning of my realization that I needed to break free from the need to achieve.

Mental health was not as important or regarded as it is now. You were mocked for having anxiety about school, making friends, having a crush, or even just being afraid of being embarrassed. Most of the time, admitting you were afraid meant that you just weren’t cool enough. My dad shared the same sentiment. To him, if I just worked hard, I would be well enough to attend school again. He never agreed with the idea of leaving school solely because of mental health. But for me, it was necessary to find peace. At that point, I was so much happier and more peaceful out of school, and I worked hard on my own to discover new ways of learning material that were more fun and suited to me. I later wrote my final IGCSE exam as a private candidate. I never got the highest mark, didn’t ever satisfy my peers or my dad, but I had something greater… my peace of mind.

I’ve been reminding myself to take life slow and to know it’s not a competition. I won’t sit here and claim to have all the answers; in fact, I still struggle with overachieving today. I’m unlearning old habits day by day, little by little.

Sometimes parents think raising an overachiever is a sign of a successful upbringing, but most times it’s a trauma response. The real sign of a healthy child is a calm, regulated nervous system. And that’s the world I want to build for my daughter. Where she knows she’s accepted in totality. Her flaws and accomplishments are a sign that she’s living, and that is truly all that matters.

We stare at the love we think we don’t deserve

Because we’re too afraid of admitting we need it

Girls like us are happier alone

Because we are scarred by that one braider

Who burned our scalp promising they would make us feel beautiful enough

Girls like us are happier alone

Because we are underepresented

By a media we heavily promote

Like the children of blood & bone

Girls like us are happier alone

Cause we cheer on others

Even though we get leeched on for a living

Girls like us are happier alone

Than we ever will be

In anyone else is company

~♟️

Sundays are for setting yourself free

From all the pain that happened during the week

Sundays are for letting things go

Because un-forgiveness only breeds sorrow

Sundays are for grabbing ice cream right after service

A sweet bribe from parents trying to raise their kids right

Sundays are for dressing our best

Hoping our attire could cover up our mess

Sundays are for grieving the losses

Of what perhaps could have been but never was

Sundays are for helping your neighbour

While simultaneously judging them in the name of the Lord

The echo of gossip groups growing in the corner

Quietly unlocking a pharisaical moral code

The meek population is going thin and the essence of fellowship is lost from within

Sundays are for silent sinner’s prayers

While the saints sleep in eternity

Sundays are for the lost sons of God slowly making their way up to heaven’s peak

For praise items that never make it to the pulpit for fear of scrutiny

For sermons that touched souls and led others astray

For the devoted wife who carries her marriage as the measure of her faith

Sundays my darling are where we reflect on life

And wonder if it’s really worth the plight

Sundays are for appeasing the elders

Even though we all know, the Lord is not pleased

We all know algorithms aren’t new, they date back to centuries ago and are simply systemic processes in which the machine learns from old data to create new patterns and correct itself. The irony? Algorithms are very inconsistent because they are constantly overcorrecting themselves with old data up against an ever changing world of ideas. Making them almost impossible to navigate.

I’ve been seating on this topic for quite some time now, contemplating deeply on what approach to take in this discussion.

Visibility as an Illusion

It’s been very hard for me to accept the idea that the algorithm that gave me visibility is now fighting against me by making me invisible. Like that one friend who got you the job but makes your life a living hell at work by making your tasks ten times harder.

Some have attributed visibility to posting during a certain time, hashtags or recycling trends (this has worked once for me in the past). These concepts are strong illusions that are nice to believe in because they give us a false sense of control, an idea that we can replicate other’s media successes by following these steps. But realistically it doesn’t guarantee more engagement, because the algorithm is constantly changing.

Data vs. Culture

Algorithms are built on old historical data, while human culture and behavior are quickly evolving. Let’s take the concept of “wokeism,” for example. It ironically started online, and though our ideas as a society have changed, the algorithm hasn’t fully caught up yet.

We see the side effects of this in entertainment, representation in media, influencer brand collaborations and personal FYPs (for you pages). No matter how hard you work to build your fyp brick by brick to show you only gym content, you’re bound to run into some gluttonous content here and there, because in the past that what has worked.

The algorithm is heavily programmed to favour predictable patterns over new ideas, a huge down side for non traditional creators who end up feeling like no one has caught on to their ideas yet, making it a very lonely and isolating situation.

Invisible Influences

Think of algorithms as a cool gatekeepers’ club with a “you can’t sit with us” mentality, while you struggle to figure out how to be cool enough to get into an ever shape-shifting club. It’s a digital editor that decides who sees what, why, when, and how. Without sharing the metrics by which these decisions are made.

That explains why meaningless posts can gain more traction than thoughtful pieces. Invisible influences are at play, aiding this randomness by rewarding inauthenticity. Another major reason why likes and views should never dictate how you view your work.

Your best pieces may be completely ignored, while your most shallow content is heavily embraced.

Just because your work is gaining traction doesn’t make it meaningful. The algorithm may have simply dropped your note into the sea of a vast audience—and you got lucky. Never use engagement as fuel.

The S Word

My take on shadow banning after doing a little research on algorithms as a whole, is that it’s a side effect of the system trying to overly correct itself.

When you think of an autoimmune disease it’s the body destroying its own organs or tissues wrongfully mistaking them for intruders. Similarly the algorithm subconsciously shadow bans its most innovative users because it’s threatened my the ideological progress of members that it’s enabled, simply because their ideas don’t fit the past script or mold.

That explains why a lot of content creators from minority groups feel unseen, it’s because though the algorithm profits off this niche, historically they aren’t suppose to be seen or prevalent in the media space.

Funding & Creative Peer Pressure

Money does play a huge role in why everything looks the same, but creative peer pressure plays a factor as well.

Corporations, billionaires, and brands own a huge chunk of the algorithm. That’s why you often see patterns or cycles repeating.

And if you see something for long enough, you’re gonna believe that’s what is needed for your work to excel.

I mean, we’ve all been guilty of using a trendy TikTok song just for clicks, not because we enjoy the sound. Many influencers have given up moral codes and are bought out too…sadly. Not being able to withstand the pressures of creative brain fog, clique culture and simply give in to a robotic pr trained mentality.

Community and Consistency

In a world where originality gets lost in the algorithm’s abyss, consistency and community are all you have left.

One thing that the algorithm can’t seem to silence is a consistent and well connected creative. Be comfortable enough in your art to release into the world frequently, and watch how rewarding that will feel. Not just from the applause, but from the relief that you did it.

People can sense when you’re creating from faith or fear, let the faith be louder.

Build a community of people who believe in what you’re doing. Not just in the media space but outside of it too. Don’t surround yourself with negativity and envy, but rather support people who inspire, motivate and resonate with you.

I find it’s easier to find your tribe, when you have a culture code of genuineness.

Use this strange algorithm to fuel your ambitions. But never let it define the value of your work.

Beauty norms are often viewed under the lens of the present moment shaped by social media, modern trends and algorithms. However, these ideas existed long before the internet did. Already deeply embedded in our culture, family, and traditions. To better understand how these norms evolved over time, I interviewed three women in my family: my grandmother, my mother, and my older sister. Each person represents a different generation, and each shared personal reflections on beauty, body image, and the expectations placed on women in their time.

Context

March 2021

This writing piece contains three interviews from three generations of women from my family. My grandmother, my mother and my elder sister. These interviews were completed within a span of 3 days including writing, editing and voice recording of everyone’s personal experiences.

My now late grandmother couldn’t speak English, so she answered each question in our native tongue sharing her childhood experiences before she moved from the village to the city. I tried my best to translate her words in a way that captures the main essence of everything she had to say.

This research was done for a blog in my Positive Body Image Nutrition Course, where we looked at the differences and similarities of beauty standards across generations. The same questions were asked to all three women privately nobody was aware of the other’s answers.

Background on Interviewees

Jennifer Chewe Mutale
My grandmother who’s been alive for 96 years. I wanted to interview her because of her rich wisdom and experience. She left the village right before World War II and then moved to the city for a better life.

Theresa Mutale Bowa
My mother who’s 55 and has worked for over 15 years, I was eager to interview her because of her positive outlook on life and her life experiences as a female entrepreneur in a conservative society and workforce. As well as her martial insight, having been married for almost 27 years.

Wachikuku Esther Bowa
My elder sister, she’s 27 and her name means “God of mercy.” I chose her because I felt she would provide unique insight to the interview, as a medical doctor who is part of the millennial generation.

Interview One

Jennifer

1. What was considered “beautiful” or “handsome” when you where my age?

“We would braid our hair once it had grown to a certain length and that would be considered beautiful. If you didn’t want to braid your hair you would cut it. Traditional hot coal tattoos would be imprinted on your forehead and stomach as a sign of beauty.”

2. Was your self-esteem affected by your size or shape as you grew up?

“Yes of course where they’re human beings there’s bound to be body mockery. Many people were called fat, and they would cry, and friendships would be destroyed. I would be mocked and sometimes I would mock others because we all had low self-esteem growing up.”

3. Did you engage in any “practices” (special diets, exercise, use of supplements, etc.) to alter your body shape to meet the standard “ideal” of physical beauty?

“Diets where unheard of at the time since we lived in the village, the closest thing to that would be to go and work in the fields and hope to shade some weight.”

4. How much time, money and energy did you devote to making yourself “beautiful” / “handsome” when you were my age?

“Not much money or time was put into making yourself look beautiful, but there was a lot of pain involved due to the tattoo procedures.”

5. What were the primary body image influences in your life when you were my age?

“We were mainly influenced by our family members, they would insist on certain things like getting our bodies tatted as a symbol of our culture.”

6. How did body image influences affect your mental health?

“Your mental health was affected because if you were considered ugly you would be told that no one would marry you. And this would drive many of us to tears and great sorrow. But at the same time tattoos where fashionable but not mandatory for marriage so this reduced the amount of stress and pressure one had to endure.”

7. What 2 to 4 suggestions do you have for achieving a healthy and happy body image at any age?

“In our time the main key to having a healthy body was not to be loose or sexually promiscuous and not drinking excessively. At the time our culture believed that staying put and keeping at home would sustain your health and body.”

8. What are some of the body image struggles you must deal with now at your age?

“The struggles I face have nothing to do with appearance but more to do with my strength levels as I don’t have the same level of strength that I had when I was once a child. Another struggle is when you’re old no one really wants anything to do with you, including your own children. Nobody understands that they aren’t trying to be a burden, but what to do there’s only so much you can do for yourself after you pass a certain age. The daily tasks such as bathing, eating, walking, breathing become nearly impossible. But what to do, only God can decide when he wants to take you away.”

9. What role does marriage play in the way you view your body image?

“Many times I would be told by my friends that if I don’t leave my house how will I get married. And when I finally got married, one lady even offered me help by telling me to find a cow’s heart to feed my husband, and that way he wouldn’t leave me or look at any other woman. So, marriage plays a big role in how we value ourselves as women.”

10. How do you define “beautiful” in a woman and “handsome” in a man?

“What makes someone beautiful is when they clean up nicely or God has gifted them with natural beauty. But honestly the most important thing is your character, if you look good but are arrogant, everything about you becomes ugly.”

Interview Two

Theresa

1. What was considered “beautiful” or “handsome” when you where my age?

“Straightened hair elongated by hot combs, bare back tops, minis, maxis, ambi lightening cream to bleach the skin and baby powder to polish the face were all considered beautiful. As well as afro wigs.”

2. Was your self-esteem affected by your size or shape as you grew up?

“Yes. Growing up I was always teased by kids who would follow me over a mile walk to school just to call me “maziduzya” which translates to the “plumb one.” This affected my self-esteem to a point where I would always run away from the kids whenever I saw them in site.”

3. Did you engage in any practices to alter your body shape?

“No at that time there was no access to knowledge about how to alter your body shape. But I remember someone giving me the advice to squeeze lemons in a bottle and drink them, and it worked!”

4. How much time, money and energy did you devote to making yourself beautiful?

“Non, at that time there were no resources, so everything we did was very basic and took minimal time. Hair salons weren’t popular at the time, and the people with resources would get their hair done in Congo.”

5. What were the primary body image influences in your life?

“Friends and family. My parents would pick out clothes for me so I didn’t really have a choice, I would also admire my sister’s and classmate’s hairstyles. Church also played a huge factor in how I viewed my body.”

6. How does body image affect your mental health?

“In our age group we had so many other difficulties that body image was the least of your problems. We didn’t have the space to contemplate our bodies too much, homes were overcrowded with distant relatives. So there maybe a psychological impact, but its unbeknownst to me.”

7. Suggestions for achieving a healthy body image

“Engage in some kind of sport, get involved in some form of religion because in religion you get some time to meditate and rewind, make healthy living a lifestyle don’t diet to lose weight, just have a healthy lifestyle so you can live longer. The fourth one is to be happy at whatever stage of life you are at, don’t look forward to the next stage and don’t look back to what you lost.”

8. Current body image struggles

“Every stage has got its ups and downs, but at this stage I think my greatest struggle has been to accept that as you grow, you age, and as you age, your appearance can change drastically.”

9. What role does marriage play

“Anyone at any stage can have some form of relationship or some kind of secret admirer, but everything comes down to whether you can attract someone to a point where they can marry you. So when I got married it made me feel like I was the best and this improved my body image.”

10. How do you define beauty

“Am not so big about appearance, sometimes when you haven’t met the person, but you read something they wrote you can connect to their beauty. I like to define beauty by the person’s heart and what they do.”

Interview Three

Wachikuku

1. What was considered “beautiful” or “handsome” when you where my age?

“Being light, being slim, tweezing your eyebrows, lots of glitter, hipster jeans and having long permed hair. Looking like a model, with a smooth face.”

2. Was your self-esteem affected by your size or shape as you grew up?

“Yeah. Because when I was growing up, I wasn’t all the things I mentioned earlier, except maybe I was light, but I was far from slim, and my hair wasn’t very long.”

3. Did you engage in any practices to alter your body shape?

“Yes, my parents made me do diets; I was on the Atkins diet, I used to go swimming, I would go for karate, I would go to the gym, and I was on the herbal life diet as well.”

4. How much time and energy did you devote to beauty?

“I think I devoted time, but it wasn’t as much as the average teenager, because I had really low self-esteem, so I didn’t really think it made a difference. The most I would do was go to the hair salon.”

5. Body image influences

“I think the main influences were the media and partially the church. The media culture blended with the church culture because of the heavy youth presence in both, so at church you would feel as insecure as you would if you switched on the tv.”

6. Mental health impact

“When I would hear that beauty is only a certain body type, it would affect me because I felt like no guy can date someone like me because I didn’t fit the ideal body type. I feared that no guy would ever like me for me, and this affected my mental health.”

7. Suggestions for healthy body image

“Stay true to yourself, be at peace with who you are no matter what age you are at, because when you’re younger you can have control over your body and alter it with diets and surgery, but as you get older your body can no longer cope to the things you’re trying to do to change it. You have been made in a certain way, and it will not change no matter what you do, so the sooner you get to be at peace with yourself, the better it will be for your mental health. Don’t look to social media for a healthy body image because what they post is not what they really look like.”

8. Current struggles

“Right now, I struggle with facial hair I must remove it, and it grows back again, the cones under my feet, my teeth are stained and I’m trying to get them cleaned, not to mention my weight. Although I’m healthy I would still like to lose some weight.”

9. Role of marriage

“I think marriage plays a big role because if you can’t see yourself in a certain way, it’s hard for other people to accept you as well. When it comes to marriage one has to be confident in themselves first, before they can be confident enough to share their life with someone else. If you don’t accept yourself for who you are the person who will come into your life will not accept you either.”

10. How do you define beauty

“I would define beautiful by personality and how one relates to other people. True beauty is sought, something that is not easily found.”

Similarities & Differences

Similarities

• All parties agreed that people would be made fun of because of their weight

• All parties agreed on the importance of working on yourself both inwardly and externally for marriage

• Beauty has always been attached with hair and in most cases hair straightening

• Everyone’s perception of beauty was influenced by external factors

Differences

• The first generation straightened their hair with castor oil and wild herbs, the second with hot combs and the third by perming their hair

• In the first generation beauty ideals where traditional and local, but as time went on, they became more and more western

Western Culture vs My Family

Western Culture

• Men are considered attractive when their dominant, aggressive and muscular

• Women who wear heavy makeup in the media are considered beautiful

• Women with lighter skin are portrayed as more desirable in the media

• Social media influencers with hourglass figures and trendy swimsuits are dimmed as desirable

My Family

• No makeup or natural makeup showcases sophisation

• Traditional African chitenge material outfits are considered beautiful and a sign of wealth

• Head wraps are associated with elegance and maturity

• Men with wealth and social status are considered desirable

• Modest clothing is associated with beauty and marriage material

Your sap is my sap

We are one thing

Sweet rivers of life

Our minerals collide

An ode to divinity

Planted in harmony

Fruitful as a vine

How we function

Lies in unity

I found a companion in you

A community

I sense you where sent

On behalf of the angels

Who watch over me

I feel like writers never talk about how scary it is to pour your emotions onto paper. To write honestly and truthfully is to let everyone see your heart bleed. Many of us master the art of writing as a coping mechanism for trauma we’ve experienced in our lives and as if that isn’t enough, we then have to relive it by retelling the story.

Let’s not forget the mockery that often comes with choosing this art form. I remember a family member scoffing at the fact that I wanted to study English Literature as my main degree, not a minor. They joked that it was only good enough to become a teacher. (Fast forward a few years I did briefly work in childcare.) But still, these are my words. My vision. My words are valid, whether somebody reads them or not.

And besides, what’s wrong with being an educator? We aren’t so bad.

Don’t ever let anyone convince you not to write simply because you fear being seen. The beauty is in using the gift and trusting that your words carry weight.

Shout out to my peers, y’all are really doing the damn thing. But seriously… how? Not just in writing, but in every creative field. You are honestly one of the reasons I’m afraid to write this. How are you finishing books already? I haven’t even started mine. How are you creating constantly without fear of rejection, without overstimulation or creative brain fog? And if you are experiencing all of this how are you still writing in spite of it?

Lately, I’ve been over-editing my work. Maybe it’s because my father is an author, and I carry the weight of expectation. I feel genuinely humiliated after I post anything like, ew, why did I write that? And don’t even get me started on being perceived. Especially by friends and family who bring up what I do online in public. Why would you embarrass me like that? Why comment on my sacred creative space especially when half of the things I’ve written are about you?

That’s how my alias started. But clearly, it wasn’t rocket science for people to figure out that Chesu is also CHES.

How many rebrands do I need before I feel like myself?
How many posts do I need to make before the shame disappears?

Being a Black woman in the Toronto media industry is disheartening in its own way. You quickly learn that no one really wants to hear what Black women have to say unless you’re well-connected, willing to code-switch to the point of self-erasure, or only write about harmful stereotypes that fuel the micro-aggressions we already live with.

It’s exhausting being PR-trained all the time. Writing is raw. It’s beautiful. It’s messy. It’s art. I’ve had my work overly edited by others to the point where my voice was softened and diluted. Everything seems to be about click culture instead of community building & authenticity. Too much self preservation and not enough putting each other on.

We should be willing to share our lives if we ever want true progress.

I also worry constantly about being mimicked which is flattering and frightening at the same time. What do you mean someone is watching me closely enough to replicate what I’m doing? It’s an ego boost, sure. But where’s my @? Where’s my credit?

Should writers copyright everything? How do we set boundaries when the internet is free-for-all? No one truly owns creativity we recycle trends endlessly. It becomes about who does it better… who steals better. We’ve all taken Pinterest images without credit at some point, yet we’re quick to blame others for doing the same.

So maybe we should just admit.

Creatives. Artists. Writers.
We’re all afraid to write this.

Abstinence breeds spiritual awakening or at the very least acts as an effective vetting process for courtship. Mine did neither. Instead, it felt more like a religious obligation and a form of seeking my family’s validation. I wore my purity like a badge of honour that determined my worth.

I met one man during Sunday school sessions. He was on the same journey and I loved him for that. We connected purely through spiritual & emotional proximity. The first love I experienced that had nothing to do with features or lust, but principles, morals and values.

I assumed the love we shared was mutual. I always thought he would officially ask to court me, but I waited to no avail. I tried pursuing this intimacy by following him on Instagram. I never got a follow back & that silent response was enough for me to get the message.

My heart closed off after that. Not just because my ego was bruised but because I realized we were all performing. Hoping “our Sunday best” could buy us a spot in heaven. I know a lot of the church members bank on the idea that God isn’t merciful or gracious, but that He just measures our deeds between good & evil. Performative righteousness is bound to have side effects & consequences.

This suspicion was confirmed when our pastor’s wife had passed away due to a terminal illness that had escalated as a result of his adultery. The revelation didn’t just expose his hypocrisy; it exposed the fragility of the moral order I had trusted. The same system that demanded discipline from women had excused betrayal from its men.

And suddenly the mask fell off, like the church was a reflection of its leader. No one “guarded their heart, for out of it flow the issues of life.” No one “honoured their father and mother.” No one “loved thy neighbour as themselves.” No one sought “the kingdom of God and all its righteousness.” I lost a lot of my reverence for the spiritual leaders that day. This reality shattered me and was the beginning of my church hurt.

How do I find meaning in something no one is doing right? Who’s the blueprint? Am I the pioneer of my own faith? I ought to work on my own salvation with fear and trembling. But I lack the spiritual guide and experience to do so effectively. And if everyone keeps failing this moral code, who am I to believe I’ll overcome it?

I decided on loving men briefly from a distance. My admiration for some shapedshifted from appearance to intellect. Turns out abstinence doesn’t make you blind to attraction.

I later confronted my dad for clarity on the matter. He was a man I loved deeply. I couldn’t believe the words he uttered: “abstinence was left for women to pursue and men had no need for it.” I quietly distanced myself from him too, there was no biblical basis to back his claim. I thought back to the man I met during Sunday school sessions. Was his abstinence journey ever sincere or did he hold the belief that it wasn’t required of him.

I quickly learnt to use abstinence as a mode of self preservation more than anything else.

Loving men briefly became a survival mechanism rather than the practice of restraint.

What follows is a peek into my creative process with annotations of this essay, that I plan to turn into a series. This is for the writers that crave the pen but battle with self erasure.

Read more

Presence carries more weight than words. You could say you’re going to be somewhere, but that’s all fleeting if you never arrive. Words are the product of many factors, but without mastering the art of showing up, nothing is produced.

My mama always says, “Please be kind to yourself.” Performative presence is bad spiritual hygiene, not only for others, but even for you. Be patient, and don’t be in the present moment with the anticipation of the next. Be in the present moment in spite of the outcome.

To those we love deeply, their mere existence is enough. Yet in our own minds, our being is only justified by our actions, gifts, or talents. We forget that our spirit is the confirmation of our identity, not the standards we live up to.

Before I met my husband, I was dating with the obligation to constantly give. He is the one person I can sit in silence with and not feel guilty for having nothing to offer. The intimacy of proximity was enough for him.

Your imperfect presence is significant.

Your imperfect presence is enough.

I often feel burned out when I am emotionally unstable. It leads to an emptiness that prevents me from showing up for anyone, including myself. In public settings, I find myself over-performing to prevent social awkwardness. I forget that the only thing truly awkward about this life is showing up for others at the expense of yourself.

It is a sacrifice to show up for others and serve them in silence without giving up. This constant practice should breed belief and kill the idea that your presence, even for yourself, isn’t enough.

Arriving with a subtle but firm availability is valued over meaningless words of worship. There is a humility that comes from the realization that all you can give in a moment is your presence. This humility protects you from burnout and allows you to fully enjoy the pleasures of this life.

Deliverance comes from being still, the same way grace comes from being insufficient. All this is what I mean, when I talk about the ministry of presence.

Taking accountability for how I hurt you

I'm sorry, that was unpleasant of me

I'll do better at regulating my emotions

And re-dedicating them back to God

I said some sad things

That's not a reflection of me

I act out of character

When I'm running away from vulnerability

How can I help heal you I want to preserve the sanity Of your healthy soul

So how can we glorify Him more

While we're here, since we're here

Let's make the most Of our passing by

Maybe I'm the missing puzzle

Or the chess piece

Maybe our love was prophesied

It was destined

To hell with denial

I'm the pawn

No one starts the game

Till I come on

The paradox of working with children is as complex as you would think it to be. Kids represent our most purest forms but simultaneously our most intrusive thoughts.

Harder than raising them is witnessing this juxtaposition unfold. Who put this idea in mind that kids ought to be perfectly innocent through and through. Whoever came up with it, I’m here to confirm that couldn’t be further away from the truth. Kids are a light yes, but also a strong darkest when provoked/sometimes unprovoked. Even my best kids give me a hard time sometimes and that is just the reality.

This strong delusion opened a portal in my mind about what else society has gotten wrong. What stereotypes have been dragged along for decades & centuries? And who’s responsible for helping us unlearn them? And why it’s necessary for them to be unlearned.

A Play on Innocence

Before I go deep into describing each stereotype I thought it to be better suited if I focused on where these ideas stream from. For instance, what is innocence and who defines it? In simple terms innocence means to be “free from sin” but our take of this phrase has changed throughout history. Across many cultures and traditions the definition is the same but the perspective defers (in practice it’s actualized differently).

Throughout time is was seen as noble to discipline your children using harsh punishments and chores, now that is illegal and punishable by law in the western culture. When people lived in neighbourhoods more than condos you could deliver your neighbours mail for them if needed, now it’s a criminal offence to take someone’s mail without permission even if it’s with the intent of helping them.

This pauses a question in one’s mind; have we adapted new ideas to better ourselves or has the world gotten more unsafe and evil? The idea of child like innocence stems more from the beauty that kids obtain rather than the naivety they uphold. You’re less likely to think a rose will attack you because of its appearance and colour, while you’re more likely to be wary of a bear because of its sound and size. In reality they can both hurt you, just differently. One with its claws and the other with thorns. Regardless, you’re still bleeding.

We could argue the nuances about varying levels of pain inflicted by a predictable source vs an unpredictable source, but the reality is it’s still pain. Many believe the absolute innocence of children and it’s important to understand that this is simply impossible, working closely with neurodivergent children helped me grasp this reality. But why is it important? And why does it matter? Well it manages our expectations and helps us understand that kids are just as flawed as we are and need a stern moral campus just like anyone else, it just needs to be communicated in a way the child could comprehend.

The Author of Innocence

I would say we are the co-authors of innocence, and it is our responsibility to unlearn and reinstate certain understandings from time to time. However, the true author of innocence is God. In Genesis, He makes it clear that innocence is not the absence of flaw, but the presence of alignment, remaining in the will of the Father and attentive to one’s heart posture.

In society, innocence is often reduced to rule-following and moral compliance. Spiritually, it is something deeper: obedience rooted in relationship rather than fear. This distinction became clearer to me through working with children, who act from instinct long before they understand consequence. They are not blank slates or fragile glass. They are human, just unfinished.

The problem, I’ve learned, was never that children failed to be innocent. It was that we expected innocence to mean perfection. When we release that expectation, we make room for guidance instead of disappointment, direction instead of control. Children lead with instinct because that is all they know and when met with patience and discernment, that instinct becomes a pathway, not a threat.

True innocence, as scripture suggests and experience confirms, is not something children naturally preserve; it is something they grow into. Our role is not to control that growth, but to steward it. And perhaps the greatest work of guiding children begins with unlearning what we thought innocence was in the first place. Mastering, instead, the art of Godly innocence.