A Dose of Octuple Patterns
Things I could do with my time: Cook nshima and kapenta. Cook visashi. Crotchet products from chitenge. Knit products from chitenge. Speak to my parents about a history they had long left behind and refuse to revisit. Speak to my father about his life in Egypt. Speak to my mother about her life before my father. Speak to myself. Things I do instead: Have an existential crisis, several crises.
The Song They Wrote
I contort your words / inside out until / they are mangled. / I can’t use syllables, / sound siphoned.
Punishment
Dissected, chopped and carved, like a butcher’s plaything / I am repeatedly punished everywhere I reside.
"I need to see my own beauty and to continue to be reminded that I am enough, that I am worthy of love without effort, that I am beautiful, that the texture of my hair and that the shape of my curves, the size of my lips, the color of my skin, and the feelings that I have are all worthy and okay."
— Tracee Ellis Ross