Beguiling Box
This poem delves into the insecurities that people face when they imagine what their metaphorical “box” may have inside.
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.
Blossoming Through Motherhood
Though I am a mother, I am an individual who believes that motherhood should not strip away your identity; it also should not stop your internal and external growth, success, and fun.
Coming Home To Me
I’m relearning how to love and honor my inner voice and spirit; I’m reprogramming the negative thought patterns and destructive self-talk that triggers self-doubt to rear it’s ugly head.
The Licked Soul
“Closing her eyes and beginning to run her right fingers through the strings playing the tune of her soul, she softened.”
Never Quite There
Musings on African identity: to mixed children, my thoughts go out to you as you would feel quite like me.
Punishment
Dissected, chopped and carved, like a butcher’s plaything / I am repeatedly punished everywhere I reside.
Identity of a Mother
Who knows, your greatest weakness might turn out to be your strongest motivation!
Who Are You?
Embrace yourself, embrace your identity, and most importantly do it as a gift to yourself and not for others…
Bus Ride Home
What is your presumption? When you gaze at my ebony cheeks, and twist your nose in disgust?
"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