I couldn’t even really say the word sex out loud until I was 14. Even then it was whispered, or mimed or camouflaged as “banging” or “IT”. Growing up in a semi-conservative African family, sex was one of those things that no one really wanted to acknowledge or talk about.
When will you understandThat you will never be beautiful enough You will never be intelligent enough You will never be adventurous enough You will never Be Enough for the man who does not love you Stop trying to feed someone who starves you You are grinding away your heart,
At 16. Heartbreak sounded like a thousand buildings crashing down, a tornado, a countless number of sleepless nights and twisted sheets. An unfamiliar pain and tears coming from places you didn’t know could cry At 20. Heartbreak sounded like a car crash, ambulance sirens, a crime scene filled with broken
My heart is a construction site. It echoes like a drill in my chest Slowly coming apart I sigh deeply Pushing back the tears that have been welling in my eyes for weeks I pace my room Gathering courage to leave it. Everything in here And everything out there Makes
It’s a wonderful thing Having unconventional skin Waking up And making a choice To be different To be more of you than you were yesterday To hold eye contact To not look down To not be intimidated by judgement To be a little free