Hey girl! I wrote to you last week, thank you so much for getting back to me. How are you? I think I’m going to do this often. This writing letters to you thing. Let’s make it a thing. I hope to hear from you.
In this new series I will tell you the truth. Because I like to hear the truth (on most days). I will be candid with you because life is too short to be longwinded and sometimes, it’s refreshing to just be honest, to be yourself unreservedly and be free to enjoy that.
Dr Seus said “No one is youer than you” or something random like that and that’s entirely true. There’s moments when you’ll catch yourself girl—and have an epiphany—in a split second. You’ll realize that you’re such a unique bundle of the bits and bobs of life—and that, that is a wonderful thing—and be so overwhelmed with the joy of self. And when it does, girl when it does relish it, because some days are dark and you will need to remember that feeling. That moment. That love of self.
Hey Africa girl. It’s ok to not be “African enough,” the point is that you’re African. Embrace being “an oreo”. Oreos are tasty anyway. So get you a glass of milk.
It’s ok if your music isn’t African enough. I listen to little bit of everything myself. But it is not ok to not have an interest in your heritage. Because whether you like it or not your history does affect a big part of your life. That being said, do try to immerse yourself in the music of your culture. And by culture I’m not even being restrictive to your tribe or even your country of origin. Just take an interest in your continent. We’ve spent so much time as a continent being separated that it’s high time we got a chance to know each other. And everyone knows music brings people together.
So listen to that Fela, that Maleek Berry, that Freshly Ground, that Sauti Sol, that Tehn Diamond, that M.anifest, that Somi, that Hugh Masekela, that Kwaye, that Ludo, that Luka, that Bacci, that Chuck Van Dusty, that Seya, that Esther Chungu, that Les Diplomatique. Honey, listen to everything! Because you can. Learn all you can about everything you can. Just because. And because many fought for your liberty so that you could. (Yes, if you won’t do it because you can then do it out of guilt. j/k)
Dear African girl, I’m writing you this letter, because I wish I’d received one. And because every once in a while, I need one and can’t find one. (Also because I really miss writing letters.)
Understand that I am writing to you, African girl for a lot of reasons. Firstly, because you are African. It is unfortunate that we live in a world where we constantly have to fight to be seen as human. That is the harsh reality of it in a nutshell. Now of course, we grow our societies and live our lives and even flourish. But that is simply because life goes on and it must! In order to do that, you need a pick me up. The African woman has so much against her that she needs to hear words of affirmation even if sometimes it might come to her through a random blogpost but a random African girl.
Secondly, I write to you because you’re a girl. Incidentally, I use this term very loosely because I am aware that we are all reading this indeed, women. But that’s just semantics and in this series of posts neither here nor there you all know what I mean. (Great! now that’s out of the way—Phew).
I write to you girl because you’re hella disadvantaged. You come into this world putting up a fight because of your gender, your blackness, your kinks and coils, and your history, we all know this. (Don’t come at me and say boys struggle too. This is a post for the girls—and that doesn’t negate the struggles of the boys—just let us have this ai.) But we’ll talk about that in detail some other day. Trust we have a lot to talk about. (I have lots more blogposts to make–but one thing at a time.)
So I’m here to tell you that I’m going to help make that fight easier. Even if all I can do today is tell you that you can do this thing called life. You don’t have to do life alone. Wherever you are in the world YOU ARE NOT ALONE. And no matter happens know my darkness is never so great that I can’t send light your way. So I’m here for you.
We have lots to talk about but for today I’ll end here. I look forward to hearing from you. Until next time Dear African Girl, stay African. Embrace who you are.