Dear 21st Century African Girl: A Motorboat of Trauma

Dear 21st Century African Girl,

I’ve thought long and hard about typing this post. It was going to be a twitter thread but I realised I had too much to say and a thread just wouldn’t cut it. It’s been almost two weeks since I was sexually assaulted by an acquaintance from the media industry and I’ve spent all this time trying to a) deal with it b) decide how to address this.

I’m calling it sexual assault because this is what this was. By general definition Sexual assault is any type of sexual activity or contact that you do not consent to, and I did not consent to this.

The other weekend I had been invited to my friend’s birthday party. It was a Friday night and by virtue of who my friend is, many people from the media and media-adjacent industries had shown up to celebrate her. It was one of those events where if you didn’t know someone directly, you’d most likely heard of them or seen their name in a work email.

Her party was held in a big open room, a gallery to be exact. Said acquaintance walked in and proceeded to say hi to the two guys I’d been talking to first. My ‘hi’ came third and during my interaction with this guy, my two friends had turned back to each other and continued talking. We said “hi”, and hugged as per usual and then he decided it was a good idea to motorboat me.

I was shook.

Urban Dictionary defines The Motorboat as:

“Vibrating ones lips over a females, hopefully large, chest.”

 

My first reaction was to scream, “What the hell!?” To which he replied simply, “Sorry.”

So I said, “I’ll probably tweet about this later, but right now I’m walking away from you.” (Funny how Twitter seems to have become a threat these days.)

At this point I had only been at the party for about 45 minutes. I walked back to my group of friends, who promptly noticing the change in my demeanor asked what was wrong and I told them. They too were shocked.

After about 30 or so minutes, after my shock turned into anger, I finally worked up the energy to tell the two friends I’d been standing with what happened. They advised me to talk to him, and honestly I wanted to deck him so bad but it was my friend’s party and the amount of restraint it took to not cause a scene was on a whole other level. A little later I confronted him about it and all he basically said was, “sorry” and “I wasn’t thinking”.

Firstly, hats off to the ladies (especially) and the men who’ve held me down on the night and since the incident happened. In narrating this incident I’ve gotten many reactions. Firstly, everyone has been appalled by this. So we all agree that unsolicited motorboating should not be a thing.

That incident made me think about a lot of things and brought to mind many emotions. I spent the whole weekend subdued and largely mute going through the motions. If you’ve never been violated before whether in being or your space I’d like to share some thoughts that ran through my mind, and if you have I’m sorry for the triggers if any. I’m sharing my thoughts in the rawest form of how I felt and perhaps still feel them.

I asked myself Why me? Why must I be the one to experience this? Who the hell does he think he is? What the actual hell just happened? I thought about so many things. I was so angry. I felt dirty, and exhausted and still I kept on partying. I refused to let it get to me. Because every time I stopped to attempt to understand that 5seconds of that night’s timeline I felt myself about to breakdown.

That seemingly small inclusion to the clock turned my weekend upside-down. It brought back 18 years’ worth of emotions I’d been battling from previous abuses. Emotions I was so sure I’d dealt with, and had swept under the rug came tumbling down like a ton of bricks. I was paralyzed and I hated it.

Knowing exactly the sequence of emotions you’re going through because of trauma and being able to pinpoint the changes makes the hurt different. I got mad at myself for feeling things I knew I would feel as I was feeling them. The duality of emotion is not fun.

I spent 3 hours after that incident socializing and dancing because that’s the reason I’d left the house in the first place, and also because I needed to distract myself. I got home at 1am and then the tears and hyperventilating started. Being in my own space, my safe zone, I had nowhere to go to run away from my emotions, no choice but to feel.

So I woke up the one person I knew would most likely be able to calm down because that’s just the kind of person he is. I was scared he wouldn’t pick up my call but he did. I started my call apologizing for waking him up. He could tell I was distraught and assured me it was ok. And in-between fighting back tears I told him what had happened and why I thought I felt how I did, and he listened.

That’s probably my favourite thing about that interaction. He listened and kept me on the phone for an hour, until I had gone through the motions and was able to genuinely laugh again. He told me “we’d be ok” and that “we shouldn’t let him get to us.” I suppose those statements were enough to calm me down. He made it a point to assure me I wasn’t alone and that my emotions were valid. And that this incident didn’t change who I was.

I remember saying all I wanted to do was stay in bed and never leave my house again. The next day I was committed to attending the #YellowCard protest and he advised me to go. He said “you can’t let this disturb your plans. Do what you’d planned to do, we’re going to be ok.” Again, more reassurance that I wasn’t by myself in this. So I went, joined the protest and afterwards I spent a pleasant afternoon with my friends. But it was hard.

If you know me personally, you know I’m a chatterbox. I had very little desire to talk that weekend, but I’m getting my voice back. It’s a work in progress, but we keep surviving.

 

 

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COFFEE DIARIES: Of Crushes and Detachment

Hello old friend! How are you? Are you well? I hope so.

As you have coffee with me today, I chose to drink parsley tea with some ginger. Just because I think it tastes pretty awesome.

It’s been a long time. I know, I’m sorry I haven’t been in touch but I’ve been  working on myself. You see being a serial crushist is a lot of work and sometimes I have to retreat into myself to gather my thoughts. Today I’ll let you in on some unadulterated thoughts straight from my journal.

On today’s date I will talk to you about detachment. I’m no expert in this feat, by far. I crush easily, we all know this. Introduce me to a great mind and I will trip, fall and land in like HARD! But years of unrequited love have helped me get my head around the idea of detachment.

If you’re anything like me, you might have had a situation where you like someone and they don’t like you back, that’s normal enough. Every human experiences that at one point or another, problem is a lot of the time I like someone and they think I’m not serious and I’m just being nice, whilst the people I’m not so into misconstrue my niceness for something more. It’s an endless cycle. At this point you’re probably chuckling thinking back to time this happened to you, now imagine that happening over and over, back to back for years on end. Yhup! That’s my life.

Often, I’ve had to grapple with the idea that though I love, I may not actually be in love. (Shocker). I have most recently come to have a willingness to accept situations for what they are, and to do my best to enjoy them as they are. To live in the moment of melding of great minds and enjoy wandering in the creativity that spews from the meeting of amazing souls.

 

I have come to understand more and more that time is a valuable thing and how we spend it in relation to what and who we want is essential. You will meet people that are essential to the growth of your soul. People who will say out loud the things you think with sincerity and leave you in awe. People who will make you want to learn them, because learning them and how they think shows you how you think and they provide a mirror to your soul. And so you immerse yourself in their being and set about to learn and study them just as you would for an exam.

Then one day you wake up from a crush and realise that that that’s all it was, a crush and your chest doesn’t get a tightness anymore when Daniel Caesar sings “Get You” and you embrace the evolution.

As you sip your coffee I have but one question to ask. Have you ever looked at someone you thought was love personified but as a stranger? As the closest stranger you have ever encountered? A stranger because you now realise there’s so much much more of them you have yet to learn, and that that’s ok. And so you allow yourself time, it’s no longer a manic crash course. That is transcendence, the deeper understanding that there is something your feelings for this person that makes a fitting person to have in your life. As I like to tell my muse:

“I understand it now, that your existence is a celebration of my future. You’re a private treasure that I could never explain, even if I did find someone who could listen.”

Sip your beverage as I give you food for your soul. You will meet some people that will make you realise that you are bound with a oneness of souls, that get you so deep in your feelings you’re certain you’re supposed to love them forever. And indeed you can, but it doesn’t always mean together. There will be people you will love fiercely from the get go. People whose minds you will want to simultaneously decipher and impress. People who will bring you closer to God, and closer to your purpose. People who are heavens joy and a human blessing and you’ll want to keep these people close.

Dear Muse, 

I was scared I lost you to yourself. We saw the waves of life and went under. Some days we struggled to swim and months later resurfaced, caught the waves and conquered them.

 

Dear 21st Century African Girl: New Year, New How?

For many of us a new year is a symbol of new beginnings. New goals, new ambitions, new blessings, new everything. By some sort of miracle, we expect a complete overhaul of whatever the previous year was. First thing first, don’t be sad that it’s a new year and you’re still you. Sure you can recite the age old mantra of ‘New year, New Me,’ and you can change for the better certainly but don’t forget that change is a process.

In order to change something, whether about yourself or your situation you must identify the ‘why?’ Why must you change anything? To understand this, you must couple it with another why. Why is this situation the way it is?

For many things we must change about ourselves we will realise that the why in question is usually based on our behavioural traits. For our situations however, we shall find that there are a great many things that are out of our control and the only thing we can do is respect the process as we try to facilitate change.

Respecting the process sounds easy, it’s not. It sounds like it might be fun, it’s not always. If you’re anything like me (a curious mind and an overthinker) you’ll find yourself asking the question why a whole lot. I’ll let you in on a little secret though, it gets easier to answer the whys when you understand two things.

The first being that you’re responsible for your emotions, and the second that you’re responsible for your actions (in other words how you respond to things). So rather than just asking yourself why? Ask ‘Why do I feel this way about this?’ This in turn helps you react to whatever the situation is accordingly.

When you realise that the action required to change yourself into the ‘new you’ rests solely on your shoulders and that whatever you feel with regards to that change is your responsibility, then you can begin the real work of change and deal with the question of ‘how?.’

How do I achieve the change I seek?

It is vital to remember, however, that it’s unlikely that you’ll get all the answers you seek when you want them. In order to change you might have to do quite a lot of unlearning, but you’ll be one step closer when you start to ask the right questions.

 

*Pics courtesy of the www.

x

 

Dear 21st Century African Girl

Dear 21st Century African Girl,

This is an open letter, just to remind you that it’s ok to be who you are.  I know it’s a cruel world but you’re doing great, don’t give up just yet, (actually don’t give up ever, if I say yet you might think that it’s ok to.)

Hey African girl, I’m here to tell you that it’s ok to like what you like. Read all the books, watch that anime, listening to that indie rock, all the banging tunes so you can have stories to tell. Embrace your inner nerd because she saves you, especially on all those days when it seems she can’t serve you.

Remember it’s ok to be an afro-punk creative with goth undertones, yes even on our “dark continent.” Embrace what makes you you and let go of the box society tells you to cling to. It’s ok to redefine yourself.

Listen, it’s ok to a Feminist.  To fight for what you believe in. Smash the patriarchy anyway you can and make the world a better place for you. Make it a better place for everyone coming behind you. You need to stop being afraid of creating new paths.

Dear 21st Century African Girl, you need to start. Start making that change and having those important conversations. Start where you are, with what you have. Someone is watching and someone is listening. Even if there’s only one person in your audience you can still change your world so work at it.

Hey African girl its ok to be a naturalista. I pray your fro grows and your face glows. achieve your length goals, don’t forget to deep condition, moisturize and love your crown. If it brings you happiness keep it. If you need to cut it all off for a new start, know that it’s your hair and it’s ok for you to get that fresh cut. Loc it if you want to, it’s yours flaunt it anyway you’ve got to.

Dear 21st Century Africa Girl, be proud of your country and your continent. You were birthed in diversity for a reason. And though it may seem that you were destined to struggle understand that you’re doing the best you can. In a world where you are set up to fail you’re allowed to thrive. As a Woman. As an African.

Don’t forget your self-care and to make time for yourself. Feed your soul and remember that you need to take care of you too. In a world where you’re taught how to take care of everyone else, remember that you matter too.

So wrap that wear that chitenge (African print) out loud and embrace your heritage. They can’t take that away from you not matter how hard they try. the African soil was made for you so shape it into whatever brings your happiness.

 

COFFE DIARIES: Sausage & Chips and Eclairs.

Hello there! It’s coffee time again. Maybe I should start calling it tea time, but then that would mean telling you a juicy story all the time and that’s too much pressure. So do sit down, let’s have coffee.

If I was having coffee with you today, I’d so that thing I usually do where I order tea as I tell you about my favorite traditional foods. Now I use the term ‘traditional’ very loosely here. This is not a blog post about nshima, delele or vishashi, (nor anything with ground nuts for that matter), so if that’s what you’re expecting, shem! (Yes shem! Not shame.)

Firstly, there are a few things you must understand. I love food and I am African. And as a typical child when I had a favorite food, I’d order it all the time whenever we went anywhere. And that food for me is sausage and chips. To date I’ll say that this is my favorite traditional food.

I like those chunky home made chips, too. (You know the fat ones that have character).  Also please, let the sausage be hungarian (praise hands!!) it’s the only sausage I can recognize to truly make the union of Sausage and Chips what it is. (It worked hard for that position, let no boerewors try and put asunder please.) I kid you not. For me the chicken and chips era came far much later, nothing holds a candle to sausage and chips. The love for this meal was so real, that when we first went abroad my sister and I would only order that from the hotel menu the first week of being there (Maybe because it was all we knew), this was only punctuated by occasional orders of egg fried rice and some wonderful beef stew situation (all the yum, yes I remember even though I was only 6).

I would tell you that my favorite traditional drink is Fanta. I was raised in an era when growing up African meant you drank Fanta at every event. Fanta (from the bottle), is for the children and elderly aunts it seems.

If you’re African you will know that Fanta has supernatural powers. I shall explain. Fanta is how my dad would bribe me to stay home and not cry for him to take me to work with him.

Dad: I’ll bring you fanta.

Me: *Yaaaaassss*

Fanta is also how my mum would ensure that I stayed put after she called a photographer to take pictures of me for the millionth time! (A lack of Fanta could be the reason why I’m frowning on all my childhood photos now that I think about it).

If we were having coffee I would also tell you that one of my all time favorite candies are Cadbury’s eclairs and those bubble gums that came packaged like sweets (in that blue, white, yellow and pink wrapper). I remember at some point that’s how we’d know my uncle is home, when you’d see the eclairs making rounds. Sometimes we’d get them handed to us when we went to the gate to pokelela (receive) him after his day at work. He  was always dedicated to our cause.

Anyway, I still love eclairs. In fact, you could probably win me over with a bucket of eclairs (Dear whoever, note that when you do this you must also be ready to bear the cost of my visit to the dentist), a giant plate of sausage and chips (my brother will not approve at the lack of ‘healthy eats’ in this post) and a giant orange Fanta. I long ago moved on to Sprite and other yummy things but you can never really go too wrong with a Fanta, not in Africa.

 

images courtesy of the world wide web.

COFFEE DIARIES: I DON’ WANNA ADULT

If I were having coffee with you I would beam at you a leisurely self-assured smile, because this time you would find me waiting.

I would ask you how you’ve been, with a joking, “Well, what took you so long?” You would laugh and settle down to make your order. If we were having coffee together, you would probably ask me when, on these dates, I would ever actually order a cup of coffee.

I would tell you that what I drink on these dates doesn’t matter, because my taste in warm beverages is as eclectic as my taste in just about anything. Not to say I’m flighty but rather that once I find a new obsession I go all in, but ‘adulting’ takes up so much of my time these days.

“Let’s be honest for a minute,” I’d say.

“Ignore my cheery disposition just for a moment because I have a confession. I don’ wanna.’

You’d probably look at me slightly quizzically then understanding would fill your face.

“Why, that’s understandable,” you’d exclaim, “You have Monday blues.”

Slightly exasperated I would explain to you that my Blues have nothing to do with Monday thank you very much and that all I want to do sometimes is climb back into bed and not have to get into the hang of this thing they call adulthood.

Lets all be honest for a moment here. We have ALL thought about cashing in our adult card and letting someone else take care of the bills, the work, the decisions, really we have. I’ll let you in on a little secret. It happens to the best of us.

In case you were waiting for something sweet or a pick me up, I’m sorry to say that is isn’t that kind of post. =) (we’re all struggling lol). The best I can say is that you’re not alone and that a lot of us “fail to even” with the adult life at the best of times. I do believe though that one day we’ll get it right (if ever there is such a thing).

 

*memes courtesy of the great world wide adult base called the web. lol.

BLOGTEMBER: GROWING UP AFRICAN

A lot of people who have never been to Africa, it goes without saying, have such a warped perception of it that’s borderline crazy. I spent 4 of my formative years (is that what they call them?) in the UK and quite frankly I was appalled and fascinated by how little people knew about Africa as a continent and even more so how much less they knew about my country, Zambia.

When I was due to come back to Zambia, I obviously had to tell the school I was at then, and my class of course and say my farewells. So they put together a cute little purple card of manila paper (I wish I still had a picture of it) with lots of stickers on it of animals such as tigers, elephants, snakes etc.

At this point you’d think that I’d heard all of the ridiculous questions but I was wrong. One of the questions I got was “Do you have tigers in your backyard?”

I was dumbfounded. How do you crush a 10year old’s dream and tell him that there aren’t any wild tigers walking around the back yard that i ride everyday to school and back? 

Another great question I got asked growing up was about my hair. I have thick, jet black, 4C natural hair (Currently dyed, but that’s neither here nor there). And so, I would get it braided in all manner of style box braid mostly and what I suppose the world now calls African threading.  My hair dresser (mummy dearest) would try all sorts of elaborate styles. I remember this particular one she did which looked like I had a greenhouse on my head (lol).

Anyway one of my classmates, Alice (she was half Japanese and half British), asked me if I had to shave off the hair where the parts were done. *facepalm* and she was a very smart girl, brilliant at Math….but….well I don’t know where she got the question from.

This question came from a girl who would do pigtails but just couldn’t somehow grasp that it was the same concept with African hair too. (Still makes me chuckle)

My childhood was filled with many things, games outside with the neighbors, exploratory walks and one of my favorite past times; CLIMBING TREES!! That’s something I loved dearly even though I was constantly told how it was unladylike. (I have the scars to prove it).

The lanes of my childhood memories are filled with visions of climbing guava trees with my brother to see who would be the first to spot mom coming back from work and scrambling down hurriedly to go greet her. Other slides show my brother attempting to teach me stealth by showing me how to catch dragonflies. My memories are filled with flavors of ice-cream, chocolate eclairs and bubblegum. With the smell of roasting mango, groundnuts and cassava, and boiling milk tea.

Childhood was interesting; filled with many lessons, because indeed Africans take the whole it “takes a whole village to build a man” thing very literally and very seriously. So you almost always grow up with a hoard of aunties and uncles and cousins that aren’t related to you by blood but are family all the same.

Growing up African is an experience like no other. Indeed I haven’t gown up any other way so maybe I can’t say for certain; but I hail from a land of strong people and carry my heritage with pride.

 

 

 

*pictures courtesy of the world wide web