The year I didn’t write
The year I didn’t create
The year I didn’t nurture my creations
The year that drained all my energy in work I didn’t love
The year my creative juices were dried up by the demands of bureaucracy
The year I matured and accepted that I desire a fulfilling career more than the money a drag of a job could get me
The year I got myself a home
The year I became an interior decor expert
The year I became a natural gardener; an avid student at taking hard earth and making things bloom
The year I became a plumber, an electrician, a fixer of everything
Nurturing my own home, my sanctuary
The year I became my own woman; caring less about what people think or say about my chosen state of existence and caring more about what makes my happiness
The year I did not step my foot in a church:
-tired of being told I’m possessed by demons because I do not yearn for marriage
-tired of being the subject of alter calls so the ‘blessed’ pastor could lay his ‘holy’ hands on me to attract the heavens’ blessing and whip my average looking self into a glorious mass of ‘marriageable’ meat
-tired of being the subject of special sermons that assume single=sex positive=sinful; and so what if these are individual choices
Yet the very same pastor who constantly preached about ‘sinful’ existence went on holiday paid for by a man he knew very well to have a wife and 2 small houses; seems being single is more ‘sinful’ than adultery because that man never got his special sermon, his ‘special sins’ forgotten or maybe prayed for by the pastor while snorkeling in Durban? 😂
I could not and would not and never will; again, subject myself to the wiles of patriarchy; ringing its bells loudly in my ears every Sunday and telling me I am not enough because my choices do not subscribe to the ‘norm’!
The year I embraced the word ‘Fuck’; a vocabulary on its own, a multipurpose expression
Of joy: Fuuuuuuck, I got the job!
Of anger: Fuck! That driver just cut me off!
Of surprise: What the fuck! Did he just say I can’t get the service here when I have been waiting in queue for the past hour?
Of concern: Oh fuck; are you alright?
Of love: I fucking love you ❤️!
My friend Clara, with whom I spent my 2015 Christmas in Barcelona, topped it off with this post:
The year I witnessed the extent to which the world despises women leaders:
I had always known women’s leadership was suppressed and feared but the extent wasn’t always clear to me
Dilma Roussef got impeached for ‘alleged’ corruption by a bunch of corrupt males
Hillary Clinton, with all her flaws, but with enormous experience as a global leader, was rejected and America chose a narcissistic, sexist, homophobic, islamophobic, self absorbed and immature caricature of a man as its President
The UN continued in its trend of thinking that women are good enough as as deputies but not good enough to lead, rejecting the idea of a woman as Secretary General despite there being several qualified candidates.
I welcome 2017 and all it’s surprises, joys, triumphs, defeats, pains & whatever else it has.
After 2016, this bad-ass woman is ready for anything! Sounds like self-praise? Well yeah! A famous Nigerian proverb-thank you Chinua Achebe 🙏🏾- says “the little lizard that jumped from the high Iroko tree said if no one praises me then I will do it myself” and so is this little lizard praising herself!