Interview with Nana Darkoa Sekyiamah of African Women's Development Fund ******* NS: How did your journey as a writer start? K.D.Y: I started scribbling on pieces of paper at around age 8 or 9 after my abuse. I think it was a way to deal with the chaos in my head and body. I continued with … Continue reading An Interview I Gave
How I Have Been The Last Five Months
I have been stalling writing a personal blog entry for almost 5 months. I have been writing (as my contributions on other sites can attest to); I just haven’t written anything personal for the blog in a long time. Today, I had a mini break down, just with sobs and hiccups, not a my-life-is-over kind of break-down. I was listening to Christmas music and as sometimes music will do, it crept up on me and I found myself sobbing from someplace deep inside. It caught me off-guard and left me feeling totally comatose. Like I had been ambushed.
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Ligo Haibun Challenge: Illusion
The prompts at Ligo Haibun this week are two words, Illusion and Ecstasy. My offering:
Illusion
You waltz into my heart leaving me reeling from your aura. A magnet of sweet decadence you have me hooked completely. Lips to lips, body to body, no space for another. Just the two of us.
We dance, primitive in our desire, beating tattoos of love in naked abandon. And then, just as suddenly, like a fleeting mirage, you are no more. I clasp the breeze that trail your departure, but your wild musk eludes me. I grasp at nothingness.
I flail, I wail, my despair insane. Wisps of your essence cling to my consciousness. Waking and fading. You are my illusion.
your fine musk haunts my wild desires I dream onShare with the world:
Race and Invisible Cloak of “Black”
I could “talk proper” and “articulate so well.” And by year three I got compliments for having no accent: “no one would be able to tell you weren’t from here!” I was ecstatic. I even let them touch my hair. After all, they were “just curious.” And I relished in the fact that I “wasn’t like them” because being the kind of Black I was made me acceptable. I was the “safe” African/Black woman.
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In the Wake
Tonight I read as part of the Big Words, Etc. series. It was my first time participating. The night’s theme was “expectations.” Here’s what I read:
In her Ramadan journal, my friend Serena blogged about the silence of my sadness in the wake of the acquittal of George Zimmerman. I am both: sad and silent. I haven’t cried, haven’t rallied, haven’t ranted. Haven’t done any of the things I usually do in these moments.
And that’s part of my silence, isn’t it? That I can say, “any of the things I usually do,” that I have ached through enough of these moments that I actually have an expected pattern of response.
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I can come here and do things I can maybe be expected to do — wear a hoodie, wear a picture of this fallen boy on my shirt. I can come here and say the thing I…
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Musings of An African Woman 