No, you cannot touch my hair You cannot take unsolicited photos of me Yes, I appreciate you singing to me in public, but no, I will not give you my number No, you cannot ask me if my ass is real You cannot touch my hand You cannot hug me No, you cannot dance... Continue Reading →
I'm in the tube. Adjusting my camisole again. It has been riding up my thighs since I put on this skirt. The fabric and the shape, it seems, were simply not meant to sit on my thunderous thighs. These thick dimply thighs. And then I sigh. Oh well. They are just thighs. Juicier than people... Continue Reading →
These womxn! The hair, the face beats, the clothes. Look at how creative they are. Listen to how smart they are. How is it possible that all of them are so beautiful, smart and talented? Like Wow! and then I realise, even me! I am these womxn! -what it feels like to look into the... Continue Reading →
Self love is unlearning the centuries old myths of black undesirability, Unlearning self-hatred Self-love is Sara-Baartma
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