A Lament of the Growing Futility of our Rage

our anger has no ability to destabilise they have grown accustomed to our anger.   our anger is their profit deliberately deliberately they anger us the more we scream cry destroy ourselves the more they line their pockets  thicken and bulge with the acidity of our anger our anger is so profitable they now sell…

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Because They are Black Womxn, Like Me.

“I love Miss Letsaba because she is black like me” That was my Grade 3 contribution to my school’s annual magazine. I think we might have been asked to describe what we liked best about our teachers.  I remember a white “friend” reading this back to me in Grade 7, as if it were something…

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Arriving at Black Girl Fest. A Love Poem.

 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…

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Black, Black, Blackity, Black: A Caucacious Encounter with a Becky

“the other day…you know…sit down, let me talk to you. The other day when you were dressed… in your clothes, you look very pretty, you’re a pretty girl- but you don’t need all of that. You don’t need those big earrings, all of that (makes motion of headwrap above her head), you don’t need the…

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