My BLACK is beautiful

I have recently begun working on a special project that has elicited an overwhelming emotion concerning me having been born a beautiful African women. I am an African. Strong, bold, soft and supple, some say a little “rough around the edges.” Whatever the title…  DAMMIT… I am an African.

There is something to be said about the impact the western world has had on the meaning and importance of being an African, and how I see myself as a black women in the context of being a global citizen. Now of course you cannot solely blame western culture for the - dare I say - erosion of African culture and the traditions that come with them - but are we honouring or fighting hard enough for the purpose and meaning of it in our lives? Surely it belongs in the crevices and joys of our lives?



A Xhosa girl as it is written...

Now my particular journey has been interestingly awkward and numbingly sobering. I was born in Lenmed clinic in Lenasia, had the foundation of my being set in Soweto up until the age of eight up until the unavoidable exodus out of the township raised its head that lead us to the more confusing realities of the suburbs. As a young black girl, never been surrounded by such a condensed amount of white people of whom I thought didn’t eat meat nor know how to clean up until that point - this assumption driven by a plethora of notions and images on television mainly Bold and the Beautiful. My identity was taken off balance and till this day I am fighting to understand myself in the milieu of been a female, Xhosa South African girl.

Now understanding that titles aren’t the MOST important thing, it is by no mistake that I was born in this particular skin, of this descent in this here country that I love oh-so-much. Of course accepting my identity – YES – of being a global citizen, I have come to the understaning that knowing my identity and where I come from is relevant amidst the mould of an international village. Who I am, really, and where it is that I come from constitutes my makeup and story in the broader, humanity pool.

So… I sit here reveling in my land and the gifts and trinkets that have come with it and stroll the many layers of what it means. I may never get the answers, I may never know the 'why’s' but right now I just know that it feels SO DAMN GOOD being who I am, born of the tribe that I have, right here right know. Understanding it or not. I AM AN AFRICAN and MY BLACK IS BEAUTIFUL and whether my mould betrays it’s (what is black) “essence” or not, my story is of my own and beautifully so.

Black. Woman. African… a Nubian Queen made of the earth’s finest quirks.

Please enjoy along with me as I feast upon the threads that bind a continent. There you have it… a serving of home-grown corn for ya! Min emnandi mtwana ka’mama! It is as it is, as it should be.

Aim high, Roam free...