I am not like those men in the hashtags. I don’t mean the rapists, I mean the other ones. Relax, I have never ripped a woman’s clothes off and impaled her forcibly on myself. I understand and respect consent. No, I am not like the rapists: those stories horrify me and wrench my heart. I am just not like the other guys in the hashtags. Continue reading I Am Still Tempted (When the Hashtags Go Silent)
“Kuzolunga.” At face value, a declaration pregnant with hope but often just an impotent capitulation, a hopeless cupping of hands around a dying flame. It is the last word heard by a wife just before she becomes a widow, spoken as death beclouds her bedridden mate. It rings in the ears of the tenant facing eviction, taunts the desperation of the unemployed graduate and annoys Continue reading Kulungani?
Still wrapped in the darkness that gave birth to it, the day is in its infancy as I type this. I cannot miss the irony of peeling the layers of my insomnia at the very time that I toss and turn under its sleep defying spell. I hope my peeling has at last revealed its secret and I can forever dispel it, binding it to the past as I move on into a well rested future. I think the reason I lie awake vainly searching for sleep, is fear. I am not afraid of the dark or monsters under my bed, no, the fear that chases sleep from my eyes does its grisly work during the day. Continue reading Cluttered Days, Loud Nights
The great arbiters of blackness that I meet everyday have deemed me not quite black enough. This judgement is often pronounced with annoyance and derision as if it’s my fault that America came to me. Continue reading Too Dark but not Quite Black Enough
Deep within us all lies the craving for belonging. It is this pulsating need that leaves us vulnerable to bandwagons. Their resolute sound bites, witty hashtags and rousing visuals strum our heartstrings, bidding our hearts (eager for approving backslapping) to dance to their tunes and join the happy band of fist-pumping acolytes. Continue reading I am Not Open Minded
I am tired of being stupid. A little over ten years ago, I did the unthinkable. I walked away from a computer science degree and the pot of gold that allegedly (and probably) lay waiting at the end of a career in computers. To this point, I had been the !
Like a street-dwelling orphan trying to ignore the groans of a belly gnawed raw with hunger as he gazes upon a restaurant’s feasting patrons, I find myself gazing at the ready optimism of the ever bubbly optimists. With eyes keen I have watched Continue reading Dreamy Eyes and Wet Smiles