Women’s History Month
Some people always complain and say that being a woman is hard. It is. We are subjected to a lot socially, and it really is as scary as it sounds. Not many men understand this, a lot gets brushed under the carpet because they insist it is said in jest and it isn’t that much of a big deal. We learn to hold onto ourselves and protect ourselves however we can and we don’t dwell, our pity parties are mostly hosted by us, for us alone.
You get home, remove your jewellery, wash your face, tie Bantu knots into your hair and breathe. Then sit and remind yourself why you will go on and remind yourself that at least this isn’t as hard as that which most women of colour before were exposed to. Then you calm down and bid farewell to today. ‘Tomorrow is another day’, you say, and promise yourself it will be better and it is. You remember why your beauty is immeasurable, why the rainbow chooses to call your palms home. You learn to love your soft and pink self; the need in your voice when you call those who care for you does not become a mark of shame. It doesn’t.
Then you understand that not being fine passes, and it is fine to accept that yesterday the sun never rose for you, it was only gloomy greyness that took you under. That you birthed nations before and you will do it for many more years to come. You learn that your skin isn’t just home, it’s also the sky and it really is as soft as the clouds. You learn to love your eyebrows enough to actually want to keep them and wear them with the lashes they were born next to. Your giggles echo straight into God’s ears and your smile gives your soul purpose.
There was a day not too long ago when not much made sense and you cried at pictures of puppies, but today you are taking on the biggest challenge of your life and you are doing so with steady measured breaths without breaking a sweat. You got this. Whatever this is, you got this. All is well, and you are a welcome hug, an appreciated smile and a fresh breath of air. Happy Women’s History Month.