One of my all too beautiful, all too inspiring friends recently happened to find herself in THE 'African Woman' magazine. As the title suggests it is a magazine that celebrates the amazing work women have been doing in particular parts of Africa. In her case, she put up a charity dinner to help 'keep a child alive'. In this life there are thinkers and there are movers and shakers, she is CLEARLY a mover and shaker. So to my lovely V this one is for you, in tribute of your amazing heart and inspiring work...My official congratulations. Love you.In the midst of things like MTV Base and songs like Nelly's "Tipdrill", i guess it is easy to get lost in translation when it comes to defining what it really means to be a woman. However, in my quest to find an appropriate definition i came across this quote from our one and only Bob Marley
"You may not be her first, her last, or her only. She loved before she may love again. But if she loves you now, what else matters? She's not perfect - you aren't either, and the two of you may never be perfect together but if she can make you laugh, cause you to think twice, and admit to being human and making mistakes, hold onto her and give her the most you can. She may not be thinking about you every second of the day, but she will give you a part of her that she knows you can break - her heart. So don't hurt her, don't change her, don't analyze and don't expect more than she can give. Smile when she makes you happy, let her know when she makes you mad, and miss her when she's not there."
Yeah, apparently the little green 'eeerrrb is good for something. So if his 99.9% doped up brain could come up with someting so insightful who are we to claim to not know the value of women. I love the simplicity of his words, he is not claiming to know it all, neither is he giving you some elaborate theory of what she should look like. As one who isn't really a fan of flattery i can appreciate his theory, its all about the little things. In todays society it seems as though we are trying our level best to see just how much the word woman can be degraded.If this was money, women would represent little more than the Zimbabwean dollar. Depreciation is clearly at an all time high. I remember the day after Valentines Day someone posted a tweet that said "such a shame valentines day is over now women can go back to being treated badly"..hmm .. Their comment was a bit blunt but is it really so far fetched to think that one of the only times we are allowed to demand that we feel loved, cherished and special is that one day in the year.
Now fellas dont get me wrong, i am not here to criticise and send some hate mail your way. I am sure you are all doing a marvelous job showing your special someone how special they are...blablabla.. but sometimes we all need a little reminder what constitutes making someone feel special. Yes unfortunately its a lot more than showering one with gifts and telling them their not fat.Its all the other little things.
I used to think that i was the only girl in the world that didn't really like compliments about how i looked and all that. In fact, constant references to my outer appearance left me uncomfortable more than 'flattered'. I mean don't get me wrong like any other girl i like to look good and have my handy work shown some appreciation BUT I just hate the thought that that could possibly be the only thing you see when you look at me. Growing up a bit more and realising how this world opperates i thought i was a bit crazy and possibly a bit OTT in my thinking considering i was a bit of a tomboy growing up.But then i recently came across Joshua Bennett's "10 things I Want to say to a Black Woman" CLICK AWAY http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6gU7ItOxr9g . My first thought was 'OMG they exist' (and he really does exist,thats not a smart robot you watching, he is even at my uni actually..who woulda thought *big smile*) and then i realised how much of myself i have adjusted over the years just so my views of what constituted a woman wouldn't become, in the eyes of others, extremist views. But allas.. no more. I think he does more than set the bar exceptionally high..to me he just rubber stamps the idea that if we as women can't find a guy that thinks and treats us this way, its not because he doesn't exist but because you choose not to see him.
I rememer as a young teenager i used to absolutely HATE going to what us Lusaka dwellers refer to as "town". Amidst the shopping complexes that have been erected during the last decade, "town" ,which was once the place to be and bustling city centre, has become the equivalent of the forgotten land for some of us. My fellow Africans i am sure you can relate when i say, picture crowds of people breathing each others air and trying to survive those cramped corridors and passageways without getting knocked down. And for me, the worst part, picture 'the street kids', if you're Zambian formerly known as 'Kaponyas', hurling all sorts of things at you as you try to gracefully ignore them. Yes i am sure enough lovely ladies are cringing at the thought.. sigh.. i hated them with a passion..i mean i would avoid going at ALL costs, including, yes, starting to cry. Every time i made an attempt to go i would be greated by the Kaponyas with the likes of 'Jennifer (not my name by the way), you look like you bathe in milk, come here" or "ey sister,why don't we find something useful to do with those hips" or my personal favourite " marry me my sweet chikanda (traditional version of a desert)". it did not matter where i went or who i went with i was ALWAYS a target. It was as though they sniffed out my fear and thrived to mortify me. Not even my awkward attempt at not shaking my derierre as i walked did the trick. it was futile. they always found me. You see in those moments I didn't feel flattered by what could be, from the right mouth, sweet words, neither did i feel flattered that someone was making a pass at me. I felt disgusted, made to feel what one feels when they are naked in front of strangers.. naked, embarrassed and stripped of everything else on the inside that makes me a person. there is no dignity in that moment, no pride, NOTHING. Just you being reduced to no more than the object of someone's lust, nothing else. No better than a peice of furniture or a vase. for even a vase can be expensive, and thus respected and cherished.
Is that moment any better than being the chick in a Nelly Tipdrill video or a Ludacris one? I don't know..does it make a difference if instead of a mere kaponya tellin me to get my ass on the floor its T.I or Jay-Z or Ludacris... Kanye maybe.? I mean how many of us have wanted to be those super hot women in the videos, being admired and touched by the likes of T.I..sigh... I'm guessing more than care to admit. These are the men shaping our society today and showing us what women are and how to treat them. Subliminarily telling us to spend 7 days a week in the gym and get on a 360 days a year diet in aspiring to be those kinda women. i don't know about you but I've already got school to get up for, there is no way i can do that too. So i am hoping there is another kinda woman i can aspire to be that doesn't involve such a strenuous regime or that doesn't reduce me to a mere object.
When i first think of what is to be woman quite naturally i first think of that blessed woman that has raised me and put up with me for 20 years. not only that i look to her relationship with my dad to see if i can find there something that will shead some light on what it is to be TREATED like a woman. i remember some time last year during my mother's birthday party my dad in all his chivalry and charm told my mum that to him she was still his sweet 16. And during their usual during meal time banters about who has gained the most weight in the coarse of their marriage my dad still never fails to add that he does not know who looks more beautiful, her or his daughters (ummm Dad, really?). Anyway the point is, my mum isn't really that tall slim goddess my dad married once upon a time ago. 4 kids and a long ass marriage later can leave one looking rather ..ummm.. different. But somehow. amidst all that my Dad can still look at my mum and utter words like that without batting an eyelid. he can still look at my mother with such respect, awe and darn right reverence that can give a third party observer chills. Everyone knows better than to mess with my Mum least the watchdog that is my Dad gobbles you up with that piercing look. So i wanna know what the hell is it that leaves a man looking at a woman that way after so long?I am guessing it is not the booty shaking skills, the endless long legs, the flat stomach or the face that looks like it was carved from God's "special" finger. No it can't be all that.. Because as far as i can see, those things fade. Time mercilessly eats at them, leaving but a shadow of what was once described as beautiful, or hot or even sexy. I am guessing that in the case of my parents, it has been as a result of my dad watching my mum raise his kids, watching her love them endlessly, watching her endure the trials, watching her love him the best way she knew how, watching her stay by his side when the logical thing to do would have been to flee the opposite direction. watching her support him, watching her be courageous in the face of opposition, quite simply watching what it is when a real woman loves. these are the things that have ultimately come to define her beauty. These are the things that form the essence of a WOMAN, the fight, the strength the love the sacrifice and confidence. They all become etched within her and engraved into every fibre of her being to the extent that you cannot look upon her form and not see beauty, not feel pride or not want to love her. Her presence alone will command the respect she so deserves and a reverence that one cannot contain. These are the women Fathers love. These are the women children adore. These are the women that bore us.
all other types of women fade as quickly as thy were displayed. because objects brake, mirrors shatter and beauty fades.
So then why are these women rare? why don't you find them on the arms of many men. why don't you find them on the arms of the likes of P Diddy or lil Wayne..strong, rich, FAMOUS, powerful men like Kanye West. Instead they're on the arms of the likes of my father and YOUR father.. coincidence? i don't know you tell me.
Its like in this day and age we are associating women more and more to products and no one even cares let alone themselves. They say slaves were carefully categorised, also treated like object, thought of as no more than a piece of furniture in the house. cataloghued, their every feature described to meticullous detail. they were sold from household to household. for less, for more. The world at some point became appauled. People gathered in masses to fight for their Liberty. People gathered, in masses to fight for their freedom, their dignity and their self respect. Bondage comes in more forms than the carving of iron shackles. So whose fighting for our women, or should i put it in terms you will understand.. whose fighting for the bitches hoes and skanks? Bondage is also the valgour words you create, the ones you say and say, the indiscriminate lustful thoughts you share and don't share. the personas you create in your head where one is little more than an object of your sexual gratification. And yet NO ONE is gathering in the masses. Not even themselves
Women were not made from the man's rib so that they may be beneath them. Women were made because God saw a need that only a women could satisfy when she is indeed a woman. Women were made from the rib to create a full circle. If women came first and gave birth to men it would have made the woman the superior sex, Men can't bare children. so in all his wisdom God made the man first so that neither can say to the other that they are more superior or that the other is infrior. He created us for companionship, that we may love each other without boundaries... as equals.... God made it PERFECT.. so please lets not try to change it.
In my search for a woman i can relate to being I came across Mya Angelou's poem. i mean it is easy for us to blame the guys for pretty much everything but camaan people charity begins at home. you will only really ever be treated the way you ALLOW people to treat you. Find the woman you wanna be and be her, and as for me, Mya is a better place than any to start.
Phenomenal Woman Pretty women wonder where my secret lies.
I'm not cute or built to suit a fashion model's size
But when I start to tell them,
They think I'm telling lies.
I say,
It's in the reach of my arms
The span of my hips,
The stride of my step,
The curl of my lips.
I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.
I walk into a room
Just as cool as you please,
And to a man,
The fellows stand or
Fall down on their knees.
Then they swarm around me,
A hive of honey bees.
I say,
It's the fire in my eyes,
And the flash of my teeth,
The swing in my waist,
And the joy in my feet.
I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.
Men themselves have wondered
What they see in me.
They try so much
But they can't touch
My inner mystery.
When I try to show them
They say they still can't see.
I say,
It's in the arch of my back,
The sun of my smile,
The ride of my breasts,
The grace of my style.
I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.
Now you understand
Just why my head's not bowed.
I don't shout or jump about
Or have to talk real loud.
When you see me passing
It ought to make you proud.
I say,
It's in the click of my heels,
The bend of my hair,
the palm of my hand,
The need of my care,
'Cause I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.
