A PanAfricanist Queer Womanist Collective
Have you ever wondered how it would be like to visit your for christmas, winter breaks, holidays and sit down to have those ‘girl talks’? The kind where you open up and talk about everything – including relationships; by relationships I am referring to chats about boys, although in my case it’s a girl. Where you would want to jump and scream “Mother she is amazing. I want you to meet her!” but you can’t because you are forbidden to talk about it. In a world where the people share the conviction that same sex love is a sin and taboo. It makes it hard to profess love to the same sex and stops you from even thinking about relationships. Some make hard and selfless decisions where their happiness matters not. Some wish: “if only it had been a different world …a different time just maybe I could have had it my own way.”
The thought of one day sitting down with your best friend, no matter how straight, and her saying “check her out she might just be your type” …the bliss of the thought. Where you not afraid to say yes I’m blessed to admit that my girl is my girl without being excommunicated and having to face a life without loved ones. To become an outcast or (the worst case scenario) being the reason why your mother is ‘six feet under’, as she couldn’t handle the news of your queerness. It’s worse being outed because you beat your self thinking “if only I have had the platform to tell her my self”, given an opportunity to show her what this meant to me she could have seen how happy I am then just maybe…
You scream silently and cry invisible tears as your heart bleeds wishing “if only I could have my way, be given half chance I would show you that this is me, nothing has changed and who I love doesn’t have to define me”… in the same way we are forever told where you from doesn’t determine where you going. You pray that if only people where not so quick to judge, if only my capabilities wouldn’t been defined or limited because of who I love. I hate not having the same opportunities as the next girl because she has a heterosexual relationship. We both have the potential and people should let our capabilities speak for themselves.
Under my shadow I creep within my self for having to live a lie. I have to watch her go past and pretend that my heart is beating fast, non-stop and that my blood isn’t running warm. Having to be friends while knowing that she gives me sleepless nights. Knowing that I want to tell her, knowing that they won’t let me and that I can’t let my self. They are subconsciously creating good liars. There is nothing as heart breaking as a child hearing her mother’s cry and knowing that she’s the reason. Knowing that what you are gives your mother no peace so she prays day and night and almost fasts herself to death because the church discriminates against what we are. Imagine having to make her believe that if she prays hard enough it will all go away. I’m a typical African child, my mothers blessing opens doors. How can she bless me when I’m the reason of her pain. What once brought her joy now tortures her.
I also want to sit around the fire, pop maize cobs into my mouth and have a laugh at life, at each others partners. I’d like to have the same privileges as my other siblings. It’s be music to my ears to hear my father ask about his future daughter in law, having her walking around at home and feel like she is a part of my family (just like it would have been if my life partner had been a boy). I want a world were I walk down the street holding her hand and not having people on my case or having to have a jail cell as my bed room all for my ‘criminal’ love. They call me a big dreamer. Is it dreaming big when I’m hoping for what is already mine, freedom. When I’m simply asking to be respect? Surely every person wants her choices to be respected? Am I asking for too much when I ask them to let me be me. As much as my shadow is awesome I don’t want to live underneath it.
Let me shine.