My Black Is Also Beautiful

If we are afraid to accept our reflection, that is when we look at ourselves in the mirror, then how will we accept what we can't even see, our inner self?

Young black girls around the world question their image, while the media acts as if it is answering what is being asked. We as young girls face issues such as body image, the teenage cycle that challenges us, peer pressure etc, the biggest battle of all is self love and knowing our worth.
Girls on their own discriminate against one another, if it is not about the height, then it will be about the body, if not that then it will be about the skin colour, if it is not about that then it will be about beauty, if not about it, then it will be about something else. It never stops, as if being a girl already is not enough. Some face these challenges at home, if you have a sibling who is light in complexion then you are. Some of the things are not even said, but what is displayed before us, makes us create images filled with ugliness. Could it be that the society as a whole created this? Or that we allowed it?

This goes back to where we come from as black people, our roots. If we could connect with that, then maybe we would begin to appreciate. I don't think I could blame a black model who wears a weave, who is tall and skinny, because she is brought up in that kind of an environment. She is told every day that that is beauty. We need to break the ice and define who we are.
If we were all to be locked in a dark room, and let only voices speak, if we would not recognise who is who, we would develop an understanding that there is no need for war. That there is no voice that speaks louder than the other if it is heard, that there is no need to scream. A lot of boundaries need to be brought down, black image should not even be one, but it is. 

Black girl hug yourself, wrap yourself with love. Associate yourself with positivity, and lets search for stories that will empower us, I am on that road and I have found many, that are giving me confidence and reminding me of my importance. I found a video posted by sis Lebo Mashile on twitter http://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=player_embedded&v=UX0FWfkcfZk, and it is talking about black beauty, it inspired me to share my view. Here is a website you can visit, www.myblackisbeautiful.com and you can join them on facebook.com/MBIB
Write your own story, it has never been heard before.

I know a girl's story but we never talked

I know a girl who longs for her mother, who always told herself that if her mother was alive things would be better.
But what if, what if her mother was a drunkard? what if she would've been abusive?  what if she would show no love? what if she bathed her and applied make-up on her face only to give her to some men? what if then her mothers love was a trade-off thing, 'you agree to go out with these men and I will take care of you, love you', what if that was the only time she said "you are beautiful" and the daughter wouldn't want to hear it because she knows its not her inner beauty that is described, when it is her cookie that is prescribed to other men?
I know a girl who has that kind of a mother, who longs for growth to come out of the situation, but when she matures, what good values would she have learn't? who would have taught her? how would she handle womanhood when her childhood was hijacked? when she lost her innocence? when she wonders who will give her love, who will she give her love to completely without thinking that this person wants something in return? how will she learn when she doesn't know self love? how will she forgive when no forgiveness was asked for to begin with?
I know a girl who wished she never met her mother, a girl who feels that a stranger would've done a better job. A girl who wishes she was aborted because she is deserted.

A tough girl she will grow to be, her strength will be built on rage and mistrust. Her life will be built on conrete, no one will ever pass over it, to even save her from herself.
There is a girl out there, like this one, you know her just never met her. You have passed her on the streets and never noticed. I know a girl's story but we never talked, just observed.

Let's chat

You can find me on facebook (just mention me and tell me that you read my blog ;), I'll accept: Yamkela Ela Sigwili

On twitter: @YamkelaSigwili

Check later on for a new post and give me your views

It's within you

Just last week when the director told us to go outside and pick up something and tell a story about it. There were about eleven of us, and I picked up a string of a mop, other drama members picked up stones, flowers, bricks, plastics, take away plates, and banana peals etc.

I was the first to tell my story of the mop string and we were only given two minutes to prepare, this is how my story goes (I may not remember the exact words because it was a once off thing)...

My name is mop and this is my story, I am that abondoned being who now lays and watch the world go by, I only exist in my inner thoughts, people walk over me. dirt has become my best friend for we used to be enemies, when I used to matter. My siblings and I used to enjoy dancing to the tunes that our madam played when she would clean around the house. I have travelled, from birth... the manufacturing factory to the big super markets, moving in between the small spaza shops, I have been to the town houses, suburbs and kasi loctions. I have met all different kinds of people. The weak are the ones defeated. I am telling tales that bring joy, yet they are tearing me apart, because it is a matter of a used to be and a no loger. I am waiting to be swept away, to go and claim my new existence, I have no permanent place because I don't belong. so long my fellow mop strings, you shall hang in fences, lay on the grounds, find yourselves in dustbins, I will not be sad for I have served my purpose and therefore I am proud because I have made a difference.

                                                             ......

It's within you to grow and experience, nothing lasts forever, but a thing that is passed over, lives on. Make the most out of little things, and leave a legacy of knowledge, vision, belief and inpiration because you are never too young nor too old.

Back with a Bang

.... I have been struggling to login or use my blog for that matter. This is just a message to let YOU know that I am back, going to update and fill you in on what has been going on around me, my thoughts/views also facts about some aspects and other things going on around. Keep on checking for a post or two because there is so much to share.

Dancing feelings

I hear the sound that the silent people cannot hear, the beat moves with my heart, my mind starts to question... what is wrong with you? I don't respond, all I do is dance to my feelings.

My heart is the only instrument that understands the melody, my feet are just following, while my hands are just flowing in the air, my hair is swaying like the rivers of my home land, the Xhosa land.

If I understood what was going on I would be telling a story, the children would be surrounding me, listening, but now my feelings are just dancing.

The soul is so quiet, watching from a distance, only it can respond to what my mind is asking... it is silent because it is taught to do so, it is quiet because it was told to do so.

My feelings are dancing to what my heart is playing, if the music was sad then I'd be crying, if the music was happy then I'd be laughing, but I'm just trapped.

It's easier to unfold my hands, than to unfold my soul. Let the beats roll, and let the soul dance to the tunes until it learns to let go.