The rise and tide of who we are meant to be has greatly influenced every trait that lies beneath our melanin coated skins. Our struggles contoured with Tara and Zaron, our scars clothed in Vintage constantly reminding us of our heritage; but rebranding our once uncivilized looks.
The woman of my youth is nothing like my mother nor my mother’s mother. The woman of my youth constantly struggles to find a stance and aims for perfection using both symbols of the woman we were civilized from and the woman we’re westernized to as a guide.
Slowly, we have lightened our paths with the intervention of women before us, blazing the trails for women and girls unborn. Together in sisterhood, we demonstrate that we are to be seen, heard, understood and remembered. As imperfect as we may be, our flaws and weaknesses are woven together to create a piece of art void of perfection, but showcasing the beauty that lies in our skin, hair, smile, shape, dance, name it…
No amount of civilization can change the fact that I am an African woman struggling to win in the western world. I pride in all I have because Africa is a woman! Beautiful!