Abigail George is a South-African feminist, poet and writer based in Port Elizabeth. Born in 1979, she is a prolific writer: she has written a novella, several books of poetry and collections of short stories. She is a Pushcart Prize nominee and the recipient of two South African National Arts Council Writing Grants and of one from the Centre for…
I Am a Woman
When I was little I desired to be a woman A very alluring woman Like a lovely violet To love and be loved O! I imagined. Now I am a woman What more can I inquire? Am I thrilled? Am I loved? Am I myself? Who cares anyway? I’ve learnt to be a woman…
Dreams To Write
We are Writers with a licence to create We stand at the margins Prying like investigators Probing like hackers Hording experiences to make stories And poetry Of what we see What to feel What to touch What to taste With the stage is set We perform We tickle your bellies with our word play Your…
Dear Daughter
Dear Daughter I have never loved myself enough To laugh through the rough times I have seen different colors Fading in the beauty of the flowers I have woken up to different nightmares Only to calm down through the power of a Prayer I know of those days when I needed someone beside me to…
Portrait of a Girl at the Border Wall
All the women in my life are hungry I have written this one hundred times. I do not know how else to tell it: the girl by the roadside, the bruised peach, the narrow collar, the night full of birds. Her body is a long river that cuts through every room. See her in the…
Natural Woman
When was the last time you felt the warm scalp of a woman Run your fingers through her hair Twisted her natural locks through your fingers Or walked your fingers through the rows of braids Just like walking through the fields of corn When did you see the true beauty of your African Woman? Or…
Alright with me
Following the piper, Of smiles and laughter, Acknowledged, once the clutter Packed on your mind falters. By words of truth, Manifestations from Youth, An allegiance to trust in Freedom It’s the chime of love bells, On the highest altar. Link to the Italian version
Loving God
Have you ever fallen in love with the sea Loved her so fiercely Your orgasms are unending Uncompleting. Unrestraining. Damn… I love when she’s mad When she reaches out in waves Tidal energies immobilise my senses I rise into her Deep into her Feel her heart beat In the middle of her vulvic ocean Motion…
Jambula tree
When Sylvie and I are six we eat jambula till our tongues turn indigo then we travel home with night licking our heels. In the morning, our foreheads still anointed in violet blessings, we twine our stick-arms around its branches and stuff banana fibre dolls in the hollows of its roots. We swaddle make-believe babies…
Hypersexualization of the African woman
Fetishized My worthiness is measured in cup sizes and big booty. Integrity is dismissed and compromised. Body parts named policed and sexualized. They say: “it’s the sway of my African belle derriere the clumsiness of my breasts the fullness of my lips and the arch of my back”. Objectified by the media, my nudity is…