Grandmother! Our sage of our grandmother gathered us Beneath the big oak tree On a very beautiful night She began to sing: Born to gain or Born to suffer Born to gain or Born to suffer She began to utter to us: Great men are sons of good men Whose hearts are walls Weak men…
Sarah Lubala
Sarah Lubala is a Congolese-born, South Africa-based writer. Her family fled the Democratic Republic of Congo two decades ago amidst political unrest. They relocated first to South Africa, then the Ivory Coast, before returning to South Africa and settling in Johannesburg. She has been twice shortlisted for the Gerald Kraak Award, and once for The…
Wana Udobang, “Wana Wana”
Wana Udobang, also known as Wana Wana, is a Nigeria-based poet, journalist, documentary filmmaker, radio presenter and tv personality, whose production is at the intersection of women’s rights, social justice, healthcare, climate change, culture and the arts. Born in Lagos, she then graduated in the UK with a first-class Degree in Journalism. The experience in…
Soul Approval
I’m here to tell you a story about a woman who hated herself Not because she was poor or ugly Not because she was orphaned or homeless But she just did And I’m here to tell you a story about a man who hated his life He dreaded every moment of it Woke up each…
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…
The sun e sons of Africa
They come here with empty faces Looking for the sun The equatorial sun rays hit their eyes, They blink and find the son, Poised, smiling at their wallets With a hot, hard, black, cocked gun. There is no argument to be had with such a gun between your legs. Between sips of badly brewed, black,…
I Am Black
You look at me and see: Black African Evil. You turn up your nose and like a pig you snort… Or is it a sneer? Or maybe… just maybe… as you scurry away like a cockroach do you wonder what I am? I am Black I am African A child of the continent you once…
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
Feminist Bloodline
As i grow up i learn that knowing what i want is the most valuable thing for a woman, Same goes to a man What i don’t know is why men always have the final say Why a man says what he wants in a relationship and i am to accept it. Good or bad….
Last Supper
Lay me soft on green grass like an offering. Take off my clothes one at a time like you are opening the Holy Book. Read the verses of my body until you master all chapters. Drink from my river of life Make me your altar wine your last supper. Welcome to my ecclesia! Let’s sing…