Sun bleached white door curtain invites rest, To the hours spent on my butt now numb. Ducks waddling defecating the backyard Us on a mat them centimeters apart Eight hands are expertly pinching extensions to my scalp A humble courtyard with five rooms A commotion of tenants and the landlord ‘Bibi Dina’ The entrance is…
A Kind Of Architectural Grief
In the place of slaughter blood stains are not an anomaly. Normally, the stain of love begins with a government’s betrayal, a sacrilegious feast on the battered dreams of migrant workers chimurenga wars and forgotten anthems of freedom. a salary and a salt plea for…
Beauty Knows No Shame
A new kind of beauty to embrace and to celebrate There’s no room for shame here There’s a power that pushes through from within There’s a power that will push out and bring my bloody insides with it… But that’s something of a pain that I’d love to succumb to in a natural, agony-sedating, physical…
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…
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…
Abigail George
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…
Black Photosynthesis
Deforestation isn’t just the cutting down of trees. It’s the cutting down of black women’s self esteem. It’s when you turn us into pretty furniture to sit on. Make textbooks out of our bodies And then use our broken spines to bind them It’s when you pull us out of the earth We were so…
A Beating for Love
Your fist pounded my face In shock I stood there Not moving, not screaming The first time it happened You said you beat me because you loved me You put the blame on me I don’t remember doing wrong Your gambling and drinking Your womanising and flirting Your problems and woes Were all my fault…
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….
Bad to Love
Is it bad if I tell you to love me just like this? I am not really there and I am there I am more and less than nothing Is it bad if I tell you to call me to say good morning even though I am not really sure I will pick up? Is…