What you don’t like today, you will love tomorrow!

 

My skin was all wrong, my hair all wrong, my face all wrong, sliced and cut and put in a trance by the songs of Ogun and as he danced I became like the object that the snake charmer sang to, and I swayed, forgetting time as the machete moved and danced in his hand time slowed, slowed, slower, slower, slower until I stopped and the slice of my face stung. I am a wild girl, unruly, untamed and although they shame me I refuse to acquiesce for fear that I may die if I live for anyone other than myself.

They wanted to call it child abuse, muthafuckas always a day late and a dollar short, always the trickster, talking you out your shit now everybody talkin bout TRIBAL or TRIBE with painted marks on their faces, when it’s mine it ain’t shit but after you steal shit it’s We? They make you scared to be yourself!

 

Tell me about a time when someone stole your style, work, creative endeavor and tried to make it theirs. Leave a comment below, thanks.

 

Leave a reply

Your email address will not be published.

You may use these HTML tags and attributes:

<a href="" title=""> <abbr title=""> <acronym title=""> <b> <blockquote cite=""> <cite> <code> <del datetime=""> <em> <i> <q cite=""> <strike> <strong>