womanhood

a work in progress

Dear Aru (Mid-April, 2018), 

It’s been a long time. 

A long, long time.

You’ve been patient with me, while I’ve been catty with you. 

It’s hard to explain to a 3 year old what a miscarriage is. 

Or even think it’s appropriate for them to know. 

Mummy had a baby in her tummy and then the baby died. 

So mummy is sad. 

Daddy is in struggle town as he assesses our drained finances. 

Contemplating whether to sell the apartment or get a loan. 

Mummy and Daddy can’t be there for each other, like they usually are. 

Because some major shit went down. 

Is that how it goes? 

And I know. The ship will turn. The winds will change. The sun will shine. 

But maybe one day. 

When you’re going through some shit of your own. 

You come here. 

You read this. 

And you trust. 

That.

You’ll make it through. 

Just like us. 

X

Your Maa. 

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My Man.

Hey you. 

My lover, my man. 

The one who can’t shed a tear. 

When he needs it the most. 

Hey you. 

Sweet man. 

Is it all ok in there? 

Because I reached out at night. 

And your body wasn’t near. 

Because I tried to make it light, and your laughter wasn’t heard. 

Hey you. 

It’s ok. 

It’ll all be ok. 

It wasn’t you. 

It wasn’t me. 

It wasn’t all of this. 

It just had to be. 

X

K

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Worth

I have spoken to countless women about this. 

Countless mothers. 

Countless friends. 

You know what they say? 

You know what you all say? 

Money is the determining factor. 

As a society, we use money to determine things. 

He earns more, so we thought he should work. 

There is no point in me working because it doesn’t make financial sense. 

He made the decision to buy the warehouse because he makes the money. 

We moved three times for his career. 

I conceived and so a career wasn’t an option.

It seems. 

Who earns more money, seems to call the shots. 

And women especially seem to feel this the most, once they have children. 

Because they aren’t earning money, their sense of worth plummets. 

They toss their power, their self worth and arguments out the window. 

Because. He earns. 

///

Using money to decide worth is the WORST call you can make. 

Your worth is in who you are. 

Is in how loving you feel towards yourself. 

How contented you are. 

And if that means, putting the kids in childcare at an additional financial cost, so you can get some hours away from the home and engage with the world and feel HAPPY, then, your family is going to see the benefits of that. 

Don’t let money be the only measure. 

There are so many more measures. We need to give them more priority. 

Or we’ll have more depression and damaged children. 

X

K

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Instagram Responsibilities

I feel like this has just dawned on me lately.

The world is so obsessed with the physical appearance of things.

Weight. Make Up. Skin. Clothes.
We are so outward.
So concerned with the outward.

In the name of health, we go for runs, go to the gym, eat salads and get clean.
But is it in the name of health, or is it in the name of a good instagram photo?

Now the other thing I’ve realised.

Is that.

We have a responsibility.
By showing off our highlights, we are creating a portrayal of our lives.

Everything is good.
Happy.
Wealth.

blessed

We want to project this identity.
We want people to think this of us.

It’s no wonder I sometimes feel gross, sick and not-enough after I scroll through a feed.

In a way.
We became our own worst nightmare.

Beauty magazines full of slim women.
Looking sexed up with perfect skin.
We hated that.

But hey look.

Now we’re the ones making it.

I feel so much more responsible now for the content I make and share.

I ask myself, why are you sharing this?
How do you want to be perceived?
Does this make you feel good about yourself?
Or are you hunting down those likes that will make you feel good about yourself?

And I know I’m not there yet.
I haven’t tried Facetune, but I still jut my chin out, because you know. Angles.

But yes.

I’m a little more mindful.

And also realising.

This is exactly what we do at parties.

We don up, heel up and perfect up.
To create fake ideas of who we are.

When is this going to stop?

X
K

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Basics.

We really, really, really. 

Need to LEARN. 

This. 

This simple thing. 

Your power is NOT in the money you earn. 

NOT in the status you keep. 

NOT in the business you run. 

Your power is NOT in the children you raise. 

NOT in the people you hire. 

NOT in the beauty you have. 

Your power is NOT in your home. 

NOT in the PRADA bag you own. 

NOT in the Instagram followers you have. 

Your power is in you. 

Seated within you. 

In the way you trust in yourself. 

In the way you believe in yourself. 

In the truth of yourself. 

In the beauty of who you are. 

That is where it lies. 

And when it comes from that truth, 

You will do no harm. 

X

KI

Power

Yesterday you spoke.

And spoke. 

And spoke. 

I wanted you to get it all out. 

Out of your system. 

The words, the pain, the hurt. 

Everything. 

Out. 

So that your insides were anew. 

But I couldn’t help but notice. 

Those strings of words. 

All too familiar. 

Because there was a time. 

When they came from my lips. 

He said I shouldn’t. 

They thought it was best I don’t. 

It’s not in my control. 

He bought the tickets so I had to go. 

I told him we shouldn’t, but he said we should. 

All those words. 

Tell me. 

You gave your power to him. 

Nestled it in his lap. 

And then asked me. 

What can I do? 

 

X

K

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With child.

NOTE: I wrote this a good 7 months ago and I don’t feel the same way. I wasn’t going to post it, because it just felt bad to say that I ever felt that way. But I think part of this whole thing, is being ok with feels. And I realise, it’s totally ok. Xx K

//

So you are with child. 

And I love you darlingly so. 

My heart beats for you. 

You are my blood. 

My love. 

My mother. 

My sister. 

My friend. 

My world. 

And I know. 

That this sinking feeling inside me. 

I want to quash. 

This fear. 

You but not me. 

I’m not there yet. 

Not with child. 

Yet. 

I feel. 

The why. 

And I want to quash it. 

But instead. 

I let myself. 

Feel it. 

Feel the sorrow. 

The simple one of not getting what you want. 

The feeling of someone else getting what you want. 

I let it wash over me. 

And I know. 

It will be ok. 

X

K

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Ok

There is confusion.

Where are you my sweet.

Disconnected.

Is where you are.

Far from me.

Unable to connect.

Unable to reach.

But I know you.

You know me from every under current running along the lines that transfer my breath, my intonations, my heartbeat from me to you.

You know my silence.

You know the anger in my message when I simply say, “ok”.

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Sinking in Doubt

I’m sinking.
Deeper and deeper.
And I’m trying to stop myself.
Everyday.

With 5 deep breaths.
With a little tidy here and there.
With spinach as a side.

Holding myself up.
Just a little.

It’s a wave you’ve gotta ride through babe.
You know you’re gonna more than make it at the other end.
So why you stressing?

I know Kholo is going to leap, sing and dance.
Not just float.

So why do I seem to obsess.
Worry.
Anxiet myself.

Let. It. Go.
Surrender.

Xx
K

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So Mad

I’m so mad at you.
At you all.
For not showing up.
When I thought you would.

You know what.
Life doesn’t boil down to a matter of life and death.
Relationships aren’t about that final moment, as if I’m hanging off the edge of the cliff.
And that is when you need to show up.

It’s made of everyday moments.
And those are the ones.
You needed to show up for.

That’s when you choose.
Me.
Us.
This.

Not when I’m hanging on the edge of a cliff.
Cause honies this ain’t no Road Runner episode.

X
K

 

(Also a post from last year, feeling all ok at the moment:))

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