The past week I’ve thought a lot about the complexities, beauty and struggles of being a woman. Of the fragility and strength that lies within. I have thought, debated and discussed [and continue to] the decisions I have personally made and how they’ve shape my life.
Sometimes we find it difficult to forgive ourselves, to wholly embrace ourselves…to accept ourselves. How we allow ourselves to be everything and nothing all at once.
Above all else, I believe that being a woman is a gift, a sacred honor to birth life, to have the ability to love endlessly and unashamedly. My mind fails me today as I’m still mulling over all these and many other thoughts so allow me to share the HYMN TO ISIS, first read in Paulo Coelho’s 11 minutes…enjoy
For I am the first and the last
I am the venerated and the despised
I am the prostitute and the saint
I am the wife and the virgin
I am the mother and the daughter
I am the arms of my mother
I am the barren and my children are many
I am the married woman and the spinster
I am the woman who gives birth and she who never procreated
I am the consolation for the pain of birth
I am the wife and the husband
And it was my man who created me
I am the mother of my father
I am the sister of my husband
And he is my rejected son
Always respect me
For I am the shameful and the magnificent one.
Sometimes I wish the characters I create could leap out of my mind and walk the earth. These men and women would be the answer to all of my immediate problems. [Husband-pap! Hehe] I think that is the joy of being any sort of Creative; having that ability to thrust your hand into the dark …
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I’ve often heard that the three major topics people are told to avoid discussing in social gatherings are RELIGION, MONEY & POLITICS. Ok, for some the list is different, but these three are major no-go zones in most situations because people have very strong opinions and sometimes arguing over these things can be very costly, …
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No Images By William Waring Cuney She does not know her beauty, she thinks her brown body has no glory. If she could dance naked under palm trees and see her image in the river, she would know. But there are no palm trees on the street, and dish water gives back no images. Share
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For the last two days I’ve been attending #wamnairobi, a series of talks and meet ups organised by Women, Action and the Media (WAM!). The organization connects and supports media makers, activists, academics and funders working to advance women’s media participation, ownership and representation. Visit their site here The talks were part of a series …
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One day the Sun didn’t shine. She hid her face behind some clouds. But she looked kinda funny because the cirrus clouds around her eyes gave her a monobrow and the stratus ones under her nose looked like a moustache! So she ducked behind Mt. Kenya and kept very still and quiet. See, of the …
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It just hit me a few days ago that I am very good at answering questions. I always find something to say. The past few weeks I have had the privilege to be part of an exciting guest writing project with my talented friends. The result of which has been some of my best writing …
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