Draw Blood

When I was 5
my mother told me to
punch till i drew blood.
I didn't get why
she was so mad.

When I was 12
a man said I liooked sexy
in shorts.
I stopped wearing shorts.
Or playing outside.
I closed my legs,
I sat like a lady.

I wear shorts now.
I walk at night.
I drink tequila.
I reject nice guys.
Someone told me I was
asking for it.

I remembered then,
my mother said...

"when a boy tells you he owns you punch till you draw blood."

Book Review: A Renegade Called Simphiwe

Reading A Renegade Called Simphiwe has been somewhat of an exhilarating experience. Often the book which is written by South African academic and author Phumla Dineo Gqola is mistaken for a biography of South African musician Simphiwe Dana. However, A Renegade Called Simphiwe is written way beyond Dana and her experiences.  It is without a doubt an excellent record and observation of multiple aspects of South Africa and without a doubt the patriarchal world as a whole.

Through writing about Simphiwe Dana’s opinions, challenges, achievements and South Africa’s reaction to her, Phumla gives you an extensive view of the relations not only between the artist and the audience, but relations within South Africa itself. She explores everything from the Simphiwe’s definition of ‘soft feminism’ to her opinions on monogamy, all the while still finding space to discuss the Language situation in South Africa.

Phumla Dineo Gqola presents you with a one of a kind of book, one she describes as “the kind of book I would like to read”. While the book does explore a variety of things it’s quite clearly written with an intensive view on the relations of males and females in the patriarchal society. It opens you up to a large number of truths.

Phumla’s ability to write about Simphiwe Dana as a woman, a writer, a mother and even an artist, as well as her opinions without validating or invalidating them is spectacular. On countless occasions she disagrees with Simphiwe but is not forceful of her opinion over Dana’s something that writer’s today lack. While the book is not exclusive to female readers, It is without a doubt the perfect gift for any lady during this woman’s month. 

We should all be feminists: Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie at TEDxEuston

Being A Fit Motswana

I recently hit 50kg. I’ve never been 50kg so it’s quite a messy experience being caught between, “you’re just growing” and “oh my I’m getting fat”. Fortunately one thing is certain about me, when I don’t like something I don’t like it. So I don’t like weighing 50 KG. So I decided to finally follow through on my vow that 19 would be the age of healthy. I however completely underestimated how difficult it is to be a fit African girl.

As is the case in most cultures, feasts are a common way of celebrating anything.

 Here in Botswana we glorify women and even babies with a thick appetite and thick body to match it. When I was younger my “skinny” figure was a cause for concern for my family, a little bit of teasing from my cousins and once a partner that sat and watched me eat because he suspected I didn’t eat much. Food is a form of bonding, it’s a way of interacting and accompanied by the modern lifestyle it is really fostering bad eating habits and unhealthy lifestyles.

I had no idea of this until I started my attempt at being physically fit and healthy but a little secret on this side of the world is that no one really likes and supports a fit black woman. The comments are exhausting and I’ve stopped trying to share this part of my life with anyone. “Don’t get that tight ass, that’s for white women”, “but You look perfect”, “are you benching your boyfriend or?” just some of the comments I’ve received. I walked into the gym and an instructor even exclaimed that I was attempting to ruin a perfectly good body.

 Honestly I’d like to make it clear that it’s not about how I look really, actually never mind abs are pretty cool. But this is about being Healthy and Fit: it’s about getting to the top of the stairs and not needing a nap as well as oxygen mask, getting through 8 hours of sleep as well as waking up with no trouble. Two weeks in and I am already waking up before my alarm clock rings.

But the worst part is really how difficult it is to find the foods that my new lifestyle requires. I’ve suddenly began to sympathize with Vegetarians and Vegans because in this country well there is no healthy option; Except for Green salad. There is always green salad for some reason. Living in my parent’s house doesn’t make it any easier for the record. My father keeps forgetting I do not drink Fizzy drinks while he laughs at my attempts at working out. I forgive him because he has promised to buy me the Nike trainers which all the cool fitblrs have.

Truth told if the tumblr blog community of “Fitblrs” had more black women I’d probably feel less alone in my journey. But I’m finding it hard to find body idols or role models that are anything close to what I look like. Sadly the truth is being a fit black girl is proving to be a very difficult and lonely path. Since I’ve been trying, failing and succeeding for about the past 8months I’ve decided I’m not falling off the healthy living train ever again, simply because starting again is so damn exhausting.

Honestly it is your body but I feel wonderful. So I thought there is probably another girl out there who needs a start and well I’m going to share what I’ve learnt in the past 8 months.

• Water and sleep are your best friends.
• Squats are your booty’s best friend, while running is the best all body work out there is.
• Eating clean isn’t dieting, it is the way humans should eat. Simply start by cutting packaged processed foods ( Fizzy drinks, crisps, etc).
• Eat. Eat. And Eat. Your metabolism needs at least 4 meals a day.
• Breakfast matters.
• Gym is not a delete bad eating button.
• You have the time to work out. 10min of skipping rope before your morning shower does wonders.
• Take the stairs. And the long way.
• Quitting is never doing it. Falling off is fine.
• You don’t have to give up your favourite foods.
• Also weights don’t mean bulk they mean muscle.
• The first two weeks hurt, and then it feels good. So don’t fall off.
• 
  

Why White America has ruined White Men for me.

There is a white American marine texting me right now. He calls it flirting and would like to take me on a date. It’s cute, Shems. He is currently in my country for some service with the United States Embassy and how I met him is really such an awkward story I’d rather not share.

Now despite this young man having all the qualifications I usually have for men whose advances I bother to entertain he is failing miserably. Unfortunately I’m sorry to say it’s because he is white. I've never had an interest in a white man so I thought, hey maybe I’m just not that into him. But now I’m absolutely sure it has everything to do with him being a white man.

How might I know this? Every time he says I am gorgeous I see porn title flashing through my mind, “Ebony slut hungry for some white dick”, “Black maid seduces white boss”, “explorer gets jungle fever”... Basically I see myself being made into a fetish. Like when Justin Beiber *cringes* cheated on Selena Gomez with a certain African American model and White America’s headline punch line was “Justin Beiber Cheats with Black girl”. Basically would I become “the first black girl I dated” or “Oh but I date black girls”? Then I wonder if his friends made jokes about him enjoying some African pussy while down here. I also wonder if I’m on a 20 things to do before I am 30 list. “Go to Africa and bang African girls.”

Am I over thinking this? Yes? No? Maybe? Have I watched too many Tyler Perry (I didn’t know better) movies? Or have I been on the Zimmerman hashtag too long? Because I want to Google where he is from and check how many black boys have been shot in that neighborhood and how their courts dealt with it.

It doesn’t go just that far, the worst for me is whether he’ll use pictures of us to justify why as a white male who dates black women he does not fall into the category of racists that support Zimmerman’s murdering a 17 year old black child. 

Is he aware that he has white privilege? And that in my city when we go out girls will snicker that I’m seeing him for his bank account. Despite him probably making not much more than me (that’s a lie I’m a student and journalist, my bank account doesn't know what money is) but white is synonymous with rich in Africa.

I also wonder if on our first date he’ll ask to touch my hair now that it’s out of its braids. I wonder how I will feel about him touching it even if he was trying to be innocently cute in getting it out of my face. I also find myself wanting to ask him how he feels about the fact that the United States system is designed to keep the poor  just that, poor, and that well the poorest were black. 

But I’m not sure how he’ll react and if my opinions might tantamount to hate speech therefore landing me in Guantanamo bay being force fed Monsato GMOs. After all he is a marine, he might be patriotic and ready to die for his country and stuff and I’m just here a 19 year old black girl trying to get her driver’s licence. So maybe despite it eventually coming from him being a white American male, it might also simply be that I cannot be with someone that I cannot be comfortable voicing my opinion to. 

1thirdofawoman reconstruction

Hi there,
I'm sorry first of all. But I was not happy with one third of a woman at all.
So i decided to spend a little money in having some graphics designed for the blog. Yes I know people DIY all the time but i figure if you're going to google me this will come up. It better look good and represent me well.
So until further notice 1thirdofawoman will not be up. Hopefully we wont have to move but I'm prepared to make this work now. Professionally.

with love, TJ.

A War is Coming *warning graphic images will follow*

TOO MANY WOMEN DOWN

I read another angry blog today. This One is by a pretty black South African lesbian woman who lives in Johannesburg and writes poetry. She is angry about a number of things, white privilege, the ANC, lesbians and homosexual stereotype, and the common women battles. She is so angry; she uses vulgar language when she passionately rants on twitter. You know what, it’s scary. I’m not out here to judge her being angry. I don’t even care that she is black lesbian and an activist. I don’t know her. I have no title deed to be able to say anything about her. But it sure scares me that she isn't the only Angry woman out there. Blog posts by so many young ladies are talking about the anger and how they're affected by it, from SiyandaWrites to That Cracked Black.  It is even scarier that they have every reason to be. They're also tiring of writing about it. 

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IT BEGINS HERE.

Statistics show an increase in rape. It’s being recorded and sent around as porn in South African high schools., it’s being used to teach women lessons, as weapons in war, or for the fuck of it and the sad part is whole town’s are covering it up. I’m in tears as I type this because we’re losing the battle. I don’t know why I was sitting here thinking that if I sit on my lap top and I type about these things somewhere somehow I would save the world. I’m crying real tears because despite spending the morning reading tweets about how perpetrators should alone be left with responsibility of their actions; I’m sitting here thinking I’m not doing enough. I’m sitting here thinking how unfair it is that I grew up in a home were my father is a good man and my mother is treated like a goddess while majority of my friend’s have sad childhood memories, missing fathers or battered mothers. I’m not angry anymore. I’m sad and scared.

I’m sad because every time I walk down the street and a man whistles and hollers I say hi because I’m scared he might consider me rude and decide to rape me because of it. But then again he might rape me because my “Hi” was flirtatious. Well, he might also just do it for the fucks of it. Literally.  But I’m also scared that it might be one of my friends on a night out, when I've had a few too many so I’m quitting drinking this year. But then it could be a cousin. You know what I feel like right now? My friend recently became a father to a very pretty little girl, when he told me it was a girl my heart sunk. I got sad because that is one more burden for me. That saddens me. Because I love being a woman but I’m still feeling like the moment I was born and I had a vagina. Well I was screwed.

IT IS COMING TO AN END

But women are getting angry. They’re getting angry and they are mobilizing the troops. There is a storm brewing, there is a war coming world. It is going to be messy. They won’t fight with their muscle like you men do. They won’t use brutal force. They will use your seeds. They will take your daughters and they will teach them to hate men. They will take your sons and teach them to hate themselves. We've seen the race wars, the tribal wars, civil wars; tell me how will we survive when the women rise to the goddesses they are? How will you protect yourself from your mother? Will you kill them all? Will you beat them into submission? There is a war coming and I fear the future generations that will be born in its times. How will man and woman survive without one another?