Black and white used to be good, black and white used to be simple. Then we learned this new word; Conventional and all of a sudden we didn’t want to be it. Far from it actually, we wanted to be different. So different that we are back to black and white. Where the white is so tainted that it looks like a salted slug. Where the black is so black that it is navy blue.
I am not a conventional thinker but I think. Right now I am thinking ‘Asiye funzwa na mamaye, hufunzwa na ulimwengu.’ But do I really want to learn from this world of now, so abstract that it has lost all form of shape and meaning? Can’t I just stay home and let mama teach me those ways of the past, those purely black and white ways? Because I am scared memes are the by laws I am living on. ‘Oh, it’s so relatable.’ ‘Oh, this is so me!’ But is it really?
We have gone so virtual I feel, that we have lost touch of what’s real and what’s not. I mean, isn’t your whole life a reality tv show? Well, didn’t you know that those are acted out as well?
It is not okay to call yourself a bad bitch moving your hands in the air with vivacious claps followed by simultaneous snaps on your fingers, lady, are you about to get a fit? Yes, we get it. You are the baddest but don’t growl it down our necks. You are a lady, remember? A beautiful, dangerously intelligent lady. Intelligent enough to know that the phrase ‘bad bitch’ doesn’t make you bad at all.
I hear the statement, ‘Yeah, I’m petty like that.’ going round a lot these days and the normalcy of it is as though bequeathed upon us. Oh unto us for having our minds deteriorate. We need to grow up! Start treating people the way that God wants us to. Can’t you see? PETTINESS IS NOT A FRUIT OF THE SPIRIT. Yeah, being petty can be funny in extremes, but IT IS NOT in our nature to be immature. Don’t forget the image you are created from.
My mind is ‘wilding’ on tiny broccoli wheels. ‘Eat your veggies,’ they said, ‘that way you’ll live long and healthy; Have a good head on your shoulders.’ What for? To witness an evolution on man kind where being referred to as ‘my whore’ is the most brilliant invention we are yet to come up with? ‘Chilling with my whores bruh’ there you are grinning from ear to ear as a ‘hommie’ says that about you.
Here we are sharing in on our feelings. Widely and deeply. The bad and gory, filled with crass description over voice notes and long messages of what she said, of what you think he did, ‘you know what, here are screenshots for proof.’ Because we are opinionated, strongly so, that all we need is an enabler to be on our side. Not one to tell you the truth. I mean do you share for empathy or to get a legit solution?
So gone are we that traditional masculinity has lost to a thin line where we have to find a balance between pansy and outlandish tramp. If he cleans up too little, he’s a piggish brute. If he cleans up enough, there’s pressure to do more. If he cleans up too fastidiously, he either has OCD or he’s gay. ( St. Strider, General-King, 2018) Tell me when you are able to find that balance between effeminate and metrosexual.
Tell me when you are able to find yourself, free of meme feeling, free of TV expression, free of whatever revolution is about to take place. The real you Is in occult. Unshroud your true incandescent self.