Yesterday, the play premiered , I being the main character and while all this was happening I stood aside and watched, for the better part took the lead role, silenced the thoughts in my head , drowned my words in quick gulps of water or wine, stifled any voice that attempted to reason and blurred my surroundings. I took center stage .
Today I woke up , here I am standing in-front of the mirror:
I take along deep look at my self and slowly play back that conversation.They think that having written all I had shared, I was looking for an avenue to bitch they said . I had thought that they being closest to me, having seen me go through this journey, were best placed to understand the need better yet the purpose for what I chose , but how wrong was I , and listening to them again made me realize that if I let them , then this , what they had shared with me would be their representation of what I have so far fought, to relay. Listening to Chimamanda´s talk on a single story , in her words, in the face of a story we are all left impressionable and vulnerable and that the default position is almost always automatic. Important question to ask , what is your single story of a person or a place?
You see the problem with women is, we, over everything else are never transparent enough with each other . The simple fact that in the face of other women we deny each other the freedom to be imperfect. You see at the end of the day, I am what I believe to be , not what they say. As far as I know , the truth belongs to you alone , no -one-else.
Picture courtesy of:https://blsciblogs.baruch.cuny.edu/fro12brc/author/yh144963/