Feminism shmeminism!

Sometimes I'm not sure where to begin with a post. After its been a while I feel like I have all these thoughts in my head and I'm about to explode! It must be the writer's equivalent of blue balls I think.

Speaking of thinking, I'm thinking right now of where in the world to begin. Aha! I've got it. I'll rant That's what I'll do. After all according to the stereotypical outline of a black African woman it comes oh so naturally..right? Or am I wrong? I digress. I'm ranting supposed but about by the way...oh! yes the ludicrous amounts of Woman and girl child human rights abuses happening right now, yes even NOW as you mouth this very syllable. A woman is being raped. A child is being forced into things the most debauched  of minds would find abominable. Even a woman is being humiliated and dehumanized through battery which without a doubt leads murder, the most brutal kind.

I ask this sincerely:
Why are we as a society allowing this madness of sorts to repeatedly manifest behind the closed doors of our closest neighbours?
Our not as distant as assumed relatives?
Our very flesh and bone as the oppressed and / or the oppressor through traditionalist misdemeanour's?

We live in a world were leaders as an addition to followers of Religious fanatics, manics and radicals are enraged at the very idea of a woman being educated. EDUCATION! for the love of all things - EDUCATION. One of the most basic of rights. A right that enables young girls to see beyond the dowry. A right that permits the exploration of some mental diamonds in the rough so they too can have their moment to shine and yet alas a 'man' shall say no to such empowerment.
Don't they get it? Do you? Has it never occurred to the most aggressive of misogynists that in the words of Caiphus Semenya "a woman has a right to be".
Not because we want to rule the world or rid the universe of the male species or even erase the value and purpose of men in society; at least those men that show up when they ought to.
NO!
We, and I say this subjectively want to clothe our families! We want help others in similar predicaments laced in the memories of our very own pasts so that they too can be enabled towards better lives.
Lives that are not dependent, not just on men but on anyone else as a whole.
We as women need more than anything to be equipped beyond our circumstances.
To feel safe because when push comes to shove we can deal with any upheaval that materializes.

You may attribute the rarity of this blatancy to denial, arrogance, fear or the pop culture that now surrounds feminism. But let's be uncouthly honest for a moment:

Women need men's support not their adversity.  

This post is not about me burning my bra and screaming from the top of the RBZ building. For one, I don't think they would let me up there and two, I quite like this bra so NO! I'm not one of 'those' feminists. I'm am me , airing out my rants for the search engines to stumble upon.
Hoping that somehow some way I too have been heard and understood. That some how,  some way through these words the pain and heartache I feel for those beautiful little Chibok girls is understood.
The anguish I feel for the numerous young women in India that have been raped and hung.
how forlorn I am that even back home within the confines of matrimony itself a woman still is treated as though her sexuality is not her own.

#TSKC

Ramblings about Pain on a Toilet Seat

Today I thought I would try something different… a different ‘creative’ environment if you must.

I’m in the toilet with my laptop on a stool (oh my, pun NOT intended) as I listen to Tinashe Makura’s ‘Love and Laughter’.
As comic as my position may seem; I’m not laughing. I have the worst case of food poisoning which sends me to the bathroom more often in an hour than I’d like to count.

 So, in light of the liquid condition of the contents of my guts (Euww that’s really crude Steph!)… I’ve made myself rather comfortable in the loo...

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Pain…at most it’s an indescribable gnawing nuisance. When my mum asks “ko chii ko nhai Hamu?” for the life of me I want to explain. To tell her I’m paralysed with pain. That I don’t want to move because sometimes I think the little bitch (pain and definitely NOT my mum) waits until there a sanctimonious nano-moment of relief and like a heartless ninja her dagger strikes again.
 I forget she’s been at this life game a whole lot longer than I have (My mum this time)... I forget that though I can only signal my feelings she not only feels it with me then…she’s felt it countless times before.
But it’s not easy is it?
To know that you are not the only victim of life…to know that  you have no excuse …that you can’t play the helpless damsel of distress because many have come before you felt this and even greater excruciations; overcome them and didn’t have the time to be arsed long enough to even to tell the tale. And I sit here on a toilet seat … thinking “hey it could be worse” and how comfortable it is in here.
 It’s a funny little thing this big thing named life. #TSKC