Maybe marriage is not such a bad idea...

I attended a wedding on 12 March 2016 and it was all sorts of special. One of my highlights for the day was when Deputy Chief Justice Dikgang Moseneke (he performed the Ceremony) declared the couple "Wife and Husband" and told the Wife to kiss her Husband. Many missed that bit but I think it was extremely important under Section 9 of the Constitution of South Africa. If you know our History as South Africans, you will know that for a long time, women were rendered second class citizens of South Afric...a. It was when the Bill of Rights was introduced that women were formally recognised as EQUAL citizens. Therefore Language and Words are so important as they carry much power.

As if that was not enough. When the Father of the Groom gave the vote of thanks, he drummed it into his son's head that : "she is not going to be your slave. She will not be at you beck and call. She is equal just like all of us are in the family". Comrades, Compatriots and Friends of the Opposition. I could share many special moments about the wedding but I will leave it here.

There are days when it's painful being a Black Body. And then there are days when you realise how much ‪#‎BlackLove‬ plays a role in our own assertions and liberation of our minds! You see - we have to squeeze out hope from every possible fruit.

On getting my sheyyyyyt together in 2016...

I have received an overwhelming response regarding my post about 2016 (and beyond) being a year of #SelfCare and Flourishing in Peace. It seems like the general verdict is that many of us have been truly neglecting the self in the name of service. I hope that we will begin to be honest with ourselves about the real stuff we deal with in our lives. Positive self talk can only be effective if we are honest about ourselves.

This season of #SelfCare got me in some serious reflective mode. I am almost suffering from an identity crisis. I cannot fully explain it. I will blog about it in my next blog though. Maybe some revelations will launch but whatever is going on - feels weird, awkward yet exciting. This reflective mode has me thinking about goal-setting for 2016. I am not much of the new year resolution type. I am more connected to nature so I align my goal setting activities with the Seasons. So naturally, I synchronise my "new me" vibes with Spring. In the same breath, I must admit that "mob psychology" (a concept my mom taught me) tempts me. There is something jovial about the "new year - new me" brigade. So not to be a party pooper (the only time peer pressure gets me), I use this time to reflect mostly. I promised myself to focus on the following treats that promote #SelfCare in 2016 (and beyond).

In 2016 - I promise to...

Be Deliberate in #SelfCare Practices

I need to make the decision to actively engage in practices that promote #SelfCare. Many women are so busy taking care of others that they don't even know what it means to be taken care of. They cannot name their favourite fruit or even what they enjoy doing during their spare time (what spare time?). Top 5 favourite restaurants? yes? No?

I meditate - that is what I do. I create the atmosphere. Light some scented candles. Play some worship or jazz tunes and I get in the zone.
I don't do my nails - I would like to do some of that
I don't enjoy spas. Friends of mine took me out in December because I had been working super hard. I realised the reason I do not like spas is because I feel like it's a waste of time. I would like to do more spa expeditions.
I would like to be more present during my hair wash days, you know - stuff like that.

Attend all my Therapy Sessions

I have never honoured my therapy sessions because I felt that "I got this". I have been counselling folk from the tender age of 10. Surely I should be able to deal with any haunting mental illness right? I have a withdrawal, I make an appointment, I attend my first sitting and I never return. I feel like I know what the therapist is going to say before they think it. Actually, I think I have more experience than the therapist so I judge them. I never return because surely I can cure myself right? So I opt for the self-management route, which I fail in because I am so engrossed in saving the world that I allow myself to plunge deeper and deeper into an abyss of nothingness. And then after great strides, I have to set the clock back to zero - the clock of recovery.
So I spent time speaking to my therapist in December. Not a session, but a phone conversation. I told him I want to see someone else, and he agreed. My mentor suggested that someone else. I called that someone else and I know I made the right decision. I realise the older I get - the more roasted I become. It gets really difficult to deal with the debris left by my eating disorder and ADHD moment in and moment out. So I am doing this Bazalwane.

Travel More

I grew up as a nomad. We moved a lot during key development stages of my life (kinda explains my commitment issues right?). By the time we settled, it became difficult to adjust.
When the family settled, we travelled (holidaying) quite a bit. Warmbaths, Train escapades, Malawi, Lesotho, Swaziland, Botswana, Durban, Cape Town and and and... We stopped travelling when my Gololo dad shifted his attention to the church (PK grudge). Nonetheless, it was too late, a precedence was set from a young age. Travel = Adventure. After I matriculated in 2001, I did the whole travelling thing. I have been blessed to have explored different continents extensively. There is something about travelling that makes you appreciate your own soil. Something that expands and shifts your paradigm. I am forever grateful for those opportunities. I have also come to realise that many South Afrikans do not travel as much as they could (papers have been written on reasons why - another topic for another day). My corporate days also saw me travel quite a bit - but something about that took the fun out of travelling. I just stopped smelling the fresh air.
I love roadtrips and would like to return on the road (maybe by public transport, maybe finally buy that cruiser neh? - wow!). So I am going to do this. More roadtrips - in and out of our soil.

Attend more Live Gigs

I love live gigs. From Poetry Slams, to Jazz Joints, right to Theater. I am a sucker for a great atmosphere of soul musings. Art stirs me and reminds me how beautiful the soul is. This is mainly the reason I started the Mzansi Brewed  blog and page. Firstly to promote supporting black. Secondly to share my love for the arts. It is my safe space <3

Connect with more Black Women

I love women. My first organisation was geared for women. I love being around women. I have hosted many events with women and I am a witness to the truth that when women come together -magic happens. Something about the Feminine energy igniting on overload. I have neglected connecting with my sisters on a one on one basis that they have just allowed me to be. This year I will host more Lady Leader and Feminine Dinners (Moon musings). Letting go of clutter will definitely free up more time to do this.

Keep things Simple

I would like to be able to explain certain things to five year olds you know...

Read books I want to read 

One upside to my condition is that it allows me to be somewhat of a polymath. I want to know everything. From cars right up to strawberries. I get nervous if I am in a situation where I do not know. So I read about engines, I read about the economy, I read about fashion, :( - I also read so that I can critic effectively. No matter how horrible a book is - I read it. Zakes Mda offers Tips on How to write on @BooksLive and one of his tips: "Avoid reading thrash. It is infectious and will creep into your own writing. Read only writers whose work you admire."
Anything Zakes Mda tells you to do when it comes to reading - you do. KAPISH!

Write Write Write

I am a writer. But an impostor writer. I judge myself harshly and hide my work. But the words "Find your voice and use it - use your voice and find it" by Jayne Cortez keep me encouraged. I will stop being that wallflower in the literary world and finally bloom. I enjoy my writing and have decided that if anything, I want to write for me. After Prof Kgositsile spoke to me about my impostor syndrome. I decided to find my voice by writing a series of fiction short stories. I find it makes it easier to share my work. This exercise has also helped me realise the kind of books I want to write in the future.

Make a Billion Rands..
Wink*

Well, it's clear that I will be getting my sheeeeyt together in 2016.

@malebosays 

#LionessRising

Is Falling in Love for me?

Ok, I must confess that my heading is a bit of a click bait since I won't really be discussing falling in love in that instance. But just to indulge you, I am more of a rising in love kinda person. I can even settle for walking in love. Better yet, how about we dance in love? Ok so what is the purpose of this blogpost? Let me get to it then.

I have never hidden my views when it comes to patriarchy and nuclear family structures. I'm always amused at how regardless of my standing, most men who pursue me are set in their misogynistic ways. Take Guy X for example. He has been pursuing me since 2012 and his misogynoir literally sends sharp pains to my womb. He criticises me at every chance he gets and goes on and on about what an angry Black woman I am (he's short on saying how ugly I am). One would say he despises me yet he claims to be madly in love and tells me how I'm the only woman who can fulfill the duty of his manhood. I'm sure this is just a case of "I've tamed the lioness therefore my manhood has been affirmed". I can't imagine what else this dissonance could be. Say we hook up? When will he enjoy me? I mean - will his life be about trying to tame me? ‪#‎RollsEyes...

I'm a commitmentphobe and stay away from organised romantic relationships (by choice). But contrary to popular belief, I am actually a hopeless romantic. I am a contact and relational person in all my relationships (family, friends etc.). I am a healer and nurturer and have a big heart of forgiveness (nxxxxxx). I am fun and adventurous and hooking up with me will be an experience of a lifetime (👀). Although this does not render me an expert in relationship what what - I would like to offer an opinion under the Appendix of Free Speech in our Land.

When two folks are involved romantically. In my case - a man and a woman. I do wish we would stop defining the love in terms of gender roles. Gender roles almost translate to what the next person can do for you and how much you need them in your life to perform these roles. I would imagine rather, it being about who you are as an individual and just wanting to be with a certain individual because of who they are as well. Enjoying one another's company and making a decision to journey together to an agreed destination.
One day I was changing my tyre on the side of the road when a man stopped to help me. I told him i was almost done and in shock he reacted "women want to be men these days. I truly wonder what my role is in your life as it seems like you don't need me"
I guess that's the problem right there.
Roles make us want to be needed. The role creates a certain level of control. This can translate into abuse if one does not fulfill their "role". So you feel you are the breadwinner in the house because you are a man and that's your role. The day your means to bring in the bread gets cut off, how do you continue fulfilling this role? Abuse becomes inevitable in this case due to the insecurities of not being able to fulfill your role.

"Hey hon, today I feel like cooking. But yesterday I didn't. Wanna help me?"
"Why not. Tomorrow I feel like making steak for my baby."
"Ncooooo my darling"

Vs 

"I work all day and I come home and all I want is my woman to welcome me with sweet aromas of a home cooked meal"
"I work too - in fact, I just got here 5 min ago"
"Women of today. Don't be surprised when someone comes and cooks for me. Clearly you have forgotten your role in this house"
"Faints*"

This head and neck analogy screws us over big time you know. Why can't we just be us - we figure out how to exist together and just do us.

Oh and bbz - before I finish. This notion of a man being a babysitter to his children must stop. You will find him at the mall with three of HIS kids and people around will be like:

"Ncaaaaw look at him, he's such a great father. How does he do it? How does he manage to look after all three of his kids at the same time"

Him:" I just thought I'd give the mother of my kids a break today you know. She works hard. I'm on babysitting duty today"

Come on... Plz (Zuma eye roll)

Giving her a break? No one gave the other a break during the merging of the sperm to the egg right? 👀
Basically - this role thing is so dodge though.

So do we relate like fire? Are we sapiosexuals? Would you read to me ‪#‎ReadToBae? Do our ideals, politics, spirituality dot dot dot align? Are you about economic, social, political, mental freedom? Do you accept my darkness as much as you love my light? Are you about ‪#‎Blackness? Like can you handle this lioness (and importantly can you handle V-Empress)? Ok cool - then I'm in

How I lost the war of "self care" in 2015...

I would be lying if I were to declare right now that 2015 was a bad year for me. In fact, it was an awesome year on many fronts but I can't help but sit back with a tinge in my heart thinking about how no matter the gains in 2015, in the end, I seem to have lost the war. As I type this I hear the quote echoing in my head "It's not how you start that matters, it is in the how you finish". Although this is one of those relative quotes, it holds a case in this current circumstance that I am facing.

Most of my leadership and relational capabilities were molded in the church. If there is one thing that every leader in the church knew, is that the greatest leadership quality is that of servanthood. The first will be last and the last will be first and, remember, at the end, it is not about you but about God's people. You have to put others before yourself. Living with this creed throughout my life screwed with me because any moment I thought of myself, binges of guilt would ravage me, leaving me feeling like I had failed God's people. Along with all of that, I watched my Gololo parents sacrifice so much, even their careers, to serve "the church", much to my dad's health deterioration at a later stage. This is not exclusive to church experience but for the sake of my reality, I use the church as an illustration.

So as it was, this nugget was drilled into me until it became second nature - "life does not belong to you, you are placed on earth to serve others". This is the place from where I made most of my decisions. This runs deep in my veins and no matter what consciousness does to you, when something runs in your veins, it will haunt you, reminding you that it will take a while to filter out of your stream - if ever.

I am truly appreciative of the life I have been afforded to live, but if there is one thing I could change, that would be to take better care of myself. I sit here, having had a beautiful 2015 but an awful December which served as a painful reminder of how much, over the years, I have neglected my one true weapon, which is me. When you start with such talk, Bible markers and self appointed spokespeople will remind you of how self indulgent you are becoming. What use is it to gain the whole world but in the process, lose your soul? (proverbs). This is exactly what self neglect does to you. It seeps all of you until your soul is drained and lost. You end up being resentful at the outcomes, because as humans would have it, the "give and it shall be given unto you" epistle lacks a great deal in our compass. I have always pondered on the "love your neighbor as you would love yourself" scripture. In essence, you do a disservice to those you are serving when you neglect yourself. For how do you love the next if you haven't even started trying to love yourself. Do not get me wrong, I am not talking about the looting kind of self care at the expense of others. I am talking about self preservation which makes you effective in the welfare of yourself and others.

Naturally this trait pours into the rest of everything that I do. As a thinker, writer, activist, educator, and someone who is passionate about black lives and reclaiming the economy of Africa. One can be so engrossed in the matters of black pain, putting our causes before our well being. Because systems and structures are not built to take care of the black body, we are constantly having to put others way before ourselves in this struggle for any form of integrity. Almost reminding us that we are unworthy in the world of various -isms.

As a black woman, society has placed a heavy burden on what I should be. Society expects you to put others first while juggling all these different aspects of your life - they make you feel better by saying you are good at multitasking. Lest we not forget how you are a "strong black woman" and how you are all things to all mankind. A conversation between a black man and myself during my December slump suggested that I was not allowed to cave in under pressure because I am a black woman and black women got this. For a moment, I nearly played along. Until I remembered Audre Lorde's words.

Audre Lorde in her "a burst of light" opined that:

“Caring for myself is not self-indulgence, it is self-preservation, and that is an act of political warfare.”

That the struggle for being alive is one of survival and political warfare especially as a marginalised body. As a black woman, I face so many struggles in the name of patriarchy, structural violence and racism. Coupled with the struggle for relevance, it can result as a direct attack on one's body.  A good friend of mine during the #FeesMustFall protest made a comment that at the rate we were going, we would need to turn to various substances to help us cope. Obviously, when we share this with fellow comrades, some called us weak, reminding us of comrades who fought bravely and tirelessly against the struggle of slavery and apartheid. That as a black body, you do not deserve self care - you need to run yourself down in order to legitimise your commitment to the struggle. One thing we seem not to get in all of this is how the body responds to stress caused by oppression. This struggle, results in our bodies turning against us, making us ineffective in the long run, this is when we will lose the war. It is not a big surprise why in the midst of the festivities and joyful cheers that comes with the ever so consumer-hungry December, many suffer from "unknown" anxiety and depression.

I am sitting here, 20 kilos heavier and it's because of how I respond to stress (overeating coupled with lack of exercise). In addition to the 20 kilos I packed, I have to at some point come to terms with the "learning disability" I live with as it contributes to the pain and neglect I reap continuously throughout my life. Being in an environment where my mind is my biggest asset, I have to come to terms with the fact that a mental illness cripples me and my year in and year out denialism is slowly causing the dearth of my longevity. I have survived on "managing" my mental illness, but I have also lived through some hard negative talk on myself because of how the illness inhibits my full potential. Self acceptance does not mean that you somehow magically become a new person and overcome your darkness, but it means that you are "ok" with who you are and the chemical breakdown that exists within you that leads to your demise. When you are at a place of self acceptance, it is easier to seek help in that regard.

When I as a black woman engage in self-care, I begin to disrupt socialisation about how women should put others first instead of themselves. It's an act of warfare to manage my mental health, to eat well for my body, mind and soul, to laugh, to dance, to write, to engage in restorative black narratives. It's a war I win that dismantles so many of my limitations. It boggles the structure that puts me at the end of the chain. If I Malebo, take care of myself, I am able to continue in my thinking, activism, in my story telling and in my diamond refining projects. Knowing that HerStory will continue to be told throughout generations. That is when becoming the best version of myself benefits not only me, but those I seek to serve in the grand scheme of things.

@malebosays

When am I writing that book already?

Being a Black writer in South Afrika comes with its own challenges. For a very long time, we have been subjected to books with a rhetoric and authors we cannot relate to. As if that is not bad enough, we have always had White or Western authors tell us about who we are. You walk into many book shops in South Afrika and you would swear that the book shop is located somewhere in the middle of Europe. Maybe this is the reason that a narrative exists that "South Afrikan blacks do not read".
In this era (which I have deemed the Era of Enlightenment), we see many black writers coming up and debunking the myth and any stereotypes that exist around Blacks and literature. Access remains a huge challenge though. Access to literature should never be exclusive and so far it is. Books are extremely expensive and there are not enough (Black) publishers who are publishing Black authors.  

Considering the above, it makes total sense that many of us should add our voices to the literary spaces that exist right?

And so the question arises... "When are you going to write a book Malebo?"

Those who are tired of asking the question just go ahead and scold me..."Malebo, write that book already".

I cannot tell you how many times I have heard those words lashed out at me. I identify as a writer, a great one at it. So what is the problem? When am I writing that book already? How is it that I witness so many other people confidently write and publish their books? what is wrong with me? When am I writing that book already? I am an avid reader and a big supporter of Afrikan literature. In my circle of friends and acquaintances, my name is synonymous with reading (and writing). Most people reach out to me when they want recommendation on what to read. I have edited and proof-read a few manuscripts in my life. So what is the big deal here? When am I writing that book already?

Professor Keorapetse Kgositsile once told me that in order to feel comfortable in my writer's skin, I should write as much as I can until I develop a voice so distinct that it screams my name at any critical eye. The conversation I had with him totally transformed my attitude towards writing a book. I do feel that many writers put too much pressure on themselves and try and emulate someone else, in this, they fail to develop their own voice. I can almost hear the echos of Jayne Cortez as I write this; "find your own voice and use it, use your own voice and find it". I am a teacher by nature and so simplifying difficult concepts is what I do best. I have been blessed with being able to grasp subjects that range from the Sciences, Economics right up to Humanities. In a complex world that is today, a world where we need minds decolonised, education (I use this word loosely) is our best weapon.This is the reason I avoid verbosity in my writing. It took me months to perfect simplicity; to avoid sounding smart you know. I have also had to deal with my grammar nazi tendencies. I no longer police others and myself as harsh as I used to in the past. This policing often produced rigid mechanised writing. How refreshing it is to read a work of an author who is comfortable in their voice and it comes through when reading their work.

So with all that said, when am I writing that book already?

Malebo the impostor

The impostor syndrome is something that I have lived with my entire life. I am not sure if it is because of when I was born or is as a result of all the hardships I have had to endure throughout my life. Sufferers of the impostor syndrome go through life believing that their accomplishments and gifts are consequence of luck and timing and that one day they will be found out as frauds. This usually leads one to self-sabotage or to withdraw from major activities out of the fear of 'failing' or being deemed as a fraud. I came face to face with this phenomenon when I was profiled for a television show once. My mother and long term school friend, Khosi, were asked to talk about what type of child I was growing up. I spoke first and the incongruity that showed between what I said and what my mom and Khosi said were startling. They spoke of this confident overachiever who was a stranger to me. Surely they did not see what a fraud I was. How did I manage to fool everyone I thought to myself.

I am still unable to accept fully all that I have achieved and I highly suspect that the reason I refuse to be nominated for awards is because of this. I did not make a big deal about my birthday for a long time because it meant that I would get to hear about what others thought of me. This would mean that I had fooled people into thinking I was something I was not. I worked extra hard to try and cover up this "fraud" which translated into more praise and adoration, which in turn freaked me out once more.

I do not have a consistent set profile because of this. It makes me feel somewhat uncomfortable writing all those things that I have done and achieved. I was recently interviewed by Adenike Fatoki-Campbell of Our Paths to Greatness and I must say that this was one of the few interviews that I had to dig into all the things I have done throughout my life. Although I did not share all of me, it was quite close. There are still things I do not share about. The interview received crazy recognition from colleagues and friends on social media as many were shocked at all the things I had manage to do in my life. In the past I would have responded with hiding but I actually stood up tall and accepted my story. As uncomfortable as the praises are, I am making strides in fully dealing with this impostor syndrome (or so I think). Whichever way, I am more confident in my abilities and who I am than I was about ten years ago.

malebosays

Guest Post: The power of CREATION

There are a few things that no matter how captured, the mind cannot even begin to fathom its greatness. One of those is the ability to carry another human being inside of you for a full term. It is a wonder indeed.

 

I must admit the day that I found out I was pregnant I almost temporarily blacked out, almost hitting the floor. In my mind I wasn't ready, I wasn't sure and my life, you see, hadn't worked out the way that I had envisioned. I was pretty much all alone and fearful about this great responsibility. I was numb and just tried to take it one day a time, surprised, anxious but also failing to see the blessing. I remember going to the obstetrician and she had couldn't pick up your heartbeat and indicated that more blood tests had to be done because I may have a blighted ovum, at that point, my heart skipped a beat and I was consumed by this overwhelming sadness because I may have lost you before I even had you.  I tried to disconnect and not feel too attached after all it was a few weeks and maybe it wasn't meant to be.

Blood tests came back and you were growing, happiness consumed me and that’s when I made the announcement, not too sure as to how it would be received, I went in confidently because ultimately you were my creation, my responsibility, my child. The news was so well received and most were happy (barring one confusion), but all rejoiced at the this gift I was presenting them with, the gift of chaos, gift of sleepless nights, the gift of having a little human, a gift of a different personality, different perspective. That my child you may not know, places a great deal of responsibility on your shoulders for you bring something different to this hum drum thing called life. I remember hearing your heartbeat finally, and much to my surprise how you started resembling a human, from this blob, unrecognisable blob, to this human form. When did this all happen so quickly? Oblivious to biology and life, I was expecting something squishy, weird looking with no human anatomy. But yet you were there with a strong heartbeat, alive, sleeping through the prodding and poking oblivious to our invasion in your privacy with strangers in tow. My next visit we discovered what you are, a boy. I saw your penis, in plain view. You hid your face as if you knew we were trying to prod and poke and look at you, but yet my child you let your willy hang freely while coveting your face. How strange you must be, I have a lot to teach you about public nudity!  But I must admit, if anything goes, I believe you are a shy child, enjoying the quietness and solitude of the womb. The next visits that follow, you are in foetal positions, not wanting to be disturbed as I suppose what’s going on is the completion of you.  I guess you want to be a surprise, you want me to be patient, and you want me to wonder anxiously about you. Patience I must admit isn't my strongest suit, more so with you. I wonder what type of personality you have, what riles you, what are you passionate about, what is your purpose, what will you never concede on, what are you and I going to disagree on, what similarities will you have to your father, to me, what will I teach you, what will you teach me? All these questions lead to the impatience of waiting for you, you see, I cannot wait! Beyond the cute little fingers and small feet, your complete reliance on me, I'm impatient on what type of man you will become.

I commit to teach you to the best of my ability and action, that you can stand up and be different from everyone, that you will need to be strong because, you see, when you stand for something you believe in, you may not have an audience, your friends will change and leave you, you will go through dark moments, through happiness, you may want to change the world and fail, but its ok, someone watched you and got inspired. My son, you have purpose, live it, breathe it, stand it. And I hope that your choice in a mother will not disappoint you too much, but I hope that in my humanness you appreciate my faults and now that through it all, I love you with my entire being. A love that I knew I had, just waiting for you. For now, I appreciate your gentle to rather violent kicks and jabs in my belly, how you love when you push against my stomach and I massage your little back, it tells me you live, you’re healthy, you can move. I appreciate how your body grows so quickly bearing heavily on my back, my often graceless waddle as you pinch the nerves making it difficult to walk. I appreciate how you communicate your complete dislike of things by switching off my appetite to certain foods and occasional throw up. I appreciate how I see my body changing, sometimes curious but a sense of pride that I'm part of this miracle. 

Thank you my child, for choosing me, for loving me, for showing me that I can be selfless, and the ability to know that when I choose you I always win.

I have been waiting for you, wondering about you before you came. And here you are, in my favour to bare you. 

Nonkululeko Manyika