Presently, it’s Friday night and I’m getting ready to go for a prayer vigil at sister Susie’s house. I really do not feel like it today but I have to go. NEED to go. My body is still not accustomed to being indoors doing nothing on Friday nights so it’s either go or stay at home being restless.
‘Me and My Beige Soul’ by @Ms_Dania
Do you know what color beige is? If you don’t, I’ll tell you. And even if you do, I’ll still tell you. Because to me, beige is more than just a color; it has come to represent the stains from my past. Stains that have been washed away but people refuse to stop seeing. What is my beige ? My beige is…
“You be virgin?”
“So wetin be your problem?”
I’ve often been called a pretender. A hypocrite. Someone trying to be something she’s not.
“No be dat girl wey I see for club last Christmas? Wey dey grind on top that old man like ashewo?”
Once a bad girl, forever a bad girl. Because a leopard can never change its spots.
I mean, is it totally impossible that I’m trying to make something decent out of my life? That I’m trying to change? That I’m trying, I’m trying so hard to get it right this time?
But no. As far as you are concerned, you got in once, you get a free pass forever abi? My friend sit your ass down with your Okafor’s law bullshit.
Oh look, she just cussed! Yes. I cussed. It’s something I’m working on, my language, amongst many other things.
Did you know that the term ‘beige’ originates from beige cloth, a cotton fabric left un-dyed in its natural colour? What this means is that of all of you, I’m the realest. I have no airs or graces about me. No pretences or illusions of perfection. I’m not a goody-two shoes and I don’t pretend that I am. I’ve seen things…done things… I’m not proud of most of it but in a way, I’m almost grateful for it. It’s made me more…real. I’m less critical or judgemental of others. I’ve been ‘there’ so I get it.
No, I’m not proud of my past; but I’m done apologising for it.
Some people think of me as stained. Especially the ones who claim to be my ‘brothers’ and ‘sisters’. To my face, they call me Sister Nonachi; At their meetings, they refer to me as that Sister with too much make-up, the tight skirts and the sordid past; In their minds, I’m Sister Rahab.
Well, Rahab the P.R.O.S.T.I.T.U.T.E is in the lineage of Jesus. This same Jesus has washed me clean of any stains and given me new robes. So fuck you and your sanctimonious bullshit.
Hey, I said I’m working on it.
Light Grey with a Brownish Tinge
Ah, tinges of my past remain. I still get urges. I am changed yes, but not inhuman.
Presently, it’s Friday night and I’m getting ready to go for a prayer vigil at sister Susie’s house. I really do not feel like it today but I have to go. NEED to go. My body is still not accustomed to being indoors doing nothing on Friday nights so it’s either go or stay at home being restless. Olivia’s phone call from five minutes ago certainly didn’t help:
“Hey babe, you wanna go out tonight?”
“Nothing now, just regular Friday night?”
“Nah, Im going to church.”
I am married to Jesus, Satan leave me alone.
My Satan comes in the form of Tade. Tade is my sugar, spice, and all things nice. He’s godly, fun, playful, serious and ready to commit, complete with a stable job in a top consulting firm. He gets me. I get him. We get each other.
And boy is he a looker! Tall, fair, handsome in the cutest of ways and mildly ribbed just how I like ’em. Sometimes all he has to do is look at me in a certain way and I can almost feel all the Jesus departing from…bragaderibashakaaaa. Good Lord have mercy.
We turn heads whenever we walk into a room; our chemistry is palpable. Easy but palpable. We’re good together, me and my Satan.
He even tried; he lasted six months. But he has needs. Real urges and desires that I cannot ignore neither can I fulfil. Not that I literally can’t, because trust me; I can make a man leave his wife. Actually, I have. Twice. But I don’t live that life any more. So I can’t.
“Babe I can’t do this anymore.”
How can my angel be my Satan?
“I’ll end up resenting you, or even worse, getting it elsewhere.”
He’s asking me to choose between him and God.
“Don’t put it like that.”
Oh God, he’s going to walk if I don’t give in.
I am married to Jesus, Satan leave me alone.
Off-White. Dirty cream. Yellowish brown.
Pretender. Hypocrite. Confused.
Labels. Labels. Labels.
I’ve judged myself. Jesus has judged me. He’s also made me clean.
So leave me be and back the fuc…
I said I’m still working on it.
HAVE YOU VOTED?
Click HERE to Vote TNC @ The Black Weblog Awards.