motherhood
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I Represent I represent the oppressed black womb penetrated too early in its development. No one takes the time to explain abortion before I am strapped in the clinic gurney to have the baby he planted scraped out. One day, I was watching Dora and the next day my teacher said I was a statistic.…
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Today is my son’s 12th birthday. 12 years! Time flies and flies! Motherhood has, of course, changed me…for the better. Over the years since I’ve become a Mother, I have seen a lot of things that assault what it means, for me, an African woman who is consciously single, to be a Mother. Be clear,…
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The funkiness of fun absolution from writing what seems to be yesteryear. thoughts and memories, the heart and science mingling, interbreeding casting aspersions on the culture somehow still deemed sacrosanct ii echoes of theory resonating in the inner ear and the third eye three hundred and sixty degrees of consciousness includes ascension to humanity still,…
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four am thunder and thoughts: fear. strong glass/soft water. electronic impasse. no memorializing mother nature’s fury while early morning media tows the line. five am thoughts of thunder and the battle that has come. scrimmages between mohawk boy and me about the mohawk dropping seeds: isn’t it interesting? everyday i direct you to comb your…
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When I became pregnant, I made the conscious decision to a full-time stay-at-home mother. Eight years later, I have come to the conclusion that what I thought was a personal decision is more than that. It is political. It has been made abundantly clear to me that such a decision is supposed to be only the…
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Dear Saint Patrick, this is Peggy, Or maybe it’s Pegeen to you, Well, I’m really Stella Mae. Peggy’s my nickname, But anyway, will you please tell me What to do about the rattlesnake That’s in my room? I know it’s there, But I can’t find it anywhere I search. I’ve ransacked the closet more than…
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I was going to refuse to cook for him
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Don’t hyperventilate, Tichaona. That’s all I kept telling myself. Don’t hyperventilate. I could feel my heart pounding in my chest. I started muttering to myself. As the rage began to constrict my vision, I told myself “leave, Tichaona…leave this auditorium, this space where they are attempting to indoctrinate my child. So I did and I…
Tichaona Chinyelu 