What do I have to be doing to be left alone?

This is going to be one long thought – an unedited, unrefined essay.

Uyinene was at the post office. She was picking up a package. I’d like to think it was something she ordered on Superbalist. She was probably thinking about the essays she had to write, or about how warmer weather was coming and she could finally go to the beach again. She had probably checked IG that morning and flipped through people’s IG stories – skipping a few of them because some people really do post a lot.

She went to the post-office. A place I have gone to multiple times. It’s somewhere my mom goes on a regular basis on her own. In all fairness, it could’ve been the butcher or Woolworths and the news would not have been any less horrific. She could’ve been kidnapped in her own home and I would not have felt safer because these are places I frequent and these are places I cannot escape because how am I supposed to escape my entire life? How am I supposed to live and breathe and eat without engaging with a society that wants to violate, rape and murder me?

What the fuck do I have to do, or not do, for you to leave me alone? 

Women do not deserve to be this scared. We should not live our lives in fear. We should be protected. We should be looked after. Who do you think you are having such little respect for our lives and our souls and our bodies? Do you have no dignity? Do you have no fear of God? Are you not disgusted by your own face every morning? How do you live with such dirty thoughts and violent actions?

Honestly, fuck you. 

I should not have to be this scared to go and visit my friends. I should not breathe a sigh of relief when I get to my car without someone raping me. I should not have to hear my mom tell me over and over again about how I must not under any circumstances stop at a red light after 11:30pm. This is not a life. This is not living. This is surviving.

Women survive. I thank God that I survived another day. And I pray to God that my rapist’s wife never sees that side of him.  Why should I learn to survive in my own skin when you don’t give a damn about another human’s life?

Men need to stop protecting their rapist, molesting, misogynistic friends and they should start protecting us. Men need to stop defending their trashy friends and their trashy behaviour, and they should start supporting us and our rights. Men need to do better, be better, live better, breathe better. And men need to stop spewing that “not all men” garbage because now is not your time to feel sad that we are calling you out on all your trashy behaviour. Now is the time to feel angry that we are being killed while fetching packages from the post-office.

My rage is making me shut down. I am almost numb and that scares me. I did not go to campus today and I had to lie to my mom and tell her it’s because my back is sore. I didn’t go to campus today because I am scared. I wanted to go and get a coffee from Woolies this morning, but what if the guy standing behind me decides he wants more than coffee and he kills me? I wanted to go and buy my cat some more treats from the pet store, but what if the man walking out of the shop decides to walk back in and kidnap me? How does it work? Do you decide in the moment, or do you wake up in the morning and challenge yourself – today is the day I rape someone. You are sick. You make me sick. And you deserve whatever is coming to you, in this world and the next.

I know for a fact every woman is thinking that could’ve been me.

Oh, where’s my love?

I’ve got a fear: you saw me, you heard my voice, you looked into my eyes, and you decided you weren’t ready. You weren’t ready for me, for us. Will you ever be ready? Who are you? Where are you? Have I met you? What are you doing, my love?

I imagine you’re very happy, sitting alongside the ocean, thinking about my hands in yours. I imagine you smiling as the sun hits your glorious face in the late afternoon as you drive home. I imagine you coming home to me, to our 2-bedroom house on the corner of some suburban road in some far-off town.

But home hasn’t been found just yet.

My love is still out there, wandering through the hearts of others, wondering about the heart it knows. Everything is strange. Everything is cold. My love knows your heart, it knows your touch. And my love, you know I am home.

My love, what kind of music do you listen to? Could we listen to my “road trip” playlist? It’s filled with songs that remind me of childhood and adolescence and the times I spent looking into your eyes on our wedding day. Could we simply drive together to places that remind us of God? I know I’m safe when your hand holds mine as we drive through the wilderness. You are unbothered by the wind ruffling your hair, you are unbothered by things that we cannot control. This is why your heart is my home. And I find God in the gentleness of your speech; in the tenderness of your love.

Look at those stars, my love! Look at how millions of balls of fire light up something so dark. Look at how your love lights up something so dark. And look at how the moon smiles down at us as we lie here, cheek to cheek, looking up into the nothingness knowing that we are finally both home.

The smell of coffee in the morning is one of your favourite things. You routinely set the coffee machine to start making coffee at 6:00AM so that when we wake at 6:30, our home is filled with the aroma of Colombian coffee beans, freshly brewed. You open the curtains and the sun streams in through our window. It hits your face and your eyes become galaxies filled with magic and wonder. And I can’t help but fall in love with you all over again, each and every morning.

It’s ok if you’re not ready, my love. It’s ok if I’ve already met you and it’s ok if I have not. But you must know that your hands have been designed to hold mine, your eyes are destined to find bliss in mine, your heart beats to the rhythm of mine.

I imagine you pray for me. I imagine you pray for our children. I imagine you pray for our love.

I pray.

My love misses yours.

 

Starting Afresh

I’ve decided to start afresh.

And I will do that by sending a message to the people in my life, the people who were in my life (and always want to creep back in), and to myself.

First: to the people in my life,

You need to know that you mean the world to me. There is something heavenly about your existence and I am inspired by what you are, what you want to be. I am inspired by the love you give and the words you say. I feel loved through the time you spend and through the moments of happiness, sadness, despair, heartache and sheer joy we share. You were not chosen by me to be a part of my life; I am not worthy enough to make that decision. You were placed in my life by God because He knows that I am weak, and I need the strength of all your love and all your laughter and all your embraces to get me through this life. So, you come from Him to me, only to guide me back to Him.

Do you see the beauty that is your existence?

But, you also hurt me. Your words, while well-meaning, sometimes cut deeper than the words of my enemies. And you need to know that it is not ok to treat your friend, your daughter, your sister in that way.

I love deeply and I break easily. You may not know this because I try really hard to hide how extremely sensitive I am. But your happiness, your comfort is what matters to me. So do not take advantage of the love that I give to you. And if you need space from me, that’s totally fine. But do not disregard everything that I try so hard to do for you. You are beloved to me, that is why you are all in my life. And love is not something to be fucked with.

Love is celestial; it is transcendental. Love is power. Love is what I’m made from, and made of. Do not mess with the love inside of me. Do not mess with the love I give to you.

Second: to the people who were in my life,

It takes a lot for me to cut someone out of my life completely. If you are out of my life, it means you broke my heart, and it was so painful that I couldn’t get myself to look at you without breaking all over again.

What I want to say to you is: you are still in my prayers. But do not think that you will ever have a place in my life again. I pray that you never experience the kind of hurt you put me through, and I pray no one experiences hurt and pain at your hands.

Let me just digress for a minute: 

Boy, I am talking to you now. You lost the love of your life when you hurt me. You lost the kind of love that poets write about, that lovers dream about, that people spend a lifetime praying for. You know when I love, I love fiercely. And you took advantage of that. So, little boy, STOP TRYING TO COME BACK. YOU LOST ME. YOU RUINED THE BEST THING YOU EVER HAD. And I am not interested in mending your bruised ego. Stop grovelling at my feet when she doesn’t give you the love I did. 

Third: to myself,

You’re doing great. You are breathing and living and loving.

Stop worrying about how single you are. I know it’s lonely. I know you would love to be treated like a princess on Valentine’s Day (and every other day). I know you crave companionship and the gentle embrace of a soul who connects with yours.

I know you are tired. You are so very tired of this world, and all the pain and suffering it houses. I know you cannot wait to meet your Lord. I know you feel like you have nothing left to give and that there is too much evil for you to overcome.

But that is where Allah has Got you. He is Guiding and Loving and Supporting you through it all. He is giving you strength through the people in your life and through the knowledge you are surrounded by. He is enveloping you in His Love through the food your mother cooks, and the hugs your father gives (both of which are very hard for my parents to do). He is showing you that your purpose on this Earth is to speak for those who are silenced, and to help those who are suffering, and to love those who are broken. He has Given you this massive capacity to love because He knows that is what’s lacking in this world, and that is what people need more of.

You are a Lover. Spread your Love to all those who need it. Do not reserve it for those who you think deserve it because, ultimately, God knows Best and He knows what is in the hearts of His Slaves.

And always remember that this body is yours before it is anyone else’s. This body is for you to love. This body is for you to respect. This body is not dirty because it has been violated by a sick man. This body is not ugly because it does not conform to magazine-cover bodies. This body is not unholy because you desire.

This body is saintly because it houses mercy, it houses the ability to create life, it houses a sanctuary of love. This body is saintly because God says so. And no mere person can tell you otherwise. This body is yours. And no one can take it from you. And no one has the right to want it without you giving it.

Chin up, baby girl. This is only the beginning of your life. This is where you will make a difference. Remember you are made of and for love. Remember you are made of power. Remember you are a home for so many. Remember it is ok to be vulnerable. Remember that gentleness is not weakness. Remember that modesty is not submissiveness. Remember that God comes first, and then everyone and everything else, and you will never fail.

This is life. And I am living.