How are you guys doing?
I’d love to hear from you. Let’s chat!
Please feel free to comment your thoughts below and if you are shy reach out to me personally.
Have you ever experienced any of the things I share? Can you relate to my posts? Are you a photographer, designer or brand that is interested in working with someone like me?
Joining University abroad made me realize that I was black and African, prior to that I was just another African in a sea of Africans.
Falling in love with myself was something I had to do to save myself because the world wasn’t showing me that love.
I am black, but comely like the woman in the Songs of Solomon.
When The Architect of life, molded me together,
He shaded me in with his fairest crayola,
You are pretty for a black girl!
His words pierced deep, but not deep enough to rip me off of dignity,
Pierced deep but not deep enough to dethrone me from my seat.
History takes me back
Look not upon me because I am black, because the sun has looked upon me,
Its rays have penetrated deep through my skin,
My melanin has reacted with H20 to release the richest chocolate paste,
Smothered in Shea butter, my skin glows better than any high-end highlighter.
Like any element of weather,
my thighs are filled with thunder.
#Thick thighs save lives
The stripes on my skin represent my ability to overcome challenges!
And no I am not angry! I am just unapologetically African and unafraid to speak my mind.
Just like a lion, my hair defies gravity,
My kinky mane refuses to be tamed; it is young, wild and loves to be free.
Each coil and curl represents how I overcome the adversity life throws my way,
My hair is my crown, it casts me out as royalty,
I must always keep my chin up, so as not to allow my crown to fall.
My body is a journey, with never-ending curves
Each twist and turn is a representation of all the challenges my ancestors overcame on my behalf.
It curves just right at each point to form the percent shape.
You inject yourself to look like me but only because I am trendy,
You want to love my culture but you refuse to love me too,
Even though imitation is the highest form of flattery,
Tomorrow you would have changed with the trends.
What happens to me when my culture stops being cool enough for you?
Is that the moment I will have to learn to love myself?
The blacker the berry ,the sweeter the juice,
The darker the skin, the deeper the roots.
I hope my little sister knows that she’s beautiful,
Black Queen she’s the color of oil,
I know this world has tried to hide your beauty under the soil.
Photography by Ajaya Abalaka
Make up by Moono Shilimi